Sermon on Luke 1:26-38

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

“If you want God to laugh, tell God your plans,” goes the saying.

That certainly was the case for King David when he decided he wanted to build a house for God.

I’m sure it came from a good place. God had chosen David the shepherd boy as king, had made him victorious in battle even against a giant, and had of course led David’s ancestors out of Egypt and through the desert to the Promised Land.

David was attentive to the fact that, though God’s people were settled from their wanderings in the wilderness, the ark of the covenant, God’s holy seat, was still housed in a tent. And he decided it was time to do something about that.

But God had other ideas.God hadn’t asked for a house. God didn’t need a house. And David would not be the one to build a house for God when the time came.

David told God his plan—and God laughed.

Isn’t that how it so often goes?

We envision something we think is a good idea, and so we go for it. We might even assume it’s what God has in mind for us.

We want things on our timeline. Our society urges us to maximize our productivity and be as efficient as possible. We’re supposed to envision our goals as if they’ve already happened and manifest positive energy.

But, as Stephen Covey said, “It doesn’t really matter how fast you’re going if you’re heading in the wrong direction.” And it doesn’t matterhow nice your goals sound if they don’t line up with what God has in store for you.

Or in other words: we plan—God laughs.

And that’s so frustrating sometimes! Has there ever been something you were really excited about—a program or a contest or a relationship—and you thought it was just perfect for you, but it didn’t work out? It’s crushing.

And sometimes, there’s no silver lining to be seen. Some things are just disappointing, or even tragic. I’m not going to say everything happens for a reason, because I don’t know that I believe that. I think God can work through difficult and tragic circumstances to create something out of it. I think there are times when we can make meaning out of the ashes of what our life was. But I don’t think that makes the tragedy okay.

But that’s not really the type of thing I see in David’s story here. I see someone who wanted to give a gift to God, but that gift wasn’t his to give.

I see this as one of the more minor disappointments or setbacks we experience in our lives. The ones that feel like a punch to the gut when they happen, but that we know we’ll recover from given some time.

I experienced one of these when I was waiting for my first call. The very first congregation I interviewed with seemed like a great fit. I was so excited. We did a second interview, and they even invited me to tour the building.

And then, I got the phone call that they were moving forward with a different candidate. I understood, and I was happy for them, but that was also really hard to hear. There were definitely some tears shed over that disappointment.

They ended up with a really fantastic pastor who is a great fit, and now I’m super excited for all of them. But at the time, I was crushed for myself. I was in for what felt like an eternity of waiting. Nothing seemed to be happening.

But then, after many months, I got the invitation to have a conversation about serving here. I was practically jumping up and down. I couldn’t stop smiling, and there might have been a little laughter bordering on hysterical.

As disappointed as I was about that first congregation, it turned out God had a much better idea in mind for me—one I never dreamed of for myself.

What it took was time.

There are two different words for time in Greek: chronos, which is linear time, like chronology; and kairos, which is God time.

Kairos operates very differently from chronos. Have you ever looked at the ocean and had a moment of awe that seemed to last forever, but was actually only a few minutes? Or have you ever been in a state of “flow,” where you’re working on a project and hours fly by unnoticed as your soul lights up with inspiration? Kairos time is like that. As our reading from 2 Peter two weeks ago reminds us, “with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like one day.”[1] God doesn’t work in our timeline.

That was certainly the case for David. He wanted to build God a house, but instead, God promised to build David a house—a legacy of rulers that would shepherd God’s people throughout time.

And boy did it take a long time for that promise to be fulfilled. God’s kairos time wasn’t just talking about in David’s lifetime: it would be fulfilled about a thousand years later in Jesus.

It was fulfilled in a kairos moment we call “the annunciation,” when the angel Gabriel was sent to talk to a girl named Miriam, or Mary. Her life went from chronos time—living her ordinary, everyday life—to kairos time in an instant at the appearance of an angelic messenger of God.

Mary knew the promises God made to David and all God’s people: promises of a Messiah, promises of liberation, promises that God’s people would be a blessing to the world.

And all that was coming true in that moment—God’s promises fulfilled in a simple “may it be” from an ordinary young person from nowhere special. This kairos moment would change the course of Mary’s life—and human history—forever.

“’He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end,’” said the angel.

Chronos and kairos time met when God became one of us. God was born in a human body with a human name and human friends and laughed and cried, celebrated and sorrowed, and ultimately died a human and humiliating death before defeating death at death’s own game.

