12-28-14 Sermon Transcript - Edmonds United Methodist Church.

How did I feel about doing the “pajama service?”  I was so excited to be able to come as I was to church today – to know that here was a place where my snowflake pajama sweats would fit right in.  I’ve always been a come as you are kind of guy.

Like the time when I was in elementary school, and didn’t want to go to early service back home where I grew up in rural Missouri.  I had been up too late, reading The Hobbit with a light under the covers.  I should have gone to bed, but I really had to find out how Bilbo was going to get the dwarves away from the wood elves, and if Gandalf was going to come and save them or  not.  I told my mom I’d make it too Sunday school by 9:30. She told me that would be fine, but I’d better make sure I hadn’t left my bike out in some ditch while catching frogs again – because I would be getting myself to church.

In my house at that age, what we ultimately decided to believe about God was optional, but joining the family in Sunday school and church on Sunday, was not.  I laid in bed for a few minutes after they left, listening as the sputter of the tailpipe of the light blue Volkswagon Rabbit signaled the departure of my mom, dad, and older sister to church.  As I lay there, the cat on the bed looked at me expectantly, blinking in what sure looked like disapproval.  That’s when the guilt set in.

I decided that I would make my family a nice surprise for when they got home, as sort of an amends for my lack of piety.  Then, it hit me – just recently, my mother had taught me how to mix up my own pancakes.  I would make them pancakes!  I got up and put on my nicest Sunday clothes (but probably didn’t remember to brush my moppy brown hair) and ran into the kitchen feeling so happy with my plan.  Once I saw the apples on the counter, and thought about how much better the apple pancakes would be, I felt even better about my idea.

There were a few .. um.. issues with the execution of my plan.  First of all, in my rush, a good deal of the ingredients that were to make their way into the mixing bowl found their way onto my grey slacks and green alligator shirt.  Also, I couldn’t quite find the lid to the blender – though I found that if I just covered the top with my hands after throwing the apples in (whole), I could keep a lot of the product inside the container.  In my mom's defense, the use of the blender was an "improvement" i made on her pancake instructions. The pancakes themselves didn’t quite cook like I remembered mom making them – sort of turning into a bit of a chunky oatmeal-type substance, even after cooked.  So I formed them into round shapes, put them on a cookie sheet, put them in the oven on warm and headed off to church.  

I’m pretty sure I was one of the reasons some of those laws about leaving kids at home alone got changed.

When I arrived at church, my mother took one look at me and said – “GREGORY PAUL MCLAUGHLIN. What have you done!”.  As most of you know.. the use of the middle name by a mother is never a good thing.  “I came to church, mom. And I’m even on time”.  I really wasn’t sure why she seemed so concerned.

“What is that all over your shirt?!?”, she asked in exasperation.

It was then that I looked down at my shirt and pants. I can still hear my sister's giggle in that moment 33 years later.

Sheepishly, I replied “Well I made you all pancakes”. “Apple pancakes, actually,” I added, very likely picking a red peel of one of said apples from my shirt and dropping it on the floor of the sanctuary.

It was then that my mom started to consider the situation more carefully, turning her thoughts to the kitchen.  She realized that the gloopy mess on my shirt was just a drop in the bucket – or blender, such as it was.

That day, indeed, I had come as I was.  There were a few laughs around the church, and one of the most-told McLaughlin family reunion tales was born that day.  However,  I was not sent home in disgrace to put on nicer clothes. Instead, I was welcomed into that church with open arms.  Because this was a place where I would always be welcome.  By the time I finished confirmation a few years later and started attending the youth group at that church, I had found a community that I would know all the way up through high school.

My youth experience was unique because we also created a “come as your are” environment.  Lots of kids came through those doors.  Poor kids, rich kids, kids from abusive homes, kids who had been in trouble with the law, kids on the varsity football team, band geeks, theatre geeks, adopted kids, cool kids, smart kids, popular kids, gay kids, tall kids, short kids.  But something was always important to us – that no matter who came through that door into our youth group, there were to be treated with the love of Christ.  We would be a refuge and a support place for people to truly to be able to be themselves.  Even if they walked through the door covered in apple pancake batter. 

