Rev. Linda B. Hirst

December 9, 2001

Isaiah 40:1-5
Matthew 3:1-11
 

 I have an advent story I want to share with you.  It’s a simple story and it happened during advent which technically makes it an advent story.  It’s a story about me and my dog.  Now, there are not a lot of "me and my dog" stories coming from the pulpit and there may good reason for but I’m going to share one with you anyway.

 About five years ago at this time of year, I had to do something very difficult. I had to take our dog to the vet to be put to sleep.  We had had Otis, our very large and neurotic dog for 12 years;  we were living in Bangor when someone I knew said they had a litter of  coon-hounds they were trying to get rid of and did we want one.  "Of course," I said.  "How cool would it be to have a coon-hound. Sure we’ll take one.  Never mind that we lived in a tiny two room apartment - both Brad and I were seminary students at the time -  never mind that neither one of us was home very much. Never mind that our apartment was three floors up and it was February - we went and picked out our coon hound puppy, and as we were leaving we noticed the mother of the puppies in the back yard - she was an Irish Setter.  So much for our coon-hound - what we got instead was a very large and very neurotic mix breed.

 But he was our first dog and no dog since then has ever quite lived up to him.  In his hey day, Otis was a grand, squirrel chasing, rabbit hunting, mountain roaming dog.   But towards the end, he had been sick with a variety of ailments that is befitting a large, old dog.  Many friends had urged us  as nicely  and as often as they could, to take him to the vet.  And like any good owner we denied that he was as sick as he looked.  We maintained that even though he looked awful, if you threw a slice of pizza in front of him he perked up like a puppy.  Which was true.

  But one day his arthritis got the best of him and he couldn’t get up at all.  I made the phone call to the vet and at around 6:30 in the evening, it was time to go.  Brad and I tearfully made the announcement to our two boys and told them that it was time to go say good-bye to Otis.  Nathan and Andrew who were five and six at the time and never knew Otis in his prime, only as this annoying and sickly dog,  looked at us, went to the door of the room where Otis was laying and said, "See ya, Otis!" and then went back to watch T.V.  Their compassion was overwhelming.   Brad carried Otis to the car, said his good-byes and because I’m the brave one, I climbed into the car to make the long drive to the vet’s office.

 As I drove, I told Otis how much I loved him and what a good dog he had been, and then I apologized for all those times I yelled at him for drinking out of the toilet, and eating out of the trash, and I said I was sorry for all those times we ignored him.
 And I thanked him for not biting the children whenever they pulled on his ears and tail and for keeping salespeople at bay with his loud and at times obnoxious barking.   Thinking back, what I was doing essentially was asking my dog for forgiveness - trying to smooth the road between us -  reconciling with him before we parted.  And when I was done, after I had finished telling Otis everything I needed to say, he looked at me as only a dog can look at you, and because dogs are very forgiving creatures,  I think he forgave me. He passed away in my arms at the vet’s office and it was over.

 On the long drive home from the vet’s that night,  it occurred to me that the reconciliation I had just had with my dog, is really the sort of reconciliation I needed to be having with people.  People with whom I had parted ways over a misunderstanding, people whom I had hurt, people with whom I really needed to have the same kind of heart-to-heart talk that I was able to have with my dog.

 And then I realized it’s not just people I needed to reconcile with...I had some reconciling to do with God as well.
HIt had been a tough year.  I had some issues, some questions, some doubt, some things I needed to work through and ask forgiveness for.  I needed to have a heart-to-heart talk with God.

 Since that night five years ago many things have changed but some things haven’t.  To fill the void after Otis died we got two dogs, a lizard and a rat.  I’d happily give away one of the dogs and the rat if anyone’s interested.  There are still people I need to reconcile with but I’m working on it and of course, it’s time for another heart-to-heart talk with God.

 And what better time to do all these things than now.    It’s the season of brotherly and sisterly love.   Everyone’s being nicer to each other,  family and friends are coming together - kids are coming home from college.  All the Christmas movies and commercials show beautiful, N heart-warming and very unmessy reunions.  It’s a perfect time for reconciliation.

 Except that reconciliations - heart-to-heart talks - are often hard.  They’re risky and they can be messy.  What if the other person doesn’t feel like reconciling? What if our hearts get stomped on? Have you ever tried to clear the air with someone who thought the air was just fine the way it was and no amount of apologizing (or arguing) would change his or her mind?  Reconciling with Otis was a piece of cake compared to some experiences I’ve had.  Sometimes reconciling means coming to terms with the way things are.

 Reconciling with God might appear to be easier,  but we often put that off, too.   There are many obstacles that can block our path - we can be stubborn, or prideful, fearful, angry, or just plain busy.

 Fortunately for us,  our God is open enough to be ready and willing, big enough to reach out and offer us forgiveness, hopeful enough to be willing to reconcile with us and begin anew.

