It seems an odd scripture to choose to
begin the season of Advent (Mark 13:24-37). Although we are surrounded by
twinkling lights, glittering tinsel, and shining ornaments, today’s scripture paints
a dark picture. “The sun will be darkened,” it says, “and the moon will not
give its light. The stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will
be shaken.” And what is the reason for all this cosmic commotion? The Messiah
is on the way; and these heavenly signs are just the beginning of the upheaval
that will result when he arrives. But we don’t know when that will occur. “You
do not know when that time will come,” Mark cautions. “It may be in the
evening, or at midnight, or when the rooster crows, or at dawn. So… keep
watch!” Mark’s warning reminds me of the Christmas song that begins, “You
better watch out! You better not cry! You better not pout! I’m telling you
why…” Mark isn’t looking forward to Santa Claus, though. He’s anticipating the second
coming of the Messiah, the one who is going to arrive “with great power and
glory.”
But the Messiah didn’t arrive that way
the first time. He didn’t descend from the clouds; a young woman gave birth to
him in a little village stable. He didn’t sit on a throne; he was laid in a
feed trough. And he wasn’t surrounded by the fragrance of exotic perfumes, but
by the sweet smell of hay. In fact, he crept in so silently in the dark of
night that almost nobody noticed that he had arrived at all. He brought God’s
realm of peace, justice, and joy with him; but since it isn’t completely here
yet, we read Mark’s words and look forward to his second coming when everything
will be made right.
Now, if we stop there – if we see this
scripture only as a commentary on the Messiah who came once and will someday
come again – then we confine Mark’s insights to the far distant past and to the
far distant future; and they don’t have much to say to us today. And that would
be a pity, because Mark’s comments apply to us, too, as we live our lives right
now. When he says that the sun and the moon become dark, he is describing a
universe that is falling into chaos. Doesn’t that happen to us, too, every now
and then? Oh, we may not see the sun and moon literally turning black; but we
are thrown into deep darkness more often than we would like to admit. When the
checkbook has shown a negative balance for weeks; when the doctor comes into
the room where you are waiting and says, “I’m afraid the news isn’t good;” when
the voice on the other end of the telephone says, “I’m sorry, there’s been an
accident…” At those times, the stars fall from the sky, and we are plunged into
darkness. At those times, the darkness is so deep that we almost drown in it.
At those times, we can’t see our hands in front of our faces, let alone the
future if there is one, and we’re not even sure about that.
But those are the very times, Mark
declares, that the Messiah is about to arrive. When our world is in turmoil and
there seems to be nothing that we can count on, it is then that we can count on
the Messiah creeping in beside us as silently as he did on that long-ago night
in Bethlehem. There is no darkness that can keep him out of our lives. The
gospel of John assures us of that when it says: “In him was life; and the life
was the light of all people. The light still shines in the darkness, and the
darkness has not overcome it.”
He is right here this morning, you know.
No matter how difficult your circumstances, no matter how dark your life, no
matter how black the night that surrounds you, the Messiah has already crept in
beside you bringing you comfort and courage and peace and joy. As Advent begins
once more, by all means, anticipate his coming again in glory – but be thankful
that, even as we wait for him, he is already here.
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