Where Will You Spend the New Year

Luke 2:41-52
Now his parents went up to Jerusalem every year for the feast of the Passover. When he was twelve, they went up as was customary for the festival. When the time was complete, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Believing him to be in the group of travelers, they went a day’s journey and then began to look for him among relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple seated in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and questioning them. All those who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.

Upon seeing him, they were astonished and his mother said to him, “Child, why have you done this to us? Look, your father and I have suffered great pain in searching for you.”

He said to them, “Why did you search for me? Didn’t you know that it was necessary for me to be in my father’s house?”

They did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and went to Nazareth and was subject to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and human beings.

When I was younger…so much younger (I’ve just had my birthday, can you tell?), I used to spend New Year’s Eve hidden away in my parent’s bedroom. For many years my folks would host a party on New Year’s Eve and it was an adult party. No kids allowed. So every year my sisters and I would be banished to the upstairs bedroom that had a television so that we could watch whatever movie and New Year’s celebration was on.

My mom tried to make it a special event. She let us have soda and whatever chips and dip they were serving downstairs. We were even allowed to come down at midnight when the ball dropped in Times Square. But we were no fools. We knew we were being shut out. However much fun we had upstairs, we just knew that the really important stuff was going on downstairs.

So it’s a traditional New Year’s Eve question for me: Where will I get to spend the New Year? Down where the important stuff is going on? Or far from the action, trying to pretend that nothing is really going on down there? That’s the question I want to ask with you today as we see this old year out and welcome in a new one. But I’m not really concerned at the moment with where you will be when the clock strikes 12 tonight. What I really want to wonder about is how and where we will spend the 525, 600 minutes that follow it.

When I was the director at the Wesley Foundation at UVA, for a long time we had a room with no furniture. It used to be the junk room with lots of stuff collected from years of use by college students. But then, shortly before I arrived, a group of students got together and cleared it out and put down blue carpet and painted the walls a light blue. For furnishings they threw in six blue pillows and a scented purple candle. They called it “The Blue Room.”

In the spring of 2000 we made that room the home for a small group we called Life 101. I had wanted to lead a small group that explored spiritual disciplines like prayer, fasting, journaling, communion, and acts of mercy. That was the framework for this group, but it became a whole lot more than that. Maybe you’ve discovered this if you’ve ever taken Disciple Bible Study or any sort of intensive small group study. Often the things you set out to study have a way of leading you into deeper questions.

That’s what happened in Life 101. At the end of each session I would introduce another spiritual discipline and then give everyone an assignment for the coming week. When we got back together our whole session would involve going around the circle to have everyone report back on how the week had been. Students would talk about their struggles with prayer or their joys in writing letters to significant people in their lives, but they would also talk about what it was like living on the UVA campus. They would talk about roommates who thought their participation in a religious group was pretty strange. They would talk about a friend who staggered in drunk for the umpteenth time that they were afraid had an alcohol problem. They would talk about relationships, schoolwork, and depression. They would talk about their families. It was a powerful group to be in.

But not all of them would have called themselves Christian. Most of them, yes. But I remember one student that I’ll call Sean. Sean grew up Christian and would claim that as his background, but he wasn’t sure what to call himself religiously. He had had a difficult life. Sean never talked a whole lot in Life 101. But he was always there. He was searching, and questioning, and though he didn’t claim any answers, he said that he kept coming because the questions we were exploring were the ones he needed to ask. Sean found a home in that small group and he made it a home for the other people in it who saw his searching as something holy.

I had a unique privilege as a campus minister. Before I went to Charlottesville I had served two churches that were continually asking, “Where are all the young people?” It’s a question churches everywhere are asking. Where are all the young people? A generation of church leaders is looking around and saying, “Where are the people who will take my place? Who’s going to be on the Trustees, the Church Council, the Pastor-Parish Relations Committee? Who’s going to pay the bills? Who’s going to come in and clean off the sidewalks on snowy winter mornings? Who’s going to mind the flower beds in the summer? We’re asking some of those questions here. Where are all those young people?”

