My headspace is a complicated place right now. Today is Pentecost; the day we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit. It's considered by many to be a sort of birthday for the Church. It reminds us of the ties that bind the disparate threads of Christianity together. We all started in that room.

At the same time, I'm processing another terror attack in London. Whenever something like this happens, it splinters everyone into factions. There are people saying we need to profile minorities more. Folks use the attack as a catalyst to argue certain political platforms. There individuals aghast at all of this and saying we need to pull together and others calling those people snowflakes. Such an atrocity divides, strikes fears, incites rage, and all of that is exactly the goal of such an evil act.

GC: Let’s walk this through one more time, Mr. Johns.

J: I have already told you everything that happened.

BC: Oh, he’s already told us everything that’s happened, O’Houlihan. (pounds the metal table with his fist) If you told us everything that happened, we wouldn’t still be in here you little punk!

GC: (pulling his partner back) Shefshesky! Take five! Listen, Johns, I’m sorry about my partner. He’s under a lot of stress. We got this Jesus guy running around makin’ our job more difficult.

J: How’s he making things difficult?

GC: Ya see, word on the street is he’s healing people. People who can’t walk, people who can’t hear, people (motions to Johns) who can’t see…

God, reorient me to Your Way
May the things that tempt and entice me
Be goodness, justice, righteousness, and charity
May these forty days of Lent
Burn off my selfishness
Like the blistering desert sun
May I walk with Your Son
May I follow in his footsteps
May I listen to his voice
When the accuser's voice calls out
May I respond with Your nourishing words

Let there be light. Let the darkness be punctured. Let the night come to an end. Let the new day dawn. Let the sun burst up from the horizon. Let its rays warm the earth. Let its heat touch our faces. Let the light travel through windows and dance on our walls. Fiat lux. Let there be light.

"Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? Then your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the Lord shall be your rear guard."

This is a day late, I know.

God has a controversy with the people. God has done a great deal for Israel. They were brought out of Egypt. They were freed from slavery. They had been saved again and again from calamity. Yet the people seem weary of God. How can this relationship be made right? Some sort of religious show should be put on, should it not? Sacrifice upon sacrifice. Calves? Firstborn children? Something to prove that they are a nation of God.

No. The response is that God requires that the people do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

"I waited patiently for the Lord..."

That's the trick isn't it? Waiting patiently. Waiting past the heartbreak. Waiting past the brokenness that we see in the world. Waiting past all the things that seem like they are lost. Waiting patiently is not a given. It is difficult. As much as we think we mature beyond our kicking-and-screaming childish selves, waiting patiently often proves how far we have to go. 

Psalm 40 is a salve to those moments when the patient waiting is more than we can bear. God lifts the psalmist out of the mud and mire of a desolate pit. God places their feet on solid ground. God puts a new song in their mouth and the melody bursts forth in praise. That light at the end of the tunnel helps the worn out heart wait a little big longer.

Odds are you know the story. The angel. The young woman. Her betrothed. The miraculous baby. Another angel and then many more. The shepherds. We hear the story every year. We sing the songs. I admit that sometimes, if I am not careful, the entire Christmas season can go right past me.

And yet...

Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth in lying in a manger....Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom He favors!"

The gospel text is kind of awkward and uncomfortable this week. Joseph is thinking about leaving Mary. The idea of marrying her and raising a child that is not his own is more than he think he can handle. Understandably he doesn't buy her story about being impregnated by the Holy Spirit. Matthew tries to give him a bit of a pass. He's going to separate from her quietly. But people are still going to know. Sure, he's not dragging her into the town square to be stoned to death, but he is still planning on leaving her.

Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he's heartbroken. Maybe he's a coward. I don't really know. Each time I read this passage, I feel differently about Joseph. I feel sympathy for him. I want him to man up. All I know is that God rescues him from the eyes of history via a dream. Joseph stays with Mary and sits across from her in a million manger scenes two thousand years later. Did Mary know he was going to leave? Did that road nearly taken haunt him? It's a thorny passage with which to grapple on Christmas' doorstep.

"Are you the one?"

That question in itself was a bit awkward. John the Baptist and Jesus had history. They were cousins. John had baptized Jesus. In Matthew's account, there was even an exchange where the baptizer balked at immersing his relative from Nazareth. If anyone was to be baptizing the other, John reasoned, it should be Jesus. And then there was the language John used in the wilderness. He baptized with water, but the one coming after him would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. John clearly saw himself as a prelude.

"So are you the one? How do we know?"

The answer seems crystal clear. But it only seems obvious after the fact. What exactly was the Messiah supposed to do? Jesus was special, but was he the special one? Is this what John had been waiting for or should he continue to preach of that one still to arrive? After the fact, people read that question as a declaration of doubt. Yet it was a good question. It was awkward, but it was a question that needed to be asked.