In fact, down in the youth hall here at Edmonds UMC, we’re also really big on “come as you are”.  We’re learning together about what it really means to welcome people – friends and strangers alike – and to really show up as who God made us to be. As Paul wrote to the Galatians, we are redeemed and justified by faith in the life and teachings of Christ, by showing our love for God by how we treat one another - rather than simply learning some recipe for God.  For the youth group and church, this means that I will challenge everyone in this community to answer a call to treat each other well, to radically welcome all who come through our door, and to let people experience Christ in our actions versus simply our words.

And this brings me to the gifts of Christmas, which I want to talk about this morning.  

You see, of all the wonderful gifts I got this Christmas, my first (and one of the best) gift I received all the way back on December 6^th. Back at the beginning of this month, we opened up the youth hall for people coming and attending the Toy Shop, where Edmonds UMC served over 300 families, providing 700 children with toys for the holidays.  Our goal was to create a warm and welcoming “hospitality suite” where people could sit while they waited for their number to be called to shop at the Toy Shop.  Nearly 20 or our youth worked hard to volunteer at this event, from baking cookies on Friday night to organizing toys, to helping people to their cars, to serving people in the hospitality suite.  I had the best job of all, because I got to be in the youth hall hanging out with the people as they came in – hearing their stories, learning about these amazing human beings that were coming into our midst. 

As Christmas music played in the background, and the smell of coffee and cider wafted up in the air, the youth hall had the feel of any Seattle-area coffee shop on a Saturday.  Youth, the wait staff, carried around plates of cookies while the Toy Shop families sat on the couches visiting or just relaxing.  I suppose some people might have expected something different from the people waiting there, impatience with having to wait, or anxiousness about when it would be their turn to get the stuff.  However, there was a warmth and a spirit alive in that waiting room, as if the waiting itself was fulfilling in a way they had not expected.

It was then that I looked over at one of the farthest couches in a dark corner and saw a woman sitting by herself.  I sat down near her and made some light conversation, telling her I’d hoped she was comfortable.  Yes, she said – she was very comfortable, and I could tell this was probably the first time all day she had actually been able to sit down and rest. A youth came over and offered her a cookie, and that’s when I first noticed the tears.

Now, for those of you familiar with tears, you know the different kinds – there are the sad ones, the painful ones, and the Grace ones.  Grace tears are happy tears – ones where you’re overwhelmed with love from some unexpected places.  And those are the tears she had downstairs here in our church a few weeks ago.  The Grace tears, the tears have receiving that ultimate gift.  And I realized in that moment why we do all of this – for once, this woman was not living on the edge of hope, trying to figure out where the rent, or the job, or dinner, or Christmas, was coming from.  She sat there, her hands shaking just a little as they held the hot coffee and freshly baked cookie – delivered to her as she sat – and she was served with the Love of Christ. She had been invited into that place, just as she was, and been treated like the Child of God that she was.  And I guarantee you the cookies were way better than my apple pancakes.

She hadn’t had her number called yet – had not yet gone into the rooms where she would get a shopping cart to fill with toys and books for her kids – but her Christmas cart was already full, before even picking up a single toy.  She had received Grace, and with that her first true gift of Christmas – THE first true gift of Christmas.  And what was so amazing was that I had received it too.

So next year, if your schedule permits, I’d invite all of you to volunteer for the Toy Shop, and when you do – come take a break and hang out in the youth hall.  There are the most amazing and wonderful people there, and so many opportunities to truly receive the gifts of Christmas.

Because..

In the end, the Christmas season is about learning, and relearning, the gift of giving.  It's about hope in dark times.  It's about the light of love and peace coming back and filling what Blaise Pascal called God-sized holes in our lives with that irreplaceable gift of Grace..

Which brings me to the "Gimmies" and the “Givies”.  There is a wonderful Berenstein Bears book wherein the young cubs go along with mom and dad to the shopping mall and get a case of "the gimmies".  Wanting toys and candy, they resort to rolling around on the floor like tormented devil-children when they don't get their way.  I highly recommend this book - and not just for kids.  I guarantee you it's a really short read, and very effective at reminding us just how important it is to appreciate everything, no matter how small, in our life.  This book tells us that being consumed by our desire to consume is a source of incredible unhappiness - a moment when we are filling the God-sized hole in our lives with something less than our own spiritual truth.  

