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So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:4-7, NIV

It’s the night before Christmas and two people, Mary and Joe, become stranded in a Colorado blizzard on their way from New York to California. The caveat is that Mary is pregnant and begins going into labor in the car while trying to find a hotel to stay in for the night. She begs Joe to pull over at the next house because traffic is super slow and there’s no way she’s having her baby in the car. So Joe obliges and humbly pulls into your driveway, walks up to your door and rings the doorbell.

You and your family and friends are right in the middle of your Christmas Eve traditions and are a little surprised to hear the doorbell ring. You go to the door and in front of you stands a man who you have never seen before in your life, babbling about his wife in the car and having a baby, no place to go, can’t get into a hospital, etc. etc. You’re not entirely certain what’s really going on so you follow the man to his car and low and behold in the passengers seat is a woman, clearly in labor. Your house is so full of people that you wonder where on earth this couple can be, but as your wondering the woman in the midst of a very strong contraction belts out a scream disrupting your thought. It’s clear that you need to get her inside so you help the man pull his wife out of the car and begin assisting her into your house. There are children already asleep in the guest bedroom so you quickly convert your dinning room into a makeshift delivery room complete with lots of towels, hot water, and pillows.

Joe is kind of embarrassed about the situation and worries about the cream colored carpet that Mary is laying on, but the baby is coming and the thought is quickly replaced by the pain of Mary squeezing his hand. Mary is a modest woman and there is little privacy offered in the dinning room as you and your spouse run around gathering blankets, pillows, towels, and other things, bringing them into her.

Within a very short time the baby comes. All the people in the house are very excited and Mary can hear them clapping as you announce the news…the birth went well and it’s a boy! Mary and Joe are left alone with their new baby for a bit and marvel at what has just occurred.

There are a couple of elements to this situation that really strike me. One – could I let a stranger into my home, lay them down on my cream colored carpet, knowing that what’s about to happen will more than likely stain my carpets? And, two – could I, if I were in Mary and Joe’s shoes, be brave and humble enough to ask complete strangers for help? Of course, when a baby is about to be birthed I’m not going to be worry about my carpets and if I were having a baby I probably wouldn’t care too much about who’s around me while I’m giving birth. But what if the situation didn’t involve babies? What if it was that secret that you’ve held onto for a very long time because you feel so shameful about it? Or what if someone comes to you and says that they have a very dark and shameful thing that they are finally ready to share with someone and wonders if you would be willing to listen?

When I was growing up it was considered taboo to speak to anyone outside of your family about what happened at home. When I was in seventh grade my oldest sister tried to kill herself and I was the first one home that evening and happened to find her. She was conscious, and had all ready called someone who had in turn called 911, but I will never forget that day it had a huge impact on me. I felt scared as I road in the back of the ambulance with my sister laying on the gurney. I felt scared as I held her hand in the emergency room waiting for my mom to arrive. I felt scared as she began throwing up from the charcoal the doctor’s had given to her. The fear I felt in that moment and the sadness I felt over the next week as she stayed in the hospital under suicide watch was immense, and yet no one, not one person ever reached out to me during that time. The same shame that kept people from reaching out to me, also kept me from asking for help. I did not talk about it to anyone for it was a shameful thing that had happened and it was not to be discussed. I’m sure that each of us has a story like this, a situation where we needed something and we did not seek help or maybe you saw someone who needed help and because you didn’t think it was ‘your place’ to ‘get involved’ you did not offer help.

In this third week of advent, through the story of the innkeeper, we are offered a window into what things might have looked like leading up to the birth of Jesus and during the birth…what it might look like to stay in and fight when everything in us and around us tells us that we should run if we’re the innkeeper, or freeze if we’re Mary and Joe. Neither chose those options though. The innkeeper chose not to turn his back and run from the ‘problem’ that stood before him, but rather to stay in it and fight. Mary and Joe didn’t not freeze they kept moving forward, willing to put their stuff out there and seek help. They both chose to step into the situation and fight.

