Sermon Cloud

A few years ago, I spent 10 days after Christmas in Haiti with 6 other Presbyterian pastors.  Near the end of our stay, our group visited Wings of Hope, a home for disabled children.  It’s up in the mountains where it’s cool—a blessed respite from the heat of the sealevel areas we’d been in.  We were free to spend the 2 days resting and relaxing; or, we could help out with the children.  The first day, I fed some of the kids and did a few other little things.  The second day, a physical therapist came; and I asked to work with him.  He showed me how to do some stretching exercises with little BJ, an 8-month-old with cerebral palsy.   For the next hour, I sat on a mat with BJ, following the therapist’s instructions—straightening, stretching, bending every joint, even BJ’s little toes, massaging his muscles, singing to him as I worked--watching him relax into the exercises and smile broadly when something felt especially good. 

Remembering that in light of this passage we’ve just read from Mark, I’m struck at how much we emphasize leadership in society, and in the church--how little we emphasize servanthood—how seldom we recognize our opportunities to serve.  Someone commented, “many folks want to serve God—but only as advisors!”

The next night—our last night in Haiti—we were back in Port-au-Prince, at St. Joseph’s Home for Boys.  The poverty is so harsh in Haiti, many parents send their sons as young as 5 out on the streets to beg or shine shoes or do anything else they can to support themselves.  Some families sell their sons to wealthier families where they become slaves and are often treated brutally.  Those boys run away if they can.  St. Joseph’s takes in up to 20 such boys and gives them a safe home until they’re 21 if they choose to stay, an education, job skills.  More important, they learn about the love of Jesus.  St. Joseph’s founder, Michael Geilenfeld, reminds them frequently that Jesus’ love comes to them in these tangible ways, and is made possible by the many people who support the ministry—most of whom they will never meet but who love Jesus, and therefore, love these boys.  And they are taught to share the little they have with others, and so, to pass along Jesus’ love. 

At prayers that evening, Michael thanked us for coming to Haiti—thanked us for caring about the children of Haiti—thanked us for being their guests and allowing them to serve us.  He expressed his gratitude for opportunities to serve others in Christ’s name.

Then he told us a story.  In December just before we came, he and the boys followed their accustomed Advent ritual of waiting for Jesus.  They counted the days until Jesus’ birth by opening another window in the Advent calendar--lighting Advent candles--reading the Advent scriptures--singing “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”

On December 13, as the boys shouted, “Twelve more days till Christmas!”, Michael announced that Jesus had already come. 

“Jesus has already come?” one of the boys asked. 

“Jesus is here in our home”, Michael said, “and you have all walked right past him today.” 

What? 

“Baby Jesus is in Room 1.” 

As the boys clamored to go see, Michael explained that, while they were at school that afternoon, a physically challenged baby had been brought to the house.  He was sleeping in guest room 1, the room beside the entrance to the house.  Everyone coming in or going out passes Room 1.

They were struck by the thought that this abandoned child was much like them—but also like Jesus in his earthly life: living in poverty, being among the common people, hardly noticed. Rushing through their prayers, the boys bolted for Room 1 to see “baby Jesus.”  All evening, that door opened and shut, and opened and shut as boys went in and out.  George and Gregory slept in the room, just in case “baby Jesus” needed anything during the night.

The next day, they took him to his new home at Wings of Hope.  As you might have guessed, he was my little friend BJ—BJ for “Baby Jesus.”  Back at St. Joseph’s, the boys opened another Advent calendar window, lit the Advent candles, again sang “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.”  This time, though, Emmanuel—God With Us—was no far-off hope.  Emmanuel had already come to them, in a very real sense.  They talked about ways they could share Jesus with others, just as they had shared BJ by taking him to Wings of Hope.  The now-empty Room 1 meant Jesus isn’t confined to one place or time--he can be anywhere, at any time.  All they have to do was to look around to find him--not just in Room 1--but in all the rooms of our homes, our world, our hearts.

There are many BJ’s in the world.  Not all of them are infants.  Some are adults, for, no matter how many years we’ve been on earth, we’re all God’s children.  God calls each of us to do as the youngsters at St. Joseph’s did: nurture and protect those God entrusts to our care for as long as they are in our care—and even those we never meet, such as the abandoned children of Haiti or the war victims about whom Nuhad Tomeh told us Thursday when he visited us. 

And then there are those we do meet—those in our community or even in our families.  God fills each of us with talents and skills for welcoming those who need us.  We can wipe a tear--bandage a scraped knee--comfort a scraped heart--tutor a struggling student—encourage a struggling adult--hold a hand—offer a hand-up--give a smile--pray for God’s children everywhere. 

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me, but the one who sent me.