In the Meantime: Be at Peace

(A Sermon for the Second Sunday of Advent based on Isaiah 11:1-10 & Romans 14:4-13)

Here in the meantime—the meantime between the First and Second Advents of Jesus Christ—we who belong to the Lord are to be at peace.

And that seems very, very hard to accept and even harder to live.

When I say that we are to be at peace I run the risk of sounding like one of those ancient prophets of whom Jeremiah declared, “They preach ‘Peace, peace’ when there is no peace!” It sounds like I’m saying that we should act like everything is all right when we know good and well that it isn’t.

No one sitting in this room has ever known a time when there were not “wars and rumors of wars.” Oh, there were times when our nation was not actively at war but we all knew that we were at risk.

I grew up during the Vietnam era. From the time I was eight years old the evening news broadcasts brimmed with reports on the battles of that long war. Once a week Walter Cronkite or Huntley and Brinkley would give us the weekly casualty count. I remember wondering—and I was very literal in my wondering—if we would be fighting that war for the rest of time.

Now we are engaged in protracted wars in Iraq and in Afghanistan. I am praying that our leaders will not deem it necessary to expand our military presence into our areas. When will those wars end? And even if they do end anytime soon, our leaders keep reminding us that we are engaged in a war against terrorists that has no end that they can perceive. Those terrorists hang over our heads like nuclear weapons used to do.

Then there is the threat of mass destruction. I have watched and read many of the works of fiction that have treated the theme of potential nuclear annihilation. Works like the novel On the Beach and the television movie The Day After were terrifying to me. Even Dr. Strangelove, which played nuclear war for laughs, was chilling. We don’t think about that much anymore, although maybe we should. Just this month Scientific American’s cover story reported on the move to upgrade America’s nuclear arsenal that is underway. We worry about other nations like Iran and North Korea acquiring nukes and we worry about an existing weapon falling into the hands of terrorists.

I haven’t even mentioned the fact that there is a dearth of peace in our personal relationships. People live in fear of one another. People are afraid to speak the truth to each other. We all want to categorize each other so that we can say, “There, I’ve got her labeled. She’s one of those and now I don’t have to go to all the trouble of dealing with her as a troublingly unique individual.” Even within the fellowship of the church we tend to pass judgment on one another and compare our righteousness with somebody else’s.

When I make that comparison my righteousness always comes out on top, naturally.

But I say again: here in the meantime between the First and Second Advents we who are Christians are to be at peace. The prophet Isaiah spoke of the peace that was to come. That’s the way that we think of peace, too; it is something that will come one day, when Jesus returns. There is nothing improper about that way of thinking. It will come, indeed.

Interestingly, Isaiah spoke these words when peace looked very unlikely for Judah. Conflict was raging all around. Wars and rumors of wars threatened to reduce the Davidic monarchy, which had once stood as a mighty cedar, to a pitiful stump. Indeed, Isaiah said that it would be so. In that context, Isaiah, seeing life with God-inspired eyes, said, “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots” (11:1). Isaiah envisioned a time when that pitiful stump of the monarchy of David would bring forth a new king. That king would, because he would have the spirit of God and thus the heart of God, bring about perfect righteousness and perfect justice not just to Israel but to the whole world. He would judge the wicked and vindicate the righteous. Everything he did would be done in God’s way.

And what an era that king’s coming would usher in! Nothing less than a return to the paradise of Eden would be realized. All of creation would exist in harmony. The very nature of nature would be transformed. Perhaps most significantly, ancient enmities would be abolished; rather than living with the old hatred between people and serpents, a baby would be able to play with a poisonous viper and not be harmed. And if that could happen, then what other enmities could be brought to an end? There would truly be peace on earth—a peace brought about the Prince of Peace, a peace based on God’s law which after all is the law of love.

But, Isaiah, said, that did not exist in his “now”; it had to wait for God’s “then.”

God’s “then” did come; the Prince of Peace who came from the stump of David did break into this world. He came preaching and teaching and living out God’s ways of righteousness and justice and peace.

And we killed him. That’s the way of the world—we kill the Prince of Peace.