That’s why I considered campus ministry a unique privilege, because I knew where they were and I get to work with them every day. Every day I got to work with students who are bright, energetic, talented, and caring. Every day I got to talk with them and see what they were interested in, read the Bible with them and hear what they saw in it, worship with them, and eat with them. And every day I saw students like Sean who sense that there is something about the Church that feels like home. Something important about the work it does. Something important about the hospitality it offers. Something important about the kind of questions it asks.

I’ve come to believe that it is NOT true that this generation of young adults has given up on the Church. It is NOT true that this generation doesn’t care about God and faith and morality. It is NOT true that this generation cares only about what they can buy or what they can own or what job they can occupy. This generation and many others in our society look at the Church, look at the United Methodist Church, look at Franktown Church and see something intriguing, something interesting, something inviting. They see this church and they say, “You know, some good things are happening over there. There’s a group of people who are involved in mission work, who support the arts, who believe in the power of prayer, who are active in leadership positions in the community, who care about children, who care about being decent, honest citizens—those folks over at Franktown are some really great folks. But these young people, these bright, active, energetic young adults are not yet ready to commit to this church. They’re not sure whether to put their trust or energy or time or resources into the church. They’re not sure why they should be a part of, much less a member of, this church because they’re wondering about one thing. And if we address this one thing they will perk up and listen, because they’re watching. They really are. The one thing they want to know is…What’s the big idea?

What’s the big idea, Franktown? I see that you’re doing some good and worthy things, but why? Why are you involved in the community? Why are you doing service work? Why do you work with children? Don’t schools do those things, too? Don’t Ruritans and Lions clubs do those things, too? What makes you different? What makes you unique? Why do you come to this place on Sunday mornings? Why do you sing these songs which sound so different from the songs I hear on the radio every day? Why do you pray? Why do you collect money to send all over the world? Why do you put up with a sermon? Why do you do these strange and wonderful things, people of Franktown Church? What’s the big idea?

You might be asking me the same question at this point. What is Alex up to? It’s Christmas. We should be talking about babies and shepherds and wise men still. Why now? Why today? What’s the big idea, Alex?

Well, Jesus is actually the big idea. The gospel lesson for today takes us right back to the only story we have from Jesus’ childhood. From his birth until his baptism as an adult the only episode from his life is this strange little tale that only Luke tells of his adventure in Jerusalem as a boy of twelve.

Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph made it a habit to travel from their home in Nazareth down to Jerusalem each year for the festival of the Passover. But they didn’t just hop into the family mini-van and toodle off on their own. Like many faithful Jews of the time they went in large groups of pilgrims, walking the long and difficult journey.

On trips like this it would be natural for children to travel with other children, with other members of the extended family. So it’s not a sign of parental neglect that Mary and Joseph went a whole day before they noticed that they hadn’t seen little Jesus running around since they left Jerusalem to go back home. They checked with their relatives, their friends – no sign of him. Then in horror they realize that they must have left him in Jerusalem.

So they hurry back to the city and after three days they finally find him, sitting in the Temple among the religious leaders, taking in every word, listening breathlessly, asking questions, and amazing them with his understanding.

His parents must have known that he was a unique child. With the angels and the shepherds and the other witnesses to his birth, how could they not have known? But Mary chastises him anyway, “Jesus, don’t you know we’ve been worried sick about you? We’ve been looking everywhere!”

Jesus responds, “Why did you have to look? Didn’t you know I would have to be in my father’s house?” It’s hard to look at your twelve-year-old son and understand that he has a life and a purpose and a destiny outside your family, even when you’ve been told that by Gabriel himself.

So they don’t understand. But we understand. Jesus had found his center and his purpose among the teachers in Jerusalem. He knew that the questions they were exploring were the most important questions of life. He was finding the meaning of his human existence in the interchange in the Temple. This was his home and his destiny. These questions were it.

