Who's at the Inn?

 

Who’s at the inn?  When Joseph and Mary arrive in Bethlehem in order to comply with the Roman decree that a census should be taken, who’s already at the inn?  Well, pretty much everybody that was of the family of David.  Anyone who had not already been “enrolled” was at the inn.  Think of it this way: what if for the American census you had to travel to the place your family originally settled in the United States?  The place your ancestors first lived.  Where would that be?  For me it would be Jamestown, New York.  I’ve never even been there.  Now imagine that in order to get there, you have to ride a donkey, or travel alongside the donkey on foot.  How long would that take you?  Now imagine that you, or your wife if you are a man, is at the end of a first pregnancy, and you have to make this journey right when the baby is due.  And now imagine that you arrive, tired and hungry, and the baby decides this is the perfect time to be born (and I would lay odds that Mary was just praying that the baby wouldn’t come until after the census, but babies never cooperate that way).  So after a journey that probably took about a week, Mary and Joseph arrive in Bethlehem at “the” inn, meaning there was one.  It wasn’t like today when there are several hotels to choose from and you can make reservations.  Bethlehem is a small place, a hamlet about ten miles outside Jerusalem, and each town had its one inn.  And this inn is crowded to capacity, with so many people there that Mary and Joseph end up in the stable area next to the inn.  It would have been an animal shelter attached to the inn, and the manger was probably hollowed out stone, just the perfect size for a baby.  In the book Knowing God, J. I. Packer sums up this birth story this way: “He was born outside a hotel in an obscure Jewish village in the great days of the Roman Empire.  The story is usually prettified when we tell it Christmas by Christmas, but it is really rather beastly and cruel.  The reason why Jesus was born outside the hotel is that it was full, and nobody would offer a bed to a woman in labour, so that she had to have her baby in the stables, and cradle him in a cattle trough.  The story is told dispassionately and without comment, but no thoughtful reader can help shuddering at the picture of callousness and degradation that it draws.”  So who were these people at the inn?
          We can only guess.  First of all, there were some important people.  Since everyone had to be included in the census, we can be sure there were some wealthy people, people who traced their lineage to King David and were proud of it.  The tribe of Judah, the ruling tribe.  Of course by this time Herod is the king installed by Rome, but he was not from the tribe of Judah, not from the family of David, not even fully Hebrew.  This doesn’t really matter to them, because they know that when God sets things to rights, someone from their tribe is going to be king, just like the prophecies said.  They have made their way up in the world, they have plenty of money and status, and they have a right not to make room for Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus.  Middle class people would be there, some folks who are tradesmen or successful farmers, folks who have a comfortable lifestyle and also have the smug complacency that they are also of the tribe of Judah.  These folks certainly think they shouldn’t have to go out into night because some poor woman arrives and is having a baby.  Finally, there would be some poor folks there, people also of David’s lineage, and these would be just like Joseph and Mary, simple folk who scrounged for a living and for whom this trip was a huge interruption in their difficult lives.  They were probably just hoping their credit card wouldn’t be denied when the innkeeper ran it.  But they, too, would think that because they got there first, they had no responsibility to give place to Joseph and Mary and the baby that would be born that night.  So whether because of wealth, or status, or class, or just getting there first, all the people in the inn went on with their lives, while Joseph cleaned out the stable, and Mary’s contractions got closer together, and Jesus forced His way into His own creation in order to save it. 
          Inside the people would have been closely packed, as food was served or as people unpacked provisions they had brought.  Children would be running about the place and playing.  As night fell, they would all settle in for the night, lying on sleeping pallets around the floor.  They had a dry, warm place to sleep, they were alright for the night, they had food.  And just outside as the night grew darker, Mary’s labor intensified, and Jesus’ birth drew near.  A local midwife was probably called to deliver the baby, and in the dark and cold of a Bethlehem night, the Savior, the Son of God, the Son of David, the Son of man – was born.  His first breath was air mingled with the smell of animals, His first cry pierced the peace of the stable, His tiny body came into the cold brisk night air.  His mother lovingly wrapped him in the traditional swaddling cloths – strips of clean cloth she had carefully packed just in case – and she laid him in a manger.  It had been cleaned out and lined with fresh hay.  Into this world He came, impoverished and marginalized, while the people in the inn socialized, and ate, and drank, and slept. 
          We know that angels appeared to some shepherds outside the town on the hills around Bethlehem.  We know that one angel announced the birth to them, and then a huge army of angels shouted, “Glory to God in the highest and peace on earth to those on whom His favor rests.”   We know that they left their flocks unattended on the hillside and went searching for Jesus.  We know that they found Him and that they told Mary and Joseph about their vision of angels.  We also know they returned to their flocks on the hillside praising God and telling everyone along the way what they had seen.  But what about the people in the inn?  Did any of them venture outside to see the new born baby?  Did some mothers bring their children to see the miracle of a tiny baby asleep on the hay, saying, “Look at the beautiful new baby, honey.”?  Did any of the men come out and slap Joseph on the back and say, “That’s the last full night of sleep you’ll have for years, old man.”  Did any of the women come out and offer Mary some care or advice about the baby?  Did anybody even think of bringing a hot meal out to the family in the stable?  Or did they all just stay inside, quietly thanking God that their babies were born at home in a safe and quiet atmosphere with lots of support from family and friends?  When the shepherds arrived with their astounding report did anyone from the inn take notice of the commotion in the barn and come out to hear the news?  Or – did they miss the glory because they were comfortable in the inn, too comfortable to walk a few feet to the stable?  Too selfish to share the indoor comfort with this young couple and their brand-new baby?  Maybe they even called the innkeeper and asked him to go out and tell the shepherds to shut up because they were trying to sleep.
          Jesus came into this world in the humblest circumstances imaginable.  Although He was Creator, He put on a created body.  And He wasn’t born in a palace or even in a welcoming home.  He was born in a stable, a strange place with strange animals and strange people around Him.   II Corinthians 8:9 says, “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich.”  He takes on poverty, we get riches. Fair exchange?  Not at all.  But that is what He came to do.  Grace is: God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense. The question for us this evening is, are we out there with the shepherds admiring the new baby boy?  Are we shouting with the angels, “Glory to God in the highest!?  Or are we huddled inside the inn, eating some soup and bread, thinking about the census, and not taking the time to meet the Savior outside in the stable. 
          Come outside the inn.  Come out of your routines and your comfort zones. Come meet the Savior.  He calls to you, He sends people: Mary and Joseph and shepherds and angels to give you the good news.  Listen, listen hard, and take some time to see the Savior.  Quietly stand by the manger, and just whisper: “Glory, glory.”  Then the Spirit of Jesus the Christ will fill you with the joy of Christmas, the knowledge that God loves us so much that He sent Jesus His Son to save us.  He sent Jesus His Son to become poor so we could become rich.  He sent Jesus His Son to bring us home to Heaven.  All we have to do is go outside the inn and meet Him there. 

