From the Little Ones -- Fourth Sunday of Advent

Micah 5:2-5a

December 23, 2018

            I wonder sometimes if I am losing my ability to be surprised by the sadness and badness of the world around us. I am often shocked, horrified, appalled, saddened, angered, outraged, disgusted, dismayed and disappointed – but sadly, I’m losing my ability to be surprised. I don’t like that. It suggests to me that I am becoming cynical and skeptical and just plain tired. Another mass shooting – I’m angry and sad and horrified, but not surprised. Another viral video of racism on parade – I’m sickened and angry and frustrated, but not surprised. A horrific natural disaster – probably made more extreme by climate change – I’m worried and heartbroken and anxious, but not surprised. Terrorism, horrified but not surprised. Disgraceful government antics – disheartened and fed up, but not surprised.

Yesterday, I read on a Presbyterian website that our sisters and brothers at First Presbyterian Church had their church vandalized in the last few days. Someone or some ones broke in and went on a rampage. Musical instruments in the sanctuary were turned over and broken. The Christmas tree was knocked to the floor. Glass was broken. Holes were gouged in tiled walls. It was far more than an act of criminal mischief. There was hatred behind it. Again, I am horrified and appalled and confused by such hatred, but I am not terribly surprised. Considering the history our congregation has with acts like this, maybe you’re not surprised either.

I guess I’m just not surprised anymore by the ways in which hatred and ignorance and fear manifest themselves in our world. There is no way to hide from the darkness of the world that surrounds us. There is no way to avoid the brokenness of our world, of our species. We are caught up in it. We are also broken and wounded and hurting. So as sad as I am to admit it, I am not very often surprised by the dreadful ways our brokenness and sinfulness makes itself known. I don’t like to admit that, but I think it’s true. Don’t misunderstand me. I am not resigned to the brokenness. I am not immune to it. I rage against it. But I am not surprised.

            But here’s the thing, while the world’s brokenness may be unsurprising, our God is a God of surprise. There are many names for God, but if God has a middle name, it’s “Surprise!” It’s often said that since “Do not fear” is repeated 365 times in the scriptures, we have a daily reminder to let go of our fear. I love that and wholeheartedly subscribe to it. But to “do not fear,” I think we should add, “but be surprised.” God surprises us again and again and again by working through unexpected people in unlikely circumstances. God surprises us again and again by bringing good out of bad, order out of chaos, and hope out of what seems hopeless. God surprises over and over again by calling forth greatness, hope and salvation from the little ones.

            The darkness and brokenness of which I speak are not unique to us or to our particular context are they? Micah and the people he prophesied to were no strangers to the darkness. Our text from Micah is beautiful and poetic, but it is set in a larger context. If we read beyond the verses selected for us this morning, we will read about that darkness, about the ever-looming disaster that Micah and the people of Israel, of Judah faced. In other verses he told the people that Judah would be plowed into a field and that Jerusalem would lie in ruins. Micah knew and understood just how dark, just how broken the times in which he lived were. He did not mince his words about it either.

            Yet, surprise! In the midst of all this darkness and brokenness and destruction – much of which the leaders and the people brought on themselves – there is a word of hope.

            “But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from old, from ancient days.”

            From Bethlehem, from one of the little clans of Judah, from one of the little ones, shall come one who is to rule in Israel. And although this hearkens greatly to King David, who was also from Bethlehem and a shepherd, the one who is to come will not lead as the former leaders, the former kings have done. This one will lead as a shepherd leads. This one will “stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.”

            This one will bring true security. This won’t be the kind of security that the world offers – financial accounts and video cameras. This will be the kind of security that only comes from God. This will be the kind of security that comes from the one who brings peace, who is peace.

            From the little ones will come God’s salvation. From the little ones will come the one who is peace. From the little ones will come the leader Micah and all the other people longed for, waited for, hoped for. From the little ones will come the one we too yearn and wait for, expectantly and with great hope. That is the word of hope we have from Micah, and that is the story we read in Luke. I’m assuming that God could not have chosen two more unlikely or unexpected people than Elizabeth and Mary. Elizabeth, an old woman and Mary a young one, were both expecting unlikely children in the most unlikely of circumstances. Elizabeth, who was long past her childbearing years, was not expecting a son to be named John. And when that baby, still tucked securely inside his mother’s womb, heard Mary’s voice, he leaped for joy. The Holy Spirit did not wait for John to be born to work in his life. Even in utero, John recognized the one, the One, who was to come.

            And what about Mary? Mary, so young and at least to worldly eyes of no great importance, would bear the Savior into the world. Why would she be the one chosen? She had no rank, no office. She was not situated in a palace as a queen; instead she was a lowly young woman engaged to a carpenter. There seemed to be nothing very extraordinary about her. She was just an ordinary young woman preparing for an ordinary life. But surprise! Our God of surprises had other plans and other purposes.

            From this little one would come salvation. From this little one would come new hope and new creation. From this little one would come God’s great surprise.

            Maybe I have lost my ability to be surprised by the world and its brokenness, but if Micah’s words teach us anything it’s that we should never lose our ability to be surprised by God. Isn’t that what wonder really is? It’s always being willing to be surprised, to be elated by the unexpected and the unlikely? Micah’s word is a word of hope to a dark and broken world. From the little ones, the unexpected ones, the unlikely ones God’s purposes will be fulfilled, God’s will be done, God’s salvation will come. From the little ones. From the little ones.

            Thanks be to God. Amen.