God's Future in the Present

I preached a series of sermons at my church during Advent 2008 entitled "God's Future in the Present." The focus of the series was on the church's mission to embody God's future reign made visible in Christ right here and now. My friend and college, Rev. Steve Price, wrote an inspired poem that he shared with his church, Harvest United Methodist Church, on Sunday December 21. I thought this poem captured the heart of what I was trying to say during those 4 weeks of sermons. He gave me permission to share it here.

“Springing Up”
by Steven M. PriceAdvent 2008

Beneath life’s crushing load, he sits
by the side of the road.
No one notices
but let me tell you who this is.

Man broken, to whom words are rarely spoken.
Had the house, the car, the kids, the wife.
All the pieces of what they call
the good life, but then. . .downsized.

No longer in the game.
Credit sinking in his name.
He couldn’t stand the shame.
Couldn’t stand. . .could not stand.

So he drank himself into this state.
No friends, no family left to participate
in his life, his story.
Does anyone care about his fate?

She had no chance.
Some are quick to criticize.
Say that she should realize
she can’t afford to feed those three.
But they don’t know. Can’t see
the way she had to go.

Daddy’s a dealer, dead when she was two.
Momma sold herself just to make it through.
Uneducated, she longs to be liberated,
but how? Up at daybreak, her heart aches
as she walks out the door, knowing
for an hour more her babies will be alone.

School bus comes long after she’s gone
to work--seven to three, then five to eleven,
just to be able to put food on the table
and pay the rent on a place
where nights are dangerously spent.

Some days she wonders if they’d be better
off with someone else. But memory runs deep.
And this one promise she WILL keep.
She will not abandon, will not let them go.
So they will know. . .so they will know
what she never knew. They are loved.

Images flood the screen.
Pictures we’ve all seen.
Children starving, mosquitoes swarming,
bellies distended. . .some are offended
that we have to look at this in the middle of our tv bliss.

But. . .there is no ER where they live,
and they have no Law and Order in their land.
And no one, it seems, will come to give
them an Extreme Home Makeover.

Quick. Change the channel. Find another show.
‘Cause I don’t want to know, don’t want to see
how much they hurt, ‘cause if it touches me. . .
I’d have to change.

People oppressed, lives distressed.
They struggle, they grope—they see no hope.
O dark night, where is the LIGHT
that will come. Come for them. Come for us.

Yahweh cries out, “ENOUGH!”
I am coming. I am coming. I am coming.
I. . .see your shame.
I. . .feel your hurt.
I. . .touch your sadness.
I. . .know your pain.

And I WILL heal. WILL feed. WILL free. WILL clothe.
WILL comfort. WILL serve. WILL save. WILL love.
You.

And Jesus comes. Emmanuel.
God with us. God with skin.
How can this be? He is our kin.
Joy of heaven come down to earth,
clothed in flesh he validates our worth.
Your worth. My worth. Their worth.

He rescues them. He restores them.
He raises them. He renews them.
And they know. They are loved.

Before he goes he turns to us and says, “Don’t forget. . .”
He knows that we are weak and yet
he says, “You.”

Open up your ears and listen.
May it be on earth as it is in heaven.

As it is. Not maybe. Not will be. Not could be.
Not someday. Not possibly. Not later. Not tomorrow.
Now. Now is the time to end the sorrow.

So you. Yes, you.
Now you must care. Now you must go.
You must show the love they need to know.

Bind up the broken hearted, he says. Continue the work I started.
This is the greatest story—your life revealing God’s glory.

No more wandering. No more waiting.
No time for pondering. No hesitating.

NOW.

This is the day. Mercy pouring.
This is the day. Justice soaring.
This is the day. Righteousness springing.
This is the day. Angels singing.
Because You. I. We.
Have seen. Have heard. Have known. Have learned.
And we will follow.

Come. Let us walk in life.