Living Stones

 Living Stones by Elizabeth Stone

I Peter 2:4,5

Come to Him, that Living Stone, rejected by men but in God’s sight chosen and precious; and like livings stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.  

What could be more dead than stone?  Yet Peter grabs this image of stone, weaves it into the ancient idea of a keystone, or capstone – a stone that holds an entire structure together – and identifies the LORD Jesus Christ as that Stone, the cornerstone of God’s eternal household, made of living stones.  Jesus, Who came alive again after death, is the foundation of the New Covenant, a Covenant based not on tribes or bloodlines or inherited land in the Promised Land of the Old Covenant, but on salvation by faith through grace.  We belong in God’s household because we believe.  “See what love the Father has for us that we should be called the children of God, AND SO WE ARE!” I John 3:1. We belong in God’s family through faith, His household is made up of people whose hearts of stone have been transformed by belief in Christ, who became His kids and received new hearts, hearts of flesh.  So we get to stroll into Heaven as home, because our Father God owns the whole household.  And Jesus our Savior, our elder Brother, the Pioneer and Perfecter of our faith, has blazed a way into Paradise for us, and prepared a place for us, a home there, just for each of us.  And as we come to Him, that Living Stone, we are transformed from dead to alive, we live because He lives.  We are alive not just for this world, but for eternity. 

Life is what the Gospel is all about.  Love is the why of Christ’s mission, but life is the what, it is the reason Jesus came to earth to save us.  He restores life to all of us who believe, resurrection life that lasts into eternity.  Resurrection stories follow hard after Jesus’ resurrection from that first empty-tomb morning until today.  Peter, rough fisherman turned disciple, then denier turned apostle.  People coming to faith, thousands baptized, new believers from all nations exploding into a church on fire with the Holy Spirit because of the resurrection power of Christ’s new life.  When I met Christ as a lonely 16-year-old my hard heart became alive, and life has never been the same.  Resurrection power has marked every step I have walked, has empowered me to accomplish the impossible, including finding my calling in Christ as a writer and speaker.  Resurrection power brought my daughter Erin, back from the brink of death in 2007 when she attempted suicide.  God gave her a whole new life.  WV Living Stone Ministries is about sharing life, life that comes from God, makes us members of His household, and plugs us into Christ our Living Stone so that we too, become alive, impossibly and gloriously alive, forever. 

What could be more dead than stone?  Can’t think of anything.  What could be more alive than hearts made alive in Christ?  Nothing in this world or the next. 

Gift Basket 1: My Own French Beach

 

I am a cancer survivor.  Found a lump on my breast in December of 2017, right before Christmas.  Merry Christmas to me! My doctors set me up for surgery and radiation, and in the six weeks between the first images on the ultrasound and the treatment, it more than doubled in size.  Don’t be looking at my girls, they’re still about the same size.  Miracles of modern surgery.  But the day you hear the words, “It’s cancer,” that is life changing, shattering to body and soul. 

Halfway through my radiation treatments, my radiation oncologist asked me, “How are your treatments? Are they pleasant?” I couldn’t believe it. Pleasant?  Was he serious?  That’s what we all want to do, strip to the waist, go into a cold dark room, lie on a foam brace formed to our body to keep us stable and in one position, with no deodorant, and have someone shoot dangerous levels of radiation into our bodies.  My own French beach.  When I found my voice I said, “Give me a paper and pencil and I can write down ten million things I’d rather be doing right now.”  Poor dear man.  I prayed for him.  Perhaps he was hoping that this horrible treatment for a horrible disease would give me hope.  But the only thing that gives me hope is: Jesus.  The only One I count on for peace in the middle of the cancer storm is: Jesus.

Jesus said there would be days like this.  Days when we have trouble and heartache.  John 16:33 “I have said these things to you that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation, but take heart, I have overcome the world.”

All of us cancer patients pray for healing.  Friends and family were prayed for me.  On the day of the surgery I had people praying in 5 counties, 4 states, and 3 foreign countries; I told my surgeon I was probably going to levitate right off the operating table from the spiritual support of the people of God.  But cancer healing is long and arduous, and for the rest of your life you are: a survivor.  Life is no longer measured by age, but by how long I have survived since my diagnosis.  I am: a survivor.

