My Master Will Come Again

Sermon from November 28, 2010
(Advent 1 – Year A)
Matthew 24: 36-44
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Waco, Texas

I must tell you:
I don’t like to leave my little dog behind at home.
You see, I have a miniature dachshund that has a little bit of beagle in him, which makes him the cutest dog in the world.
Our dog is named Grady, and I hate to leave him behind at home.

Sometimes we have to leave Grady behind for short periods of time, like when we leave to go out to dinner or when we leave to run to HEB.
And whenever we leave for short periods of time, Grady runs to his little bed, which is up on a window seat.
His bed looks out of the window onto our driveway.
And when we drive away, we see Grady in his bed, peering out of the window, looking at us with sad and longing eyes, waiting for our return.
And when we come back from a short trip, Grady is still sitting in his bed, peering out of the window onto the driveway, anxiously awaiting our return.

Yet sometimes we have to leave Grady behind for long periods of time, like when we leave to go for a week at summer camp or when we leave to go on vacation in Florida.
When we leave for long periods of time, we have a sitter who comes in to feed and walk Grady every day.
Yet whenever we leave for long periods of time, Grady runs to his little bed up on the window seat.
He looks out of the window onto our driveway, with sad and longing eyes, waiting for our return.
And when we come back from a long, long trip, Grady is still sitting in his bed, peering out of the window onto the driveway, anxiously awaiting our return.

I don’t like to leave my little dog behind at home.
For Grady has no idea when we leave, if we are going to be gone for 5 minutes or 5 hours or 5 days.
Yet it doesn’t matter to our dog how long we will be gone.
Our dog waits.
He waits, peering out at the driveway, perched on the window seat.
He does not know the day or the hour that we will come home.
Our dog simply knows that we will return.

Jesus says to us, his followers:
“About that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son…
For you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.
Therefore you…must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

I find it interesting in today’s Gospel passage that the writer of Matthew uses two different Greek words for the verb: ‘to know.’
One of these verbs is ginosko, which means to know, to understand because we have learned this knowledge through books or through school.
We know that 8 times 8 equals 64 because we learned that fact in school.

Yet the other Greek verb that means ‘to know’ is oida.
Oida means to know, but not because you have learned in it in school.
Rather, we know something, in our gut, because we have experienced it.

For example, I know that after all of the autumn leaves fall off of the trees and into my swimming pool, I know that fresh, new green leaves will return in the spring.
I know that green leaves return because I have experienced it.
I know that when Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade nears its ending, I know that Santa Claus will be on that last float and the holiday season will be in full swing.
I know that Santa Claus will return to Macy’s, not because I was taught it in school, but because I have experienced it.
My dog knows that when our car disappears out the driveway, my dog knows that we will return, because he has experienced it.

And I know, deep in my gut, that Jesus, will return at an unexpected hour.
I know that Jesus is coming, not because of book knowledge.
I know that Jesus will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, because I have experienced it.

We have entered into a new season of the church year.
We have entered into Advent.
The word Advent means ‘to come.’
And during Advent, we remember three ways in which the Lord Jesus comes.
First: The coming of Jesus as a baby in a manger at Bethlehem.
Second: The coming of Jesus again, at an unexpected hour.
Third: The coming of Jesus into our heart, every single day.

Therefore, I believe that if we can recognize that Jesus comes again to us, each and every day in the short-term,
Then we can know, in our gut, that Jesus will come again, in the long-term, at an unexpected hour.

And Jesus tells us that he comes to you and to me each and every day, through the hungry, the thirsty, the sick, the lonely, the unloved and the under-loved.

Last Monday, I had finished my workout.
As I was leaving the gym, I purchased a protein drink at the counter.
The man behind the counter asked me.
“So, are you ready for the holidays?”
I just mumbled some reply to his question.
Then the man behind the counter continued,
“You know, it seems that the Christmas stuff starts earlier and earlier each year.
Yet I don’t think it all has to do with commercialism.
I think that people are hungry.
I think that people are hungry for something spiritual.
I don’t know about you, but I see a spiritual awakening happening in people.
What do you think?”

I could tell that this man behind the counter was hungry.
This man was Jesus, talking about a spiritual awakening that he was waiting for, at an unexpected hour.
And this encounter gave me an opportunity, without telling him that I am a priest, to talk about the season of Advent and about how at St. Alban’s we wait for four weeks for Christmas.
It gave me an opportunity to talk about how we worship fully for four weeks, focusing on the spiritual awakening of this holiday season.
This short conversation I had with this spiritually hungry and curious man at the gym gave me an opportunity to meet Jesus, in the short-term.

Therefore, I know, I have experienced, that if Jesus can come to me through a man who works at Gold’s Gym,
Then, I know, in my gut, that in the long-term, Jesus Christ will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.

However, I must tell you:
I don’t like to leave my little dog behind at home.
Yet when I am gone for a very, very long time, my dog knows that I will return.
My dog knows that I will come again because he has experienced, he knows, deep in his gut, that I return to him, day by day by day.

And so we see Jesus coming to us in the short-term,
In the face of the barber who cuts your hair whose wife just left him,
In the face of the grandmother who works the cash register at Wal-Mart,
In the face of the man who just took your parking place at the mall.
We peer out onto the driveway from our window seat, looking longingly through scripture and through prayer to see his face.
We wait and we wait…
And then, we see the headlights coming up the driveway, arriving home.

For I know, deep in my gut, that at an unexpected hour, my Master will come again.

AMEN.