2 Advent

 December 6, 2020

 Isaiah 40.1-11; Mark 1.1-8

 + One thing we often hear about if any of us have been Christians for any period of time is the big question:

 What must one do to be saved?

 Because many of us who believe really do have a fear of hell and eternal damnation, especially those of us who came from churches that preached those things on a regular basis.

 Now, in many churches, we heard that all one had to do to gain heaven and glorious eternity was make this simple statement: I accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior.  

 The rest of us, who didn’t make this statement, were in deep trouble.

 Now, on some level, that makes some sense.

 It seems simple.  

 If someone doesn’t accept Christ, then Christ should turn his back on those who didn’t accept him.

 After all, we would turn our backs on those who would not accept us, right? .

 And there should be a place where we had to pay for the wrongs we did.

 We simply can’t sin and expect not to pay for it in some way, right?

 But certainly for me, in my own spiritual life, as I grew into my relationship with Christ and as I started to look long and hard at everything I have believed, I realize that there is one thing those people who believe that way have  missed.

 It was one simple little word:

 Grace.

 Now, my very simplistic definition of grace is this:

 Grace is a gift we receive from God that we neither ask for nor necessarily deserve.

 In the Gospel we heard this morning, we hear the echoing words of John the Baptist.

 The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me;

 He is that lone voice calling to us in the wilderness.

 It is a voice of hope.

 It is a voice of substance.

 It is a voice of salvation.

 More importantly, John’s message is a message of Grace.

 This powerful One is coming!

 There’s no avoiding it. 

 God is coming to us.

 This is the ultimate grace in a very real sense.

 Although we have been hoping for God to come to us and save us, it is not something that we have necessarily asked for or deserve.

 God comes to us in God’s own time.

 It is this one fact—grace—that makes all the difference in the world.

 It is what makes the difference between eternal life and eternal damnation.

 Now, there are those who believe that there is an eternal hell.  

 And if you’re not right with God, they say, that’s exactly where you’re going.

 The fault in this message is simple: none of us are right with God.  

 As long as we are on this side of the veil, so to speak, we fall short of what God wants for us.

 We have all sinned and we will all sin again.  

 That’s the fact.

 But that’s where grace comes in.   

 Grace is, excuse my language, the trump card.

 Grace sets us free.

 Grace involves one simple little fact that so many Christians seem to overlook.

 And this is the biggest realization for me as a Christian:

 Just because one doesn’t accept Christ doesn’t mean that Christ doesn’t accept us.

 Christ accepts us.  

 Plain and simple.  

 Even if we turn our backs on Christ.  

 Even if we do everything in our limited powers to separate ourselves from Christ, the fact of the matter is that nothing can separates from Christ.  

 Christ accepts every single person—no matter what we believe, or don’t believe, no matter if Christ is some abstract concept to us or a close, personal friend.

 That’s right, I did say “personal.”  

 Because, yes, it’s wonderful and beautiful to have a personal relationship with Christ.  

 Our personal relationship with Christ is essential to our faith, as you have heard me say many, many times.

 But the fact is, Christ isn’t the personal savior to any one of us in this place.  

 He saves all of us, equally.

 That is grace.

 That is how much Christ loves us.

 Now, you’ve heard me speaking out on Facebook the last day or so about certain people being denied Holy Communion in certain churches.

You know where I stand on that!

 But to me, that is one of the ultimate travesties of Christianity.

 Denying Christ in the Sacrament of the Eucharist is dangerous ground!

 Because it is not our place—not mine, not any priest or bishop or cardinal, or anyone else—to deny Christ to anyone.

 Christ is not some precious little treasure we get to keep all to ourselves and share only with those who believe just like we do.

 Sure, we can say that’s “pastoral.” We can see we’re doing them a favor.

 Please! Spare me!

 We can say, this person we are denying communion to is a sinner because they take a view that conflicts with the Church.

 But you now what? That smacks of hypocrisy!

 After all, we are all sinners, and to deny people Christ just because they are sinners is to defeat the very purpose of Christ’s Eucharist.

 Those priests who do so will have some serious explaining to do when they come before the throne of Christ one day!

 I wouldn’t want to be in their place!

 Now, I have preached this message my entire adult life as a Christian, and certainly as priest.

 And, as you can imagine, there have been, shall we say, a few critics.

 And some of these critics—actually quite a few of these critics—have been quite vocal.

 In fact, I once preached this very same message one evening not long after I was ordained to the priesthood in a very diverse venue of     what I thought were somewhat progressive Lutherans.

 Later, I learned, I was essentially blackballed from that venue for that sermon.

 I also preached it once at another congregation, at which I was a guest.

 After I preached it, the presider at the service actually got up and “corrected” my sermon in front of everybody.

 Critics of this message say that what I am talking about is cheap grace.

 Cheap grace?

 No, I counter.

 And I still counter!

 Again and again.

 No, not cheap grace. 

 It’s actually quite expensive grace.

 It was grace bought at quite a price.

 And no, I’m not being naïve or fluffy here.   

 Trust me, I have known some truly despicable people in my life.  

 I have been hurt by some of these people and I have seen others hurt by these people.

 The world is full of people who are awful and terrible.  

 And sometimes the most awful and terrible person we know is the one staring back at us in our own mirrors.

 But the fact is, that even when we can’t love them or ourselves, when we can’t do anything else but feel anger and hatred toward them, Christ does love them.  

 Christ accepts them, just as Christ accepts each of us.

 Christ doesn’t necessarily accept their actions. Christ doesn’t accept their sins, or their failings, or their blatant embrace of what is wrong.

 But, not even their despicable nature can separate them from Christ’s love.  

 Nothing—not even priests or bishops or Cardinals—can separate us from Christ’s love and from Christ’s promise to eternal life.  

 That is how God works in this world.

 That is why God sent Christ to us.

 I believe in that image we hear from our reading from the prophecies of Isaiah today:

 [God] will feed his flock like a shepherd;

he will gather the lambs in his arms,

and carry them in his bosom,

 We will be gathered up by our God, and we will be carried into our God’s bosom.

 I love that image!

 Because it conveys God’s true and abiding love for us. 

 It’s a hard concept for those us who were taught otherwise.  

 But I do believe it.  

 I believe it because of the personal relationship I have with Christ.  

 The Christ I have come to know and to love and to serve is simply that full of love.

 So, do I believe we’re all going to heaven when we die?

 Well, yes.

 I really do believe that.  

 Why?

 Because, the love of Christ is just that big.  

 It is just that wonderful and just that all-encompassing.

 It is just that powerful.  

 If one person is in some metaphysical, eternal hell for being a despicable person, then, you know what?  the love of Christ has failed.  

 Something has, in fact, come between that person and Christ.

 I do not believe that hell or Satan or sin or the Church or priests who deny communion to others or anything else is big enough to separate us fully and completely from Christ. 

 Not even we, ourselves, can turn our backs on Christ because wherever we turn, Christ is there for us.

 So, listen.  

 In this Advent season of hope,  John’s voice is calling to us from the wilderness.  

 He is saying,

 Christ is near.

 Christ is coming to us.

 Let us go out, in grace, to meet him!

 Come, Lord Jesus!

 Let us pray.

 Come, Lord Jesus. Come soon to us. Come to us with power and glory. And grace. and let us know that no matter how often we may turn our backs on you, you have never once turned your back on us. You have always been with us and remain with us. And that nothing in all the world can separate us from you. For this, we are truly thankful today. Amen.