While learning to receive gifts graciously is important and not what I'm challenging here, basing happiness on what you get from the world is a source of suffering.  Too often, Christmas is consumed by consumerism, and even those who are lucky enough to get everything they thought they wanted are often left with this empty feeling when the presents are all open.  What was in all of those packages, in the end?  What were those gifts we had waited so long for?  I wonder what it is that we’re filled with when we see those gifts so carefully wrapped with bows, and what we’re still thirsting for when we’re left holding a few trappings, knick knacks and things, surrounded by torn up wrapping paper?

I am reminded of a buddhist monk my friend Kathryn encountered while visiting me during the time I lived in Thailand, who would talk about the cloth used for his robe.  Though monks are well known for living the simple life, he openly boasted about how fine of a cloth he used for his one saffron robe.  He talked about painstakingly searching out the finest and most beautiful piece of cloth obtainable.  When  my friend asked him why someone as humble as a monk would adorn themselves with such finery, he explained that an enlightened life did not mean robbing meaning and enjoyment from all earthly things - it meant  fully enjoying and appreciating the meaning of all the things on Earth. So, what are the things you must enjoy and mean the most to you in your life?

Now.. close your eyes and imagine walking around your house.  Ok, now..  get up and walk around to each room - the garage, the storage closets - everything.  Take stock of all your stuff.  You're supposed to have done this already.  In fact, you're supposed to have it written down somewhere.. you know.. in case your house burns down and you need to report it to the insurance company.  How long would it take you to just write down all the stuff you had?  Overwhelmed?  Well..  Remember to laugh.. none of this is judgement, it's awareness.  With awareness, I hope, comes the ability to laugh at ourselves. 

How much does the stuff in our lives really fill our spiritual selves?   Yes, we use that wok pan, and it's good to have the fondue maker just in case in 2018 we decide we have to have a fondue party.  Or that book about learning Chinese, or the 15 flower vases, or the 52" flatscreen TV that was the upgrade over the 48" flatscreen TV.   I won't even start with exercise equipment.  Now, despite all the stuff you still have,  think about all the stuff you still think you want, or need.  What would you put on your Christmas list?  What will fill the hole in your life right now?  As you do this, think about all the things you've bought in the last year (or the last week).  How much have those things contributed to your life?  Can you even remember them?

Like that monk with only a single saffron robe, two millenia ago there was a couple wandering the countryside with very little.  They had nothing but a donkey, a few supplies, and a baby to be born.  When Jesus was born, even the kings who came brought only things that could be easily carried, and I'm sure the last thing Mother Mary was thinking about was gold and incense.  She was giving birth - creating life - bringing a new light into the darkness.  She was giving a gift of life, and in doing so, was receiving the most precious gift of all - someone to love.  Even outside of the Christian story, this is the most powerful story in the world.  It is the story of giving life and learning the gifts of love.

Just as you took stock of all of your possessions, now take a moment and take stock of all of your moments of giving and receiving over the last year (or the last week).  How much has this contributed to your life?  The note you wrote to someone who was sad, or the prayer you prayed, or the time you volunteered your time for a friend, or a stranger - what has this brought to your life?  Be selfish - really ask yourself if it meant something to you personally and not just because "it was the right thing to do".  Compare, with the things on your Christmas lists, that smile on the face of a someone blessed by your gifts, the tears of grace as someone experiences the love and nurture my friend waiting for the toy shop experienced, or the joy you received from writing that thoughtful letter, or that time you spent with your grandmother, or your children, or somebody in a time of need.  

How many of those dollars you have given to charity would you like to get a refund on - how many hours spent with someone you love would you like back to do something else?  Compare the life where you did none of these things, with the life you actually lived.  How does this life of giving feel? This is what it means to be overwhelmed with, not the Gimmies, but "the Givies".  And I'm guessing it feels pretty good.

My prayer for each of you is that, at Christmas time, you are all left with an incurable case of "the Givies", because this will beat any deal that black Friday, or Macy's, or anyone else trying to sell you "Christmas", can possibly come up with.

Don't fill the holes in your life with anything less.