Psalm 2 on January 5th, 2025
Above is audio of the sermon pulled from the video and amplified.
Below is transcript pulled from the video and formatted by artificial intelligence. There may be inconsistencies or errors.
Boy, they sure grow up fast, don't they? And not only am I reminded of that nearly every day by my memories that pop up on social media, but now Jesus is already 12. And it seems like just a couple of weeks ago he was lying in a manger and swaddling clues. But today, Jesus and his family trek to Jerusalem for the Passover as they did every year.
The caravan starts heading home and Jesus is nowhere to be found. No biggie, Mary and Joseph think. He's probably just hanging around the camels with Bartholomew from down the street. And after the day's journey, the parents look around and they still can't find Jesus anywhere. So they head back to Jerusalem to look for him. And finally, after three days, they find him in the temple with teachers and scribes. And then, as any parent would, Mary asks, why did you put us through this? And Jesus replies, half question, half statement, didn't you know I was going to be in my father's house?
So what does this story mean for us? What does it tell us? What insight do we get from this piece of scripture that contains no miracles, no healings, no great words of wisdom? Is this story meant to comfort parents of preteens, letting them know that even the Son of God put his earthly parents through this time of independence and rebellion? Or is this story supposed to be more relatable to those who are about 12 years old, showing them that even in the first century, parents didn't understand anything.
Maybe it's not either of those, but is there something that we can glean from this text? And to find out, it's usually a good thing to do, to pay attention to what Jesus says and does in the lesson. And here, basically, all Jesus says and does is, did you not know that I must be in my father's house? For Jesus, his father's house was where he must be, where he needed to be, to learn, to be fed spiritually, to be with his father in heaven. He felt comfortable there to say it differently. His father's house was like home.
And they got me thinking about what makes a home. So I googled Pithy catch phrases. Home is where you hang your hat. No, a more updated version could be home is where your Wi-Fi connects automatically. Or take your favorite object. Love, family, hearts, cats, whatever. That is what makes a house a home. But whatever makes it, we all know there is no place like home. None of those were all that much help.
So I started thinking a little more practically about home. For me, South Carolina is home. But is it Merville Beach or is it Lexington, where my parents are? And maybe some of you are in the same conundrum. When you leave here today, you'll go home, but also many of you went home for Christmas. So home might not be a place. There must be more to it than that. There must be people, right? Home is where family is. Grandparents, parents, sisters, brothers, kids, grandkids. People we love and we care about. There are long standing relationships in a place where I am familiar, where I know what is going to be on the dinner table. And I gather with those people to share a meal and a story, to reminisce and have some wine. Maybe sing a song around the piano to hug and to laugh and to be together.
But some people don't have that. Some people have never known a home in that sense. Or what used to be home no longer is. Because the family or the food or the dynamic has changed. Maybe home is just a short-lived temporary respite before we're ready to head on out and carry on with our own lives. Go back to the ways that we like to do things. Maybe it's a little bit of everything.
But home, at its best, is a place where we are loved for who we are. And not just even if, even if we're in our PJs, even if we sleep late, even if we burn the pot roast. But deeper than that, home is where we are loved for who we are, with our quirks, with our personality, with our gifts, with who we are. Home is where we are deeply loved.
And into our world, this child who goes to Jerusalem for Passover, this child in the temple is at home with God. Jesus, even at this age, knows that God gives that kind of deep love. And over time, Jesus increased in wisdom, men and years, and in divine and human favor. And then decades later, he'd go back to Jerusalem for Passover. He'll be lost for three days to death. And then, then Jesus is truly home with resurrection life, with love that conquers death, with an eternal home, and an everlasting relationship with God.
And that is the home that Jesus gives to us. In this home, we have relationship with God. We have love and care from God. God loves you for who you are, with your quirks, personality, and gifts. God loves you for who you are, with God you are deeply loved, you are home.
And I hope for most of you that this place reflects and shares that love of God. That you know that you are welcomed and loved and comfortable. And maybe this sanctuary of St. Philip is a place where nothing bothers. There's no stress, things just are, and have been for days, weeks, or even decades. You know, kind of like home.
And that's going to change. We have quite the undertaking with some renovations on the horizon. It'll make this space better. That stained glass is going to be prominent. Stairs and tight aisles are going to go away. And they'll be room for impromptu fellowship and inquire members. And you, I mean, so many good things are going to happen in this place that we call home for our faith.
And if you've been along for any length of time, along in the process, I don't think I need to convince you that the renovated space will be better for worship and welcome. That is pretty apparent. So what I think I need to say is that despite the changes, things won't change. It will still be home. It will still have those long standing relationships in a place where we will be familiar. People who are like our grandparents, our sisters, brothers, grandkids, people we care about will be here. We know what's going to be on the dinner table. And we'll still gather with those people to share a meal and end the story. We'll reminisce and have some wine, we'll sing songs around pianos and organs. And we will have room to chat and laugh and be together.
And we're going to be able to do that all better. We'll have more seats at the table, so to speak. We will welcome more, expand to worship and welcome and have opportunities for more hugs if that's your thing or long distance head nods. The space will be new and beautiful and helpful in worship and ministry. And it will be the same story, the same meal, the same love.
Because home is more than a roof, more than a place. For us, home is because of God who gathers us in to be forgiven and fed, who gives us great wonderful good things in the waters of baptism, who welcomes us always, who defeats the power of sin and death in Jesus Christ and who welcomes us to our eternal home. No matter where we go, no matter what changes, God provides us with an eternal home where we are deeply love for who we are. It is not about a place or a roof, but about Jesus, who embodies love and welcomes us always. And in his resurrection, we see that God's love conquers everything, lost fear, even death. And through it all, God always calls us home.