People came around me not just with prayers, but with support.  Don’t look to me for miracle cures or medical advice; I am not qualified to heal anybody physically. But I will share what people did for me, simple gifts and practical love that have made the journey easier.  A gift basket of kindnesses. 

Soon after my surgery women from the Fayetteville Presbyterian Church in Fayetteville West Virginia showed up at my door with wonderful gifts.  The first was a set of pillows, a big u-shaped one to go under my body, a small one to support my surgery site, and a third one to support my arm.  They were homemade, pink, and decorated with beautiful eyelet embroidery.  The second gift was after-sun lotion.  Radiation caused a surface burn on my skin, just like sunburn.  My doctors recommended the same thing, but these ladies told me to apply it lavishly.  I got a sunburn in one specific area.  You can’t have any lotion on your skin in the radiation room, but after each treatment – and I had two each day – I applied that after-sun stuff.  And after the treatments were over, eventually it turned to tan, again in one specific area.  It was March, and I had my winter whiteness, except in one spot that nobody could see.  The third gift they gave me was a prayer shawl.  The ladies at that church have a group called the Knit-wits who make beautiful prayer shawls for people; mine is pink and has a wooden cross attached to the corner.  They make the shawls, pray over them, and send them out to people in need of prayer – not just cancer patients.  That prayer shawl went with me to every treatment, and at the hospitality house when I was alone in my room I wrapped it around me.  It was like the prayer and arms of the people of God to comfort me.

Jesus also said, “I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.”  The Gospel is about life.  We who are believers in Jesus are not just survivors, we are thrivers.  We thrive because we know that this is not the end.  In this broken world we live in the journey often includes trouble, Jesus said so.  But it also includes the hope of eternal life, that even should cancer take us through death’s door, it can’t kill us.  Our lives are hid with God in Christ, and we will live eternally. 

by Elizabeth Stone

wvlivingstone.com

#wvlivingstone #breastcancerawareness #fightlikeagirl #healinginChrist 

 

When my soul fainted within me,
I remembered the LORD; 
and my prayer came to You,
into Your holy temple. 
Those who pay regard to vain idols
forsake their true loyalty,
But I with the voice of thanksgiving
will sacrifice to You; 
what I have vowed I will pay. 

Deliverance belongs to the LORD! 

Jonah 2:7-9

For all of September I will be preaching Jonah.  His story resonates with all of us, because who hasn’t been faced with a job for the LORD, and not wanted to do it?  Who hasn’t felt at one time or another that they were in the deep belly of a fish in darkness and misery?  Who hasn’t felt like they were vomited up into a situation they never wanted?  And who hasn’t felt resentment when someone we dislike has escaped our version of justice?  If any of these has happened to you, you are in good company, because Jonah felt all these things. 

This prayer, from the belly of the big fish, confirms all that Jonah knows to be true of God.  Hebrews believed that prayers had special effect if they were spoken in the temple of the LORD, but Jonah can’t get there.  So from the depths of the ocean, from a belly of the fish, Jonah asks for help and trusts that his prayer finds it way to the temple and so to God.  He also counts on returning to the temple some day to pay the vows he’s making in that dark place, of giving thanksgiving and a sacrifice of praise. 

When we are in trouble, we may be sure that our prayers make it to the very throne of grace, that God hears all our petitions, and we can count on returning to our places of worship to give public thanks, to make offerings, and to praise God because we know: Salvation belongs to the LORD!

Elizabeth Stone

September 5:  Jonah 1 “Recalcitrant Prophet”                                                                                    September 12: Jonah 2 “3-Day Prayer”                                                                                                  September 19: Jonah 3 “180° Turnaround”                                                                                              September 26: Jonah 4 “Sour Grapes”

Catch my sermons at Stanford Presbyterian Church's Facebook page, or at www.stanfordpresbyterian.org  or www.wvlivingstone.com 

Of Church Camp and Christian Parenting

 

 

Excerpt from Valley of the Shadow by Elizabeth and Erin Stone, © 2014.

 

Christian parents often think that engendering faith in their children is a natural.  For those of us who came to Christ independent of our families, we think that our kids will get it and will always cling to it, just because they have the benefit of being raised by Christian parents.  But the truth is that every child has to come to Christ on his or her own.  Every person has to make that commitment, not as an extension of what they have been taught and seen in their parents, but independently.  I prayed for all of my children.  From the moment I knew they existed I prayed that always they would know the love of God.  I prayed for them to know how we loved them, and that they would see the Kingdom of God lived out in the microcosm of our family life.  But I also prayed that God would make Himself real to each of them, that all of them would make the decision to follow Christ and accept salvation through Him.  But for our kids, the most significant factor in finding faith was church camp. . .

Our church camp is what you would call “rustic.”  We slept in cabins with electric lights, the bathroom was several hundred yards down the path.  It was on a man-made lake in Ohio, and we swam in the lake.  Folks who have passed through that camp all have a great love of it, and most try to spend time there every year.  What made it special was the genuine faith of the people there, the sacrificial servanthood of the staff and volunteers, the ultimate authority of the Bible in the organization and teaching, and the mission of sharing the Gospel with as many kids as possible.  Going to camp is like stepping into a faith community from the book of Acts, if just for a week.  The whole camp is like an impromptu church, organized around the teaching of the apostles.  The small groups and cabin groups are like house churches, having devotions, learning and working together.  Everyone comes together for a common meal, and then goes off for their various activities, only to come together at the open-air chapel by the lake for vespers every evening.  Kids come from all kinds of families, and they get to participate in a Christian community in miniature, and experience God’s love in that context.   As parents, I think Greg and I did everything we could to catechize our children, to bring them up in the fear and admonition of the Lord.  But every one of our kids, without exception, says that the place where Jesus Christ became real to them was at church camp. . .

