A long time ago, in a frontier town, one of the residents captured a beautiful, majestic bald eagle. He put the eagle in chains and displayed it in the window of his store to attract the attention of potential customers. His eagle became a star attraction in the area as people came considerable distances to view the great creature. And, of course, the man’s business flourished. One day, a trapper made his once a year trip into town to exchange furs for food, ammunition, and other supplies to take back into the woods. He saw the eagle confined to the window and promptly announced that he wanted to purchase the bird from the store owner. He asked, “How much?”
The storekeeper didn’t really want to sell the eagle, so he quoted the ridiculously high price of eight hundred dollars. It was the trapper’s total year’s income. Without blinking, the trapper agreed and paid the price. Immediately, he took the eagle to the edge of town, removed the chains, and set the magnificent creature free. The eagle soared up into the sky, dipped its wings a couple of times as if in salute, and then flew off to the high mountains. When asked why he did that, the old trapper simply replied, “That eagle was not meant to be chained. God made it to soar in freedom.” That is Jesus’ intent in teaching the beatitudes. The children of God were not meant to be chained down by oppression of any kind. Especially the religious kind the Scribes and Pharisees were teaching. To be in the Kingdom of Heaven means happiness, freedom, joy, comfort and peace. It means that we will soar like eagles, tap our toes to the music of the kingdom and dance like children on a playground. Being a child of God calls for “Congratulations!” Congratulations, you poor in spirit, you’ve got the kingdom of heaven.

Congratulations, you mourners, you’ve got comfort. Comfort? Comfort! And that’s a promise. The world says, “Enjoy!” Christ says, “Grieve!” This is a sharp denial of the world’s standards. Yet Jesus knew full well that grief in itself is not blessed. Its effect can be seen on any face of sorrow: it disfigures and slays. Certainly it is not happy. Since it is not grieving for grieving’s sake that brings happiness, then what kind of mourning brings this kind of congratulatory tone on Jesus’ lips?

Comfort comes to those who accept their own sorrow with resolve to learn, and to make the sorrow a gift. Our instinct is to rebel against pain, or try to evade it, or to forget it in work or pleasure. But some people bare their body to the spear. They surmise that the spear may be tipped with life instead of poison. They cannot conceive that life is given only for their comfort. Darkness may reveal stars and worlds upon worlds. It should be remembered that the only people who wither up and die from sorrow are those who make that choice. Because of Christ, we can decide to confront that grief, deal with the pain, adjust to the loss, and then reinvest energy in new relationships and opportunities. And, ultimately, soar like eagles in newfound freedom. As hard as it is for some to believe, the process of losing and sorrow can lead to growth and healing.

Poet Robert Browning captures this thought precisely in his poem, “Along the Road”:

I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chattered all the way,
But left me home none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow
And ne’er a word said she;
But oh, the things I learned from her
When Sorrow walked with me!

Jesus does not delete the road of sorrow. He does promise that the road will lead from hurting to healing, from pain to peace, from mourning to comfort. Comfort comes to those who voluntarily share their neighbor’s pain. The world says, “Don’t get involved.” “Look out for number one!” “It’s not my business; I have enough troubles of my own.” The world says that sorrow does not exist. Yet the world is miserable because of sorrow. It needs the comfort that comes from Christ. In recent years we have heard a great deal about co-dependency. That term describes one who gives to another who has a problem like alcohol or abuse to the extent that his or her own self is destroyed. A co-dependent ignores the reality of sorrow, which comes with the actions of another person. On the other hand, there is one who could be called a co-taker. A person only out for themselves. Always a taker, never a giver. Those extremes seem to be our reaction to the sorrows and pain of our neighbor. We do too much, or we don’t do anything. It is God’s will that we share our neighbor’s pain. We cannot remove it, or cover it up. We can help carry the load.

Dag Hammerskjold once said that the crisis of life is not that no one will help bear our own concerns but that we have no one else to help bear the load of care. Like Arnold von Winkelried, Swiss hero of the battle of Sempach, we must stand in the pass and gather all the spears into our own breast. We must visit the home where death has come. We must enter the hidden tumult of the criminal in jail. We must agonize over slums and become leaders in civil righteousness. We are not bound, but we are bound. We must be the compassionate of the earth, for our reward is to grow in compassion. Comfort comes to those who mourn for their own sins. Others are content with the unexamined life. The Christian cannot be content with the unexamined life. Some see sin as a trivial affair. The Christian cannot see sin as trivial but dark, deep and wicked; destructive, desperate and deadly. The happy ones according to Christ are sensitive to the grief that God feels because of our sin. We take responsibility for our sin. We must say like the psalmist: “My sin is ever before me.” And so God is ever before us. Begging to call us out of the slough of despond and to dwell in his eternal light. Comfort comes to those who mourn for their neighbor’s sin. How do you react when you discover a brother or sister destroyed by sin? Do you shout, “they made their bed, now let them sleep in it?” Or, do you feel greatly troubled by our neighbor’s sin. We should be greatly troubled when we read of the greed in the market place, the lust in the streets, the sloth in our relationships. Absence of this trouble is not a sign of spiritual maturity it is a sign of the lack of spiritual maturity. His heartbreak grieves and is sorrowful. He calls us into that kind of compassion. The reward for this kind of sorrow is comfort. The picture of which is to “call to the side of.” It is a picture of God embracing us to provide consolation for our sorrow. This comfort is no mere soothing but tenderness and reinforcement.

