Time to Go Home

Service of Worship

Eastern Parkway United Methodist Church

November 28, 2021

First Sunday of Advent

Rev. Natalie Bowerman, Pastor

Prelude

Greeting and Announcements

Mission Statement: We are a faith community striving to be, to nurture, and to send forth disciples of Jesus Christ.

Lighting of the Advent Candle

Words by Derek Weber

Reader One: We have endured these past few years and know that there is more to face before us. We don’t know if we have the strength to withstand what might be around the next corner. And we wonder who will stand with us, who will have our back, who will occupy our corner.

Reader Two: Who is with us? That is what we begin to wonder these days. Who will light our way and chart our course? Who is on our side, who will welcome us home again?

Reader One: Home. The prophet Jeremiah speaks of a branch that will be raised. Jesus spoke of a Son of Man that will descend. Both point to a hope. A hope that calls us home. Our true home, where we’re welcomed and loved and included. Where there is justice and equality and peace. It’s time, this Advent season, time to go home.

Reader Two: We light this candle, as a sign of our hope, our strong hope that there is a way to go home. To the home in Christ, and it starts with us, and it starts here, and it starts now. It’s time to go home.

Call to Worship

Dr. Derek C. Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, Discipleship Ministries of the UMC

Pastor: Something stirs deep within us – a longing, a hope,
People: A thirst for joy, a hunger for peace, a yearning for blessing.
Pastor: We know deep within that our hopes and fears
People: Will be met by angel songs and baby sighs.
Pastor: It is Advent -
People: Season of waiting, hoping, yearning.
Pastor: Advent -
All: Time to go home.

Hymn 213: Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates

Prayer of Confession

We shudder at signs we see.
Anxieties bombard us.
Our hearts are
afraid.
Lord,
Let us be vigilant, hold our heads high.
Make us an Advent people
with hope as our
stronghold.

Jesus,
You once came into our world with all its sorrows.
Keep us awake and alert to your presence
in the midst of our struggles now.
Tell us again that your love
will triumph. Amen.

Written by Anne Osdieck, and posted on The Center for Liturgy Website of Saint Louis University, http://liturgy.slu.edu. Reposted: https://re-worship.blogspot.com/2012/11/gospel-reflection-luke-21-25-36.html.

Assurance

God fulfills God’s promises.

We may not know the time, but the days are surely coming when righteousness, justice, and safety will abide in our communities.

The days are surely coming when God will execute Shalom: love, peace, health, and well-being for the people who walked in darkness.

The days are surely coming when there is a cure for AIDS, when every gun will be beaten into tools for rebuilding, when every child will have the opportunity to develop God-given gifts, and when every adult will see every child as a gift from God.

The days are surely coming when no city will fear the hurricane, no country will fear nuclear bombs, no tribe will fear annihilation by another, and no person will fear another because God chose to create all people in the diversity of God’s image.

God fulfills God’s promises, and the days for fulfillment are surely coming.

Marilyn E. Thornton, The Africana Worship Book for Year C (Discipleship Resources, 2008), 157.

Anthem

Luke 21: 25-36

The Coming of the Son of Man

²⁵“There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. ²⁶People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. ²⁷Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. ²⁸Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

The Lesson of the Fig Tree

²⁹Then he told them a parable: “Look at the fig tree and all the trees; ³⁰as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. ³¹So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near. ³²Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place. ³³Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

Exhortation to Watch

³⁴“Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, ³⁵like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. ³⁶Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”

A Message

“Time to Go Home”

Happy New Year! As I told y’all last week, this Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent, begins the new Church year. We just finished year “B” of the Revised Common Lectionary, a year where many of our Gospel stories came from Mark. We now begin year C, a year where many of our Gospel stories will come from Luke, including the one from this morning. This year most of our Advent liturgy will be inspired by a resource called “UMC Discipleship”, and our sermons are all going to focus on the theme of “Home”. This week, our focus is on when it is time to go home.

But before we can think about going home, we have to answer one very important question: what is home?