 The message we hear from the prophet Isaiah this morning is about reconciliation.  Isaiah is speaking to the Israelites who are living in exile in Babylon.   They are lonely and frightened.  They’re mourning the loss of their status as the chosen people of God and the loss of their temple, their place of worship.  They’re wondering if there really is a God, and if so, what’s going on?  They’ve just about given up hope.
 

 Then along comes Isaiah with these beautiful words of comfort and  hope:  "Comfort O, comfort my people, says your God;  speak tenderly to Jerusalem; and cry to her that she has served her time, that her penalty - her iniquity - is pardoned.

 All is forgiven.  For all the years the Israelites worshiped false gods,  for all the years they ignored and disobeyed God’s commandments, for all their indiscretions and sins, God has forgiven them.  In their wilderness - their exile - their time of loneliness and frustration and hopelessness, God will gather them once again like a shepherd gathers his flock.  "Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill be made low;  the crooked, straight, and the rough places plain.  And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it."   It’s a reconciliation.  God is coming.

 This is good news, wonderful news!   But...says Isaiah,  they’ve got some work ahead of them as well.  They have to prepare for the way of the Lord.  They must make straight in the desert a highway for God.

 How do they do this?  You notice Isaiah didn’t leave any instructions.  I suppose the people just knew what they were supposed to do.  Whatever they had been doing before wasn’t working.  So they needed to change their ways.  Keep the Law; know that the Lord is God; worship the one true God.  Prepare the way of the Lord. God is coming.
 

Almost 2000 years later this scripture still speaks to us.  Prepare the way of the Lord!

 There is a great deal of preparation we do during this season.  We put up wreaths.  We set up Advent Calendars and crèches. We send out Christmas cards to people we have not heard from since the last Christmas card was sent.  We buy presents,  try to volunteer at all the places that need our help.  Christmas trees and lights go up.  There is a lot we do on the outside to prepare the way for Jesus.

 But what do we do on the inside?

 John the Baptist gives us a clue in the Gospel of Matthew.  "Repent," he says, "for the kingdom of heaven has come near."   Repent.   I don’t know about you but for years I was uncomfortable with the word "Repent".  I’ve always associated it with pictures of scraggly bearded young men holding up signs saying, "Repent.  The end is near."     It wasn’t until seminary  that I  came to understand the word "Repent" in a new light.  It means "a turning".  It means turning away from whatever keeps God from being the focus of our life and turning toward God.    This I like, this I can relate to.
 

For the Israelites,  this meant turning away from all those things that kept God from being the focus of their life - things like idols,  fear, doubt, sin - and turning toward God.   When they start to do this, they begin to prepare the way for God’s return.

 The same is
 true for us.  We prepare the way for the Lord in the same way - by turning  away from those things that keep God from being the focus of our life - whatever it is - and turning toward God.  Living in exile, living in the wilderness is not only something reserved for the Israelites.  Most of us have felt exiled before or lost in the wilderness.  Most of us at one  time or another has felt confused, had our doubts, wondered whether there is a God and if so, what’s going on?  I know people, just as you do, who have given up hope.

 And yet, the words of John the Baptist keep calling out to us.  Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.

   So how do we do this?  How do we turn toward God?

 Some people "pray without ceasing".  They spend time reading and writing - renewing - praying - studying the bible, talking to God and really listening for God’s response.

 Others  "Go forth and serve the Lord with gladness." They love their neighbor as themselves."  They would say the best way for them to turn toward God is by using their energy, their time and talents to  care for one another and our brothers and sisters.

 These are things we certainly should and can be doing.  But it’s important to remember that turning towards God often requires a healthy dose of grace.  It’s not something we do all on our own.

 Dan Wakefield writes in his book "Returning" about how he had wandered away from God and how his life as an adult had become chaotic and confused.  And then one day, he says, he went to  the New England Aquarium with his girlfriend.  He writes, "As we gazed at the astonishingly brilliant colors of some of the small tropical fish - reds and yellows and oranges - and watched the amazing lights of the flashlight fish that blinked on like the beacons of some creature of a  sci-fi epic, I wondered how anyone could think that all this was the result of some chain of accidental explosions! Yet, to try to convince me otherwise five years before would have been hopeless."  Wakefield describes this experience as not a "rebirth" but a "turning".   "It’s as if I’d been walking in one direction and then, in response to some inner pull, I turned."

 Turning toward God.  Preparing the way for the Lord to come into our hearts, into our minds, into our lives.  This is our challenge, our search, our hope this advent.  It’s no accident that this scripture is chosen for the season of advent in churches across the world.  Christ is coming.   In just 16 days, as any child in this church will tell you.

 So go ahead and read, pray, do, serve, reconcile with a friend, reconcile with God and be open to God’s grace this Christmas.

  Prepare the way.  God is coming.

  Let us pray...Help us O God, to bring you into our lives this Advent.  Give us the hope, the peace, the joy of knowing you and your love.  Amen.