The Wonder of Love

Transcripts are computer-generated and may not be 100% accurate.

The Lord is my shepherd. I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, and he leads me beside quiet waters. He guides me along the right paths for his namesake. And even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Your rod, your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies, and you anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows. Surely, your goodness, your love, will follow me all of the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

You know, Psalm 23 is often read at bedsides, at funerals, and moments when we are tender and we're vulnerable. But this psalm is not only about comfort in those holy moments. It's about how God loves us, right in the middle of it all. And these verses should amaze us. We're in week four of Advent. I'm Debbie Manning, one of the pastors here on staff, and we continue our walk through Psalm 23, this season of waiting and anticipation, and what we wait for is the love of God to become flesh, to come close enough to touch, to be trusted, to be seen.

And what Psalm 23 does is it reminds us of God's love, a love that is not distant, distant or abstract, but a love that is present, generous, pursuing. And this love of God, this Advent kind of love, leads us to wonder. You know that experience of awe that you have when something happens that's so much bigger than you are, than we are? It's the kind of wonder that doesn't push past mystery, but actually pauses long enough to experience the love.

There's a story I love to tell at this time of the year, and I've told it a few times before, and whenever I'm preparing and I'm thinking about reusing a story, I always say to Steve, "Well for sure the Kellers have heard it." I'm not sure who else, but it is one of my favorite stories, one of those stories of of God's love, the wonder, the awe in that. And this now has happened about two decades ago. Steve and I were what were babysitting our three nieces while their parents were in Florida for a weekend during the Advent season. They were young. Sarah and Emmy and Caroline, we had our own three kids too, and the youngest, Caroline, must have been about four years old, and we were going down to the Holidazzle Parade in downtown Minneapolis, and we were driving into the city in our big old suburban so everyone could fit, and we turned the corner into the city, and that's what we saw. And this little voice in the back seat, filled with wonder, filled with awe, said, "Oh, is this for me?"

But what is so dear about that story is, there's a love underneath that, right? For me. I'm that loved, that seen, that known for me, and that has always been one of my favorite stories. But let's be honest, we live in a world that trains us to be practical and guarded and maybe even a little skeptical when it comes to love. But Advent asks us to consider something astonishing. What if God's love is closer, kinder, more generous than we could ever expect or imagine? So we've been in this Psalm 23 series during Advent, and we've talked about hope and peace, and last week, joy. But this morning, I'm talking about love.

And Lori, I was thinking about you, Lori Larson, a few weeks ago, gave a talk that was amazing on stewardship, and you concluded it by saying, I'm paraphrasing, "At the end of the day, it's all about love." And that is true. It's all about love. And the thread throughout Psalm 23 that we've heard every week from Maggie, from Justin, from myself, is about God's presence and God's witness. We're in verses five and six, and the language shifts here. It moves from green pastures and quiet waters to a table, a cup, a promise, and a future. Psalm 23:5-6: "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil, and my cup overflows. Surely your goodness, your love, will follow me all of the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

In these verses, the shepherd becomes host. God does not stand at a distance, but sets out a table for all of us. "You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies." Notice what God does not do. God does not remove those enemies first. God does not wait for the chaos to settle or the conflict to resolve because Advent doesn't wait for the perfect conditions. God prepares a space for us right here, right now, in the middle of what is unfinished, fearful, hard. And here's the other beauty. What the table is a sign of is welcome in a world of exclusion, peace in a season of unrest, and presence in the midst of opposition. Think about it. God sets a table in a stable. Love arriving not after the struggle's over, but right inside it.

And if we let ourselves hear that, take that in, that should stop us in our tracks. Because there is something amazing about this Advent love where it meets us right where we are, not where we wish we were. I think often in our human nature, we're always waiting, right, to feel ready, to feel ready for love, to either receive it or step into it or give it. We want to wait until things settle, until we're a little less anxious, a little less broken, a little less unsure. But Advent tells us a whole different story. Love doesn't wait for ideal conditions. And at God's table, there's a seat for the weary, there's a seat for the doubter, a seat for the one who's been told over and over again by the church, by culture, by circumstances that they don't quite fit, that they don't quite belong. But God spreads a table for us, no matter who we are or what we've lost, who we love, what we've done. In the valley, on the mountaintop, and everywhere in between, He sets us at a table and He prepares a feast. At this table, in this community, we live it and we say it plainly all along.

The psalmist goes on to say, "You anoint my head with oil and my cup overflows." We can think of anointing of this tender care in a moment of weariness, healing for what has worn us down or even being named beloved. Because in ancient times, anointing was a sign of welcome, a sign of honor, and to be anointed is to be seen, it's to be cherished. God's love anoints and it overflows. And it's not a fast, efficient kind of love, but it's a tender love, an extravagant love. So many voices, I think, tell us that we're not enough. We're not faithful enough. We're not doing enough. We're not whole enough. God's love. God's love speaks a different word. You are beloved and not sparingly. The cup does not just fill to the brim. It overflows with that love.