For some of us, that’s a very easy question to answer. My parents have been living in the same house, in the Northwestern suburbs of Chicago, since 1978. For them, their home is, and may always be, 1441 S 6^th Avenue. Many of you may have lived similar lives, where you have lived on the same plot of land for so long, and have experienced so much love, comfort, and growth there, that home will always be there to you. Some of us feel that way, but have a broader definition of “home” than the lot our house sits on. For some of us, home is the neighborhood we’re from, or the town we live in, and the geography of “home” is part of our identity. If my dad would name any home other than the house he lives in now, it would be, in his words, “the great state of Indiana”, where he grew up. He hasn’t lived there in half a century, but he nonetheless prides himself on his Hoosier identity. Meanwhile my mom, who has never lived outside of the Chicago metro, might tell you about growing up in “Norwood Park”, but only if you know the area. When our identity is tied to the geography of home, the people who live there, too, are also part of our identity. Outside of Chicago, Mom only says she’s from Chicago. You guys are unlikely to be invested in more detail. But around other Chicagoans, Norwood Park is a world all of its own, and your neighborhood identity is very important. And even if you have never been near Chicago, many of you know about the North Side-South Side split, and Mom will be clear that she’s a Northsider. No White Sox games for her. Y’all might feel similarly about the region you grew up in, and the history of your home might also be part of your identity. I see this a lot in my friends who are from the South. I see this even more in my friends who immigrated here from another country. Home might not be a tangible thing, or even a place. Home might be something you bring with you. Home might be what you remember. Home might be stories, and heritage, and what you tell your children and grandchildren.

For some of us, “home” is hard to define, or pinpoint. Itinerant United Methodist clergy people, like myself, grapple with this, as do a lot of people who move frequently for any reason. I’ve lived in 5 homes in the last 4 years. When people ask me “where I’m from”, I’ve got a conundrum on my hands that I have to deal with before that question gets too awkward. Am I “from” Salem, where I lived immediately before I moved here, even though I only lived there for eleven months? I want to say I’m “from” Rochester, where I lived for fourteen years, went to college and seminary, married Sean, gave birth to my children, and bought my first house. But it’s neither the last place I lived, nor where I grew up. I’m “from” Chicago, but I haven’t lived there in nearly two decades. If I’m feeling sarcastic I might just tell you I’m from my mother’s womb. But that’s not the answer you were looking for. Sometimes home can’t be a place at all. Home is a state of mind.

I asked a few of my clergy friends what they think “home” is, and few of them named a place. Most of them said home is where their family is, or where they feel safe, or where their most authentic self is affirmed. One friend quoted Robert Frost: “home is a place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”[1] One friend quoted Bob Dylan: “I was born very far from where I’m supposed to be, so I’m on my way home.”[2] One friend quoted Pumba from The Lion King: “home is where your rump rests.” You won’t find that embroidered on a sampler and hung over my front door, but there’s certainly truth there. Perhaps more worthy of being turned into wall art is what my five year old daughter said. She’s moved as many times as I have but she’s much younger. She said, “home is where you put your head on a pillow on Mommy kisses you goodnight.” Adorable, right? This is why we need to listen to the wisdom of children.

“Home” doesn’t have to be any one place, or idea, or reality. And for some of us, “home” might not be a positive word at all. If that’s your experience, you’ll hear more about that in next week’s sermon, and it makes where we’re going with this all the more important: in this life home may be any number of things. But when we follow Jesus, no matter where we are, where we’ve been, or where we’re going, he’s our home. We find rest in him, and he paves the way for a home big enough for all of us.

