I was humbled twice recently. November was the end of a yearlong cohort with 15 other clergy. We met on six occasions. We spent at least 200 hours together: eating, learning, laughing, and getting to know each other and ourselves more intimately. It was difficult to carve out the time. It placed a strain on my schedule for work and family. One of my colleagues had to find a new home for their family dog that was unexplainably snapping at his toddler; then later that month, perform life-saving measures on his son until an ambulance arrived, due to seizure activity (his son is o.k.).Other colleagues have newly discovered health challenges to bear. Some of us moved this summer. In the midst of all of this, there were times my friends and I didn’t think it was going to come together. Looking back though, we count it all joy.

            The last day of our last session, we sat in a circle and commenced taking turns telling each individual something we observed or appreciated about them over the span of the year. Someone placed a box of tissues somewhere near the center of the circle, but no one got up to grab one. We hung on every word spoken with anticipation and reverence.  When I returned home that evening, road weary from the commute and having just finished charge conference[Methodist-speak for annual business meeting] that same day, I told my wife about this event.  Jessica inquired, “how was your thing?” I told her what I just shared with you and added, “someone called me a renaissance man today…can you believe that?” She replied, “what’s that supposed to mean? You can play video games on your phone and use the bathroom at the same time?” My eyes widened like I had just witnessed someone slap a baby in the face!

…silence…and then a huge belly laugh. I protested, “a prophet is never accepted in their hometown!” Talk about coming down off the high !?!?

            I shared this exchange with a few of my friends from the circle by way of text message. They laughed hysterically and responded, “#marriage, #truelove…she knows your true self.” They’re all right. My friends are right, and my wife of 20 years is absolutely correct.

In her sermon, Loving the Dreadful Day of Judgment Fleming writes, “The Wrath of God and the love of God are two faces of the same thing. The World will be purged of its iniquity in the consuming fire of the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. That is the Advent theme…the time has come for judgment to begin with the household of God.” “Trouble is, as I am sure you have already figured out, that we don’t mind God being wrathful against somebody other than us. The difficulty comes when judgment draws close to us, to our friends, to our group, to our favorite cause…”

Take Israel. The God who delivered her from Egypt with God’s “outstretched arm”:

 Your right hand, O Lord, glorious in power—
    your right hand, O Lord, shattered the enemy.
 In the greatness of your majesty, you overthrew your adversaries;
    you sent out your fury, it consumed them like stubble.

Exodus 15:6-7

Here God’s people shake their tambourine and praise the One who heard their cry as Egyptian horse and rider are swallowed by the sea. Centuries later, God’s people will find themselves in the promised land, self-indulgent, looking no different than the nations.

God’s prophet will declare:

 In all their distress he too was distressed,
    and the angel of his presence saved them.
In his love and mercy he redeemed them;
    he lifted them up and carried them
    all the days of old.
 Yet they rebelled
    and grieved his Holy Spirit.
So he turned and became their enemy
    and he himself fought against them.

 Isaiah 63:9-10

What happens when you find the same “outstretched arm”, the one that delivered you from your enemies suddenly turned against you like an auto-immune response?

“For all this his anger has not turned away; his hand is stretched out still.” 

Isa 9:12b

These words, woe to thee, these words like the tone arm of a record player out of balance unexpectedly lifts and the needle pulses with the same refrain, over and over again…

his hand is stretched out still…

his hand is stretched out still…

his hand is stretched out still…                

The Lord is a consuming fire and we are like grass. Woe is me for I am a man of unclean lips among a people of unclean lips. I wear my pastor garb and stand beside hospital beds in prayer and longing, I cheer a weary friend with a word of encouragement AND…AND…AND…I play with my phone in the bathroom. I get disgusted and short with people who want to sing Christmas carols in November. I cheer myself with the notion that the church would be a whole lot better if a few funerals we dressed-up in the queue. I lead amidst sisters and brothers who wonder why the nation-state no longer serves “their” interests rather than discerning how we can serve the cities, towns and communities we’re a part of. All the while wondering why the meal that was prepared for 5 pm on a Friday night wasn’t well attended…” Well I guess people just aren’t interested in the church like they used to be…?#@!”

This Advent season, a dawn has broken upon us from on high. It brings light to those who sit in darkness, and it also casts a shadow revealing the darkness within. The good news is that this dawn has signaled our rescue where we could find no strength in ourselves. This light will guide our feet into the way of peace. God’s judgment burns as I am laid naked in its light, but as the stinging subsides I find a lover standing in front of me accepting me as I am, and causing me to be something more in her love. Humbled, becoming new.