The joy, which comes from such comfort, is not the opposite of pain, or in respite of pain, or despite pain. It is because of pain. Joy is sorrow accepted in contrite love. Happiness shows up pretty much when you expect it to – a good marriage, a rewarding job, a baby’s birth, and a pleasant vacation. Joy, on the other hand, is as notoriously unpredictable as the one who bequeaths it.

It is more important to get something from Christmas.

The signal has been sent that something momentous is about to happen. The God of the Ages is about to interrupt our lives and rearrange our world, if necessary, to find us, and it is time to get ready for it. How we react to this news of God’s entrance into our lives determines how he is received.

We can choose to ignore this call to prepare. It is easy to be oblivious to the Advent tradition and be caught up in our routines that we do not prepare for Christmas. How often do we postpone preparation and end up at a store that has stayed open for extended hours on Christmas Eve and discover that there is nothing left under the sign that says, “The Perfect Gift for Someone You Love.”

This way of doing things yields little satisfaction. It occurred to me that the intensity or meaning of an event is in direct proportion to the attention to it ahead of time. Rarely do you just happen upon the significant experiences of life. The Hebrews knew this. They did not come “huffing and puffing” up to an event like one of their high festival days. They prepared for days in advance so they could experience the festival to its fullest. If you have chosen to ignore the preparation for which Advent calls, Christmas Day is likely to be just another day for you. The height and depth of its significance will not be realized. We can also depend on others to prepare for us and make Christmas meaningful for us. This is putting our hopes in what other people are doing for us. This is eagerly waiting for someone to ask, “What are you getting for Christmas?” Then, hoping against hope, that they will be willing to make your dreams come true. This is the way little children experience Christmas. We spend a lot of time shaking and squeezing, hoping to figure out if we are going to get what we want. There is no guarantee that others will come through for us according to our wishes.

Duffy Daugherty of Michigan State used to say that the trouble with being a football coach was that “you were responsible to irresponsible people.” The same is true for Christmas; you may be depending on people who are not dependable to give you what you want for Christmas. Even if you are specific about what you want for a person to do for you at Christmas, there is no guarantee that they will do or can do what you expect. Using Advent to build your hopes on what others will do for you is risky business. Fortunately, there is a third alternative for us. We can take deliberate action and ask the question, “What do I want from Christmas this year? How can I spend the next 9 days so that this season will have the depth and joy?

To answer the first questions, we have to answer another question first; “What can we expect from Christmas?” The waitress walks up to the table and asks, “Does anyone want dessert?” Invariably someone asks, “What do you have?” It’s hard to know what to expect from Christmas before we know what Christmas offers us. Isaiah helps us answer this inquiry. Isaiah states that God offers good news, healing, freedom, pardon, a year of grace, comfort, care, messages of joy and praising hearts. That sounds like a great menu. Can anyone receive this from Christmas? Well, that’s the problem. What God offers is only to some specific people: the poor, the heartbroken, captives, prisoners, the mourning. That is a motley crew. Those people certainly need what Christmas offers. But who are they?

That’s the critical point. Who are these people that Isaiah is speaking of? One thing is clear. The work of the one who comes to them is to bring a reversal of fate to those in various states of destitution and deprivation. This group of people in desperate straits are bewailing their conditions and yearning for release. This group of people sound familiar to me. I think I know them well. In fact, I think I am one of them. I have bewailed my desperate condition and I yearn for release. I have heard others bewailing their conditions and yearning for release. The more I followed what I was hearing, I came into many of your lives. There is a lot of bewailing and yearning represented in this room today.

One of the most dangerous persons I know, especially at Christmas time, is named Third. You may know Him and his sister, Her. Their cousins are They and Them. We readily agree that Christmas is for Him or Her or They or Them. We heartily agree that the oppressed, afflicted, the brokenhearted, the captives and mourners need what Christmas offers. The most difficult thing to admit is for one to say, “I am the oppressed, afflicted, brokenhearted, captive and mourner. I need this from Christmas.”