God doesn’t work in our timeline. I’m sure David never dreamed of what Jesus would be like a thousand years in the future.We are limited by chronos time. We, like David, don’t always get to see the fulfillment of God’s promises in our lifetime. Sometimes we do—like when my waiting for a first call ended with getting to do ministry with all of you beloved people—and sometimes we don’t see it and have to trust in God’s faithfulness. Because God is faithful. God was faithful to David, to Mary, and is faithful to us. God keeps God’s promises.

And God invites us into kairos time. That is what Sabbath is about. It’s about stepping out of chronos time and settling into kairos time. As Pastor Jaz reminded us last week, God gave the Sabbath to a people who had been enslaved for generations. They were to rest and remember that God is a God of freedom and liberation—they were no longer enslaved to labor. Their value was not in their work but in their identity as children of God. The same goes for us, beloved children of God.

We may not always see the fulfillment of God’s promises in our lifetimes, but we can trust that God is faithful and keeps God’s promises in kairos time. And God invites us into kairos time to rest in the promise that we are beloved children of God, and because of that we can throw off the chains of productivity and hustle our society binds us with.

Rest in kairos time, beloved children of God. Remember that all things are possible with God. May it be so.

[1]2 Peter 3:8

Bedrest & Lizard Boy Summer

Pr. Jaz Waring |

Advent 3 December 10, 2023 Luke 1:46b-55 46b

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,   47my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48 for you, Lord, have looked with favor on your lowly servant.   From this day all generations will call me blessed: 49 you, the Almighty, have done great  things for me   and holy is your name. 50 You have mercy on those who fear you,   from generation to generation. 51 You have shown strength with your arm   and scattered the proud in their conceit, 52 casting down the mighty from their thrones   and lifting up the lowly. 53 You have filled the hungry with good things   and sent the rich away empty. 54 You have come to the aid of your servant Israel,   to remember the promise of mercy, 55 the promise made to our forebears,   to Abraham and his children forever. At the end of my two-year intense seminary program, I was burnt out. I remember around this time two years ago I was deep in my winter finals writing punishingly long essays in the midst of the holiday season. By the time I graduated, my brain was like a fried chicken nugget. I needed some rest! In order to keep myself accountable to this season of recovery, I decided to adopt the ethic of a lizard. For the next three months I only did what a lizard did: take naps, lay in the sun, eat cute snacks, go to the beach, and do a push-up every once in a while. I called it, “Lizard Boy Summer.” At the end of the summer, I was ready for “Girl Boss Fall” and it's been a rocket ride since. Rest is one of my favorite theological topics to talk about. You might remember a sermon I gave a couple years ago about “The Liberating Power of Naps.” I was so excited to hear Pastor Jennifer’s series on rest for Advent this year. Coincidentally, The Table is also focusing on rest this Advent, so it looks like Spirit is trying to teach us something. Last week, Pastor Jennifer preached on John the Baptist’s single-minded focus of his purpose and mission in the world: to prepare the way of Christ. We are called to let go of distractions that are sucking out or energy and rest in our belovedness. We don’t need to prove our worth or earn our keep in the Kingdom of God. This week we are celebrating the third week of Advent, which is traditionally Magnificat Sunday. This is the week where we remember a pregnant Mary boldly proclaiming the coming age of justice through Christ, where the mighty are cast from their thrones and the lowly are lifted. The hungry will be filled and the rich are sent away empty. We light a candle with joy knowing our current pain is temporary, and our world is about to turn. If Advent is about waiting to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. Our world is in need of deep healing, and working like business as usual is not going to save us. Wages are not keeping up with the rate of inflation, so people can’t make ends meet. Babies are being pulled out of the rubble of bombed hospitals. Mass shootings are the new normal. All the while the threat of climate change is an ever present reality. I’ll say it again: if Advent is about waiting and preparing to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. It’s very easy to fall into the trap of using rest to ignore the world around us. Sometimes we can spiritually bypass suffering by curating a worldview of “good vibes only” and shield ourselves from the suffering of Christ in the other. Rest does not mean we lower our eye masks and neglect justice. Rest is a justice issue. Ask a refugee living in an encampment when was the last time they had a good night’s sleep. Get in a time machine and ask an enslaved African in the South when was the last time they took a nap. For working class folks, rest is a luxury and a privilege. I remember seeing my grandfather, with only an 8th or 9th grade education, work every day as a janitor in his small business and worked manual labor well into his 70’s. I’d find him around lunch time asleep sitting up on the