Advent Hope: A Work in Progress

Mark 1:1-8

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

As it is written in the prophet Isaiah, “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,’” John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.

Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

Dear beloved of God, grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior Jesus, who was and is and is to come. Amen.

I assume many of you have seen the news about the monoliths? These 10–12-foot-tall silver structures that have just appeared in some random locations… First it was Utah, then Romania, and now a few days ago it was California. And in the case of the monoliths in Romania and California, they disappeared just as quickly as they appeared.

Now, up until yesterday, no one was quite sure what these monoliths are supposed to signify or who put them there. Some speculated they were gifts from aliens. Others wondered if the Utah monolith was leftover from the filming of the HBO series “Westworld.” Still others, and this appears to be the case based on reports from yesterday, assumed that it is some kind of guerrilla art installation. 

Even in a whacked out year like 2020, the sudden appearance of three shiny structures in pretty remote locations has captured folks attention. Why is it there? What does it mean? Who is responsible?

I’m not a huge extra-terrestrial guy by any means, nor do I typically buy into conspiracy theories. But I gotta say there were a few moments last week, probably when I was scrolling social media way too late into the night where I wondered, maybe this means something big. Maybe something is about to happen.

Mark’s gospel reads that,

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. 

Now look, I’m not suggesting that John was dropped out of the sky or installed in the dead of night like a steel monolith, but I after all I had been reading about these things the past few weeks, I did kind of get tripped up on how this translation says that John appeared in the wilderness.

Mark’s gospel seems to suggest that all of sudden there’s this guy, in the middle of nowhere, getting people wet and people are noticing. They’re coming to check it out, they’re coming to check John out. And I think what’s even more arresting is that they seem to be listening.

At least that’s how Mark tells it.

The way Mark tells it there’s something about John, about his message, what he’s telling people as he stands by the riverside in this wild place that draws people to him. John makes people curious. They wonder. Could this be a moment, could this be the moment where things change?

There’s a part of me that really wants to be open to something like that. I want to be open to something that’s unusual, inexplicable and maybe a little irrational. I want to get swept into something that compels me to live differently. Something that forces me to reimagine how I know the world to work.

I could use a little John the Baptist in my life. Someone a little wild, maybe a bit unsavory, someone that I’d think twice about having over for dinner. Someone who tells me that this isn’t it, someone who can convince me there’s more to come. I want to know that it’s going to get better? You know?

John did that. He gave people a taste, a word, he gave them something that helped them hang on. He gave people hope that something was about to happen.

I would trade all three of 2020 monoliths and throw in 50 murder hornets in a heartbeat for just one John the Baptist. Just one person that offers hope, real concrete hope in this mess of a year.

Of course John doesn’t come without his challenges. He’s a fiery guy; he doesn’t just promise that things will be different, he demands that people are different, that we are different. Before I trade away all our monoliths and murder hornets, I should note that John isn’t offering of baptism of hope. John is offering a baptism of repentance.

John is demanding that we confess our sins. That we tell the truth. That we look at ourselves, that we see the world we’re a part of and acknowledge this is of our own making. We’ve done this, all of it. We’re complicit in it, or at the very least, we’ve allowed it to continue.

Yet we work so hard to convince ourselves that it’s someone else’s fault. That it’s the other party that did this, or the other tribe, or the red states or the blue states, or this country or that leader. 

Everyone has called this year unprecedented. Many have said we’re in the middle of a reckoning. Nearly all of us are discontented with where we are and how this is working. Something is amiss. Pay attention to that.

That discontent, that restlessness, that anguish that we know far too well is John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness of our souls.  Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.

Christ is coming. 

Recognize that you’re a part of this mess. Confess that you’ve played a part in it. That feeling you have isn’t going away. You’ve seen something this year, experienced something this year, that has unsettled you and you wish it could just go away, that things would go back to normal; but they won’t, and they can’t, for God won’t let them.

I’ve been looking around waiting for someone to do something, to fix this mess, to make it better. As a result I’ve missed the work that God has been doing within me, to make me ready, to help me be a part.

The peculiar God that we worship begins God’s work within each one of us. The God who comes to us in Jesus inhabits our flesh and bones. God embodies our humanity. So of course this is where it starts, with me and with you. We are a part of the unfolding good news of God that is made flesh in our humanity. God has chosen to work through us.

Now look, it’s not the way I would have done it. It requires a lot of effort because we get in the way all the time. But God’s committed. God’s committed to you and to me. God has promised to stretch out God’s hand, to restore our humanity so that we can be a part of God’s work to fill this world with divine love. It’s not going to be easy. It’ll hurt. But that promise gives me hope, today and forevermore. Amen.