One by one, my children took their turns going off to camp.  They started when they were five and they still try to go every year. And one by one, each made his or her commitment to Christ, maybe at the outdoor chapel, maybe at the prayer rock, maybe at the campfire, or in the gazebo.  And to our great joy and eternal blessing, every one of them from Josh on down, turned around and served as a counselor.  Patrick and Rebekah also hired on as staff, John-Mark has now followed in his father’s footsteps and taught high school camp, and Erin directed junior camp.  Camp’s great benefit is that we received more than we ever contributed.  Our kids not only learned faith in a dynamic Christian community, but they fellowshipped with people from other church traditions. Our camp would often have a missionary staff person from another country: Russia or Kenya or Latin America.  The lasting impact on camp and on our kids has been so much for the good, because as they interacted with people from different Christian backgrounds and different cultures, they saw that the grace of Christ is the same throughout the Church and throughout the world.  Whatever our outward skin color or culture or rituals, there was always a common denominator of faith, a marker that was recognizable in any person who belonged to Christ.  And instead of being a barrier to Christian community, everyone learned to appreciate the gifts and the diversity without losing the focus on Christ.  In a few weeks of intensive fellowship every summer a foundation of grace was built in the hearts of these kids, and a kindred spirit among them that expressed itself across the miles and months of the school year with letters and phone calls and impromptu gatherings, as well as lifelong friendships.  This foundation became an anchor – one of the many God provided – to tether us to hope during the difficult times ahead.

Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Stone.  All rights reserved. 

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK     1-800-273-8255

 

For the next several weeks, Erin and I will be sharing excerpts from our book, Valley of the Shadow, published in 2014.

Prologue: Are we healed yet?

           

It is Thanksgiving eve, the twilight hour.  In the chill of the night, with a dusting of snow on the ground, two stealthy figures emerge from my house.  Shrouded in darkness, they come to the vehicles, and using the keys, they enter.  The interior lights are quickly doused, and the perpetrators hide within.  Both sliding doors of the mini-van are quietly opened, leaving them ajar.  Windows on our sub-compact are rolled down, and there the two warriors take up their positions.  It grows darker and colder, and still they wait, knowing that their ambush is unsuspected and of genius proportions.  Eventually, an old red jeep pulls up to the house.  Since the driveway is already to capacity with vehicles, it pulls onto the lawn.  A tall brown-haired young man emerges with a black cocker spaniel at his heels, and a second young man, with lighter hair and blue eyes, is disgorged from the passenger side.  With a war cry unrivaled in history their attackers leap from their positions, this one wearing a sombrero and the other with goggles and a pink karate helmet.  The young men know their female siblings are upon them, with a well thought out strategy and the element of surprise.  Suddenly the peace of the neighborhood is rent by the sound of electronic automatic weapons, plastic foam darts with rubber tips soar through the air.  Ah, curses! One of the weapons jams, resulting in an all out charge.  The boys, not in any way cowardly or unprepared, leap to retrieve their own weapons, previously loaded and lying ready on the back seat. For the next hour there is a barrage of darts sometimes hitting, mostly missing, as my adult children tear through my house and yard aiming at each other.   These largely innocuous missiles, many of which will lie hidden in couches and behind dressers until the next family gathering, these form one of our traditional reunion rituals. What started as a couple of gag gifts has snowballed into a highly competitive strategic game, and now the grandchildren have become corrupted. 

 

            I often wonder, years after the event, if we are healed yet, if we are back to normal. What makes a normal Christian family life?  Is it the way we dress, or the particular church we attend? Is it Bible reading and prayer at mealtimes? Is it the absence of certain behaviors and the presence of others?  Is it the foods we eat or the way we vote or the music we listen to?  And when things go wrong, does that mean we have failed?  Have we failed God, have we failed ourselves?  Are we no longer worthy of the name of Christian?  Is our witness for Christ destroyed?  What happens to faith when the unthinkable happens?  Where is Christ in the furnace of human tragedy?    

 

            I found Erin in the closet, lying on the floor.  I had stuck my head in the door to tell her to wake up and take the dog out, but she never appeared.  Tired and frustrated that I was again coercing her to take care of what was supposed to be her and her sister’s dog, I stormed into her room and grabbed her by the arm to get her up.  But her arm flopped down to the floor.  She was lying across her half-packed suitcase, the insides of which held not only her clothes but also pools of vomit.  That’s how I found my precious baby girl; that’s how the nightmare began.

 

            What is the worst day of your life?  Can you pinpoint it? I can. The worst day of my life was that hot summer morning, the day I became a statistic.  When you become a statistic, life is thrown into a tailspin.  We tend to quantify life in terms of percentages: 50% divorce rate, 33% of all women contract cancer, approximately 4400 teen suicides every year.  But when you experience it, it is no longer this abstract quantity out there, sanitized by impersonal percentages, all of a sudden you are the statistic, and it is raw, emotional, and fills every corner of your soul.  In the economy of Heaven numbers are not important, but we live in a world that analyzes the tragedies of life.  This is my story, the story of my family, when we became a statistic.  And it is the story of how God’s redeeming love burns brightest in the furnace, how He walks with us in the furnace.

 

Copyright © 2014 Elizabeth Stone.  All rights reserved.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK     1-800-273-8255

 

We all know the best food is made from scratch.  Fresh ingredients combined and cooked on the day you eat them and cooked to your taste.  Cookies, straight from the oven, bread that has been kneaded and baked spread with butter while its still warm, pies, cakes, doughnuts, fritters, everyone has their favorite treats and we all know that they are best when they are made: from scratch. 

