Making Room for Jesus, by Rev Steven R Mitchell, Mountain View United Church of Aurora, CO

Making Room for Jesus


By Rev Steven R Mitchell

Mountain View United, Aurora, CO 12-23-2012

Based on Luke 1:50-55



As we come to the fourth and final week in Advent, we have been exploring the ideas of walking in darkness toward a promised light. This morning, as an act of worship, we have walked a portion of the Las Posadas (seeking refuge, a physical shelter). Through this symbolic action, we are placing ourselves into the lives of Joseph and Mary, as they were seeking shelter in a land (that even though Joseph has roots in as a descendant of King David) as strangers.

As we re-tell this story year after year, decade after decade, century after century, and millennia after millennia, we have grown to Romanize the story of this couple who journeys from the Northern Kingdom down to the Kingdom of Judea. We have sanitized this story so much that we think of their journey as if we were loading up our car with those things that we would need for a week’s holiday. Possibly going to a ski resort in the mountains, or a trip to Disney World in Orlando, Florida.

When we leave on a road trip, we rarely think about the perils that can happen while on the road. We have the capability to reserve accommodations prior to our leaving. For those of us who tend to be seasoned travelers, through the use of modern communications, have the ability to find out what events are going on in the community that we are going to travel to, allowing us plenty of time to secure adequate accommodation. If our car breaks down, we can call AAA for help. But this wasn’t possible for Joseph and Mary. Yes they knew that Bethlehem would be full of visitors because of the world-wide census, but they had no way of pre-registering for a room at one of the local hotels or at one of the bed and breakfasts. There was no inter-state banking systems set up, or credit card companies to borrow from while on their trip. As strangers in Bethlehem, they were truly strangers.

This story goes deeper than just a man and a pregnant girl traveling. This is a story about sojourning! This story is about all of us, for we are all sojourners. This morning we touched on just three aspects of sojourning. We started off with our “spiritual” journey, moving next to that of being an “immigrant”, and finishing with being “different” than what society and/or the church says we should be.

We all have had our moments of being a “refugee”, whether it’s been through the simple act of moving out of mom and dad’s home or moving to a new state or a new country. Many of us have experienced being a “refugee” as we have lost position in the community because of losing our job, changes with our health, maybe in losing our jobs and homes in economic downturns, or through the loss of a significant relationship. Some of us are “refugees” from our homes and churches because of sexual orientation differences.

In last week’s school shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary, or at the shopping mall outside of Portland, Oregon a week before, families have been torn apart through the acts of violence. I hear multiple comments about how hard it must be for these families with this type of tragedy at Christmas. The truth is, it doesn’t matter what time of the season tragedy occurs, it is always going to be hard. We feel it more acutely at Christmas, because this has become a season where we as a society have put “hope”, “love”, and “peace” up on a very high pedestal, where anything that doesn’t fit those images becomes hyper-tragic, a deeper loss some how.

Yet these terrible acts of violence are a physical manifestation of what the season of Advent too often is experienced in a metaphorical way. Advent is the season of walking in darkness, moving toward the light, moving toward the promise of peace, of reconciliation, of re-uniting with our creator, with God. A light that will bring peace, love, and renewed hope.

If we can hold within our hearts what the original meaning of Christmas is about, that moving from darkness into light, I think as we are affected by all violence, of all losses, of all separations, we can look to these acts as only temporary actions of darkness.



I was sent this story yesterday by a friend that supposedly took place here in Metro Denver and I’d like to share it with you. It starts off saying:

"Friends are God's way of taking care of us."

This was written by a Metro Denver Hospice Physician:

I was driving home from a meeting this evening about 5, stuck in traffic on Colorado Blvd., and the car started to choke and splutter and die - I barely managed to coast, cursing, into a gas station, glad only that I would not be blocking traffic and would have a somewhat warm spot to wait for the tow truck. It wouldn't even turn over. Before I could make the call, I saw a woman walking out of the "quickie mart " building, and it looked like she slipped on some ice and fell into a Gas pump, so I got out to see if she was okay



When I got there, it looked more like she had been overcome by sobs than that she had fallen; she was a young woman who looked really haggard with dark circles under her eyes. She dropped something as I helped her up, and I picked it up to give it to her. It was a nickel.



At that moment, everything came into focus for me: the crying woman, the ancient Suburban crammed full of stuff with 3 kids in the back (1 in a car seat), and the gas pump reading $4.95.



I asked her if she was okay and if she needed help, and she just kept saying " don't want my kids to see me crying," so we stood on the other side of the pump from her car. She said she was driving to California and that things were very hard for her right now. So I asked, "And you were praying?" That made her back a away from me a little, but I assured her I was not a crazy person and said, "He heard you, and He sent me."



I took out my card and swiped it through the card reader on the pump so she could fill up her car completely, and while it was fuelling, walked to the next door McDonald's and bought 2 big bags of food, some gift certificates for more, and a big cup of coffee. She gave the food to the kids in the car, who attacked it like wolves, and we stood by the pump eating fries and talking a little.



She told me her name, and that she lived in Kansas City Her boyfriend left 2 months ago and she had not been able to make ends meet. She knew she wouldn't have money to pay rent Jan 1, and finally in desperation had finally called her parents, with whom she had not spoken in about 5 years. They lived in California and said she could come live with them and try to get on her feet there.



So she packed up everything she owned in the car. She told the kids they were going to California for Christmas, but not that they were going to live there.



I gave her my gloves, a little hug and said a quick prayer with her for safety on the road. As I was walking over to my car, she said, "So, are you like an angel or something?"



This definitely made me cry. I said, "Sweetie, at this time of year angels are really busy, so sometimes God uses regular people."



It was so incredible to be a part of someone else's miracle. And of course, you guessed it, when I got in my car it started right away and got me home with no problem. I'll put it in the shop tomorrow to check, but I suspect the mechanic won't find anything wrong.



Sometimes the angels fly close enough to you that you can hear the flutter of their wings...



Psalms 55:22 "Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee. He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved."

Like Joseph and Mary, who became sojourners in the town of Bethlehem, looking for a place to rest and being met with rejection after rejection, maybe we can see in a new way, maybe we can hear during this Advent season the fluttering wings of God’s angels which will help us open our hearts and receive and give the gift of light, the gift of peace, the gift of love, the gift of hospitality, the gift of extravagant welcome that comes in the birth of one little baby – Jesus, the son of our Creator – God. For we are all sojourners in this world. We are all “refugees” in this land. Maybe this Advent we can “make room for Jesus.” Amen