But he rose again and he will come again one day. So we still talk about how this prophecy of Isaiah will be fulfilled out there one day, still in God’s great “then.” That is proper talk. Obviously, our world is nowhere near a scene like the one painted by Isaiah.

Yet—we live in the here and now. Yet—we are the children of God right now. Yet—we are the followers of Jesus Christ in the present.

So I say again: in the meantime, we are to live in peace. How do we do that?

Here is one way: let us receive and live in the word of peace. The words of the prophet are for us. The words of the good news are for us. The words of Jesus are for us. There will one day be utter, final, and complete peace. We must live in that hope that is born from the truth to which we hold. But the Prince of Peace has already come. He is present in our hearts. He is present in this world. The peace in which we live in Christ is a far greater truth than the truth told by the broken, conniving, warring world. Let us receive the word of peace in faith and live it in hope.

Father Alfed Delp was a Jesuit priest who was imprisoned as a traitor by the Nazis. Listen to these words that he penned just a short while before he was hanged in 1945.

The horror of these times would be unendurable unless we kept being cheered and set upright again by the promises that are spoken. The angels of annunciation, speaking their message of blessing into the midst of anguish, scattering their seed of blessing that will one day spring up amid the night, call us to hope. These are not yet the loud angels of rejoicing and fulfillment that come out into the open, the angels of Advent. Quiet, inconspicuous, they come into rooms and before hearts as they did then. Quietly they bring God’s questions and proclaim to us the wonders of God, for whom nothing is impossible. [Alfred Delp, "The Shaking Reality of Advent," in Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2001), p. 88.]

Another way we can live in peace is to share and live out the word of peace. We do not in fact cry out “’Peace, peace’ when there is no peace.” We in fact have peace with God through Jesus Christ and we can bear witness to that peace with our words and with our lives. We know that while peace is already it is also not yet. We know the foretaste of glory divine that comes from having Jesus Christ in our hearts and having him change our relationships with other people. We have the blessed privilege of being the people of peace in a broken and warring world.

Hear Alfred Delp again. He said that if one wants to be truly alive during these trying times, one must “walk through these gray days oneself as an announcing messenger.”

So many need their courage strengthened, so many are in despair and in need of consolation, there is so much harshness that needs a gentle hand and an illuminating word, so much loneliness crying out for a word of release, so much loss and pain in search of inner meaning. God’s messengers know of the blessing that the Lord has cast like seed into these hours of history. [Delp, p. 89.]

In short, we need to be the messengers of peace in a world filled with conflict.

Thus the Prayer of St. Francis is an appropriate prayer for us:

Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master,
grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.
Amen.

In the classic Christmas poem that we sing as the carol “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” Longfellow spoke of how the Christmas bells proclaimed “Peace on earth, good will to men.” Then he said,

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

But then he affirmed,

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Yes, hate is strong and mocks the song. And yes, the wrong shall fail and the right prevail and one day there will be peace.

In the meantime—we are the bells.

The More Things Change, the More They Change (A Christmas Memoir)

I was born in the Lamar County, Georgia Maternity Shelter which was located about a half-mile from my parents’ house. A few days later they wrapped me up and took me home and put me in my room and I stayed right there until I went off to college. For sixteen years Christmas Day began in that house on Memorial Drive in Barnesville and for sixteen years every Christmas was about the same.

I would go to bed on Christmas Eve so excited I could hardly sleep. Of course, part of the problem was that the last words I heard from Mama before I went to bed were “Go to sleep now; Santa Claus won’t come if you’re awake.” So I went to bed terrified that I wouldn’t be able to sleep and certain that if I didn’t sleep then there would be no gifts for me. In some ways our house was not a terribly romantic place to have Christmas Eve. We didn’t have a chimney. I asked Daddy once, “Seeing as how we have no chimney, how does Santa get into our house?” I expected a clever answer like “He comes up through the bathtub drain” or “He transforms himself into a vapor and comes in through the wall” or something like that. What I got was “I reckon he just comes through the front door.” That was disappointing but it made sense because we kept a key over the front door; Santa or his helpers or Ebenezer Scrooge or Frosty the Snowman or anybody else could have come in had they wished.