Take just a moment to reflect and consider this question, which applies to whatever role you find yourself in either as the innkeeper or as Mary and Joseph, “God, this advent season, what do I need your help stepping into rather than stepping away from?”

at the refuge’s saturday evening gatherings we are walking through the urban skye advent guide - the third way-in anticipation of the hope and promise of Christ’s birth and what it means for our lives.  while i never grew up using the word “advent” and had no idea what “the church calendar” meant for many years, i have come to appreciate some intention during these holiday weeks as a spiritual discipline of focusing on God, noticing his spirit at work in my life, the refuge community, and the world and doing what i can to ignore the other crazy holiday distractions that rob me of life and generally make me tired.

so just what is the third way anyway? when threatened in any way, shape or form, we all have a tendency to respond in one of two ways.  the first way is to fight, to respond in violence & anger; this might be in our hearts, our actions, our words.   the second way is to flee, to run away, hide, pretend that the problem is not there and avoid addressing it because we think we can’t change it anyway.   neither of these ways are the ways of Jesus.  the third way, the way of Jesus, is an active presence, a crazy combination of justice & mercy, of staying in and working through conflict and tension instead of lashing out in violence & anger or just running away.    it is not natural for most of us. as human beings, we tend to take the path of least resistance & that path typically leads us to the first or second way.

this saturday evening we talked about the first way & the way of violence.  king herod, in the story of Jesus, when threatened by news of Jesus’ birth, responded with an act of horrid violence that most of us would say ‘we’d never do that’, ordering the killing of baby boys to make sure Jesus didn’t have a chance.  most of us probably aren’t going to kill anyone anytime soon (even though we might want to), but the reality of herod’s response is part of our humanness, too.   when we are afraid, power is threatened, we perceive we are “right”, we do all kinds of things that we can justify in our mind and hearts but are utterly contrary to the ways of Jesus.   these small or big acts of “violence” happens in our relationship with God, with ourselves, with others & usually always end up resulting in shame, disconnectedness, loneliness.

yeah, the first way always leads to destruction of relationships.  it hurts people.  it hurts ourselves.  it hurts our relationship with God.   what’s interesting to me, though, is even though it’s not as ugly, the second way has the same effect.   fleeing, running, hiding, doing-whatever-we-can-to-avoid conflict offer the same kind of self-protecting and separate us from relationship, too.  and the end result is usually the same:  we miss out on Love.   Jesus, in the sermon on the mount, offers us a third way, a better way, a way of staying in, engaging in the brutality of a harsh world, of difficult relationships, of pain and sadness & clinging to the hope for something better-the kingdom of God somehow available to us now regardless of our circumstances.

if you weren’t there, here was the question we reflected on before communion:

martin luther king said:

returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

i do look forward to the upcoming weeks of conversation & reflection and for God’s continued work in my life, in the life of our community, that i’d know more deeply what Jesus ways–the ways of Love–can really look like.

when i was 12 years old i asked my grampa to help me built a nativity set. we set about collecting some old tree branches and some scraps of wood and started our project. i have set this scene up almost every year since. i went to woolworth’s and picked out the figures i would need. of course, i started with Jesus, mary and joseph. then i needed three kings, a camel and a donkey. and lastly i needed some shepherds. i had to have three, because it balanced out the 3 kings on the other side. i never knew why i needed shepherds. the kings brought gifts and Jesus, mary, and joseph surely needed to be there. but why shepherds? what was the reason for them? they didn’t do anything. or did they?

in the day of old, the shepherds were close to, if not at, the bottom of the social status, but they were the first to hear of the unique birth of Christ. these humble men who were faithful at their regular jobs–not the religious leaders or scholars–were the first humans to hear the good news. i believe there is a world of meaning in the fact that very ordinary people busy with very ordinary tasks were who God chose to first show his plan of redemption. it means that where God places us, no matter how humble or broken, is the place of our vision, the place where we will bloom. secondly, the ones whose lives are not cluttered with all the materials of life are most readily open to the mysteries of God and take the risk to step out in faith, because they have nothing to lose.

so, you might ask, what big risk did these guys take? . they overcame their fear. let’s face it, an angel coming out of nowhere or thousands of them singing praise to God would have scared the crap out of me. and what about going to tell others about a baby born in a stable who would be the son of God. there was the fear others would consider them crazy. but they went. they were somehow compelled to go. and God’s plan of redemption had another unveiling.

that’s a nice story, but does it have any application for us or was dr. luke trying to fill pages in a letter? we, like the shepherd have a story. that is all we really have to share with anyone. and ours, like theirs, comes from the messiness and brokenness of our lives. but like them we need to overcome our fear. for most of us, one of our biggest fears is the fear of being vulnerable. there is a lot of safety in keeping the brokenness and messiness of our lives to ourselves. we can take that story, share it and further the kingdom, like the shepherds did, or stay in our own pity party and let the suffering we’ve had go to waste.