Which is why I’m harping on the big idea. You see, in this story of the child Jesus we see an image of our own children and young people. Not that they have the same destiny and purpose as Jesus. No. Jesus was God and his story is unique. But like Jesus, who stayed put when he found the most essential stuff in the universe, when he found the big questions of life, our children and young people can be engaged by and often refuse to let go of the big questions that are the most important ones. They want to know. They REALLY want to know…what’s the big idea? Why bother with fluff when you want the real stuff? Why go through the motions of worship, fellowship dinners, and youth group if it’s not REALLY important? Why give your life to an institution that looks so much different from the things they’re being encouraged to want by advertisements, pop culture and political Pied Pipers? What is the big idea that drives this place, that drives our lives, that drives the universe? What is the big idea that makes what happens in here vital and alive and of ultimate importance? The thing that young people want to know from their elders is not how to adjust the thermostat for the Sunday School classrooms but why are we even in them in the first place! The thing they want to know is not where to find the acolyte’s matches but why we want to light the candles! The thing young people want to know from those of us who have professed our faith, joined the church, committed ourselves to Christ, pledged our loyalty with our prayers, our presence, our gifts and our service is: Why are you here?

Maybe we don’t know the answer to that question in words we’d be proud to share. But maybe that doesn’t matter. Maybe we think it’s up to professional preachers to do that kind of explaining. But maybe that’s not how Christ intended the division of labor to be in the Church. Maybe we wonder ourselves why we are here. And maybe THAT’S what our young people need to here.

I learned from my years in campus ministry that young people DO care what their elders have to say. But I also learned that what they want to hear is often from a deeper level than I am usually comfortable to share. They took me back to questions I had put on a shelf or that I assumed were long settled in my mind. But what I uncovered in myself was the realization that most of those questions aren’t settled and none of them are irrelevant. I realize that the deepest, most basic questions of my life keep getting asked in new and different ways time after time after time. What is my purpose? What can I affirm about life? What is the end and goal of life? How can this world be transformed? Why does God make a difference? Who is this Jesus that I talk about? Who am I and where am I going and what shall I be when I get there?

Sean graduated right at the end of that spring semester almost seven years ago when we had that small group. He went on to work for an environmental group in Massachusetts and then went to restore houses in the Tenderloin District of San Francisco. Then he traveled across Africa with his brother for six months. But about once a year he would stop by to see me. We would always go out to the local Mexican restaurant to catch up. He’s still searching for answers and he still thinks the Church is intriguing. And the role I play with him and with all the wonderful young people I worked with there and here is one of the most important roles I have ever played. I get to be an elder and a companion. I get to talk about why I’m a Christian and what I still wonder about. And I get to listen in wonder as a young life gets played out and worked out in God’s own time.

Now here’s where the New Year gets personal. There are also young people in your life. Maybe they’re children, maybe they’re grandchildren, maybe they’re people you work with, maybe they’re the children you’ll only meet if you put yourself in the places where they are. Maybe you are a young person and you can tell me if I’ve been right about this. But you’ve also got young people in your life and you can be an elder, too. It’s never too early to start. But what these young folks need to know from you is why you are the way you are, why you go to church, and what your big questions still are.

Like Jesus’ parents we are searching for our children. But maybe we’re searching in the wrong places. Maybe our young people are not to be found in filling out the slots on a nominations form. Maybe we’ll find them by going to the questions that got all of us here in the first place. They want to know what the big idea is. What are we going to say?

My dream is that we will spend this New Year together. All of us, young and old. My dream is that we will not settle for entertaining ourselves on the edges of what’s truly important. Don’t settle for eating cheese dip in front of the TV upstairs. Make sure that you’re downstairs where the action is, where the ball drops and where songs are sung and people kiss and dance and celebrate that God is still good and then ask themselves all over again what another year means. Let’s spend the New Year together in God’s presence.

Thanks be to God who came among us as a child, who told us that the kingdom of heaven is for those who will enter as a child, and who said that a little child shall lead them. Thanks be to God.