Very early on Christmas morning I would wake up; I’m talking 5:00 or 6:00. The rule was that I had to wake Mama and Daddy up and let them go into the living room to see if Santa had come before I went in. The other thing that was happening was that Daddy had to get his Brownie movie camera with its twin spot lights all fired up. Finally Mama would say “Lights, camera, action!” or “You can go in now” or something like that and I would walk into Christmas morning in all its glory. When the chaos subsided we would get ready to eat lunch with Mama’s family and open presents there. Then we’d drive the nine miles to Yatesville where, immediately upon our arrival, the present opening would commence again. We’d eat leftovers for supper and then head back home. Somewhere along the way Daddy would say, “Well, that’s that for another 365 days,” thereby plunging me into a depression that I would usually snap out of by Presidents’ Day. It was pretty much like that every Christmas for sixteen years.

Christmas 1975 was the one when everything changed. Mama died in June of that year. By Christmas time Daddy had begun to take steps to get on with his life. I had just finished my first quarter of college. I couldn’t see it then but everything was up in the air and all bets were off. I wanted to cling to the way things used to be but in so doing I was trying to cling to the way things were never going to be again and, truth be told, I was probably trying to cling to the way things never really had been in the first place. I mean, it had been good, but sometimes things look even grander in the rearview mirror, especially when you know, even if you don’t accept it, that they’re gone for good.

My Uncle Johnny, who has childhood memories of the aftermath of the Great Depression and of World War II, says that he agrees with his cousin Charles who said, “I don’t want to have anything to do with firewood and chicory coffee; they both remind me of hard times.” For years I was that way about artificial Christmas trees. Now, I meant no disrespect to those who use them. But here’s my deal. My parents had bought an artificial tree for $19.95 from Maxwell’s Five & Dime Store a couple of years before Mama died. I agreed to it as a concession to the need to make things easier around the house. It was kind of pitiful but it was green; at least it wasn’t silver with a multi-colored light shining on it. A couple of weeks before Christmas we’d all put the thing together and decorate it. That year, though, I got home from Mercer a couple of weeks before Christmas and, all by myself, put the tree up and decorated it. I don’t know if I was more sad or mad. I think that’s one reason that I insisted on a real tree for so long; well, that and they smell good and I guess I liked having to water it every day and having to clean up the needles.

That year, for the first time in my life I had absolutely no trouble going to sleep on Christmas Eve. When I woke up on Christmas morning it was 10:30. I looked at the clock and rolled over covered up in the sudden realization that I wasn’t a child anymore. I realized, too, that the world had changed. I thought at the time that it was broken and busted and warped and out of whack and absurd, but I was wrong about that. It had just changed.

Goodness, but there have been more changes since then.

How I remember 1977, the first Christmas that I went to Leary to be with Debra and her family. She was wearing faded blue jeans and a red gingham shirt when I got there. I can still see her wonderfully open and welcoming face.

How I remember 1978, the first Christmas after we got married.

How I remember 1979, our first Christmas without my father.

How I remember 1981, the Christmas of the year that we sank every dollar we had into an old house in Louisville and managed to scrape together enough pennies to give each other one small gift each.

How I remember 1984, Joshua’s first Christmas.

How I remember 1986, our first Christmas in Adel.

How I remember 1987, Sara’s first Christmas.

How I remember 1993, our first Christmas in Nashville.

How I remember 1996, our first Christmas without Debra’s parents.

How I remember 2003, our first Christmas with the good people of The Hill Baptist Church.

1975 was the first Christmas that I was faced with real change. I was not wrong to grieve over what I had lost but I was wrong to fight against the changes that were coming. There have been so many Christmases and so many changes since.

Christmas teaches us many things. I think that one of the truths that Christmas teaches us is that God is in the changes. After all, the coming of the baby Jesus to Bethlehem’s manger turned the world on its head. The earliest Christians were referred to as those who had turned the world upside down. Surely God can and does work through those events that turn our worlds upside down and inside out and crossways.

My prayer for all of us is that we will learn the grace of letting God mold us and shape us and make us into who he has formed us to be. It’s a funny thing now. When I look back over my life, I sure wish some of it hadn’t had to happen. But at the same time, I’m grateful for it all. That’s part of what Christmas has taught me: the more things change, the more they change.

