Luke 2:1-22
​A baby has the power to change us. A commercial that’s been running recently pictures a man who says that he wanted to quit smoking but never could … until he held his daughter in his arms. I’ve heard similar stories in my family … and maybe your family as well.

A baby has the power to change us … our behavior, our habits and rituals. Babies can bring us back to church after being away for years. Motivate us to seek out the benefits of faith and baptism for us and our children, wanting them to know the Bible and how it speaks of God’s love for them.

A sermon preached on Galatians 5. June 25 and 26, 2015. Part of a sermon series on Galatinans.

As Americans we value freedom and liberty. On Monday (July 4), we will mark and celebrate our country's Independence Day with gatherings, food and fireworks, and we will give thanks to God for the freedom we enjoy in this country -- freedoms proclaimed in our Declaration of Independence and protected and preserved by our country's Constitution.

For a moment, imagine you live in 16th century Europe. Everyday life is hard. There is no doubt about it. Children are especially vulnerable. There is not a parent in your village who has not buried at least one of their children. Women, too, live precarious lives. The death or disability of a husband could drive the family to crisis, and petty wars and squabbles take young men away or destroy crops. Disease is everywhere and outbreaks of plague can kill off an entire village.

In this setting, in this time, it would be difficult for us to believe that God is good and gracious. It would be hard to believe with all this suffering that surrounds and overwhelms us that God is not and angry and wrathful God ready to punish at every turn. It would seem nearly impossible to imagine an afterlife that would be any better, at least for us, living under God’s wrath. What hope of heaven could we have if we start to believe that God has assigned us a life of living hell on earth.
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What can we as a church do to make life better, to give refuge and strength and comfort and consolation and hope and faith and love to people in a time like this?

We spent some of our vacation time last week in Colonial Williamsburg. One of the places we visited to get a taste of life in 18th Century Virginia was the little cabin on the Hope Plantation where slaves would have lived. As we stood outside the door, our interpreter vividly described the subsistence of the enslaved people who might have lived in this house like this one. Inside that bare, sparse cabin the we stood enveloped in the strange contradiction of American history: The people who reasoned and argued so passionately and eloquently for liberty just a few miles away, at the same time, owned and traded other human beings as one might buy, sell and work an animal. Our interpreter wondered though whether there just wasn’t something about us human beings that drives us to divide and separate the world into us and them — our people and the nations, the citizens and the sub-human, the children and the dogs.

"Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple -- truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward." Matthew 10:42

This weekend the church around the world commemorates two apostles as saints instrumental in the establishment of Christ's church -

• St Peter: One of the first to hear Jesus' call and follow; one of the inner three, the rock
  
• St. Paul: Who meets Jesus' after Jesus' death, resurrection and ascension, a passionate persecutor of Jesus' people who becomes just as passionate an apostle to the nations.
  

We call Peter and Paul apostles, which means sent on a mission, ambassadors of God's kingdom sent out announce the good news of the coming of God's kingdom. We also remember both Peter and Paul as martyrs, which mean witnesses to Christ's resurrection, a witness that led them to sacrifice their own bodies for the sake of Jesus and His Gospel.

I think that some of the last words we would want to hear someone say just before they send us out on job would be, “Don’t be afraid, but ….” Don’t be afraid, but I need you to give the lion it’s medicine. Don’t be afraid, but I need you to put on your scuba gear and go fix the hole in the hull. Don’t be afraid, but we need you to teach Sunday School. When someone tells us. “Don’t be afraid,” it’s because there is a lot to fear.

Sometimes, we fail to see what's right in front of our eyes, until someone shows us it's there. Two men, traveling companions, are walking down the road. A third man comes along and walks with them. The two traveling companions have just witnessed the arrest and execution of their friend and teacher. They know he died. I wonder, what are the odds that the third man isn't just some strange traveler, but actually their teacher and friend risen from the dead?

Have you heard the news? Jesus has risen from the dead. Mary Magdalene and another Mary went to the tomb. At the tomb, they found the stone that sealed the mouth of the tomb had been rolled away, and an angel was sitting on top of it. The angel told Mary and Mary Jesus had risen from the dead, just as Jesus said he would. The angel invited them to look at the empty tomb, then told them to go and tell the other disciples to go and meet him in Galilee, up north, back where Jesus' ministry and their discipleship began.

Do you remember any one particularly long night when it seemed as though the morning would never come? Nights in the hospital can seem especially long. It is difficult to sleep in the hospital. The need for care often interrupts and disturbs sleep with the sound of alarms, the prick of needles and hubbub in the halls or rooms next door. The pain and suffering, the symptoms of the illness itself slow the passing of the hours. The night seems to never end for both patient and for those keeping watch beside them or just outside in a waiting room. Then the morning comes. The night of watching and waiting ends. The new day begins.