Lots of heroes and heroines of the Bible started from scratch.  Without visible resources or help, they accomplished great things for God’s people in the most meagre circumstances possible.  Moses started from scratch with the people of Israel who were enslaved and powerless.  Deborah started with ravaged empty grain fields and timid soldiers.  David started with a misfit group of disgruntled warriors, ready to go off at any minute.  Ezra and Nehemiah started with displaced exiles just trying to survive.  Jesus started with twelve unlikely disciples.  After Peter denied His Lord, he was sifted like wheat by the devil, and by God's power started over to encourage the brethren.  Paul’s life as a leading Pharisee was ripped away on the road to Damascus, and he started life all over as a missionary.  Lydia started a house church with a group of prayerful women who were struggling in ignorance.  Jesus Christ started from being dead in a tomb, written off by followers and opponents, and He burst from that tomb in glorious resurrection power to change the world.

Why is God so enamored of starting from scratch?  He created the world from scratch.  After we sinned and corrupted God’s world, He saved us with His own Son.  The Lord Jesus Christ, our second Adam, remade this world and saved us, starting from scratch.  God brings His people through difficult circumstances, often putting us in the extremity of need, so that He gets our attention.  Then God takes us through new vistas of His loving care, His miraculous solutions to our problems, and His calling on our lives to share in Kingdom building, starting from scratch. 

Paul said, “For what we proclaim is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, with ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake.  For God Who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.  But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and to us.”  II Corinthians 4:5-7

Starting from scratch: whether it is from our first encounter with the living Christ or if we find ourselves hit by circumstances that bring us down to a place of starting over, God always meets us there with resources and help that can only be from His hand.  When we land at the bottom and begin again by faith, it is here that the surpassing power of God really shines in our lives.  We become the clay jars holding the eternal treasure of the Gospel for all to see.  So when you find yourself in what seems like a dry, barren place, remember that starting from scratch is God's favorite recipe for great things.  Pray, and look around for the ingredients that He has surely placed there to help you, because your story will add to the many other inspiring grace stories where God started from scratch.     

Elizabeth Stone, B.S. MDiv.

wvlivingstone.com

Our Light in the Darkness

 

Christmas Eve 2020, the same, but different.  The sanctuary, beautifully decorated, had half the pews cordoned off with purple Advent tape (that had been there since Lent), and communion was pre-packaged.  An overflow space was prepared in fellowship hall should we exceed our governor’s mandates for maximum occupancy, and the candles for passing the light from the Christ candle were set out for worshippers.  Techy guys had been trained on our new high-definition camera, the sound system was linked and the wi-fi was up to speed for online broadcast. We thought we were ready for any contingency.

Then the snow hit.  White Christmas pouring down.  The temperature dropped 40° and the snow covered my yard and car in less than an hour; it settled on the wet roads, creating a slick icy layer underneath and the white topping made the lines invisible.  I left home three hours early to drive the 40 miles to church, avoiding over-cautious drivers going thirty miles an hour and dodging the crazy people going eighty, zipping in and out of traffic.  Anxiety was running high before I even arrived.  I stepped out into the quiet of the snow-covered twilight.

What with covid-19 (still plaguing us in 2020) and the sudden snow, few were in church (no overflow tonight!). But we believe that numbers don’t matter, so in-house or online the congregation is whoever shows up; the folks God wants there are always there.  And people got their money’s worth; we forged ahead with the full Christmas Eve service: lessons and carols, sermon, special choir pieces, organ solos, and communion.  

Spiritually exhausted as I always am after worship, I climbed back in my car and headed home.  Typically I enjoy the Christmas lights and peace of stores finally shut down for Christmas, but not tonight. The roads were worse, not better, and there was no evidence that trucks had plowed or laid down salt or cinder.  With four-wheel drive and good tires, I wasn’t afraid, but I soon realized the long way home was the best: the back roads were particularly dangerous, so I headed back out to the main arteries.  The actuators on the side roads were so covered with snow the light wouldn’t change in my favor to make a left, so I had to make a right, then another right.  The next light wouldn’t change either, so I waited and waited and waited, and when traffic was clear for a country mile in each direction, I made my left anyway, and eventually got home by the long route, two hours instead of a 50-minute journey.  

Making the last turn onto our street, my heart lifted when I saw: luminaries.  Every few feet on our road someone had placed luminaries, little bright sentinels reaching as far up the hill as I could see and leading the way home. Shining bravely in their little paper bags as the snow continued to fall, they would not be quenched.  I thought of the Light of the world shining in the darkness at Bethlehem, when the unexpected birth of the Christ Child changed the world.

Unprecedented times, unprecedented circumstances do not quench the Light of lights that is Jesus.  Do not be distracted. Do not be dismayed. The Light of the world still shines in our darkness, whatever it is, and He leads us all the way home. 

Elizabeth Stone, BS, MDiv

www.wvlivingstone.com

 

The Instead Christmas by Elizabeth Stone

And in that same region there were shepherds keeping watch over their flock by night.  And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear.  And the angel said to them, ‘Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior Who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel, a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying,

      “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace among those with whom He is pleased!” 

