Everything was going so well. Paul, his friend Barnabas, and his companion John Mark (John was his Jewish name, Mark his gentile name) were leading so many people to the Lord. This was the beginning of their missionary journey and things couldn’t be going better.

Acts 13:13 is a tribute to Barnabas–even though his name is not mentioned. It was Barnabas who had set out as the leader of this expedition. But now it is Paul and Barnabas. Paul has assumed the leadership of the expediton, and, there is no evidence, that Barnabas complains. Remember, Barnabas had first sponsored Paul in the Jerusalem Church–and now Barnabas is playing second fiddle to Paul!
But Barnabas really shines later–when we read Acts 15–because he was willing to give John Mark a second chance.

Paul and Barnabas invited John Mark to join them on a new missionary journey–a great privilege. But, suddenly, for no apparent reason, John Mark abandons his friends and returns home.

We do not know why. Perhaps Mark resented the deposition of Barnabas from the leadership; perhaps he was afraid of the proposed journey up into the platear where Antioch in Pisidia stood, for it was a dangerous roads; perhaps he was homesick. In any event, he was a man who failed his God and his fellow Christians.

Whatever the reason or combination of reasons for John Mark’s failure, Paul thought Mark’s failure was serious enough to disqualify him from accompanying them on the next missionary trip (15:38). Barnabas, though, wanted to take John Mark and Paul and Barnabas went their separate over this issue.

Then Mark vanishes from history, although tradition says he went to Alexandria, Egypt, and founded the church there. When he re-emerges 20 years later he is the man who has redeemed himself. Paul, wriitng to the Colossians from prison in Rome, tells them to recieve Mark if he comes to them. “Get Mark and bring him with you, for he is very useful in serving me” (2 Timothy 4:11). So, the man who was once a deserter became the writer of a Gospel and the person Paul wanted with him at the end of his life.

First Church today has great need for individuals who will serve as encouragers of those who fail. John Mark needed to repent–confess his sin and change his direction–but then he needed to be forgiven and encouraged.

Simple encouragement is not a difficult job. It is kindness shown at the right time when someone is in the grip of depression; it is talking with a friend who has marital problems. It is taking time to care. It is being Jesus Christ to someone in need. In Shakespeare’s tragedies–like Hamlet–at the critical moment, the characters do not express self-giving, sacrificial, forgiving love. In the comedies–like The Tempest–love and forgivenss are present. Can you take a tragedy in our church and give it a happy ending? I leave that challenge to you, First Church.

Come, let us glorify the Lord and praise His name forever . . .

I want to suggest something so obvious, but so radical, that it seems silly for me to say it: God is always with us: God is everywhere: God can do all things. And if I can convince you that this is true, I want to show you through the Christmas Story that this omniscient, omnipresent God loves us too.
We wonder, I fear, that it is true–that God is real. That He is here among us. I mean, we can believe in the stock market, in the Johnstown Chiefs (although that might be stretching it a bit!), in post-Christmas sales. But . . . can we believe that God is right here, right now, in our midst, right next to you . . . I hope, even, in our hearts . . . Can we believe this?

Statisticians tell us that almost 75% of us believe in miracles and more that that believe that there is a God. But how many of us live our lives as though God knew everything that we were doing, thinking, saying? I bet if we felt this way our actions and words would probably change!

I know that the generation of which Joseph and Mary were a part no doubt wondered if there was a God at all. That is, I fear, a perennial question. As he watched his people being persecuted by enemy armies, Gideon wondered where God had gone. David, as he grieved over the death of his son Absalom, wondered if God really cared. Thomas Jefferson, the author of the Declaration of Independence, sincerely held that God was no longer present or concerned about the world that He had created; that He had placed the world in the universe as a clock and backed off to let things happen according to natural law. The great Colonial Awakening preacher Jonathan Edward shared genuine concern that God was still active in his world. Or, at least, he lamented that no one seemed to act like it!

The great English Christian apologist, C.S. Lewis, when his cherished wife Joy Davidman died, wished that God was not so present! Listen to Lewis–remember this is a man who loved Jesus Christ with all his heart.

. . . where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims on you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is in vain and what do you find? . . . Silence. . . There are no lights in the window.

Are there no lights in the window? Have you given up on God?

Surely the generation in our Gospel lesson had reason to give up, to lose hope. I mean, why not? When is the last time God had done anything for them? From their perspective, the hated Romans had subjected God’s people to unthinkable indignities . . . and no end in sight. Where was God? Where was the light?

This generation, as our own, echoing the words of C.S. Lewis, “Not that I am thinking that there is no God . . . the real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him.” How is God doing in your book? Do you still believe in Him?

How near is God? As near as one born as we were born, albeit in a stable among most primitive conditions. As near as one who drinks a cup of wine and announces a new Way, a new Life, a new Hope. As near as one who died a horrible death on the cross–because He loved me. And then arose from the grave . . . He is here.

He came with singing angels, dirty shepherds, glowing Wise Men. He came to Mary and Joseph–hardly older than many of the children in this place. He came. He is. He lives. Perhaps tonight, my friends, you can discover again, for yourself, God’s inescapable nearness . . . As we light our candles together, rededicate yourself to His purposes. Amen

Paul understands that theology cannot just be reduced to the sociology of knowledge. We can use the sociology of knowledge as a critical tool for helping us understand truth. But biblical truth is always transcendent.

When is loss gain? When we surrender our control and our search for security in tangible things, and we discover that trusting in God and God’s design is ultimately more satisfying.

As a historian I understand and firmly believe that human history is always reconstructed, it is never created. When someone gives me a theory of history–including his own– I ask what evidence does the person marshall to build his case. History is always reconstructed from evidence.

But what Paul is telling us that Salvation is out of history. That it is really something new. Something is created that was not here. A New Birth. And that is worth more than all the knowledge, money, or prestige in the whole world.

As I consider, and my past, I understand now why Gals. 2:20 has been such a strong theme of my life: for it is at the cross where I will find my essence of being. “I am crucified with Christ and yet I live . . .” I am forever captured in this paradox . . .

These hard days, then, are ok. Because long ago–thirty-seven years ago–I made a decision to make Christ Lord of my life. And, from that time until now, I have turned my eyes to glory! He is faithful, and so very good, this God we serve! I thank God for these last five years that I have served you as pastor. I would not change a thing; and even if I knew all this would happen, I would still come. I would come for all the people whose lives were touched by my ministry. I would come for all the good things that have happened in my life and my family’s life. We all have grown so much!

Come, let us glorify our Lord together!