Longing for Healing

Christmas doesn’t make sense without Advent. Or, to put it another way: without Advent, Jesus born in the manger becomes another Hallmark movie that makes us feel good for a moment but doesn’t address the deep longing in our souls.

Advent is the season of longing for healing: physical healing of chronic pain and weakness, emotional healing of words and experiences, social healing of relationships that are strained or completely broken. With the Psalmist, we cry out, “How long, O Lord?” (13:1), “my soul is full of troubles” (88:3), and “lead me, O Lord!” (5:8)

In the time that Jesus was born, the Romans ruled the Mediterranean and believed that the only way to keep the peace was to kill those who disagreed with their way. They expected people to help move commodities like wine and grain as well as luxury items to Rome and to participate in festivals to the emperor and Roman gods. To feed their families and to keep a position in society, some of God’s people, the Jews, collaborated with the Romans. Some of their families hated them for it. Imagine not being invited to Thanksgiving dinner because you worked at the dock helping load wheat to Rome! Words were spoken that left precious relationships damaged and even broken; families with deep hurts and anger.

In our time, we can thank God that we don’t have an emperor that uses violence or threats of violence to suppress dissent. We have a democracy that helps us to express our values and to sort out our differences, no matter how messy. Political advertisements may be extreme, but they shouldn’t kill. Elections take time to count ballots, but leaders can be changed without crucifixions.

Our social disagreements are deep, however, and they have caused wounds in precious relationships. I suspect that each of our families has topics we tip-toe around because we’ve had explosive arguments. In the heat of emotion, we have said or heard insults that left an emotional scar. These aren’t simple disagreements, either. The fire burns hotter because in today’s social climate, a position on a candidate or sexuality, immigration, policing, or education (to name a few) is given ultimate worth and sometimes put in language of a cosmic battle. It is as if to disagree is to oppose God. To disagree is to personally attack my very identity.

How long, O Lord, until the heat is turned down, and we listen to each other? Our souls are full of troubles and griefs over our broken relationships! Lead us, O Lord, to forgive one another and value each other as you, our Creator, value us!

Christmas doesn’t make sense unless we feel the deep longing of humanity for forgiveness to heal our bodies and relationships, a forgiveness that releases us from the prison of our past words and hurts, a forgiveness that is beyond our power. The birth of the king of kings in poverty is no sentimental and unreal movie that makes us feel good for a moment; it is the answer of God to the deep cries of humanity.

Come Lord Jesus!

Pastor Peter

No Home for the Holidays

Jesus, Mary and Joseph were homeless that first Christmas. They were in Joseph’s family town (Bethlehem was the ancestral home of King David), but there was no family to take them in. They were living a culture that valued hospitality, but no one opened their home. There was no room at the inn. The only rest for the family was where animals ate and slept. And there the King of Kings was born! In the cold, without warm water or towels to wipe the newborn, without OB/GYN or nurse or midwife, Mary and Joseph brought Jesus into the world.

To be more precise, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus were a family struggling with homelessness. Sometimes we use the adjective “homeless” as if it is an eternal condition, like “Mary is short” or “Joseph is old”, Jesus is “homeless.” But they would not always be in a state of homelessness—it was temporary. Eventually, they did make it back to Nazareth where there were people to welcome them, where they had a home. This is why we say they "struggled with homelessness" rather than "were homeless."

The end of the eviction moratorium on Sept. 30 has meant increasing numbers of people struggling with homelessness. We talk with them every day at St. John’s: yesterday, it was Jessica and Derek. Brothers Christopher and Timothy are regulars. Sunshine is 19. Glenn is 67. Tabitha and Marcia live in a blue pickup with a shell. We hear stories of abusive boyfriends; aunts who get tired of addictive behavior; an apartment complex being remodeled; rent going up from $700 to $1100. The situations are difficult and varied. What can the Church do?

At least three things: First, care. Sometimes we can become numb. At best, numbness is a coping response when we don’t know what to do. At worst, it disregards our common humanity and Creator and forgets that when Jesus was born everyone turned a cold shoulder. Because we care, we share our names and ask theirs. We listen to stories how they got on the street. Everyone has a story, and sometimes you may hear a true one. But even the story shaped to elicit help tells of pain, abandonment, and longing—parts of many of our stories.

Second, connect. Although they are far from perfect, there are resources available. After many (many!) years of work by many partners, there is a new Central Arizona Shelter Services (CASS) center opening down the street at 7031 N 56th Ave. Already people can get replacement ID’s and birth certificates (necessary for applying for jobs, housing, more services) and soon there will be over a dozen agencies providing services, including Lutheran Social Services (LSS) and Family Promise. Put LSS’s phone number 480-654-4539 or Family Promise 480-659-5227 in your phone so you can share them. Only rarely is it helpful to give money to someone—it usually is a drop in the bucket compared to the complex needs that people have. Connecting to those who can sort through the issues makes a difference.

Third, communicate. Although the reasons for the increase in homelessness are complex, affordable housing is at the center of it. Some members of St. John’s know personally how difficult finding an apartment or home is. The Arizona Republic just published an article about the need for 280,000 new affordable housing units in Arizona. We can communicate with our elected leaders that affordable housing must be an urgent priority. If in Glendale, write, email, or call Mayor Jerry Weiers at 623-930-2260 or glendalemayor@glendaleaz.com to let him know what you think. Find out your city council members, state legislators. If we don’t communicate, our leaders will think we don’t care and will instead listen to other voices.

We care because God cared enough to enter the cold, sinful world with a family without a home. We help connect people with resources because God connected us to forgiveness, hope, and eternal life in Jesus. We communicate with leaders on behalf of others because Jesus advocates for us.

Come Lord Jesus!

Pastor Peter