Unexpected Upheaval…Advent Peace
An Advent Sermon by Dr. Johannah Myers
Tis the season for unexpected upheaval. And I’m not just talking about the unexpected lines in stores or shipping delays, or the upheaval of my house as I stopped decorating to write a sermon. On this, the second Sunday of Advent, we light the Peace candle, but really, this is the most unpeaceful season. Instead – what is oft described as the “most wonderful time of the year” – is THE season ripe for unexpected upheaval. It comes as the unwanted intrusion of grief, of death. The sneaky reminder of family hurts left unresolved. Unexpected illnesses. The surprise attack of nostalgia that has us longing for what can no longer be. Tis the season…to be jolly? To be filled with peace? Most likely not. Like ducks on a pond, we go through the season trying to be calm and joyous on the surface, while inside our hearts and sprits are in stirring up all kinds of craziness.
Mary certainly can speak to unexpected upheaval.
The Gospel writer, Luke, tells us what happens here with an intention that we should take note of. God appears – in this case through the messenger Gabriel. God’s appearance sparks a reaction of fear (because that’s probably exactly the reaction one SHOULD have when God shows up). God lays out the call – for Mary, this means having a baby. And then God offers a sign to confirm the message. Elizabeth’s pregnancy was to be Mary’s sign that she could trust the call.
God’s call followed this exact pattern for, well, awhile now. Abraham. Moses. Gideon. Isaiah. A whole host of prophets, leaders, mothers, and fathers throughout the generations. And now Mary. Luke wants us, to see, to know this is God’s call. And like everyone else, Mary’s life is about to take a turn.
The Christmas story is one full of the unexpected, full of upheaval, full of mess.
Mary’s assured response “Let it be to me just as you said,” I think is deceptively calm. Like those ducks on a pond again – peace on the outside, freaking out below the surface. It’s why I think Mary’s one of, if not, the bravest, of all our ancestors. She’s not just signing up to carry a child for 9 months. She’s signing up for motherhood, for a lifetime commitment to God’s great act of salvation and all the hard work it entails. The moment she says, “Let it be,” her life changes irrevocably.
The Christmas story is one full of the unexpected, full of upheaval, full of mess. It’s the story of a woman’s bravery, of her saying yes to the unknown. Of the hard work, the pain, the danger of childbirth. It is through Mary that God would first be able to say, “This is my body, This is my blood” as Jesus’s and Mary’s would mix on a stable floor.*(*Inspired by tweet from @RevDaniel, Twitter Dec. 3,2021)
So where does all this upheaval leave us on this second Sunday of Advent? We light a candle of peace, but the world around us is anything but peaceful. How can we possibly claim Peace this season?
How can we claim Peace this season?
I think the answer may be found in Mary’s song.
“…God’s mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. God has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” (Luke 1:50-55)
Mary declares her faith in God who has and is and will continue to save. And well, none of it sounds easy or peaceful. Shows of strength, scattering – bringing down, lifting up. The work of God as Mary describes is that of upheaval and disarray.
But, like a house in the midst of a renovation (or decorating for Christmas) – there’s a lot of mess to make before we arrive at our end goal. Mary’s song of faith is one that is both full of confidence but also full of realism. There’s hard work still to come – the work of lifting and lowering, of sorting and refining. And in the middle of all this upheaval, it’s bound to be a bit uncomfortable.
We light the candle of Peace like Mary sings her song – we declare what was and is and is still to come
In our desire for the end goal of peace, we often lose sight of the actual hard, uncomfortable work of peace-making. But if we want peace, we have to do the work.
Christmas is a wonderful time of year – but Christmas takes work. So much work.
God’s peace is like nothing we’ve ever known – but it takes work. We light the candle of Peace like Mary sings her song – we declare what was and is and is still to come. We declare God’s peace even as we’re reminded that we are called to the hard work of making it.
We, like Mary, have been called by God to embrace the upheaval of peace-making. And like Mary, I have questions. And not a little bit of fear and discomfort about the whole call.
Upheaval isn’t always the enemy
Upheaval isn’t always the enemy. Often times it’s just a sign of God at work – in our lives, in our hearts, in the world around us. If there isn’t some discomfort or upheaval on the way to peace, it probably isn’t true peace. Peace – God’s peace – requires hard work.
This involves scattering those prideful, arrogant places in our hearts. It involves emptying our fear of lacking so that we can make sure everyone has enough. Peace-making involves the hard work of forgiveness – the truth-telling, the laying down of grievances. It involves embracing the grief so that we keep our hearts soft, not hardened by the world’s strife. Peace-making means moving past the fog of nostalgia to see with hopeful eyes what beautiful things lie ahead.
We are called to do the work of peace, to embrace the unexpected, the upheaval, even as we, like Mary, look for the day when God’s peace will reign complete.
When God called Mary, God gave her a sign of assurance in the form of Elizabeth and her baby. We too are given a sign for our call to peace-making. The story is our sign – our reassurance that God’s got this, that God is right here working with us, alongside us, through us, despite us. That God came down, took on flesh, and, as John’s gospel declares, moved into our neighborhood to get busy with the task of making peace.
So, I pray for peace this season, the kind of peace that restores us to wholeness. And even as I pray, I hope you will join me in the work ahead, will say, like Mary, yes to embracing the unexpected and whatever it may hold.
Blog is adapted from Sermon preached on December 5, 2021 by Dr. Johannah Myers, Aldersgate United Methodist Church, Greenville, South Carolina