couch while “watching” the soccer game on Telemundo. My grandparents were not able to retire until they moved back to Chile over ten years ago. Rest is not a luxury, it is necessary for our survival and is a human right. Sleep deprivation is a warcrime according to the Geneva Convention. Why are we committing war crimes against ourselves and our neighbors? Christ, have mercy on us. So then, what does rest look like in the face of injustice? First, we need to get out of heads that rest is supposed to make us more productive. Yes, we can do more when we’re not tired, but the point of rest is not to become a better capitalist worker bee making money to buy more things. The kind of rest I’m talking about is a robust theological understanding of claiming our baptismal promise of our belovedness. When God created the sabbath as a holy day of rest, God was speaking to a people who were enslaved for generations, who’s worth was based on how many bricks they made or how much grain they can carry. Sabbath was created to remind God’s people that they are free. God created the sabbath because even God almighty rested after creating a “very good” world. Rest is the resistance of the idea we have to earn love and acceptance from society and the embrace of our identity as beloved children of God. Rest is an act of faith and a deep trust that God will help to provide for your needs through community care. This is our foundation from which we move and act in a weary world. We work from a place of rest, instead of working to a place of rest. We’re not working for the weekend, as if rest and leisure is a prize to be won or is a reward. Our week begins in sabbath, whatever day that is for you where you are not doing your job. For me, it’s Mondays. All the work we do in the days after our sabbath is our response or is sourced from that reservoir of rest. When we work from a place of rest, we have the capacity to pour ourselves out into others, helping our neighbor get set free and rest. Our liberation from the oppression of grind culture, violence, and suffering is not individual. Our liberation is collective and intertwined with each other. Which means I am not free until my neighbor is free. I cannot fully enter into rest if my neighbor cannot rest. If we could have the singleminded focus on our purpose and mission like John, casting off anything that is sucking our energy away from pursing Christ…think how much the world would change. If you’re having trouble finding what your purpose or mission is, I’ll tell you. Our purpose is to love God, love people as you love yourself. Our mission is to join in and participate in God’s reconciling and liberating work in the world. Whatever we do that falls under this is up to you. This past summer a couple of friends asked me if I was going to do “lizard boy summer” again, because they wanted to join in this year. One person just got out of a really toxic work environment and was taking time off to change careers, and an other person felt overloaded with clients. More people heard about it and wanted to join Lizard Boy Summer! Anyone who wanted to take time over the summer to play, say no to overcommitments, take naps without guilt, and lay in the sun, was welcome! During this time, we had the capacity to help put on a drag brunch fundraiser for The Table’s mutual-aid fund. The mutual-aid fund is something we started this year to help members at The Table who are experiencing financial hardship. In the first five months of having the fund, we spent our budget for the year because the needs were so high. We put on this fundraiser to fill up the mutual-aid tank and continue our commitment to community care. It was an amazing event, and we raised over $2.8K, almost triple our goal! None of this would have been possible without our volunteers, and it would not have been as successful if we had not taken the time to begin from a place of rest, and rest some more after. Eventually all of the lizard boys got tattoos to commemorate this summer, and to remind ourselves to take time to be a lizard whenever we can. Because Lizard Boy Summer is not just for the summer…it's a lifestyle. Our world is in need of deep healing, and working like business as usual is not going to save us. If Advent is about waiting to give birth to Christ among us, then we are on mandatory bedrest. Rest is not a luxury, it is necessary for our survival and is a human right. Rest is claiming your baptismal promise that you are loved for who you are, not what you do. Remember, we work from a place of rest, instead of working to a place of rest. Remember, our liberation is collective and intertwined with each other. Which means I cannot fully enter into rest if my neighbor cannot rest. And if you are having trouble getting started with this journey of rest, just ask yourself, W.W.L.D? What would lizards do? Amen.

Sermon on Mark 1:1-8

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

This is the beginning of the Good News? Some guy standing around near a river in the middle of nowhere, wearing camel hair and eating what he can forage, splashing people with water and raving about untying someone’s sandals?

John isn’t exactly a glamorous messenger for God’s Messiah. We might expect the herald of the Chosen One to stand in the halls of kings or in the midst of the Temple, clad in whatever the equivalent of a nice suit was in those days. A great, charismatic orator. But no. We get John, who’s someone we might avert our gaze from if we saw him in a dark alley.

