Hidden Promise: A Sermon on Luke 21:25-36

A few months ago, I met my family for a family vacation at Disneyland. Growing up in California, Disneyland was and is a regular family vacation spot for us. My parents both grew up in southern California, and have memories of going to the park with their families as children. So even though my brother and I are both adults now, every few years or so the four, now five of us counting my soon-to-be sister-in-law, make the trek down to the House of Mouse.

One of my favorite things about Disneyland is the attention to detail. This trip we spent the whole time on a search for hidden Mickeys. Of course, Mickey Mouse and other Disney characters are all over the park, but scattered throughout the park are what are known as “Hidden Mickeys,” references to Mickey and other characters sprinkled in places they don’t necessarily belong. If you don’t know what to look for, you can walk by these and never notice them. But as you start to train your eyes, these secret surprises pop out everywhere, a gift for those who’ve learned to pay attention. I’ve brought pictures of a couple of my favorite examples in to show you. Here’s one from the floor of the parking garage. Most of the garage is swept semi-circles, like you would expect in a cement garage floor. But in one spot, the pattern changes to form the characteristic head with two ears.

This one is the car from Space Mountain, with Mickey formed out of the speakers in the center console.

The interesting thing about training your eyes to see these Mickeys is you start to pick them out everywhere, even after you’ve left the park. This last picture is not from Disneyland at all, it’s a picture of my breakfast a couple weekends ago after my brother and I started texting each other pictures of Mickeys we made out of pancakes.

I got to thinking about these hidden Mickeys as I was pondering this text that might at first seem like such a strange choice for the beginning of this Advent season. This morning we pick up where we left off a few weeks ago, with Jesus’ strange apocalyptic warning to his disciples in the days before his crucifixion. Even though it’s the first Sunday of Advent and the first Sunday of this new church year, it’s important to remember how we got here. Remember all throughout the summer as we were journeying with Jesus to Jerusalem as he taught his disciples about what it meant to follow him. Remember the miraculous healings, the wonder of fish and bread for thousands, the casting out of demons. Remember the lessons taught on the road about how the last will be first and the first will be last. Remember the welcoming of children, the blessing of widows, the raising up of the lowly. All throughout that long journey, Jesus was teaching his disciples to see the kingdom of God in unexpected places, to see abundance in scarcity, and hope in despair. When the disciples saw a person in need, Jesus taught them to see a brother or sister in Christ. When the disciples saw not enough to go around, Jesus taught them to see how sharing what they had meant everyone had enough. This passage we read this morning is one of Jesus’ very last opportunities to drill this message into their heads, that life and hope and love and promise can be found anywhere, everywhere, even in the midst of the most dire situations, if your eyes are only trained to see it. So when you see wars and rumors of war, signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, when you feel foreboding in the world and the powers of heaven are shaken, you do not have to be afraid. You can stand up and raise up your heads, because in there, if you know what to look for, you will see God.

Jesus did this because he knew what was coming. He knew that soon, the disciples would see him die. They would see him handed over to the authorities. They would see him mocked, beaten, and hung on a cross. They would watch him die and would see him buried. And it would not look like life, it would not look like hope, it would not look like promise, it would not look like the kingdom of God come near. Remember, we read this text after the crucifixion, this text is not a prediction of our future, it is a proof of our past. Remember what came next for the disciples. There were signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars on Good Friday at noon when darkness came over the land until three in the afternoon. There was foreboding in the world, as they stood at the cross and watched their Lord and teacher take his last breath. And in that final breath the powers of heaven were shaken as the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom, and in that moment, just as Jesus said it would, our redemption had drawn near. The greatest wonder the world has ever known was hidden in an innocent man’s death on a wooden cross. For those who didn’t know what to look for, it looked like foolishness. But for those of us whose eyes have been training to see, it is the wonder and the power and the glory of God.

Jesus did not begin training our eyes to see wonder in unexpected places during his ministry, it started at his very birth. Remember the incredible unexpectedness of the event that is about to take place. An elderly woman, barren and past child-bearing age, will conceive and bear a son. She will name the boy John, and he will grow to be a wild man who will preach in the wilderness and invite us to prepare the way of the Lord. But before he is born, he will leap in the womb at the approach of another unexpected mother, an unmarried teenager from small town, backwoods Nazareth who bears within her Christ the Lord. The Christ child will be born not in a palace of gold, but in a stable of animals, wrapped in clothes and laid in a manger. His attendants will be sheep and cattle and wayward shepherds. If you did not know what you were looking for, this is not where you would see glory, this is not where you would see life, this is not where you would see hope. If you did not know what you were looking for, you would see in this scene poverty and weakness, if you even saw this scene at all. If you did not know what you were looking for, it is more than likely that this scene would be invisible to you completely; for who pays attention to poor, unwed mothers who sleep in stables or wild men eating locusts and spouting nonsense when the fate of the world is at stake.

But we do not miss the holy in this scene because we have been taught to pay attention. Our eyes have been opened to the wonder of the Word made flesh. Our ears have been cleared to hear the angels sing hosanna to the Son of David. Our hearts have been formed for the Christ child whose birth we anticipate. We see these things because we know what we are looking for. Because throughout the years, God has been forming us, molding us, shaping us, teaching us to see the beautiful scene that is unfolding before us. The glory of God is not hidden to us, because we have been taught how to see.

The clarity God has shown us does not just shape how we see the Christmas story, it shapes how we see the world. Because God has taught us how to see, Christ is made visible in unexpected places in our world today. Just like Jesus showed the disciples, we see brothers and sisters in Christ in the poor and hurting and broken in our own communities. Where the world sees scarcity and not enough to go around, we see the amazing abundance of God in sharing what we have so that all have enough. In bread and wine, we see Christ present in our midst. In the dark, cold of winter, we see the promise of spring waiting under the snow. This Advent we enter into a time of practice. We practice seeing God’s surprising mystery unfolding around us. We practice looking for the subtle signs of Christ in our midst. We practice looking for the Word made flesh who still dwells among us. We practice, because God has shaped our eyes to see, and we can never see things the same again. Thanks be to God. Amen.