My niece Macey was in a wheelchair all her life. Her family always had to consider whether she would be able to into different buildings and what path she would be able to take to get someplace. I never traveled with my sister-in-law’s family, so I didn’t realize how much of a challenge this could be. When she died three years ago, my sister-in-law made a comment that they would forever be looking for the ramps. Since then I have been on the lookout for the ramps. What hiking trails would be good for Macey or someone in a wheelchair? What paths would she take at the Capitol building or the bank or different churches? This summer, Tacoma was involved in a big project of increasing accessibility on sidewalks and a number of new ramps were put in near our house. I thought of Macey. Even though she can’t benefit, there are others who do.
This is the big project
of Advent—preparing the way. It is
accessibility between God and humans, it is connection, it is relationship, it
is a coming together. “Prepare the way
of the Lord! Make his paths straight.” Mark quotes Isaiah. This road has been under construction for a
long time. God has been find a way to
come to us and be with us. God spoke in
a burning bush, the way Moses, a shepherd would notice and appreciate. God was found on the top of the mountain
where God gave Moses the 10 Commandments.
God was with the Israelites in a pillar of smoke by day and a pillar of
fire by night, year after year. God was
in the Holy of Holies, surrounded by layers of tent and attended to by priests
who could enter only once a year. When
the temple was built, people thought that was the connection point between the
heavens and the earth, the belly button, the umbilical cord that connected us
with God. But in Isaiah, the people had
been kidnapped from their home. They
needed accessibility to God. They felt
cut off because of their sins. They felt
they were paying the price of worshiping other gods and neglecting the poor and
hungry. In the midst of their pain,
Isaiah sees this highway being built, this connection, this landing strip. The people are powerless. They are enslaved. They are stuck. God must come to them.
Isaiah goes on. He says that “every mountain shall be made
low and every valley lifted up. the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a
plain.” This is a big project, to
prepare for God to come in a new way, to come among us. I like hills and valleys. Once I visited Chicago and I couldn’t figure
out how a place could be so flat. I had
never seen a place that didn’t have hills.
But now that I am a runner, I like flat places. Because of Macey, I am always looking for the
places that are accessible. And it
wasn’t just physical accessibility.
Macey was vulnerable to illnesses.
I often wonder how difficult life would be for her and her family if she
was still was with us, now that we have this terrible virus causing so many to
fall ill.
In preparing a way for Jesus, we
prepare the way for these little ones that have such difficulty in life. A road is not just for one person. Even when a city hosts the Olympics, the
buildings are made in such a way as to benefit people and house events for
years to come. It’s an investment in
making way for others who also on the way.
Previously, there was a lot of focus
on going to God. If you want to talk to
God you could go up on a mountain or go out into the wilderness away from the
temptations of the world. You could go
to the temple, if you had the right sacrifices.
A lot of the focus was in going when you were ready, when you had time,
when you had all your ducks in a row.
But when John the Baptist preached, they hadn’t had a prophet in
hundreds of years. They were occupied by
a foreign force. The priests had become
sick with their own power. Small farmers
had been forced out by big corporations.
Regular people lost everything and starved to death on a regular
basis.
But now God is landing in their
midst. God’s going to see what a mess
they’re in. God’s going to be part of
it. And here we have John the Baptist
announcing the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.
People were seeing and admitting the mess. The head out from Jerusalem to the Jordan
River. This is a dirty, dusty road. By the time they get there, they will be
filthy. This is the same road described
in the Good Samaritan, where you’re likely to be beat and thrown in a ditch and
then passed by by two priests before a stranger drags you out of there. They come to the Jordan to confess their
sins—admitting they are a mess and repenting or turning from that sin and brokenness. They come to be washed, to be cleansed, to
prepare for the Messiah and for the coming of the Holy Spirit. There is no
pretense of having it all together.
Here, too, we’re admitting we’re a
mess. We’re as divided as ever over
politics. We have people living in the
woods while houses sit vacant. People
can’t find jobs or can’t risk leaving their homes to accept a job under the
conditions offered. People can’t pay
their rent. A ban on evictions expires
at the end of this month. The rich are getting
richer and poor are getting poor and people are dying at alarming rates from a
preventable virus. We’re wearing our PJs
to Zoom church. We’re having a pretzel
for Holy Communion. We’re posting our
messy worship for everyone to see on YouTube.
Into this mess, Jesus is coming. He is coming with power. It isn’t the kind of military power or the
power of wealth. He isn’t going to make
anyone bow to him or force anyone to do anything. The power that Jesus comes with is love. It is the kind of love that smooths out a
path so that someone can find their way.
It doesn’t say to anyone, “Well I made it this far, find your own
way!” No, it levels the field. It removes mountains so everyone can
see. It lifts up the valley of the
shadow of death so it isn’t in the shadows anymore. How did he do that? Jesus walked this earth. He walked the mountains and took us up there
with him. If God’s son walked these same
paths, the paths we walk and make, are divine paths. Jesus walked in the Valley of the Shadow of
death. He took us there with him,
too. The path of death is not so
dark. Jesus has walked it and lifted it
up from the shadows. It is nothing to
fear. He’s walking there with us. Jesus has walked the path of suffering. It isn’t something for bad people or to be
avoided. Suffering is part of life. It can teach us compassion. We are not alone. And he walked the path of sacrifice, giving
himself to bring new life to others. We
can walk the path of sacrifice, giving something up so that someone can have
more abundant life. We can stay home,
wear our mask, take our precautions, tell our family that we will celebrate
Christ’s birth by staying away from them.
Maybe we will be sad. Maybe we’ll
be relieved. These small sacrifices are
nothing compared to what God has given us.
This is a long-term project, this
preparing the way. We’ve been working on
it a long time and we give thanks to God for those who came before who prepared
the way—for Glen, and Bonnie and Viola and Lillian. They made our way easier. They shared God’s love in their own messy
ways. We continue their work in our own
messy ways. And Christ’s love is with
us, in his own messy way.
Someday the pathway will be cleared
so that people like Macey will be able to make their way all the places they
want to go. Someday I won’t perceive a
distance between where I am and where Macey is.
Someday we won’t feel a separation based on nationality or income or
political party. Someday we’ll all have
access to food and comfort and life and love.
Jesus is coming to make that our path.
Let’s prepare the way.
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