Jesu Juva
“Disappointed?”
Text: Mark 11:1-10
(Isaiah 64:1-9; 1 Corinthians 1:3-9)
Grace, mercy, and peace
to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Saviour
Jesus Christ.
Amen.
The first Sunday of Advent is the first Sunday of
a new church year, which means this one thing: another church year has gone by
and Jesus didn’t come again. There have been almost 2,000 of them now and the
church is still waiting. Every year we proclaim Jesus is coming back, and every
year - so far - He has not.
Are you disappointed? Admit it - you’re not, are
you? Because if you’re like most people, you really don’t
want this world to end. As bad as it is and as bad as the news gets,
it’s home, and the thought of it ending frightens you. So better to not think
about it. Just keep on the best you can.
And also because you’ve got stuff to do and things
you want to enjoy: kids and grandkids to watch grow up, careers to pursue,
tickets to the game, and Christmas is coming - wouldn’t want to miss that! For
imagine finding just the right gift for that hard-to-buy-for person who has
everything. You searched and searched and thought and thought and found just
the right gift that is going to both surprise and delight that special someone
. . . and Jesus comes again and you don’t get to give it! What a bummer that
would be, huh?
But the truth is, as much as the church speaks of
Jesus’ return at the end of the church year, we really don’t give it much
thought. We just expect things to continue as they have for so many years.
But it was not always so. The Jews in Isaiah’s
time - when another year went by they were disappointed that God did not
rend the heavens and come down to save them and deliver them. And the
Christians in the city of Corinth, Paul says, were eagerly waiting for
the revealing - or, for the apocalypse, in the Greek - of
our Lord Jesus Christ.
So, what would change your mind? What
would it take for you to be like the Jews of Isaiah’s day or the Christians in
Corinth, truly disappointed when not another year, but another day went
by without Jesus coming again? Maybe if you were in prison,
serving life with no chance of parole; or if you were on death row.
Jesus coming again would be a relief and a release for you. Or maybe if you had
a terminal disease, or a disease that won’t kill you
but just lingers and makes life tough - Jesus coming again would mean less
suffering for you. Or what if you had overwhelming debt that you could not pay, or ISIL terrorism starts infiltrating our communities,
or riots like what we saw in Ferguson start burning your home and your
business and your car. What would it take for you to pray “Come, Lord
Jesus! Come quickly! Come now!” and really mean
it?
Well, I’m not going to pray that any of that
stuff happens to you. But every Advent we are reminded that all that stuff I
just described is exactly the situation we are in spiritually,
whether we realize it or not. You have a disease called sin that is eating away
at you and has put you on death row. Satan is terrorizing you and your own
sinful urges join in the spiritual rioting of anger, bitterness, and rebellion
against God and against others. Jesus not coming again means we’ve had another
year of amassing a debt of sin we cannot pay, of doing what our Lord has
forbidden and not doing what He has commanded. And maybe that has caused you to
look at yourself or look at the world and wonder: When is it going to get
any better?
Advent tells us: when Jesus comes again. That’s what it’s going
to take. We can’t do it, no matter how hard we try. Our elected leaders can’t
do it, they’re sinners too (in case you haven’t noticed that!).
So in Advent, we turn our eyes again to the One
who can. Not that we haven’t been looking at Him all year - we have, for
forgiveness, for help, for strength, for wisdom, for the new life we need. All of that, yes. But Advent is different. Advent means “to
come.” And especially this season we pray for that. Come, Lord Jesus!
Come quickly! Come now! We sing it in our hymns: O Come, O Come,
Immanuel and Savior of the Nations, Come. We pray for it in our
collects, that the Lord would stir up His power and come, and that the Holy
Spirit would come and stir up our hearts to repent. You may not pray for those
things at home, on your own, so we pray them here. And fix our eyes on the One
who has promised to come and save us.
And how we do that, how we look to the One who
has promised to come again, is by looking back to when He did come, the first
time - when He rode into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday. He came, as promised, though
it took a long time. He came, as promised, and took your place on death row
with the guilt of your sin. He came, as promised, right into the rioting
madness of evil. He came, as promised, into Jerusalem that day and went to the
cross. To give Himself and all that He is for you. To Hosanna
you, to save you.
Now, the people then didn’t understand the
significance of what Jesus was doing - not even the disciples. Just like us
today, most of them were probably looking to be saved from the things and
problems and fears of this world, not from their sins. They probably were
shouting “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest!”
because they wanted Jesus to restore the kingdom of Israel and free it from
Roman rule and be that kind of king. Just as we often want a Jesus who will be
that kind of king and stop the rioting, stop the wars, stop the hatred, so we
can live in this world in peace.
Now, it’s not wrong or bad to want those things,
but Jesus didn’t come to be that kind of king or to give that kind of peace -
for them or for us. His chosen mode of transportation made that obvious! Kings
and warriors don’t ride young, untamed colts or donkeys,
they ride strong, well-trained stallions. His honor guard showed that, too -
not soldiers but common people and children with coats and tree branches. But
it was His chosen throne that shouted it the loudest - for earthly kings rule from bejeweled thrones, they don’t reign from a
cross. And so with colt, coats, and cross, we see that Jesus has come to do
something quite different, something much better. To provide for us a
peace and salvation not just for a time, for the eight or nine decades we have
on this earth, if we’re given that many, but peace and salvation forever.
And so in the midst of this world of trouble we sing our Hosanna
too - to our King who comes to us in just as unlikely a way as on colt, coats,
and cross - as He comes to us in the simple bread and wine of the Supper. It’s not
even really good bread and wine; it’s ordinary at best. But
whether it’s on the donkey’s colt or in the bread and wine it is (as we sang in
the Introit) your King coming to you, righteous and having salvation.
Your King with His forgiveness and with His life for
you. So that in the midst of the rioting, wars, troubles, and hatred of this
world, we have hope and we have peace - a peace that surpasses understanding
and supersedes time and space. A peace with God to have now and that lasts
forever.
So Advent proclaims: Behold, your King is coming
to you - now! - just as He promised. And He is coming
again - He will! - just as He promised. For He came, just as He promised. He is faithful.
And you who sang earlier O Lord, How Shall I
Meet You? come to meet Him in the same way as He
came to meet you - not in your strength, but in humility; not in pride, but in
repentance. Bring your sins for your King to take away and Hosanna
you. And as you do that, this season, every week, and even every day, you are
focused on the better, you are looking at your King, and preparing for the end,
for that day when Jesus comes again as He promised. And as you do that you are
looking, as Paul wrote to the Corinthians, to the One who enriches, supplies,
and sustains you to live now, to live in your vocations, to serve and to love
until He comes again. That you be ready, if this be the year, if this be your
final Advent. For one year, one day, it will be; He will come. And when
He does, you will not be disappointed.
In the Name of the
Father, and of the (+) Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.