Sunday's Message: Love Risks Birth
Below is Pastor Rwth's sermon from this past Sunday (01-07-2018) including the slides she used during the 9:00 am Contemporary Service.
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We’re not even two week past Christmas, and the Christian calendar already has us at Jesus’ Baptism. Maybe because Christmas remained fresh in my heart, I sat with the story of Jesus’ baptism with his birth still on my mind. Maybe I had birth on my mind because I want God’s grace to birth some new things in my life and in the life of our church in 2018.
That said,
connecting birth and baptism makes sense for us. There’s this conversation
Jesus and Nicodemus were having in another scripture reading, John, chapter 3. Jesus says, “I assure you, unless someone is
born anew, it’s not possible to see God’s kingdom. Nicodemus asked, “How is it
possible for an adult to be born? It’s impossible to enter the mother’s womb
for a second time and be born, isn’t it?” Jesus answered, “I assure you, unless
someone is born of water and the Spirit, it’s not possible to enter God’s
kingdom.
Baptism is itself
a kind of birth – a birth into a new form of life. Baptism is a birth into a life
intentionally formed by God and lived for God’s purposes. Baptism is a birth into a way of life as God
desires it.
In our story
today, Jesus is born anew as God calls him into a new life of public ministry
and service to others. Jesus’ more
hidden identity as Savior is now out-in-the-open. As his ministry begins, Jesus is born more
fully into the world for all to receive or reject.
The Holy
Spirit, who came over Mary at Jesus’ conception, now comes over Jesus at his
baptism—empowering this new birth to happen.
God receives him afresh, with delight and great love, as Mary did when
Jesus was first placed in her arms. God says, as much as Mary must have: You
are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness.
Both
stories—Christmas and Jesus’ baptism—are mysteries of birth. What might that say to us in these earliest
days of 2018?
An answer
came when I ran across a poem by Madeleine L’Engle. It was tucked into one of those emails that I
didn’t get to read around Christmas time because I was too busy. I almost missed it—but then thought how
beautiful it is that it came to me when I was making this connection between
Jesus’ two births: in Bethlehem and in the Jordan River.
The poem, The Risk of Birth, goes like this:
This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.
That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honor & truth were trampled by scorn—
Yet here did the Savior make his home.
When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn—
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.
Love
emerging to be born: That’s what connects Jesus’ birth in the stable and his
baptism in the Jordan River. God’s
love for the world is so great that God takes the risk of birth—to give love a
face in Jesus and to give love a mission through his ministry.
It’s not
like the times were favorable for God’s love to be born in Jesus’ birth or his
baptism—the world was full of discord and disorientation. There wasn’t any indication that people would
receive Jesus—at Bethlehem or at the Jordan River, but God risked birthing love
through Jesus’ life anyway. God doesn’t
consider favorable times or unfavorable, failure or success. God doesn’t weigh
pros and cons. God loves the world—and so
God risks birthing that love into being through Jesus and through those who
follow him.
So these
stories ask us: what love must we risk giving birth to?
Back in
November I talked about my experience at the St. Francis Inn in Philadelphia in
a sermon about service. Days earlier, in
preparation, I was watching a video from the St. Francis Inn that put me back
in touch with my own call to ministry and my heart’s desire to serve people in
need. And I reflected on what a
wonderful ministry we have in Tuesday Morning.
I began to wonder how we would move forward with leading the ministry
because Karlie, our much-loved and gifted director, was moving.
Then I heard
the Spirit’s prompting: Rwth, you could
step this ministry.
I felt
both elation and fear: could I take the risk of birthing the Love that I had
carried in my heart for 25 years? I sought the discernment
and input of others and received affirmation and support. This week, I’m jumping into leadership of
Tuesday Morning Outreach.
This new
ministry role is one way I’m taking the risk of birth in my life this year. God desires you to take the risk of birth in
your life, too. What deep dreams, seeds
of possibility, or leadings of the Spirit do you want to bring forth? What’s on your bucket list that you want to
fulfill, so that you might be more of the unique person God calls you to be? What
do you long to create?
What love
would you bring forth if you ceased judging yourselves and your dreams so
harshly, if you stopped comparing yourselves to others, if you weren’t
afraid? What makes you hesitate or
resist taking risks of birth in your life?
One of the
reasons why we find love so scary is the risk it necessarily involves. To love is to risk. When we love, we
experience the impulse to take the risk of birthing it into the world—making
our love visible and real, giving our love a life of its own.
We love
another person—a friend, a spouse, a child—and we risk commitment and countless
actions on their behalf. We love our career,
we love our calling—and we risk giving it our energies and other precious resources. We love a particular craft or art or
service—and we risk putting our creativity and heart out into the world.
Jesus
himself took the risk of birth when he stepped both into and out of the
baptismal waters. After hidden years in Nazareth, it was time to bring forth
saving love for humanity and all creation.
When is the time for love to be born?
The time is now. Love still takes the risks of birth.
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