Anyone who has ever been in any recovery group, therapy or counseling knows that the hardest thing to realize is the obvious. The declaration, “I am an alcoholic,” is a monumental step toward healing. The same is true with anyone or anything. First, there has to be a recognition that there is destitution and deprivation. I am destitute. I am depraved. Honesty drives us to our knees. Brennan Manning tells the story of a client in a recovery group who was sugar coating his problem. He said he was a good father and didn’t have any issues
with his children. The counselor called his wife and asked her what kind of father he was and she said that he had left his daughter in the car in freezing weather while he drank with his buddies until she had severe frost bite. She had some of her fingers and toes amputated and lost her hearing due to the episode. The counselor asked him how much he drank. Max said, “Only a couple of drinks an evening before dinner. The counselor called the bar that Max frequented asked the bartender the same question. The bartender said that Max was his best customer. He spent forty or fifty dollars a night on drinks. This routine went on for hours, according to Manning, and finally Max was sobbing uncontrollably in the floor, curled up in a fetal position. The counselor roared at Max, “There’s the window or there’s the door. Either end this charade, leave this group or decide to be honest about your life.” Perhaps your desperation is not to the extent as Max’s, but each of us knows the reality of affliction, grief, oppression, a broken heart or bondage at one level or another. We walk around thinking that we are all O.K., when we are not. If I am O.K. and yo u are O.K. why are we here to begin with. Why are we hopeful for good news, healing, freedom, pardon, a year of grace, comfort, care, messages of joy and praising hearts if we are not afflicted, broken, bound, brokenhearted and uncomforted?

Christmas reminds us that Good News begins with Bad News. It is when we honestly appraise our lives, acknowledging the bad and the difficult that the good can soothe and comfort and challenge. Christmas can only be merry after we have faced the dreary. It is the light of Christ that darkness could not overtake!

One of the most unique and privileged callings in history is what I do as your pastor. To know you and love you. To walk with you and hurt with you is at once a terrific burden and joy for me to experience. Each Sunday as I look at your faces, I know that many of you are facing difficulty and hardship like you have never faced before. I am aware that your difficulty affects the life of this church family as we pray for you, help you and listen to you. For many of you, this Christmas season is not a “fa- la- la- la- la” kind a season. Frankly, you may wish that Christmas just skipped you this year.

Not to diminish your difficulty, let me encourage you by saying that you may be in a position to experience the best that God has to offer through Christmas like never before. You may receive something from Christmas that you never expected, not in spite of your difficulties, but because of them. God has entered history intent on finding you no matter what your difficulty, affliction, pain or point of suffering, and He will find you, even if he has to rearrange your world. When he does find you, he has some wonderful things for you.

God is in the business of offering hope in our hopeless worlds. Let me remind of those hopeful things once again. He has sent good news to the poor, healing to the brokenhearted, freedom to those who are captive, pardon to the prisoners, the year of grace to celebrate God’s
destruction of our enemies – and to comfort all who mourn. To care for all who mourn in Zion, give them bouquet of roses instead of ashes, messages of joy instead of news of doom, a praising heart instead of a languid spirit (Isaiah 61:1–4).

Abstract: Dare to believe the impossible and live as if though it has already come. Live on earth
as a citizen of God’s kingdom.

1 The hand of the LORD came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the LORD and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones.

2 He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry.

3 He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord GOD, you know.”

4 Then he said to me, “Prophesy t o these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD.

5 Thus says the Lord GOD to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.

6 I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the LORD.”

7 So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone.

8 I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them.

9 Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord GOD: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may
live.”

10 I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.

11 Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’

12 Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord GOD: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will
bring you back to the land of Israel.

13 And you shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people.

14 I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the LORD, have spoken and will act, says the LORD.”

There is an African proverb that says when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. I often think of this proverb when parents fight because often it is the kids that get caught in the middle, and I think of this proverb when I read the newspapers about leaders fighting for power and it is the ordinary citizens who suffer. When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. I was thinking of this proverb when I was reading the history surrou nding the prophet Ezekiel. I took out the map and looked at little old Judea caught in the middle of two giants, to the north, Babylon, to the south, Egypt, and little Judea sits right in the middle of the warpath of two giants. Whichever of the two giants won, Judea was part of the spoils, Judea was part of the loot. When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.

The story goes that King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon won first immigration of the who is who of Judea to Babylon. Among that crowd of refugees in Babylon’s refugee camps was Ezekiel, son of Buzi, a priest. No doubt the whole exile thing was tragic, but I imagine more so for a priest, a priest having to leave the Holy Land, a priest having to leave the Holy City of Jerusalem, a priest having to leave the temple. Truth be known, I do not envy Ezekiel any priests during those times when the bottom falls out, during those times when words of comfort and words of hope can sound so hollow and shallow. I do not envy a priest during th ose times when life is loaded with more questions than answers and words, words, words just make it worse. These are the times when the psalmist sings that by the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and there we wept. How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land? I can relate to Ezekiel. As a priest, I am often blinded by my tears, for, you see, how can a priest in the 21st century not weep living in a world where 80 percent of the world’s resources are consumed only by 20 percent of the wor ld’s population? How can a priest not weep living in a world where 20 percent of the world’s population survives on $1 a day while another 20 percent of the world’s population spends 15 billion dollars a year on losing weight and an extra 22 billion on beauty improvement?