No matter what year we’re in with the lectionary, the first Sunday of Advent nearly always brings us some apocalyptic words from the Gospel, and this year is no exception. This year those words come from Jesus himself, as he advises his disciples. Get ready, he says. Be prepared. And contrary to a major image you may have of “home”, don’t get comfortable. It’s about to get crazy. There’s going to be wars, and natural disasters. People are going to collapse in terror. Uh…this doesn’t sound like Good News, Jesus. But wait, there’s more! The Son of Man is gonna come down on a big cloud! Ok, knock it off, Jesus, you’re really starting to freak me out. One thing you’ll discover quickly this year, as we hear more from Luke is that, unlike Mark, Luke isn’t in a big hurry to get the details on paper and be done with it. Luke is much more colorful than Mark. His agenda in writing his Gospel wasn’t one of urgency; his Gospel first saw paper about 15 years after Mark’s did, and Luke almost certainly had a copy of Mark’s Gospel in front of him while he was writing based on how often and how directly he quotes Mark. Since all the facts about Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection were already out there, and a Roman soldiers weren’t right outside Luke’s door waging war as there were with Mark, Luke’s put a much greater emphasis on telling us about the man, Jesus. What was most important to him, how did he spend his time, and what was the guy like? Unlike in Mark, where Jesus enters the scene as a man in his early 30s, in Luke Jesus has a story about his birth, and then another story from when he was twelve. Luke wants us to see what Jesus was like in his ordinary life, long before he had twelve disciples and an earthly ministry. Luke goes into great detail about Jesus’ seeking out of the poor, the sick, and the disabled. Luke wants us to know that Jesus wasn’t just here to defeat death. He was here to advocate for those who needed him the most. He was here to teach. He was here to have friends he loved dearly. He was here to know us and be known, to love us and be loved.

So, back to the scary dude descending from the blackened sky on a cloud in the middle of a tsunami while everyone screams. His presence in our lives is, in many ways, the last place we’d look for anything that even remotely resembles “home”. He doesn’t offer us the image of home we may be used to from American popular culture. Jesus doesn’t offer us the Hallmark Christmas movie about the jaded big city gal who spends some time with her Grandma in the country and then falls in love with the hunky guy in flannel under the mistletoe. Jesus doesn’t offer us a Norman Rockwell painting where he sits at the head of the table smoking a pipe while the rest of us feast of a turkey dinner. Jesus doesn’t offer us the Disney movie where the seven dwarves push the witch over a cliff, the princess wakes up from her apple-induced coma, and the happy couple rides off to their castle. Home to Jesus isn’t about happy endings, or comforting visuals. But if we pay attention, we’ll see something much better than those things in Jesus, and even something that reminds us of our most popular definitions of home.

Advent is a season where we drop a pin on a map of our faith life, and look at where we are. And wherever that place is, we go back to the beginning. To our origins. Once a year, at this time, even if we’ve had a mature relationship with Jesus for many years, we go back and get ready to experience him again the way everyone did at first—not as a 33 year old man performing healing miracles, or as a twelve year old boy in a Temple, or as the guy having lunch with tax collectors, or as a political prisoner being tried for sedition, or even as the Son of Man descending on a cloud. We experience him as an idea. As someone who the angel Gabriel will tell Mary about in a few weeks, but who has tread no ground and established no belonging in this world, and who could be snuffed right out. When we receive him, once again, on Christmas Eve, he won’t be a fully grown adult who can take care of himself, but a newborn who needs us to take care of him. Advent takes us back to the beginning, because there’s something we need to remember every year: despite there being a church like this one on every block, despite Christian radio stations and televangelists, despite evangelical Twitter accounts and Tik Tok videos, and despite a million things in every direction keeping Jesus on your mind, no one knows about his love unless we actually show it. Unless we, like Mary carrying Jesus in her womb, put all of our energy into protecting the presence of his love in the world. We have to go back and remember that love again, from the very first moment that its existence was prophesied. We need to go home, because home, even in its ever-changing definition, is where we feel and know Jesus’ love. And it’s time to stop what we’re doing and head to a place where we feel nothing but that love.

Maybe that means coming to church more often—I obviously recommend that. Maybe that means devoting some time to a local mission that serves those whom Jesus commanded us to serve—I can recommend a few, and our church will be teaming with them this season. Maybe that means bringing your heart to someone who needs some extra cheer. We’ll be doing that as a church, as well. Most of all, I hope that means some personal study of your faith and the Word, and some inward searching of who Jesus has been for you lately, and who you want him to be. Because when Jesus shows up and does big things in our lives, he might look as out of place as a guy snowboarding on a cloud during a monsoon. But, odd as it may be, we will always find new life in his presence, because he is our perfect home.

Amen.

Hymn 211: O Come, O Come Emmanuel

Offering, doxology, and prayer of dedication

Pastoral Prayer and Lord’s Prayer

O God, the days are surely coming when all your promises will be fulfilled to your faithful children. We pray for the church (especially . . .), that we might fulfill our promises to you, and be forgiven for all our failures.