this week God brought me in contact with two precious ladies who are in the midst of some major chapters in the story of their lives. one faced a life changing surgery in order to save her life from cancer. as i visited with her before surgery she shared the story of a neighbor, whose was very hard to connect with. the neighbor is old and needs help with a husband who has alzheimers. my friend recently found out this neighbor had the same surgery she was facing. my friend remarked: “God has now given me entry into my neighbor’s life, because we have both faced this same surgery. isn’t He good?”. the other lady is much younger and battling drugs and alcohol. though she still has a way to go in her fight for sobriety, she is looking forward to the day her struggles brings glory to God and healing to others. as i talked with her about her future she said something that so impressed me. she said if i never do anything with the story God has given to me it is just a story with no benefit. if i can beat this i want to be able to share with other teens so my story can make a difference in their lives. otherwise, she said it won’t count for anything.

i know many face a life that is just brutal. many times it seems hopeless. whether it be a broken relationship, no relationship, lack of money or a job, an addiction, a physical or mental condition, abuse, discrimination or anything that keeps us marginalized, God can use it to take his good news to a hurting world. this christmas season i would gently encourage all of us to take that step of faith that the shepherds did, to respond instead of be paralyzed with fear and see the glory of the Lord revealed.

Christmas Eve at The Refuge was a glorious occasion. Each person’s name was called and we received a wrapped gift, our fourth simple gift of our December series. It contained an ornament that simply said, “Dignity”.

As a middle aged, middle class white male, I suppose I had never really thought much about the concept of dignity. Webster’s says that dignity is “the quality or state of deserving esteem or respect.” Who shouldn’t have dignity? It’s a no brainer. God is no respecter of persons. That means He has no favorites. That we are all valuable, important, worthy. So what is the big deal?.

Society doesn’t tend to think like God. Through the ages many groups have been abused, oppressed and marginalized: The poor. Minorities. The uneducated. The mentally or physically challenged. Women. The list goes on and on. Members of these groups still struggle today for equality and dignity.

As Karl taught, the Word of God again and again hammers home the truth–that we are equal, that we all have dignity. The angels didn’t announce the birth of Jesus to the rich, the learned or the religious leaders. No, it was the lowly shepherds the angels talked to. When Jesus rose from the dead, the first person he spoke to was a woman, not one of the 12 apostles. The Pharisees were not picked to be in the inner circle of Jesus. The creator of our universe picked fishermen, tax collectors, prostitutes and adultresses’. Do you think, just maybe, he was trying to tell us something, to show us a better way?

Unfortunately, many at The Refuge know all too well how it feels to be marginalized because of race, gender, educational or financial status, or maybe a physical or mental disability. I am reminded that Jesus hung out with the marginalized of his day and showed them dignity and love. And he still does. How can we do any different?

When I think of freedom loads of images and thoughts come into my mind. Some good, some not so good, especially when thinking about things I thought were freeing but actually brought guilt and condemnation.

It seems to me that there is great freedom shown by the shepherd in the story Karl talked about on Sunday from Luke 15:1-7. In this story, the shepherd gives his sheep real freedom; he really loves and cares for his sheep. As I wonder why, the bigger picture shows me that he hungers for his sheep. An ancient letter written to the small church in Rome by the Apostle Paul tells me that he wants them to have a freedom, free from any guilt or condemnation. I get the picture that the shepherd’s desire is for his sheep to grow and develop in their individual gifts, skills and attributes. Not in comparison to others but as individual loved beings. He even gives the sheep freedom to get lost, if they want to, knowing that he will intentionally and continually hunt for them.

In another ancient letter written to a small church in Ephesus I am reminded that this is because his desire is for the sheep to journey and grow into the fullness of being like Jesus Christ. That just blows me away, that the shepherd wants us to become like Jesus. Just LIKE JESUS. And to do it he will give the sheep the tools they need by giving the gift of his wisdom and spirit for counsel.

As we taste true freedom, we can pass it on to others. As God’s people, we can then help, assist, love and tell others who are hurting and weighted down by the guilt and condemnation of false freedom that there’s something better, that true freedom is staying close to The Shepherd.

In the stories the shepherd is God and the sheep are a representation of us human beings. When I link it to this ancient festival of Christmas it kind of reinforces the whole point. That Jesus came naked and weak into our history. That He then traveled part of this planet illustrating that with the nurturing boundaries of God in our lives and as part of a gracious, loving, guilt free Kingdom community we can journey into expanding personal freedom.

The funny part is that this freedom can sometimes be the hardest thing for me to take hold of because it’s given with no strings attached and is unconditional. I often think I’ve got to do something for it. In the ancient mystical letter written by John–someone who walked alongside Jesus–he says, ‘when Jesus sets us free we are truly free’. This is so true. It’s only with this kind of freedom that I can with growing confidence walk the uncertain adventure of life.