But this is where the writer of the Gospel of Mark decided to begin. No genealogies, no birth narratives, no poetic introduction. Just John.

The Gospel of Mark gets right to the point.

And perhaps that’s what’s fitting about John. There’s no pretense with him. There’s nothing flashy or impressive. John is just John.

He’s the ultimate minimalist. He lives away from the distractions of the world. He wears and eats what he can find. He certainly doesn’t worry about keeping up with the Joneses.

But none of this is for simplicity’s sake alone. It’s so he can focus on his mission. John knows why he was put on this earth, and he doesn’t let anything distract him from that.

And people respond. They flock to the wilderness—not exactly a top vacation destination. They want to hear John speak; they want to be baptized by him. They seek a pilgrimage to confess their sins, to be touched by water, to feel connected to God. Perhaps they seek some of the simplicity John embodies.

But John never lets it go to his head. He always, always points to the Messiah who’s coming. He knows his role in the story. He knows his purpose and pursues it with everything he is. He constantly points people away from him and toward what God is doing.

I so admire that type of single-minded focus. And I’m not alone in that.

There are whole industries and philosophies that help us focus, cut out the noise, minimize distractions, and live our best lives.

There are mountains of self-help and productivity books out there. From Greg McKeown’s Essentialism to James Clear’s Atomic Habits to Marie Kondo’s Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up, whether you’re looking to embrace minimalism, maximize your efficiency, or pare down physical, mental, and digital distractions, there’s a book out there for you. I should know—I’ve read a lot of them, and I’m always looking for more.

I won’t even get into the apps, planners, devices, software, podcasts, life-coaching services, and journals created to help us focus and prioritize.

Many of us are hungry for simplicity, for figuring out what’s most important to us and cutting out what doesn’t serve those values. We long for a clear understanding of our mission in life and the freedom to pursue it wholeheartedly.

That’s why I’m inviting us into the theme of Sabbath for the entire year of 2024.

Let’s rest from the grind, quiet the noise, cut out the distractions, and really listen to God. Let’s face our wildernesses, so that we can let the Holy Spirit guide our paths—as individuals and as a community.

Let’s learn what gifts Sabbath has for us and dedicate ourselves to rest, play, joy, peace, and connection with God in 2024.

And for today, we can see in Johna single-minded focus on what God was doing in the world. What was God doing in the world?

God was meeting people in the wilderness. God wasn’t only meeting people in the Temple or in the big cities. God was meeting people in the most unexpected of places.

And God was speaking through a most unexpected person. God was using John to evoke the passage from our first reading in Isaiah: a voice in the wilderness crying that God’s glory would be revealed. John reminded people of the prophet Elijah, wandering the wilderness and speaking God’s truth. And they listened to him, hoping to feel divine connection.

Most importantly, God was preparing the way for Jesus the Christ to meet us in our everyday, human messiness. The Gospel of Mark brings Jesus into the scene fully grown and ready for ministry. This is a Gospel of action, known for its frequent use of the word “immediately,” rushing from one story to the next with a powerful sense of urgency. There’s no time to waste.

No time to waste on anything but pointing to what God is up to. Like John, focusing on his priority of proclaiming that Jesus was on his way.

That is what we proclaim, too, especially during Advent.

We proclaim that God shows up in the most unexpected places: the humble places, the messy places, the dangerous places.

And we proclaim that God uses the least likely people, like John and me and you, to spread God’s message of love to the world.

And we proclaim that God came to live among us in Jesus and lives among us still—in the least, the last, and the lost. In our most unexpected neighbor, and in us as well. And Jesus will come again at the end of time to complete the Beloved Community, ending death and sorrow and pain forever.

That is the message of Advent. It was John’s message, and it’s ours.

God spoke through Isaiah and John, saying, “Nothing is going to keep me from my people.”

God might even say:

“Ain't no mountain high enough

Ain't no valley low enough

Ain't no river wide enough

To keep me from getting to you, babe”

There’s no wilderness vast enough in our world or in our hearts to keep God out.

There are no pilgrimages we need to take, no self-help books we need to read, for God to love us more. God tore heaven apart to be with us. That love is there for you always.

We can rest in that simplicity: we don’t and can’t earn God’s love. There’s nothing left to earn; God’s love for us has been 100% since the moment of creation.

That is what matters. God’s Advent love letter shines forth from your heart every moment. May you find rest in God’s love and peace now and forever. Amen.