Isn’t God good?

Oh, by the way: this will be the second year that we have used our nice artificial pre-lighted Christmas tree. I think it’s beautiful.

A Presidential Candidate Speaks on Religion

Mitt Romney is to deliver an address today about religion.

I think this provides a good opportunity for us to revisit John Kennedy's classic and very Baptist-sounding speech on the same subject from the 1960 presidential campaign.

To read it or listen to it, go here.

A Tragic Blessing for Hanukkah

Congregation Children of Israel is a synagogue of Reform Judaism here in Augusta, Georgia. The fellowship is led by Rabbi Robert Klensin.

Our house is 1.5 miles from the synagogue.

Last night at 6:55 p.m. a single engine two-seat Piper airplane crashed into the side of the synagogue. Sadly, the pilot was killed. But none of the twelve people who were inside the building were injured. The building suffered only minor damage.

The Augusta Chronicle story on the incident noted that “the season of Hanukkah, which began Tuesday, is a time to count blessings; one is the making of miracles.” It is an interesting coincidence—Hanukkah commemorates the cleansing of the temple by the Maccabees in 165 BCE. Now during Hanukkah 2007 a synagogue is spared from severe damage and its congregants from harm.

Here’s another interesting coincidence: the event occurred during a time when many of the Christian churches in Augusta were involved in their weekly mid-week prayer service. I was two miles away at The Hill Baptist Church where we were having prayer meeting and a missions program.

The newspaper article also noted that at the time of the crash Rabbi Klensin was speaking at Covenant Presbyterian Church. While the article doesn’t say, I suspect he was talking to them about Hanukkah.

I’m using the word “coincidence” purposely. But they are interesting coincidences.

All time is sacred time, but I find it interesting that this all happened during an annual time of special sacredness for Jews and during a weekly time of sacredness for Christians. And the rabbi was speaking at a Christian church.

Was there a “miracle” in all of this? I don’t know. But I do find some special significance in this excerpt from the Chronicle’s story:

Rabbi Klensin said he thinks it's possible the pilot was trying to make an emergency landing. From the air, the only spot not covered with homes and trees is the school parking lot just west of the temple.

"Maybe in the last seconds of life he was looking out for other people," Rabbi Klensin said. No one on Walton Way was hurt.

If so, he did a good job.

To think of others in the last moments of your life—or in any moments of your life—that is a blessing and a miracle.

What Shall I Bring the Newborn King?

This morning NPR’s Marketplace Morning Report reported on a Christmas-themed commercial in Italy that has been pulled from the airwaves after a Catholic priest complained.

The ad, which you can view here (it’s in Italian but you’ll get the idea), depicts, in cartoon style, the Wise Men visiting the Holy Family. Three of them bear the traditional gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But there is a fourth Wise Man who comes bearing a case of Red Bull energy drink.

The priest who complained about the ad thought that it was blasphemous.

I don’t know if it was blasphemous. I would prefer the slightly milder term “tacky.” It is in bad taste to make light of the birth of Jesus in order to sell a product. I’m not so much offended by the content of the ad as I am by the use of the Nativity for commercial purposes.

On the other hand, I laughed at Monty Python’s Life of Brian and I suspect that a few people made quite a few bucks off of that effort.

And, lots of folks make lots of money marketing Christian items that are Christian-themed. Some of them are tacky; some are not. Of course, such a judgment is a matter of taste. (In a related matter and as a follow-up to yesterday’s post, I need to report that a friend let me know that you can in fact buy an inflatable Nativity for your yard. If you want to.)

Tackiness aside, while it lacks the symbolic significance of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, which were gifts fit for a king, I couldn’t help but wonder if Red Bull would have been such a bad gift, for Joseph and Mary if not for Jesus. As Marketplace reporter Megan Williams said, in introducing her report, “While an exhausted post-partum Mary might have appreciated a caffeine boost…”; we can indeed imagine that an energy drink might have been of benefit in such a circumstance. Appropriateness is contextual, after all.

Besides, what if the case of Red Bull was the best gift that the Wise Man could produce?

