Jeremiah 33:14-16
Luke 21:25-36

There are times when it is as if we stand on the crest of a high hill and look down, over and across the valley, and strain our eyes toward the horizon wondering what lies ahead.  Our time is such a time.
           
We have lived through nearly a decade of a new century.  We were promised a “New World Order.” But we wonder about the promise of the advertisement that says, “You’ve got to admit it’s getting better all the time.”  There are signs that things are not getting better. Many signs indicate that things are coming apart, unglued.
           
We look to the future and we want to see the American eagle or the bull market as signs of the future.  What we see instead are heavens that shift into strange configurations, chaotic disturbances.  Epidemics, AIDS, sickness like the H1N1flu so vast that it may be identified as a “pandemic.”
           
According to Luke as Jesus looked into the heavens he saw signs of strange, cataclysmic events. Is this vivid, cosmic, apocalyptic language so odd to us?  We look to the heavens in our time and see global warming, the thinning ozone layer, ultraviolet light causing cancer of the skin. 
           
As a result the words of Luke 21 do not sound so odd to us.  How can we look up into the heavens and not feel that the old world is breaking apart?  Things look bad.  Our environmental problems are destined to get worse before they get better.  AIDS will kill many millions more before we discover a cure.  And even if we discover a cure, they say that our overuse of antibiotics has set us up for a whole series of resistant viruses and bacteria that are impervious to our remedies.
           
Strange, apocalyptic, it’s-bad-all-over biblical language confirmed by today’s headlines.  Not too uplifting a message, granted, but at least it “tells it like it is.”  Look up in the sky and you will see things falling apart, coming unglued, chaos threatening. 
           
But please note this is not the only message of today’s gospel lesson.  Jesus says more than a simple, “It’s bad all over and going to get worse.” Jesus says, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads because your redemption is drawing near.”
           
We need to link that strange biblical word “apocalyptic” with another strange biblical word, “redemption.”  We tend to think of apocalyptic in exclusively negative terms.  The world is coming apart at its seams, the heavens are turning ominous and dark, and that’s bad news. 
           
But Jesus speaks of this time as a time when all the signs suggest that “your redemption is drawing near.”  And that’s good news.
           
When Jesus is born, prophet Anna praises God and sees in this baby a sign of “the redemption of Jerusalem.”  In a sense every newborn was a sign of redemption.  Every newborn today is a sign of hope.  Why do people at the dusk of life want to see and hold those who are at the dawn of life?  Because it fills them with hope and expectation.  Why is it that people in charge of hospice care often ask family members of a patient if there is an infant in the extended family and if there is can that infant be brought to visit the hospice patient?  Because it fills the patient with hope and expectation.  Why do many people when given a choice want to be at home when they die?  So they can be surrounded by people who love them and who are going to go on living and carrying the family on into the future. 
           
It is in a context like this that the adult Jesus says that a time of redemption-that time when God will come, will save, will move to bring to triumphant completion God’s saving work-is near.  Look up.
           
The good news is not that heaven and earth are disintegrating, falling apart, going to “hell in a hand basket,” as we sometimes describe our circumstances.  No, “our redemption is drawing near.”
           
We look over the horizon toward the future and what do we see?  We see the possibility of life being lived in peace, love, and harmony because we see one who did it and who calls us to learn to live as he did.  What we see on the horizon is not simply an end; it also is a beginning.  It is not just death but also birth.
           
Jesus says that this time, our time that seems at times so scary and chaotic, is a time for “testimony.”  A time for us all to lift up our heads high and tell the world a story that it cannot know if we don’t tell it, namely, that by the grace of God, the worst of times can be the best of times, that an apocalyptic ending is also a redemptive beginning.
           
We ought not to be too tied to this world, as it is.  For this world, as it is, is not fully what God intends.  There are wars and rumors of war, sadness, heartache, and tragedy.  We’ve made a mess of things, fouled our world, and despoiled the earth.  In our better moments we must honestly admit that matters are out of our control and that the world’s large problems are beyond our ability to fix.
           
So we look toward tomorrow.  We strain toward the future.  Shall this be death or life?  Shall it be apocalyptic destruction or graceful redemption?  We look and see, the face, the face of the one who came to save us, who constantly forgives us, and always loved us.  It is the image of God in the face of Jesus. 
           
Let us go forth to bear testimony that our redemption is drawing near.
           
One person said that after a devastating hurricane, all of the power had been out for three days.  It was hot, humid, and miserable during the day.  But it was frightening at night.  Rumors were that there had been much looting.  Robberies had taken place because there was no electricity, no way to call the police, no streetlights.
           
Thus, when, in the darkness, there was a pounding on our front door, we were filled with great fear.  Was this a robber?  Was this a looter trying to find out if the house was empty?  There was no way to call anyone for help.
           
The knocking continued.  We peered out the window and tried to make out the figures on the front porch. 
           
“Hey,” a voice called out to us.  “We’ve got a big bag of ice for you, some fresh water too!”
           
We made out the faces of our next door neighbors, our friends who had come to bring us some wonderful gifts. 
           
