Are you the one or should I look for another?

Homily for the 3rd Sunday of Advent

When John the Baptist heard in prison of the works of the Christ,
he sent his disciples to Jesus with this question,
“Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” (Mt 11)

~

In today’s Gospel, John the Baptist sends his disciples to Jesus with a searching question:  “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

John asks this question from prison.  He’s about to be executed.  He was being held captive by cruel Herod and the oppressive powers of his palace guards.  He might be filled with doubts, wondering if all of his preaching on the kingdom was a waste of time.  He might be filled with despair as he looks upon a hopeless situation.  From this tragic imprisonment, he sent messengers with a question that echoed the cry in his heart, “Are you the one? Or should I look for another.”  Are you the one that can make sense of my life. 

It is the question we ask when life feels hopeless, when the need is urgent, when circumstances become unbearable, when innocent people suffer, and when there is no where else to turn.

To the desperate question of John, Jesus responds with a gentle invitation.  Look for the signs:  What do you see?  What do you hear?  In other words, don’t look to the despair, but look instead for the signs.  “The blind see… the lame walk… lepers are cleansed… the dead are raised… the poor have the good news proclaimed to them.”  Look for the signs that even in the darkness, the Kingdom of God draws near.

~

A few days ago, I had my own version of that Gospel scene at a homeless shelter.

Carolyn is 61 years old, she barely weighs 75 pounds, walks with a walker, and was just released from the hospital after a stroke.  She had no place to sleep.  And the temperature that night was going to plummet to thirty degrees.

She looked at me and said words filled with panic and desperation:  “I can’t sleep outside again tonight.”

I called the Salvation Army shelter.  There was no availability.  I checked for a white flag night, which means they open up the floors to anyone when there is extreme cold.  There was no white flag.  It wasn’t cold enough. 

I looked at this frail, desperate woman and saw no solution.  I felt helpless.  I gave her a full-length trench coat and a blanket.  That was the best I could do.

At that moment, I shared the despair of John the Baptist.  “Lord… are you the One?  Are you paying attention?  Because this problem feels impossible.  And I feel powerless.”

And then—just like those small signs Jesus pointed to—a flicker of hope appeared.

Pastor John, the Executive Director, had a different contact at the Salvation Army.  He made a call and learned they might have some top bunks at the Salvation Army.  A top bunk wouldn’t be ideal for someone who could barely stand.  But it was something.  A possibility.

I told her the plan. I would shuttle her to the shelter, and she would check to see if they have any top bunks.  She was given hope.  She was so grateful she was moved to tears. 

Later, I transported her and others to the shelter.  As she got off, she clung to that fragile thread of hope:  “They might have a top bunk,” she said over and over again. 

Once off the van, she asked another homeless woman, “If it’s a top bunk, will you help me up?” And the woman answered, “Of course.”  Then after seeing how frail she was, the women added a little commentary, “But honey… you don’t need to be sleeping in no top bunk.”

I don’t know how it all worked out.  But I drove away trusting that God’s goodness moves through people, and firmly believing that Carolyn would not be sleeping on the street that night.

~

Jesus tells the disciples to look for signs.  He didn’t say to look for a world where everything fixed or there is a solution to every problem.  He said to look for the signs that God is at work even in the messy and broken places of our life.

Is Carolyn’s story neat and tidy?  No.  It’s uncertain.  It’s incomplete.  It’s unsettling.

Advent faith isn’t the faith that says, “Everything is fine.”  Advent faith says, “Even in a cold, dark night, God is on the way.  Even when I see no solution, grace is on the move. 

Advent faith says, “Even when the world gives only top bunks, God gives people who will lift you up into them.”

~

Advent invites us to pay attention to the small signs that say the Messiah is near.  It teaches us that even though we can’t fix everything, we can still be:

• the eyes that see the forgotten,
• the hands that steady the weak,
• the hope that says, “God is not done… hold on.  There’s more to come.”

And because Christ has come, and Christ is coming still, we can trust that no one – not even a fragile 61-year-old woman on a freezing night – is abandoned by God.