The Little Drummer Boy of the beloved Christmas song “had no gift to bring that was fit to give a king.” So what did he do? He offered the one thing and thus the best thing that he had: he played a song for the baby Jesus. “Then he smiled at me—pa rum pum pum pum.”

I think that Jesus gladly accepts the best gift that we can bring, even if someone else thinks it isn’t worth much.

What shall I give Him,
As small as I am?
If I were a shepherd,
I'd give Him a lamb.
If I were a wise man,
I'd do my part.
I know what I'll give Him,
I'll give Him my heart.
--Christina Rossetti

The War on Santa Claus

Here in my part of the world, a good many people like to use those inflatable Christmas yard decorations. They might put out inflatable reindeer, inflatable snowmen, or inflatable Santa Clauses.

I have yet to see an inflatable nativity scene—thank the Lord!

In my recent travels I have noted a sad sight: deflated inflatable Santas. I know that any of the inflatable yard ornaments could lose their air, but it seems to me that every time I see a deflated figure it is Santa Claus. And I have seen a good many of them.

I fear that the inflatable Santas are under attack. Could it be that enemies of
Santa Claus are attacking his image with air rifles or some other weapons? I fear that it is so. I hope that it is not.

Santa Claus is under attack in more significant ways. Rear Admiral Steven K. Galson, the acting Surgeon General of the United States, recently said that Santa Claus should lose weight so as to provide a better role model for children. He told the Boston Herald, “It is really important that the people who kids look up to as role models are in good shape, eating well and getting exercise. It is absolutely critical.”

Such an attitude violates the spirit of one of the sacred texts of American Christmas celebrators:

He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself….

Then there is that scene in the classic television program Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in which Mrs. Claus is trying to get Santa to eat because, she says, nobody wants a skinny Santa.

Now, I’ll admit that there is no need for Santa to be grossly obese. After all, the old fellow has been around for a long time and we don’t want to lose him anytime soon. Let’s just don’t expect him to be skinny.

The next thing you know, somebody will try to make a movie about Santa using an actor as skinny as Billy Bob Thornton. Oh wait, that’s right—but it wasn’t called Bad Santa for nothing!

The attack on Santa doesn’t end with the assault on his waistline.

Some folks are also trying to correct what they regard as the political incorrectness of his signature laugh. It has been reported that some of Santa’s department store representatives in Australia are being encouraged not to say “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Why? Are you ready for this? Because that might be offensive to women.

Seriously, now, would any women really suddenly start taking a phrase that Santa has been using for decades as an offensive statement addressed to them? I can see where someone might if Santa uttered the phrase while he pointed and leered at her as she walked by. But in a Santa context in which Santa says “Ho! Ho! Ho!” in the ordinary Santa Claus way? Surely not. No women I know—and I admit that my circle is pretty much limited to strong-willed, self-assured, thick-skinned, not looking to be offended, I don’t have time for this kind of silliness women—would take it that way.

In the movie Elf, Santa's sleigh can't fly because the world is so low on Christmas spirit. That's the risk we run, my friends, if we don't put an end to this foolishness. We who love Christmas must insist that this war on Santa Claus be stopped and stopped now!

Let Santa be chubby!

Let Santa bellow his jolly “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

And by all means, let the inflatable Santas live!

In the Meantime: Be Ready

(A sermon for the First Sunday of Advent based on Romans 13:11-14 & Matthew 24:36-44)

What do we do in the meantime? The meantime is the time between. In this case, we are talking about the time between the First and Second Advents of Jesus Christ. We are dealing with three facts. First, Jesus came to Bethlehem’s manger all those years ago. Second, Jesus will come again. Third, we are alive right here and right now. This is our meantime. What will we do with it?

During this Advent season I will say to you that we should spend our time being ready, being at peace, being compassionate, and being amazed.

The question for today is this: are we ready for Jesus to come?

When push comes to shove, you just have to get ready. We all know what that is like at this time of year. If family or other company is coming over and the house needs to be cleaned and the food needs to be cooked, we do it. If it’s almost Christmas and there are still presents to be bought and gifts to be wrapped, we do it. Why do we do such things? We do them first because they need to be done. But we do such things second because they are important to us. When push comes to shove we do that which it is important to do.

