St. John’s United Methodist Church

But how do we truly prepare ourselves to encounter God? How do we get past the things that are in the way? How do we open ourselves to the voice of God, the call of God in our lives? How can we ever be “ready” to encounter God?

The Scriptures give us some clue, in the stories of people who have responded to the call of God, who have encountered God in their lives. And in story after story, in one instance after another, one concept keeps appearing time and time again. In each case, the person’s encounter with God has begun with a journey into the wilderness.

By “wilderness,” I don’t necessarily mean the complete absence of human civilization, although that was sometimes the case. But the “wilderness” can be anywhere that is beyond the boundaries of our “comfort zones,” beyond what we know, and beyond what we think we can control. Because it’s only as we give up our own need to be in control that we will truly be open to God. As Pastor Mark explained last week, we have a desire to be in control, to be at the center of our own universe, to be our own gods. And it is that desire, that refusal to let God be the God of our lives, that is at the root of the condition we call sin – it’s the cause of our alienation from God, the condition that Jesus came to rescue us from.

Our salvation – our relationship with God – begins at the point where we repent, and acknowledge: “God is God, and I am not.”

“God is God, and I am not.” That’s one of those statements that I immediately affirm the truth of – and then find that it’s the work of a lifetime learning how to live as if I truly believe it. The desire to be the lord of our own little universe is one of the most powerful desires we have. How do we get beyond it?

In the examples we read in the Scriptures, it often begins with a journey into the wilderness. Abraham was told, “Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” Now I feel fairly certain that most of us, before we set out on the highway, want directions that are a little more specific than that. We want to have at least a map and a destination, if not a GPS unit on the dashboard. Abraham is being sent into the wilderness. It’s not literally a wilderness – there are people and cities where he’s going – but it’s completely unknown to him. He says yes, and sets off with nothing but the promises of God – and his “yes” to God becomes the beginning of the nation of Israel.

Moses, after escaping Egypt, fled into the wilderness, and there had his first encounter with God. He then returned and, at God’s direction, led the Israelites out of Egypt, and (guess what?) into the wilderness for their own time of trial, and their own time of learning to rely on God’s promises.

It’s not by accident that John the Baptist lives in the wilderness, and conducts his ministry there. And Jesus, after his baptism and before the start of his public ministry, goes into the wilderness for his own time of trial and temptation.

The wilderness – literal or figurative – is where we encounter God. The wilderness, for us, is that place where we can no longer have any illusion that anyone but God could be in control. And that’s a scary place to be. We usually don’t want to go there. But I believe that this is precisely the “fear of the Lord” that is the beginning of wisdom.

Our Scripture readings this morning give us two contrasting pictures of people’s responses to their journey in the wilderness. Isaiah is speaking to the Israelites of the time when God will restore them, after they’ve been carted off into captivity. Their time of captivity and exile is a time in the wilderness for Israel, a time made more bitter by the fact that it was involuntary. But the Israelites had become complacent in their land, secure in the knowledge that they were in control. They had their land, their cities, their Temple, their customs, their homes and possessions – and had forgotten their complete reliance on their God. Now they were undergoing a time of trial, where all of those other things were stripped away, and all that they had left was their God. Isaiah’s task was to speak to them of the promises of God, to remind them of their dependence on God, and to give them the hope that their God would once more restore their land and their identity as a people. But before that could happen, they needed their time in the wilderness to realize that their identity as a people was rooted in their relationship with their God, and not in what they were able to do themselves. Isaiah’s task, as a prophet, is to help them to realize that truth.

Our second reading this morning gives us another example of a response to the call of God, in the person of Mary. Her response is quite different, but once more it begins with a call into the wilderness. As we heard from Mary in the first week of Advent, her call comes in the form of a visit from an angel, who tells her that she will be the one to bring the Messiah – the promised one of God – into the world. Mary responds in faith: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.” And from the moment she utters those words, Mary is in the wilderness. Any illusion she may have had of being in control of anything is gone – she’s totally dependent upon the promises of God. For one thing, she’s not yet married to her husband, and is carrying a child – a circumstance for which she could legally have been put to death – and her husband needs to be made to understand that this is how it’s supposed to be. But God meets her there. Joseph receives his own message from God, and steps forward into the wilderness himself.

If Mary needed any further reassurance, she finds it when she visits her cousin Elizabeth, who will soon give birth to John the Baptist. As soon as Mary greets Elizabeth, and before she can even announce the purpose of her visit, Elizabeth greets her with a blessing, and says to her, “And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Once again, God has met Mary in the wilderness, with the word of confirmation that she needed to hear.

Mary’s response is a song of praise – often called the “Magnificat” after the Latin form of the word “magnify” in the first line. This song has been referred to by one writer as “the most awake response to the call of God in all of our history.” Mary’s song gives us an insight into Mary, and probably demands that we rethink the mental image that most of us have of her.

Usually when we think of Mary, what comes to mind is the figure in the Nativity set – the young woman, kneeling at the manger, head bowed, with the sky-blue head covering and the serene, almost expressionless face. The eyes are usually closed, and there’s no clue offered as to what kind of person is behind this placid exterior.

But in Mary’s song, we hear Mary in full voice, and what emerges is a remarkably different image. This is a remarkable young woman – she may be young, and she may be poor, but this is not a clueless young woman. This is an intelligent, articulate young woman who is very much aware of the magnitude of what is happening to her, and very much aware that she is entrusting herself entirely to God – the same God who delivered Israel, the same God who spoke through the prophets, the same God who promised the Messiah, the Deliverer, the Chosen One – the child she will bring into the world. Her song is a song of deliverance, which echoes the prophets, and celebrates what God has done.

That’s an important distinction. If we compare Mary’s song with our reading from Isaiah this morning, we see a clear difference. Both are songs of faith, and both speak of the promises of God. But in Isaiah, we’re hearing promises of what God will do, spoken to a people who are still in captivity and are waiting, and longing, for the day when God will act. But Mary speaks of what God has done. “He has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.” Mary regards these things as already having been accomplished. The proud have been scattered. The powerful have been brought down. They may not realize it yet, but it’s been done. God has spoken, God has acted. It is accomplished. It is accomplished in the person of the child she carries. It is done. Not that there won’t be things yet to be done, for there will be. And not that there won’t be suffering and pain involved, because there certainly will be, and she’s well aware of it. The rich don’t give up their riches without a struggle, and the powerful will not voluntarily relinquish their thrones. But God has promised, and God has acted, and Mary can see the fulfillment of the promise even as it’s unfolding in front of her. The Good News is here! The kingdom of God is at hand!

Abraham said yes, and stepped into the wilderness, and God met him there, and that was the beginning of the nation of Israel. Moses and the Israelites said yes, and stepped into the wilderness, and that was the beginning of their covenant relationship with God. Mary said yes, and stepped into the wilderness, and ushered in the new covenant, the kingdom of God.

And what of us? For in a real sense, Mary’s task is also our task. Mary’s task was to bring Jesus Christ into the world. And that is the mission of the Church as well. Are we willing to step into the wilderness? Are we willing to follow to the place where we’re no longer under any illusion that we’re in control? To become so dependent on the promises of God that our life becomes indistinguishable from the life of God? Are we willing to step into the wildness of God, and trust that God will meet us there?

That’s what we prepare for. That’s what’s coming. The life of God, incarnate in human form, that we might be joined to the life of God. “Emmanuel” – “God with us.” We say it. We sing it. Are we truly prepared to live it?

Amen.