The Rev. Frank Logue
King of Peace Episcopal Church
Kingsland, Georgia
January 2, 2005 

What if we don’t want to adore him?
Matthew 2:1-12

I’ve been fighting with the Bible this week. The struggle was against the readings we have for this morning. The readings all go together to support the Christmastide refrain, “Come let us adore him.” But I didn’t want to adore the infant Jesus and I didn’t want to preach about adoring him either. 

I wanted to preach about the massive tsunami that hit a ring of nations around the Indian Ocean. I wanted to share what the Bible has to say in the wake of a tremendous tragedy. It is a story of epic suffering. And to be honest, that suffering is a bit removed from us. It’s been hard to get a handle on the facts, to make sense of the scale of the loss. Having massive misfortune we know of, which effects us only indirectly gives a great chance to hear what the Bible has to say about natural disasters and other human tragedies. Were we in the midst of the devastation in Indonesia or Sri Lanka, it would be too soon, the emotions and grief too raw to make sense of any of it. 

However, at King of Peace, we do not follow the 400-500 year old tradition of the preacher deciding what to preach on and then finding what the scripture says about that topic. Instead we use a pattern of reading and commenting on scripture, which is thousands of years old. The concept of a cycle of readings for each week, was already hundreds of years old at least for Jews when Jesus stood up to read from and comment on a passage from Isaiah as he was just starting his ministry. 

As most of you know, I did not pick any of the scripture readings for today. They were set long ago. Though the lectionary goes through some revisions, reading about the Wise Men coming to Jesus just after New Year’s is a hundreds of years old tradition. That practice of following set readings is why I fought with the Bible this week. 

On Monday as I read in Jeremiah of peoples coming from the far parts of the earth to worship the one true God in Israel, I could see nothing of what that meant for the estimated 22,000 dead in Southeast Asia. Tuesday, Psalm 84’s “How dear to me is your dwelling, O Lord of hosts!” spoke not one iota toward the estimated 45,000 dead. Wednesday, I could make no sense out of Paul telling the Ephesians to have the eyes of their hearts enlightened as the number topped 80,000 dead and millions displaced from their homes. Through it all, I couldn’t understand what the Wise Men, the Magi, had to do with any of it. The Magi followed a star to find the infant Jesus. They offered their gifts to a baby, then took the back way home. As the death toll topped 100,000 and kept climbing, I fought for a way to get to say what I wanted to say. The tsunami’s wall of water was replaced by towering waves of grief. The death toll now closes in on 150,000 souls. What do we Christians have to say about this? 

I do think that the Bible does have something to offer us in times of loss. There are ways we can say how we see God working to redeem tragic loss of life. I have preached and taught on this topic before and will again, but not today. What I noticed most was that I was not willing to let the scripture speak, because I was so busy with what I had to say. 

A sermon is not an opportunity for me to tell y’all what I think. I wouldn’t even be interested in that? At its best, a sermon is a chance to really hear the scripture so that it breaks us open and makes sense of our lives. 

The scripture spoke all week, saying, “Come let us adore him.” All week, I rebelled. What if I want to make sense out of the world? What if I want to give a commanding lecture on how God is present in a world of suffering and loss? What if I don’t want to adore him? 

Avoiding adoration is not a new problem. We have been avoiding adoring God and his son Jesus for quite some time. I saw this anew as I reread some of Lancelot Andrewes Christmas sermons this past week. We have the text for 17 sermons, which Andrewes preached on Christmas Day for King James at Whitehall from 1605 through 1624.[1] In his Christmas Day sermon on Christmas Day 1622, Lancelot Andrewes lamented how the people of his day would not have braved a long journey to adore Jesus. 

He said of the Magi’s journey,  

The ways deep, the weather sharp, the days short, the sun farthest off…and these difficulties they overcame, of a wearisome, irksome, troublesome, dangerous, unseasonable journey; and for all this they came. And came it cheerfully and quickly, as appeareth by the speed they made…all this haste that they might be there to worship Him with all possible speed they could….

 

And we, what should we have done?…Our fashion is to see and see again before we stir a foot, specially if it be to the worship of Christ. 

He went on to compare the people of his day to the Magi and none to favorably, 

Come such a journey at such a time? No; but fairly have put it off to the spring of the year, till the days longer, and the ways fairer, and the weather warmer, till better traveling to Christ. Our Epiphany would sure have fallen in Easter week at the soonest. 

Andrewes then told how the people of his day might have gone to worship the Christ child if they had been as close by as the shepherds, but then he doubts even that saying, “Nay, not even like them neither. For with us the nearer, lightly the farther off; our proverb is you know, ‘the nearer the Church, the farther from God.’ To Christ we cannot travel, but the weather and way and all must be fair. If not, no journey.” 

How do we compare? Would we travel to Christ if the weather is brutal and the way difficult? It is true that a church is ever close at hand. God is a major property owner in Camden County. And yet with more than 100 churches offering a steady outpouring of chances to worship, we are not necessarily nearer to God. Had we been the Magi, wouldn’t we honestly have just stayed home. Or perhaps Andrewes was right, why have a cold coming of it, if you can put off the journey until the weather gets warmer. 

Here’s the thing I was too busy wanting a chance to expound a given sermon to see: worship matters. We need a chance to come adore our Lord. We need a chance to gather with other Christians and sing praises to our God. We need this like we need air and water, food and shelter. And yet, with opportunities to worship all around, we find the whole thing tedious, time-consuming, and probably unnecessary.  

Perhaps this is why the church has thrived in times of persecution. When someone might put you to death for worshipping, you must decide how much worship matters to you. Attending church is then no casual matter—not a maybe I will, maybe I won’t proposition. 

With the New Year just in its second day, it’s a good time to set priorities for the coming year. Where does “Come let us adore him” fit into your day timer or to-do list for 2005? Perhaps it is better to ask, “Where do you want God to fit into your priorities this coming year?” 

There are many things we can say this week. But perhaps it is best to acknowledge that much of what we say is just words. The way is not rough for us; the weather is unseasonably good if nothing else. And we are right here in the very House of God. The scripture leads us toward worship. 

As we move toward the altar for communion, try to lay other concerns at Jesus’ feet. Let’s let our Lord handle things in Southeast Asia right now. Let’s let God handle the rest of our week or even the rest of our day. Rather than making sense out of the world, we are better off to turn to God in worship. Offer your life anew to God. There may be times for making sense out of the world, but they will best come after making sense out of your own life by offering back up to God.  

I didn’t want to adore God this week. I fought with the scripture and lost. The lesson I needed was right there in front of me at every turn, “Come let us adore him.” Yes, there is tragedy in Southeast Asia. Come let us adore him. Yes, you may be up to your eyeballs in debt. Come let us adore him. You may have broken relationships you don’t know how to heal. Come let us adore him. You may not know how you’ll make it through the coming week, much less this New Year. Come let us adore him. You may have it all figured out and not be sure you even need God. Come let us adore him. 

The Magi came with gold, frankincense and myrrh, but the most important gifts they brought over the sands that winter were their lives. You are here in God’s house and you have that most precious gift of your life with you.  

As you come up for communion, be aware that you are not just coming to receive bread and wine, you are also coming to give yourself back to God yet again. Set this time aside to be very aware that you are standing in God’s presence right here, right now. 

Come let us adore him. 

Amen.