Where is your Journey Taking You?
Isaiah 60:1-6 and Matthew 2:1-12
By Jim Westmoreland
Today, I want us to think about the journeys that we have
experienced in our lives. Where have we been? Where are we going? The
Rev. Dr. Gordon Moyes, a Methodist minister shared the following story about a family that
made a spiritual journey:
"My friend knew Mike and his family and were wondering how they were getting on
following Mike's death just before last Christmas. It is always a hard time for a family
with three teenage boys when a dad suddenly dies, and the mother has to step into his
shoes with three very demanding teenagers. But Judith seems to be doing well. She told of
a custom their family has.
Judith wrote: "It is just a small, white envelope stuck among the branches of our
Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the
branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so. It all began because my husband Mike
hated the commercialism of Christmas: the overspending, the frantic running around at the
last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry, and the dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts
given in desperation because you cannot think of anything else. He just said, "All I
want is for my boys and us to be together, and to be Christian."
Knowing he felt this way I decided one year not to buy him the usual shirt, sweater, tie
and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an
unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, took up the sport of wrestling at the
school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a match against a team sponsored
by an inner-city church. The boys were mostly black and came from under-privileged, poor
families.
These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only
thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue
and gold uniforms and new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that
the other team was wrestling without headgear, designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It
was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them.
We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered
around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge
defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could
have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could
take the heart right out of them."
Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them. He had coached little league football.
When Christmas came that year the idea for his present came. I went to a local sporting
goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them
anonymously to the inner-city church for their team. On Christmas Eve, I placed the
envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his
gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year. In succeeding
years I followed the tradition -- one year sending a group of mentally handicapped
youngsters to a football game, another year a cheque to two elderly brothers whose home
had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on, always helping the
poor.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on
Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed
anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the
children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost
its allure.
As you know, Dr. Moyes, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled
around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve
found me placing an envelope on the tree. It was my gift for Mike. I was sending a group
of underprivileged kids to church camp in Mike's name. In the morning, as we all gathered
round the tree in our pajamas, I was amazed to find three more envelopes stuck in the
tree. Each of our sons, unknown to the others had placed an envelope on the tree for their
dad telling what they had done for others. This year we know it will happen again. A
tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing
around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the
envelope. Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us."
When I read Judith's story, my eyes filled with tears. What a magnificent tradition in
that family! What would your re-action be if you were given the unexpected? It happens and
that surprise may be the most beautiful of all. After all, weren't the first gifts totally
unexpected? Mary and Joseph were amazed at the unexpected gifts given to their newborn
baby Jesus. Some people who were open to the possibility of being led by God made an
unexpected journey.
Matthew 2:1-12 records the story of the journey of the Magi from the East. Mike had made a
spiritual journey in his life to care about the hurts and dreams of others. And, because
of him, his wife, Judith, and their boys had made their own journey to become givers and
to care for those that the everyone else wanted to ignore. The Magi made a journey that we
celebrate at this time of year called Epiphany. Each year, Epiphany is on January 6th,
which falls on Sunday this year, and it continues until the day before Lent.
"Epiphany" comes from a Greek word meaning manifestation. Today, we celebrate
God's manifestation to the Gentiles, symbollized by the Magi, to come to worship the
Christ, who is Lord and Savior for both Jews and Gentiles.
There is a strong theme of "making a journey" in both of our readings today. In
Isaiah 60:3 the prophecy for a glorified Zion says, "nations will come to
your light." "The wealth of nations will come," v.5. In v. 6,
"All those from Sheba will come; They will bring gold and
frankincense." Because of the star the magi from the east made a journey and
arrived at Jerusalem. They report that they had seen His star in the east and
have come to worship Him.
Here in the cultural world of Jesus we have these wise men, highly respected and holding
much influence and political power, both religiously and politically, making a journey to
worship and bring gifts. The text only tells us they come from the East. Historically, we
trace the roots of the Magi back to the Medes and the Persians, which is the area we know
as Iran and Iraq today. What is special in this story is that God's revelation of himself
in the birth of Jesus demands a response. Through the star, the heavens made known God's
coming. Though they didn't understand all of what it meant, the Magi responded and came to
worship and to give gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Whenever we read this story of the response of the Magi, it is a reminder that this is a
story about us. God works in our lives daily to reveal himself to us in Christ. To respond
we make a kind of journey. We are called to leave "home," our comfortable places
whatever they may be, to make a journey. For one who would be Jesus' disciple, the journey
always leads us to care and to share God's love with other people. Like the Magi, we can
choose to make the journey, or stay where we are comfortable.
There were many who looked at the sky with the Magi who either saw nothing or did nothing.
I'm reminded of a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, "Earth's filled with heaven;
and every common bush a'fire with God. Those who see take off their shoes. The rest sit
around and pick blackberries." Some just seem not to see God at work in this world,
but, when we do, it is holy ground. He leads us and we worship Him.
Sometimes, the journey leads us to others who need to know God in a personal way through
Jesus, whose birth we celebrate. I want to share another story about someone who made a
journey. "Tomorrow morning," the surgeon began, "I'll open up your heart...
." "You'll find Jesus there," the boy interrupted. The surgeon looked up,
annoyed. "I'll cut your heart open," he continued, "to see how much damage
has been done... ." "But when you open up my heart, you'll find Jesus in
there."
The surgeon looked to the parents, who sat quietly. "When I see how much damage has
been done, I'll sew your heart and chest back up and I'll plan what to do next."
"But you'll find Jesus in my heart. The Bible says He lives there. The hymns all say
He lives there. You'll find Him in my heart."
The surgeon had had enough. "I'll tell you what I'll find in your heart. I'll find
damaged muscle, low blood supply, and weakened vessels. And I'll find out if I can make
you well." "You'll find Jesus there too. He lives there."
The surgeon left. The next day the surgeon sat in his office, recording his notes from the
surgery on the young boys heart, "...damaged aorta, damaged pulmonary vein,
widespread muscle degeneration. No hope for transplant, no hope for cure. Therapy:
painkillers and bedrest. Prognosis: . . . , " here he paused, "death within one
year." He stopped the recorder, but there was more to be said. "Why?" he
asked aloud. "Why did You do this? You've put him here; You've put him in this pain;
and You've cursed him to an early death. Why?"
The Lord answered and said, "The boy, My lamb, was not meant for your flock
for long, for he is a part of My flock, and will forever be. Here, in My flock,
he will feel no pain, and will be comforted as you cannot imagine. His parents will one
day join him here, and they will know peace, and My flock will continue to grow."
The surgeon's tears were hot, but his anger was hotter. "You created that boy, and
You created that heart. He'll be dead in months. Why?" The Lord answered,"The
boy, My lamb, shall return to My flock, for he has done his duty: I did not put My
lamb with your flock to lose him, but to retrieve another lost
lamb."
The surgeon wept. The surgeon sat beside the boy's bed; the boy's parents sat across from
him. The boy awoke and whispered, "Did you cut open my heart?" "Yes,"
said the surgeon. "What did you find?" asked the boy. "I found Jesus
there," said the surgeon. -- Author Unknown
This morning, we can ask ourselves, Where is my journey taking me? Is it taking me to
Jesus? And, is it taking me to the people whom Jesus loved and for whom He died?