Nothing is more important than being ready for Jesus to come. The issue for those of us who are Christians, though, is that he has already come to us in our lives. Because he has already come we are already in the process of getting ready for his Second Coming. The issue for those who are not Christians is that you have not yet let Christ come into your life. You need to take the first step in getting ready by opening the door of your heart and letting him come in.

We exist side-by-side, those of us to whom Christ has come and those of us to whom he has not come. Just this week someone helped me notice for the first time that those who have been getting ready—the one in the field who will be “taken” and the one working at the mill who will be “taken”—have a responsibility to the ones who are at this point destined not to be taken. Here is a place where discipleship and witness dance hand in hand. What we are becoming and what we are sharing go together.

Make no mistake about it, though—when Christ comes into our hearts and lives things begin to change and they keep on changing for as long as we live. It should come as naturally as breathing to us. As O. Hallesby pointed out,

The air which our body requires envelopes us on every hand. The air of itself seeks to enter our bodies and, for this reason, exerts pressure upon us. It is well known that it is more difficult to hold one’s breath than it is to breathe. We need but exercise our organs of respiration, and air will enter forthwith into our lungs and perform its life-giving function to the entire body.
The air which our souls need also envelopes all of us at all times and on all sides. God is round about us in Christ on every hand, with his many-sided and all-sufficient grace. All we need to do is to open our hearts. [O. Hallesby, Prayer, cited in A Guide to Prayer for Ministers and Other Servants, ed. Rueben P. Job and Norman Shawchuck (Nashville: Upper Room, 1983), p. 17]

Yes, it should come as naturally as breathing to us. Jesus Christ is in our lives; we are clothed in him; he is our atmosphere and our environment.

Holding our breath is harder than just breathing. Keeping Jesus out is harder than letting him in.

And yet we have to be reminded. Paul reminded us: “You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light…” (Romans 13:11-12). Jesus Christ has already come to us. Jesus Christ will come again. But right here, right now, is the time for us to wake up and to live like people of the light and not people of the darkness. And we are ever to be moving forward and growing. As Martin Luther reminded us: “To stand still on God’s way means to go back; and to go forward means ever to begin anew.” [Martin Luther, Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, trans. J. Theodore Mueller (Grand Rapids, Zondervan: 1954), p. 172]

We need to be reminded that we are not waiting to be caught up in what God is going to do; rather we are already caught up in what God is doing. As Emil Brunner put it,

Where faith in Christ looks at the future, it turns into hope. Yet this future is not remote—something that glimmers on the distant horizon of history. It is the future of the Lord, and this future is already in process of happening…..With every hour we approach it more closely; already it throws its light into the darkness of the present. Faith is indeed nothing but living in the light of that which is to come. [Emil Brunner, The Letter to the Romans (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1959, p. 113]

We are not just waiting for what God is going to do; we are already a part of what God is doing.

In the church of my childhood, at this time of year rehearsals for the annual Christmas play were in full swing. Parts were assigned, scripts were distributed, and rehearsals were undertaken. Those plays were at the same time awful and wonderful. They were awful in their amateurishness. But they were also wonderful in their amateurishness. Those were just normal folks up there acting for the sake of our entertainment—and for the sake of the good news of Jesus Christ. Always at the end of those plays a nativity scene got worked into the plot, usually as a dream sequence. But something very important was said in that, namely, that our story is somehow caught up in the Christmas story, that our story is somehow caught up in the story of what God has done, is doing, and will do through Jesus.

As we grow and live in Christ, living in the light and not the darkness, we bear witness to the light to those who are living in the darkness. How do we do that? There are all kinds of ways.

We bear witness by what we don’t do. We don’t live as those do who live in darkness. Now, this is not legalism. This is rather living in the grace of God that changes us always for the better.

We bear witness by what we say. We need to be careful how we speak. We need especially to be careful to speak up for Jesus at every opportunity.

We bear witness by how we serve. We bear witness to Christ for the sake of others as we give of ourselves in service.

So, in the meantime, let’s be getting ready. And let’s be showing others how to get ready.