Luke 2:8-14

 

You can’t change the past.  Isn’t that true?  We think about all the stupid things we’ve said and done, disastrous choices we’ve made, or people we have hurt with out sinful actions and words (most of all we wound the heart of God), and we’d like a do-over.  Most of us would like a do-over of the last few months, when the fear of a tiny invisible virus has held us captive in our homes, and away from our work, our schools, our church families. Most recently a cycling accident on wet pavement has sidelined my holiday plans; with a fractured wrist I can tell you I'd LOVE  a do-over. Truth be told, the stitches in my lip and knee make me look fierce, but for the next 6-8 weeks I will be typing with my left hand. I won't be cooking or traveling or wrapping gifts, but I will have, along with all of you, an "instead" Christmas.

The good news of the Gospel of Christ is that although we can’t change the past, Jesus can. Jesus Christ came into this world, born of a woman, and entered into the hotbed of 1^st century religion and politics that were anything but friendly.  He grew up in it, was baptized in the middle of it, ministered in it, preached and taught in it, showed signs and wonders in it, and eventually was arrested, tortured, beaten, and killed for it.  And on the third day after, Jesus Christ rose from the dead.  That is an eternal truth we never want changed.  

But in Advent and at Christmas we remember the Savior’s humble beginnings, that He was born into a poor blue-collar working family and because of the government regulations, His parents had to travel and be registered in the census right when He was due.  So instead of being born in His family’s hometown, born in a house and a comfortable bed, instead of being surrounded by grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins welcoming Him and celebrating His birth, baby Jesus was born in a barn far from home.  He was born in an animal stable, and instead of a crib, He was laid in a manger, padded with hay that animals eat.  And the people who came to welcome Him?  Strangers.  Shepherds.  Instead of family.  It’s was God’s great do-over.  Jesus Christ came to change the past, to remake the world, to redeem all of humankind, and to undo the sin and brokenness of the fall and everything that comes with it: pain and punishment and disease and death and hell.  Instead of all that, we get: grace!

This year is the big year of: instead.  Instead of holiday gatherings, we may be alone in our homes.  Instead of worshipping together we may be isolated and preparing another remote communion, praying and singing on Facebook.  Instead of sharing gifts, we may be mailing them, or cutting them out altogether.  Concerts, games, and celebrations will be cancelled or on zoom instead of in person.  But remember God’s great gift of instead.  Instead of sin, we have a Savior.  Instead of judgment, we have forgiveness.  Instead of death, we have eternal life. So celebrate our great big wonderful instead, that came to us through Jesus Christ at Christmas. That Good News never changes! Blessed Christmas to you all!  

Elizabeth Stone 

Christmas 2020

WV Living Stone Ministries 

www.wvlivingstone.com

Lessons in the Stylist's Chair

After 2 ½ months I finally went to get my hair cut.  Not usually good at keeping on top of those kinds of things, even I had to admit my hair was a shaggy, shabby mess.  I confess, I did not deny, but I confessed to my stylist, that I had actually cut my own bangs.  Bless her, she said, “oh, honey I can fix that”. Now I not only look good, but I can see (check out the photo).

The first time I came to her salon, she asked me about my work, and she listened.  I told her about my call to ministry, about the work I do with suicide prevention and recovery, and about my new project on calling in Christ, on vocation.  Then she said, “I know exactly how to cut your hair, now,” and before I knew it, she had cut off about a pound of hair.  We talked about church, and faith, and our families, and promised to pray for each other.  We even wept together, and she told me she could hear my gift in my words.  That was before the covid-19 pandemic.  It was before the murder of George Floyd, before Breonna Taylor. This second time when she styled my hair, both of us wore masks, we spoke a little more about my hair, and the trouble I was having managing it.  She said she would have to take some more weight out of it.  Then I asked her, because I wanted to know, her perspective on the Black Lives Matter movement.  She answered my question with a question: “Do you want to know what I think as a black woman?”  And I said, “Yes, absolutely.  I want to listen.” Her scissors flew and her talk flowed.  Another three pounds of hair fell on the floor which she deftly brushed over to the vacuum opening before I could grasp the full impact of my layered and thinned hair; I felt like Absalom who cut and weighed his glorious tresses.  Yet as she shared her thoughts, her words were worth all my time and attention. You see, none of us can understand the problem or how to solve it unless we listen. 

Astonishingly, she said that she believed that the pandemic served God’s purpose to get our attention.  Those are the sure words of a prophetess.  Plague, sword, famine, flood. When God wants our attention, He is wont to use our circumstances, natural disasters, conflicts, and illnesses to get our attention.  The point?  When we are forcibly confined and unable to be busy, when we are quiet and isolated, we have time to see these red flags of our continuing failures as Christians.  We fail to love other people as Christ loved us, we have failed to love our neighbor as ourselves, and we live by our own feeble idea of justice rather than God’s.  Her biggest concern was that the church was not rising to speak.  It was not enough for us to participate in the world’s solutions, the church had to speak.  She said, “Black Lives Matter is the world’s solution.  What is God’s solution? Reconciliation.”  I was floored!  I hadn’t expected that.  How must the church respond? With reconciliation.  Reconciliation.  A message that is as old as the church, as old as the cross and resurrection, as old as the Gospel: reconciliation.  She said that we had to do the hard work of reconciliation, and the church had to show others how to do it.  It is not enough to believe in Jesus for salvation.  It is not enough to get our fire insurance.  It is not enough to evangelize and get people – black and white – into the Kingdom, or at least into church.  Our churches are plagued by the idea that once someone is saved they will automatically start being loving and just.  But Jesus taught that being born again spiritually is like being born; babies need to be nurtured and fed and loved and cared for, taught to walk and to talk and to use the toilet.  How many times in Scripture are Christians condemned for immaturity, for being satisfied with spiritual milk and not moving on to the solid food of mature faith?  How do new believers know what is true and what is false?  How do we know what we consume is of God and will feed us, or what is of the world and needs to be weeded out of our lives and discarded?  Once we are saved, that is when our journey begins, and it is a journey of sanctification, of becoming more mature, of always becoming more Christlike.  And, by the way, we are called to do this in community, not alone.  We are to help each other build more faith, help each other love and worship God more, build more love for each other, obey Christ more, serve Christ and serve others more, find our calling and do it, invite many others to receive Christ by grace, and we can only do all that in community.  The great commission does not stop with evangelization, with baptizing new believers; we are called to teach all that Christ commanded us, and keep teaching it, until He returns.  We are ambassadors for Christ, preaching the message of reconciliation.  And to whom are we reconciled?  We are reconciled first to God by Jesus Christ, and then we are reconciled to each other by Jesus Christ.  The most startling thing my hairdresser said to me? “There shouldn’t be a black church and a white church, it should all be the same church.”