Guess what happens to Ezekiel in exile? Priest turns prophet. His eyes are opened to see an alternative reality from exile’s reality. He glimpses that the kingdom of God is at hand. His tongue is loosened in exile so he can speak courageously of a new day acoming. His life is liberated to act and live out as a child of God regardless of all the mean -spirited, negative messages of exile. Priest turned prophet, carried by the spirit to a valley, th e valley of bones. Now we don’t know exactly where this place is. Some say it is the Jezreel Valley, others say it’s Megiddo Plains, still others say it’s the Valley of Armageddon. Wherever this place is, one thing is sure. This place is too familiar for comfort. You see, this bone-valley place might be symbolic of relationship. Is it not tragic that these bones could represent family relationships that seemed beyond mending. Sisters and brothers no longer talk. Children and parents are estranged beyond rep air. Hearts are shattered into a thousand pieces without even a blink of an eye. Too much water passed under the proverbial bridge. It might be that this bone-valley place represents relationships between peoples and races and nations. So much brokenness and bitterness in our history. It is difficult to see any forgiving, any trusting, any reconciliation in the near future. Or this bone -valley place might be symbolic of the community of faith called our church, so divided theologically, politically, economically, and our gatherings are often battlefields. When you know too much and God asks, “Mortal, can these bones live?” “Well, Lord,” I said, “that’s a no-brainer question, Lord. Lord, it’s too late for these bones. It’s past, way past, a resurrection.” When God asks Ezekiel–“Mortal, can these bones live?”–Ezekiel, wiser than I, answered, “Lord, God, you know.” What a response–“Lord God, you know!” A response that shifts attention from what I know to what God knows. “Lord God, you know.” A response that says, “Lord God, let’s not work from what I know; let’s work from what you know. Lord God, you know. Lord God, you know and I want to walk by faith in what you know and not by my sight. Lord God, you know, you le ad. I’ll follow. So whether these bones can live, Lord God, you know.”

The Spirit of God was upon Ezekiel. Ezekiel, prophesy to these bones. Preach to these dry bones the Word of God. Dare to see a new possibility, Ezekiel. Get excited abou t what can be before it is. Dare to preach the impossible, Ezekiel. Preach that dry bones can come together, muscles, flesh, skin, breath, life, faith. Preach, Ezekiel. Oh, Ezekiel began preaching to the dry bones. Oh, you should have seen him moving from one side of the valley to the other, preaching life to dry bones, preaching a future to a dead-end situation. Some might say wasting his breath. Prophesying to dry bones. Oh, we’re not told how long he prophesied: minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years . It does not matter. You see, when you believe in God’s presence, you continue to believe regardless of what is around you. You continue to be faithful. Being faithful is for the long haul. Faith is not easy. Faith is not something you can pick up at the fast food takeaway. Believing is not for wimps, it takes endurance and perseverance. But then as he preached, shhhhhhh, movement, rattling in the valley, bones moving. Toe bone connecting to the foot bone, foot bone connecting to the leg bone, leg bone con necting to the hip bone, the neck bone, the head bone, prophesying. And now turn to the wind and prophesy to the wind. And breath came into them and they lived and they stood on their feet a mighty army.
What a story! What an incredible story! A story that has been repeated in history over and over again. Oh, this is no strange and unusual story. Over and over again in our history, God has opened somebody’s eye and loosened a tongue of a warrior who in dire circumstances of exile, that person saw an alternative kingdom called the kingdom of God. Remember Martin Luther King, Jr. preaching to a dry-bone situation about a dream. When he preached his dream, it seemed absolutely impossible that sons of former slaves and former slave owners would ever sit down together at the table of brotherhood. King’s dream is still unraveling and, indeed, a day is coming when any child will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. Is that an impossible Ezekie l vision?

Dare to believe the impossible and live as if though it has already come. Live on earth as a citizen of God’s kingdom. Oh, that is the way Jesus began his ministry. That was the first thing Jesus did was to unroll the scroll and proclaim that the Spirit of God was on him, saying the Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He 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. I do not know which side of the valley you are on in this season of your life. Whichever side you’re on, be encouraged. If you are a bone in the valley of dry bones, God has not forgotten you. There is hope. If you are called to minister and are tired and in a dead-end situation, the word comes “hang in there and live as a citizen of the kingdom of God.” And may we together one day declare, “Behold, we have seen a new heaven and a new earth, for the old heaven and the old
earth have passed away.”