Scripture can be found here…
Have you ever been homesick? I think each of us has had that experience at least once in our lives. Miami-based Presbyterian Elder Vilmarie Cintrón-Olivieri writes of missing her hometown of San Juan, Puerto Rico, especially when listening to a song that evokes memories of cobblestone streets and blue seas. But sweet nostalgia turned to homesickness in 2017, after Maria, an enormous category 4 hurricane, blew through, decimating much of the island and causing as many as 4,645 deaths. Vilmarie’s longing for her home turned into acute pain as days went by without hearing from relatives and loved ones. Finally, some power was restored, and her phone chimed with a text. “Estamos bien.” ‘We’re fine.’ “Those two words,” she writes, “were hope in the middle of chaos. Those words were home.”
In our reading from the gospel according to Luke Jesus describes events that would unsettle anyone, some of which echo with stories of natural and human-made disasters our age has witnessed. Signs in the sun, moon and stars; unrest among nations; fear after witnessing the destructive power of nature, winds and seas. Jesus is talking about the end of days, or perhaps the labor pains that will give birth to another era as one comes to an end.
Today marks the beginning of the four weeks of the season of Advent. And while this time of waiting and preparing is one of the ways we make ready for Christmas, it’s also a time during which we remind ourselves of these words in scripture, where Jesus promises to return, in power, to make everything new again.
Imagine, God making everything new. If you’re like me, you’d be satisfied with making everything like it was before—before the pandemic stole so much life and joy from the world. But life before the pandemic wasn’t hunky dory for everyone. We watched as people poured out into the streets to protest the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and other Black people. Life wasn’t great for the transmen and transwomen whose lives are at risk, simply because they’re trying to live into their truth. Life wasn’t great for fully half of the children and youth of Broome County, who live below the poverty line. God doesn’t simply desire for things to go back to normal, back to the way they were. God wants to make everything new, including us.
So even then, even now, in the midst of our homesickness for a world that is not yet with us, there are words of hope woven throughout Jesus’ words: Stand up! he says, Lift up your heads and look around. When you see these things, you will know that the kingdom of God is near. Jesus infuses his words of caution with words of encouragement. He wants us to be hopeful. Jesus’ words are home to us.
Still, he does say one thing that complicates our reading of this passage. He says, “Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.” Nearly 2000 years later, we know that this assertion did not come true. So how do we read these words today? How do we prepare and wait, not only for our beloved Christmas holiday celebrations, but for God’s new heaven and new earth?
Our other reading this morning points us toward some insight. Paul writes to the church at Thessaloniki,
How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you? Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.
~ 1 Thess. 3:9-10
There’s a provocative phrase: “whatever is lacking in your faith.” What’s Paul talking about? What is lacking for the Thessalonians? Well, they were puzzled. When Paul had first shared the gospel with them and they had become Jesus followers, they’d done so with a very specific understanding of how events would unfold—like other Christians of that era, they expected the return of Jesus soon. Now-ish. But when some among them died without seeing Jesus’ promised return, the community struggled to understand. What did this mean? Can we trust Jesus at his word? How do we go forward not knowing?
So Paul writes this letter filled with love and encouragement, and says: Don’t be afraid, God’s got you. Don’t fret. Don’t worry. And he tells the Thessalonians—and us—how to live in the in-between times, how to live when things are not as we want them to be, or as they should be, how to live between now and that someday moment when God’s renewal will dawn.
Paul’s instructions are fairly simple. Lead a life of integrity. Don’t use or manipulate anyone. Return no one evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another. Forgive and pray every moment you can. Come to think of it, we’ve heard a lot of this before.
Paul doesn’t give an answer as to the “day of his coming,” because Paul doesn’t know, nobody knows—not even Jesus. Even though he seems to be pointing to a quick turnaround, he admits elsewhere that no one knows, only God. No one likes not knowing. But there are times when we can’t know, and we don’t. And this is one of them.
But we can know how God wants us to live in the time-in-between, and Advent gives us a wonderful opportunity to practice.
Have courage.
Hold on tight to what is good.
Don’t repay anyone’s nastiness with your own.
Strengthen those whose knees are buckling with fear.
Support those who need your help.
Help those who are getting the worst end of the deal.
Show your love to all. And give it to them, too.
Love and serve God, rejoicing in all the ways the Spirit makes everything on this list possible.
Even when you’re homesick, live in hope.
Thanks be to God. Amen.