Hope in the Dark
Advent Night Worship
Mystically Candlelit, contemplative intimacy
December 3, 10, 17 6:04 pm
Gen Xers Seeking to Follow Jesus
Zion Lutheran Church, 435 Main St. , Akron
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Hope in the dark
Hope in the Dark
Advent Night Worship
Mystically Candlelit, contemplative intimacy
December 3, 10, 17 6:04 pm
Gen Xers Seeking to Follow Jesus
Zion Lutheran Church, 435 Main St. , Akron
Advent ready
I want to be someone who is ready to share my hope. Not only on Sunday morning from the pulpit. Not only in bible studies or in meetings. But everyday. In small and subtle ways with people I meet. I want to be ready to encounter strangers in such a way that the conversation will lead to Jesus. I don’t mean that I want to be comfortable asking passers-by if they believe in Jesus. I don’t mean to become a “bible beater” in the pejorative sense. I mean I went to embody the Spirit of Jesus in my daily encounters with others. So that in regular old conversation we might invite God to address us somehow. That we might experience Jesus.
I met her at the wash and lube. We were waiting for oil changes and tire rotations. She read a “Star Wars” novel. I noticed that everyone in the room was reading something; a newspaper, Popular Mechanics, an employee manual. The news was on the television, and as usual, it was all bad. So I commented in the awkward silence of a small room with four strangers waiting, “Good news again today.” That’s all it took. In the course of the next 7 minutes she and I talked about politics, war, religion, work, school. Not car washes. Heavier things. Things that sort of matter. She lives in Lititz, went to Warwick. She works for a local manufacturer exclusively doing government contracts, military safety equipment. She was 22 but had worked there for 3 years. “It’s a job,” she said. She’s Episcopalian, a member of St. James in Lititz. “But I’m 22. I like to sleep in on Sundays and haven’t been in a long time. I should go.” When she asked what I do I told her. She said, “So you must have some religious views and feelings about the war.”
Its then that the cashier’s window opened and called me up to pay. I hesitated. I felt like a moment was passing that I could not somehow control, get back, rewind. I needed a DVR or a TiVo so that I could simply pause the live action, reverse it, and start again--only more prepared to respond. You know, I guess what made people follow Jesus was that he was actively responsive. He seemed to know what to do immediately. He was able to address every encounter with meaning and hope. Or to address the enemy with passion and justice.
What did I do? I walked away. She was 22 and we were talking about religion, politics, war, work, life. And I walked away.
Advent is the season of hope, of anticipation, of preparation for the coming of the one who brings light and life and hope and peace to all. And although I was alert to the holy moment and its possibilities, I was unprepared to respond. I might have said, “Don’t go to church because you should. Go because you love it or you need to hear God or you want to give back and say thanks.” Or I could have said, “As a follower of Jesus I guess I’m against the war. The whole love your enemies thing, you know? What about you?” 7 minutes at the wash and lube could have meant so much more than a safer trip to NY. God wanted to change more than oil. As Christmas approaches, people are more receptive to sacred things. Next time I’ll be prepared. Maybe I’ll get my tires rotated too.
I met her at the wash and lube. We were waiting for oil changes and tire rotations. She read a “Star Wars” novel. I noticed that everyone in the room was reading something; a newspaper, Popular Mechanics, an employee manual. The news was on the television, and as usual, it was all bad. So I commented in the awkward silence of a small room with four strangers waiting, “Good news again today.” That’s all it took. In the course of the next 7 minutes she and I talked about politics, war, religion, work, school. Not car washes. Heavier things. Things that sort of matter. She lives in Lititz, went to Warwick. She works for a local manufacturer exclusively doing government contracts, military safety equipment. She was 22 but had worked there for 3 years. “It’s a job,” she said. She’s Episcopalian, a member of St. James in Lititz. “But I’m 22. I like to sleep in on Sundays and haven’t been in a long time. I should go.” When she asked what I do I told her. She said, “So you must have some religious views and feelings about the war.”
Its then that the cashier’s window opened and called me up to pay. I hesitated. I felt like a moment was passing that I could not somehow control, get back, rewind. I needed a DVR or a TiVo so that I could simply pause the live action, reverse it, and start again--only more prepared to respond. You know, I guess what made people follow Jesus was that he was actively responsive. He seemed to know what to do immediately. He was able to address every encounter with meaning and hope. Or to address the enemy with passion and justice.
What did I do? I walked away. She was 22 and we were talking about religion, politics, war, work, life. And I walked away.
Advent is the season of hope, of anticipation, of preparation for the coming of the one who brings light and life and hope and peace to all. And although I was alert to the holy moment and its possibilities, I was unprepared to respond. I might have said, “Don’t go to church because you should. Go because you love it or you need to hear God or you want to give back and say thanks.” Or I could have said, “As a follower of Jesus I guess I’m against the war. The whole love your enemies thing, you know? What about you?” 7 minutes at the wash and lube could have meant so much more than a safer trip to NY. God wanted to change more than oil. As Christmas approaches, people are more receptive to sacred things. Next time I’ll be prepared. Maybe I’ll get my tires rotated too.
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