I recall in the aftermath of that terrible storm we had in Glenview August 23, 2007, I arrived home around 9:30 in the evening to total darkness.  Coming out of the house was Peggy and our neighbor Jeff Musich.  Jeff had seen Peggy’s car arrive and had come over to see how we were, did we have water in our basement, and what could he do to help.  It was reassuring to see Jeff’s face. 
           
As we peer into darkness in fear, it makes all the difference in the world whose face we see.  Friend or foe?
           
Advent means that when we look over the darkened and storm-filled horizon, we see the face of God in the face of those who reach out to us.  That makes all the difference, in the end.  What about those who see our faces?  Do they see the face of God in our faces as they peer out into the darkness of fear that surrounds their lives?
           
Today, in a world at war, with guns firing, bombs falling, towers crashing, and gangs battling, suddenly biblical apocalyptic makes sense. What about tomorrow in a world that is unsure if it has another tomorrow?  Biblical apocalyptic has a firm, sure answer for a people who are no longer too sure of themselves.  Horrible, terrible, destructive, tragic things happen.  And they happen for no good reason but some good can come out of such horrible, tragic events.  And that good is that the sure answer for us is not in ourselves but in God and in God’s goodness and grace. 
           
Several years ago a man was heard screaming into a reporter’s microphone.  The man did not speak English that well.  Still, you could well understand every word that he said. 
           
“I tell you,” he said screaming, “we had it better under Saddam!  At least we had water and electricity! Did we ask you to come ‘liberate’ us?  Who told you that we wanted a revolution?”
           
Not one bit of gratitude in this man for the country that has wrecked its own economy, sacrificed hundreds of lives, killed thousands of innocent people, and risked much, not one bit of appreciation for the U. S.-induced revolution.  Supposedly, it was going to be easy to win a war, but we are finding there is no such thing as an easy war and it is hard to win the peace.
           
I heard of a man who labored long and hard, at great personal cost, in the removal of racial apartheid from South Africa.  When the evil of apartheid was finally removed from that troubled land, there was dancing in the streets.
           
Yet, that person who had labored so hard said, “Now is the hard work for us.  It’s one thing to begin a revolution, even to win the revolution.  It’s another thing to finish it.  The creation of a truly just, truly compassionate society is not easy.”  Isn’t this what our nation found out after our revolution?
           
We say we want change, the solution to our problems, but do we really?  A new world brings new challenges.  At least in the old world we know what is expected of us.  The system under Saddam was cruel and unjust; but millions learned to work it well.  Racial apartheid was regrettable, but there were many, white and black, who managed to profit from it.
           
You will note a somberness in so many of the hymns we sing in Advent.  Things are in a minor key.  Some people ask, “Why can’t we sing the more upbeat, joyful Christmas songs?  Why all these sad Advent hymns?”
           
One reason is the promised Advent of a Savior is not purely good news.  A revolution, a fundamental sweeping change in our situation, is not always welcomed by us.
           
We were warned.  At the very beginning of Luke’s Gospel, mother Mary sings a battle cry.  Her song is the shot heard round the world, the uprising of slaves.  The technical term for what Mary was singing about is “gospel.”  Trouble is, gospel has become a rather shopworn and limp sort of word. Some use the word as punching your ticket for heaven.  If you take the Greek work “euangelion” that we translate as “gospel,” John Howard Yoder says that it would best be translates as “revolution.” In the classical world, it meant simply “good news.”  But “euangelion” is not just any old good news.  It is news that has political and social significance.  When one city was at war with another and won a battle, “good news” was the report the runner announced.  When a son was born to a king, “good news” was announced ensuring the political stability of the kingdom. 
           
When Jesus was born to Mary, it was announced as “good news.”  And when the baby grew up and John began preaching, Luke described it as good newsing the people with statements like “every tree that does not bear fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire,” and “whoever has two coats must share with anyone who had none and whoever has food must do likewise” (Luke 3:9, 10-11).
           
When God moves against the present order, it is good news for the poor, but bad news for the proud and rich, bad news for those wielding political and economic power to their advantage and to the disadvantage of others.  No wonder there were many in Judea that thought such good news didn’t sound good at all.  John ended up dead shortly after this sermon. 
           
This was the news that Jesus himself proclaimed.  His words were, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because God has anointed me to bring the good news to the poor.  God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19)  Doesn’t that sound like really good news.?  Well it was not received as good news by many people, especially those with power and influence. 
           
I guess the main difference between good news and bad news is where you happen to be standing when you get the news.  Here I am, standing atop a world of good, benefiting very well from the present order, well fixed.  I don’t want, don’t really need a revolution, particularly if that revolution comes to level the playing field and benefit those who are on the bottom and slide me off the perch I’m on.
           
Good news!  The coming of God into the world is going to set right what is wrong in the world.  Justice will be done where injustice has been done!  Forgive me for not rushing over to Bethlehem for the party. 
           
When Jesus was born, according to Luke, the powerful people, powerful political people, up at the palace missed it.  But the powerless people out in the fields and backwater towns, the people working the night shift got the message and understood it very well.  It truly was good news. 
           
So it was good news I guess.  The revolution was underway.  And every time that this good news is proclaimed the revolution continues and there is no end to it.  May we hear the Advent message of God’s love coming to the world, the message of God’s good news for the world, good news for you and me.