We tend to think that the virulent prejudices and weaknesses of our culture are new and unprecedented, but in the primitive church there was prejudice and conflict between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians that was just as destructive.  Ephesians 2:11-22 gives us God’s solution:

Therefore remember that at one time you Gentiles in the flesh, called “the uncircumcision” by what is called “the circumcision,” which is made in the flesh by hands – remember that you were at that time separated from Christ, alienated from the commonwealth of Israel and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.  But now in Christ Jesus you who were once far off [Gentiles] have been brought near by the blood of Christ.  For He Himself is our peace, Who has made us both one and has broken down in His flesh the dividing wall of hostility. By abolishing the law of commandments expressed in ordinances, that He might create in Himself one new man in place of the two, so making peace, and might reconcile us both to God in one body through the cross, thereby killing the hostility.  And He came and preached peace to you who were far off [Gentiles] and to those who were near [Jews].  For Him we both have access in one Spirit to the Father.  So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are fellow citizens with the saints and members of the household of God, built on the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Christ Jesus Himself being the cornerstone, in Whom the whole structure, being joined together, grows into a holy temple in the Lord.  In Him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit. 

Paul is kind of a pro at mixing his metaphors, but the point is this: the Church of Jesus Christ is a faith community built on peace, the price of which was the blood of Christ Himself.  His sacrifice on the cross ended the hostility between Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians, and made one church out of two peoples in the first century, a reconciled church where everyone was not only a citizen of the Kingdom of God, but a family member.  Brothers and sisters, all together, regardless of ethnic or religious origin. No more aliens, no more outsiders, once we believe in Christ, there is no wall of hostility, there is only one body of Christ, only one bride of Christ, made by peace for peace.

Reconciliation happened in the primitive church through hard work, some of which happened in the first church council in Acts 15.  The law of the Jewish Christians, the paganism of the Gentile Christians had to be swept away to make room for grace, grace that when it was fully functional in the hearts and gatherings of believers blasted through their prejudices and traditions and surpassed the law and usurped unworthy idols.  We face the same challenges: dismantling our prejudices, traditions, and trashing the idols that keep us from being the family of God, then reconciling with brothers and sisters, coming together from every nation, tribe, and tongue to be one church with one voice. 

Just a couple more questions from my hairdresser:

What would happen if the church of Jesus Christ would awaken and take up leadership in this crisis by reconciling within the church and modeling reconciliation for the world?

What would happen if the Holy Spirit burned through the Church?

Two things you can do.  Pray, pray, pray, a lot.  Find someone to listen to, someone different from you, someone who shares your deep faith in Jesus Christ, someone whom you can trust. 

~ by Elizabeth Stone 

www.wvlivingstone.com 

Sermons online at www.stanfordpresbyterian.org

“Savor Christmas” by Elizabeth Stone. 

January 5, 2020.

Today (January 5^th) is the twelfth day of Christmas; it is the last day of our nativity feast for the coming of King Jesus, and most of us, myself included, felt rushed through the holidays.  Our rhythm of celebration seems to be dictated by the malls and stores, who even as early as 4 p.m. Christmas day, race to sell off all the holiday items at increasing discounts, taking down their decorations and pushing us all into the next season they want to sell us. 

My mother was unmoved by the Christmas rush.  A good Anglican, Christmas decorations never came down until January 6^th, or Epiphany, the Episcopal celebration of the arrival of the wise men.  Epiphany is an “ah-ha” moment, a time when divinity is revealed, or when we grasp the reality of a person or event suddenly and it has life-changing consequences.  We have discovered the divine identity of Jesus the Christ Child; how does that change us?  How does our life proceed?  Once the Christmas decorations are all put away, what new directions do we take?

Psalm 6 is one of David’s songs of lament, when his life was not going well.  We seem to forget – in the mad holiday rush – that lots of people are in sorrow, suffering from illness, want, or sorrow.  Maybe they, like David, are feeling angry, weak, sick, sinful, and shamed, far from mercy and far from the glory that God’s children are supposed to enjoy, especially at Christmas.  At the end of his prayer, David says: “Depart from me, all you workers of evil, for the LORD has heard the sound of my weeping.  The LORD has heard my plea; the LORD accepts my prayer.”  What greater gift can there be than to be heard by God?  What greater evidence of grace is there than the coming of Jesus Christ to save us, the ultimate answer to every prayer? If this has been a tough holiday season for you, let me assure you that you haven’t missed it.  You have been heard. 

Savor Christmas.  Ebenezer Scrooge at the end of A Christmas Carol says: “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” Charles Dickens had it right; the gift of Christmas is not to be pigeon-holed at the end of December and then packed up for eleven months.  The love of God that came to us at Christmas is an all the time gift. 