I can't tell you how many bedsides, how many experiences I've had in pastoral ministry where I've been with people who are dying, people grieving, people who've just got a diagnosis, people feeling lost, and together we have read this Psalm hundreds and hundreds of times. I've sat with people as we've sat in Psalm 23 and I cannot tell you how many times we get to this verse. "You anoint my head with oil and my cup overflows." And the spirit in that moment has filled me up in this hard and holy moment with this gift of love and almost joy in knowing that there is something bigger than all of us. That we have this God that loves us and stands with us. And you've all experienced it in some area of your life and when you experience it you know it. And the beauty of Advent love is it's not something that merely gets us through. It's something that fills us up over and over and over again.

The psalmist goes on to say, "Surely your goodness and mercy will follow me all of the days of my life." And the word follow here in Hebrew carries the sense of pursuit. It's a little bit stronger than what we think of just follow. God's goodness and mercy are chasing after us. Advent tells us that God is not waiting for us to turn back, to find our way back. God is already on the move. God is already coming toward us. God is already present and this is a love that doesn't give up. It's a love that refuses to let our worst days define us. Even when we wander, even when we doubt, even when we're tired of hoping. God's goodness and mercy walk every Advent road with us. The long nights, the grief tinged celebrations, the quiet hope. Here's the wonder in awe. Love is here and it keeps on coming. We don't have to find love this Advent. Love is finding us.

Last week when we walked into our team meeting, I came a little bit early and Tim Anderson, who's the owner of this building, Center of Belonging, he and I met in the hallway, checked in with each other, and he was telling me with tears in his eyes that the day before in his neighborhood, which is the Powderhorn neighborhood right over here, his next-door neighbors, a couple with young kids, immigrants, they were stepping out their door to go to the grocery store to get some food for their four children that they were leaving there. And as they stepped out the door, they were swarmed by ICE. And Tim, in tears said, "You should have seen the neighborhood show up." Every single person stepped outside of their doors, took out their whistles, surrounded ICE, and kept standing there until ice went away. Until they left. That's an Advent kind of love. [Audience cheers] The kind of love who shows up and stands with. It's a beautiful story of God's love.

The Psalmist concludes Psalm 23, "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Advent proclaims, "Emmanuel, God with us, not visiting, not passing through, but dwelling among us and in us." And if that doesn't pause us, make us pause to step back in awe and wonder, I don't know what does, because the truth is God doesn't merely make room for us. God makes a home with us. And here's the kicker, when we experience that love, we are changed. We take in and receive that kind of love and we can't help but give it back outside these doors.

Scott Erickson from the book Honest Advent, he says this,

"It's for love that you've been moved from what is known to what is unknown. It's for love that you've been moved from your comfortable perch so you can be enlarged by a different perspective. It's for love that you have been broken open so a large capacity of faith, hope, and love can be built inside of you for love. It's because you are loved."

You want to know what that kind of love looks like. Look at your own stories. Look at your neighbor. You know what that love feels like when a meal's dropped off on your doorstep after the loss of a loved one. You know what that feels when you get a text on the 10th anniversary of your son's death. You know what that love feels like when you get a hug just when you need it when once again you found out this month you weren't pregnant. But that love, that love changes us. It continues to move us and it's changed this community.

Justin mentioned when he was up front about our Park Place partners that we had a chance to play Santa as they asked us to do and bring gifts and knowing that they had to cancel programming. Like Justin said, their Christmas party because it's too dangerous for this Latino population. These 70 kids, little kids that meet up here every Tuesday and Thursday night. But God continues to move. I've been in touch throughout the week with Clara, their co-director, because they're trying to figure out how to come get the gifts. Many of you have offered to deliver and they're choosing not to have us do that because they can't have strangers coming to their door right now so their staff is gonna do that. But I wanted to show you the text that Clara sent me in speaking about this community, Patti, if you want to throw that up there.

With all my heart, thank you very much for everything you do for our families. Do not imagine your families how great a blessing they are for ours. In these moments of anguish and fear you are the light of hope. God shows us that he loves us through you.

It's pretty simple for us wasn't it? But if that's what delivers God's love to people, we will keep showing up and we will keep doing it. And if you want to talk about wonder, here's this community that are literally being targeted. People in their community every day are getting parents ripped out of their families, the breadwinners. And guess what? Our nursery team, our teachers showed up today. And Patti, you want to put that picture back up? And that was sitting on the shelves, a gift from the Park Place community to the Table Kids. That should leave us in wonder because that's God's Advent kind of love at work. And I love the way it's a both-and.

This Christmas season is full right of invitations and parties and holiday gatherings and concerts. But the truth is God offers us the greatest invitation of all. His table is anointing, his overflowing love. The 23rd Psalm ends with the promise of dwelling in the Lord's house, a home realized when the Word became flesh. And Advent assures us that that love will come, that that love will never let us go. So as we light that candle of love at Advent, we're invited not only to receive love but to extend it. Can't miss this part, friends. And to marvel at it. To marvel at it. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. That is like crazy good news. Amen.