Slackers

Text: Zephaniah 3:14-20

It seems that a confluence of factors has put the stress-o-meter off the scale. I know that because I can see stress in your faces and the faces of just about everyone I know. I hear it in your voices and the voices of others. I see it in your lives and the lives of others.

The stress-o-meter rises whenever there is something to stress about. And the stress-o-meter tells me that we are in a tight spot. There is way too much to worry about. Even if nothing worrisome is happening in your own life, you might worry about things happening to the world: wars and genocide—Iraq, Palestine, Sudan; the 40 million people living with AIDS; the spread of nuclear weapons; individuals blowing themselves and other people up; oppression and slavery; melting ice caps. These things crank up the stress-o-meter a couple of notches.

But I’d bet that it is stress closer to home—closer to our individual selves—that is wearing us down the most. It is the usual stuff, I’m sure. Papers and projects due, long nights at the office; looking for a job or to get out of a job that gives you the creeps. Moving from one house to a new one; or from one town to a new one. Trying to find a good relationship or get out of a bad one. Caring for a cranky child or a cranky parent. Seeing people we love change in weird ways and wondering how to deal with that.

It is not like these things are new, really. In the Gospel reading, people ask Jesus what they should do to change their lives. And Jesus speaks to them about things that are on their minds. Having the basics for life: clothing, food. Trying to be a good person. Trying to do an excellent job.

Yet knowing that people are and have been in the same boat doesn’t help. The total of all the items on our lists can be impossible to deal with, and, God knows, the burden of all our chores and worries takes way too much energy to bear and doesn’t leave us much for joy, which is the word for today, this third Advent Sunday.

But it is not the quantity of things by itself that stresses us. I don’t stress in anticipation of doing something well, or even doing it OK. So say I’m signed up to make a birthday cake for a friend’s party. If I think I can do that easily, or that if I can’t it doesn’t matter much, or that I can accomplish the same goal by doing something else (like buying a cake), that’s one thing.

But if I think I’m going to mess up, that’s something else. That’s stress. We stress about things when we are afraid we are going to mess up, or might. When we are afraid that if we can’t or don’t come through something bad will happen to us or to people we love or people who count on us. It is not the work. It is not the prospect of the doing itself, it is the fear that we might do it badly. It is that feeling that wakes us up at 5:30 in the morning. That things will go wrong. When we fear we might be bad.

At the center of Christianity is the resurrection of Jesus. The meaning of the resurrection spreads widely throughout the teachings and life of Christian faith. One of the corollaries of the resurrection is that God will make all things new. That what seems to be the end is not, and that we are not condemned by our past. That a way has been made to the future that is different from the past. In the adventure of God, the most horrible thing can butt right up against the more wonderful thing.

And another corollary of the resurrection is that forgiveness is a part of everything that happens between us and God. That God is not only willing to forgive us but that God fervently desires to.

We use the word “forgiveness” so often that we might mistake its power. It means let off the hook, in a big way. Imagine you are on trial for a major crime. Life in prison. Then imagine the verdict is announced: acquitted! That’s like being forgiven. Imagine you have a lump or a sore, and you are afraid that means an invasive cancer. Then imagine the diagnoses is announced: benign! That’s like being forgiven.

The book of Zephaniah from which we heard this morning has only three chapters. The first two are a rant about how bad Judah and its neighbors have been and what jerks they are and how things are destined for a bad end. But then, in the last verses of the book, God acquits the people. The Lord takes away all judgments against them, it says. So “sing aloud, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart.” All their burdens—the lame and the outcast will be saved, the prophets says—will be lifted. The Lord will rejoice over them and be glad.

God forgives us not only because God is good, it seems, but because God is made glad by forgiving us. God is made glad by seeing God’s people—that means you and me—seeing God’s people be joyful.

God will forgive us for the things that we mess up. It is not our job nor are we able to get everything right. Maybe we are overly responsible. (A little proud, even, hesitant to leave things in the hands of others or the hand of God.) You know in advance that God will forgive you. Perhaps you could know in advance that you will forgive yourself if you mess up. Even if you make mistakes, get it wrong, even really wrong. God cut Israel a little slack, and Israel messed up pretty bad. You know that God will cut you a little slack, no matter how much you mess up. Perhaps, knowing that, you can cut yourself a little slack, too. It’s okay. It’s all right.

I’m not saying this is simple to do. I’m not saying that things we do are not important, even really important. (Though not eternally important.) I’m not encouraging people to forsake their duties and commitments or to become cynical about them. God does not say to Israel, “who cares? Not a big deal, guys.” God does say, “It would make me glad to see you full of joy.”

No one likes to see you wake up at 5:30 in the morning full of worries. Not even God.

One way to think about this is: if God will forgive you when you mess up, who are you to dispute God’s judgment? Another way is: if God wants you to have a little fun, maybe you should.

The prophet tells us that God rejoices in our joy. God brings us home, says Zephaniah, and God “will renew you in his love. He will exult over you with loud singing, as on a day of festival.” Like today.