Tomorrow I will start taking down my decorations, because, after all, I am a true daughter of my mother.  But I will leave out a candle, something to remind me of Christ, the light of the world that came and dwelt among us, the guarantee that no matter what, our prayers are always heard. 

Beyond Church 12/22/2019

Dethroned Royalty by Elizabeth Stone

And the angel said unto her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.  And behold you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call His name Jesus.  He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High.  And the Lord God will give to Him the throne of His father David.  And He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of His Kingdom there will be no end.” Luke 1:30-33

Dethroned royalty.  That was the tribe of Judah and the house of David when the angel Gabriel came to announce to Mary that she would bear the King of Israel.  Caesar was on the throne of Rome, and Herod was ruling Judea (and he was Rome’s puppet and had no Biblical right to rule) so we can understand Mary’s confusion. Her betrothed husband was a carpenter, her people lived in poverty trying to eek out a living under the Roman occupation.  Not what we usually associate with royalty.  Kings are rich and live in palaces and wear great clothes and have political power over all the people in the Kingdom.  They have servants and armies and people obey them.  But not dethroned royalty.  When the people of France revolted against their monarchy, Louis XVI, his family, and all his courtiers were guillotined.  When Tsar Nicholas of Russia was dethroned, he and his family were assassinated.  And when the house of David faltered, the line of David survived, but his heirs lived in poverty and obscurity.  Dethroned royalty can be a threat to new rulers, so if they are not dead, they had better be powerless.  

How was the Kingship of Jesus Christ established?  Herod tries to kill Him when He is just a baby.  And then He, like His earthly parents, lives in obscurity, and learns and works at Joseph’s trade.  When He does come into the public eye, it is not as a military leader, but as a preacher, homeless and camping out in the open, traveling from place to place teaching about the Kingdom of God.  When He is illegally arrested and faces trial, He tells Pilate that His Kingship is not of this world.  Jesus takes up His royal position through suffering; He dies for us.  Now, after His death and resurrection He is King, seated in Heaven, and reigning with power.  Just as the angel Gabriel said, it is a forever throne and a forever Kingdom.  Every promise to David for a permanent kingship is fulfilled in Jesus Christ because Jesus reigns as King in eternity. 

The Bible tells us we are – like our Savior – royalty.  But also like Him, our riches, our power, are not of this world.  Like Him we live in obscurity and we work for a living, our service and obedience are to God.  Like Him we tell others about the Kingdom of God, and how to get there. And as we do, God’s family grows, and royal children are born of the Spirit.  We follow King Jesus imitating His life, so that in eternity He will crown us as His own. 

Beyond Church 12/15/2020

Backwards Angels by Elizabeth Stone

Hebrews 5:7-14

Thanks to my children and grandchildren, my Christmas tree is up.  Knowing how important it is to  me, whoever comes for Thanksgiving brings the tree in, sets it up, adds lights that actually work, and decorates it. This year my son dragged in all the Christmas boxes, and his two toddler daughters helped Daddy and Grandpa decorate.  When the average height of the decorators is about two feet, we have a superabundance of ornaments on the lower branches, and some of the angels are, well, backwards.  One child put all of her ornaments on one branch, the other spread hers across maybe three.  But they were so proud, and they had such a good time.  It is expected because they are small, and immature, and super cute. 

Christmas brings us all back home, if not physically then at least emotionally.  Most of us have wonder-filled memories of childhood Christmases, and some do not, but the longing for home, for a simpler time, for love and joy, for a safe place at the holidays, is universal.  Christmas is, after all, about love; God’s love that sent His one and only Son for us, the greatest gift, the indescribable gift.  As we grow up, we become the providers for Christmas joy to the younger generation, the ones who are responsible for the simple, safe, love-filled celebration for the children, so I have to ask, are your angels backwards?

The author of Hebrews calls us to mature faith in Christ.  The Jewish believers have become dull of hearing, and have stalled out in their faith-walk.  All their angels are backwards and in the same spot. They haven’t grown up in Christ, they are still drinking milk, they haven’t advanced to the solid spiritual food of the mature.  Over and over they need to hear the basic principles of the oracles of God, over and over they need to review the discernment that makes them sharp enough to tell good from evil.  Their mature correspondent reminds them about Jesus’ time on earth, and points them to His prayers of Gethsemane and His passion:

In the days of His flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to Him Who was able to save Him from death, and He was heard because of His reverence.  Although He was a Son, He learned obedience through what He suffered.  And being made perfect, He became the source of eternal salvation to all who obey Him, being designated by God a high priest after the order of Milchizedek.  (Hebrews 5:7-10)

What is striking about this is: Jesus was heard.  God heard every prayer that Jesus spoke, every request that Jesus made when He was on earth.  He was heard because of His reverence for His Father.  And He obeyed, not because it was easy, but because the goal was that He became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey Him.  Like our Savior, we too are heard, and we also must learn obedience by constant practice, by opening our ears to the deep things of God so we can discern good from evil, and do the good.  Mature Christians are invested in God’s purposes, and over time, we learn that those purposes always include His very best for us.

My granddaughters will grow up, and will know the backside of an angel from the front, and will be able to reach the highest branches. Will they understand the reality of Christmas?  Will they find their own way to the Source of eternal salvation?  Only if we who know Christ have open ears to His Word, and are living the example of prayer and obedience, and only if we tell them.  It is still true that we who are mature create the love and joy of Christmas for the young. You can move the ornaments around after they are asleep, but our witness, our sharing Jesus’ birth story, our worship with them, and above all our walk of obedience will call children to the Christ-child for eternity, which is the great WHY of Christmas.