A little over a decade ago Kathi and I decided, after six years of dating, and five years of marriage, that we’d like to start a family. We’d earned our college degrees, had decent paying jobs, owned our home, and had paid down our debts. Practically speaking we were ready to get pregnant.

Besides, we’d already tested our parenting skills on two unsuspecting canine kids, Salsa and Chips. Our 10-pound terriers seemed fairly well adjusted, they ran and played and ate and drank and cuddled on the couch just fine. Heck, after growing up a bit they even stopped peeing on our floors. We were really happy about that. We took this success as a good sign house-training human kids just might be in our wheelhouse too.

Planning
So we decided to start trying. As with many couples getting pregnant wasn’t as easy as we’d assumed. It took a couple of years, a couple of miscarriages, and the help of a fertility clinic before our pregnancy planets aligned.

To help stack the deck we meticulously followed the doctor-ordered prenatal schedule, making sure we adhered to their medical wisdom as best we could.

We read and studied the book it seems everyone gets these days, What to Expect When You’re Expecting. We researched what baby items to buy, combed through product reviews, figured out what to purchase new, and what to buy gently used.

We nicknamed our in utero firstborn “Bean”, a reference to her size at six weeks. We excitedly designed the nursery. My home office transformed: out with the desk, computer and video game calendars, in with the crib, stuffed animals and changing table. Not wanting to know gender we painted Bean’s room the color of Cantaloupe, and settled on a Winnie the Pooh motif.

The go-bag, the hospital, the doctor, the birthing plan – natural, no meds – we precisely defined it all. Kathi is crazy tough, her pain tolerance infinitely more than mine. Which probably explains her ability to put up with yours truly. A story for another time ?
But for all our planning Bean’s birth didn’t go as expected.

Fear and Joy
At 40 weeks the doctor encouraged us to check into the hospital that night. Even more, our doctor was heading out on vacation, we learned, leaving her todos to someone we barely knew. After an overnight of intense pain, and no sleep, Kathi opted for pain meds. We soon found out why – a medical complication forced us to forgo natural childbirth. I watched as Kathi was carted off for an emergency C-section, and found myself worrying about what would happen to my wife and our unborn child.

Birthing plans now dashed, our hopes, dreams, and fears – especially our fears at this point – were all now in the hands of another. I’ve never been as excited, or as terrified, as in those minutes spent waiting to hear the fate of the two people on this planet I loved the most.

This story has a happy ending, really more of a happy beginning. Hannah joined our family the morning of March 10, 2010, full of life and health. As I first held her, looking down at that tiny, peaceful face, and over at my exhausted yet joy-filled wife, I realized something.

None of the planning for how we imagined that day would unfold really mattered. The fears, anxieties and worry that had consumed us were suddenly gone.

What mattered most was sleeping in my arms.

I share this story, of our first child, not because it’s anything special, but because it’s downright normal. The planning, the fears, the joys, it’s all part and parcel of how parents go about welcoming a child into the world.

This next pregnancy story is decidedly abnormal, for so many reasons, and in so many ways.

Gabriel
Mary was between 12 and 14 years old when the angel Gabriel came to visit. This is young by today’s standards; 2,000 years ago it was fairly typical. There simply isn’t much time for planning when your entire lifespan is a dozen years. I’ve got a sweatshirt that’s older than that.

The conversation Gabriel had with Mary that day ended up being the start of the greatest pregnancy story ever told. Their conversation went something like this –

“Guess what Mary,” Gabriel began, “I’ve got some news. Big news, from the big Guy upstairs: you’re with child.”

“No worries,” Gabriel continued, “it’s a boy, and you don’t even have to come up with a name. Call him Jesus.”

“Even better, the Almighty has hand-picked your first-born’s job. Your child is the Son of God. Your child is destined to be King.”

“Yes, Mary, I know you and Joseph haven’t been screwing around before tying the knot.” The Holy Spirit will take care of those particulars, Gabriel told her. Trust me.

“I realize all this sounds absurd Mary, but check this out, your cousin Elizabeth is preggers too! I know, she’s 88 years old, so crazy! With God anything is possible.”

And with that the angel Gabriel departed, leaving Mary alone.

Elizabeth
Mary, being the sensible type, decided to check this story out, and went with haste to visit cousin Elizabeth. Their conversation went something like this –

“Elizabeth, whoa are you showing! Six months along now is it? You’re not going to believe this, but an angel came and told me you were!”

“Wait what? An angel came to your hubby too? And the angel said that you’d get pregnant too? And they said your kid would become a great prophet of God?”
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“I’m pregnant! And the Holy Spirit is the father!”

“I can’t believe we’re both pregnant!”

“And angels! Your child a prophet, mine the Son of God!”

Scripture says at this point Elizabeth’s child leaped in her womb with excitement.

This was the first meeting of John the Baptist and Jesus, with the two sharing an in utero virtual high five.

Elated with all this news Elizabeth blessed Mary, then blessed the Christ-child she carried, and finally blessed the faith Mary had in believing this heavenly news.

I like to think the women, both unexpectedly pregnant, both full of joy, sat down and talked and laughed and wondered at the magnitude of it all.

The Song
Mary then did something that could have come right out of a Hollywood script. Did she lament that life wasn’t going according to her plan? Did she worry about what could go wrong with the pregnancy? Did she obsess on what color to paint the nursery? Nope. None of the above. Overwhelmed by joy she proceeded to burst into song.

• She sang, magnifying the Mighty One, who had looked on her with great favor.
• She sang, to worship a God who brings down the powerful, and brings up the lowly.
• She sang, praising a God that fills the stomachs of the hungry, and sends the rich away empty handed.
• Mary sang, recognizing that she, a young, poor, unwed, pregnant woman was as much a part of this blessing as anyone else.
• And she sang, most of all, to glorify a God who keeps the promises made to God’s people. She sang, knowing the child in her womb would be the fulfillment of that promise; a King who would right wrongs, a Ruler that walks alongside humanity, a Deity offering nothing less than salvation.

For Mary knew, that when this child of hers was born, the world would never be the same.

Compare
Pregnancy. It’s a beautiful thing; I look back on the time of waiting and anticipation for both our children fondly. All the potential that is to be, all the hopes not yet realized, it’s downright magical.

At the same time, the doing part of pregnancy can be downright draining. All the birth-planning, nursery making, doctor visiting, baby showering stuff can make for a busy, stressful nine months. And let’s be honest, being the guy in this equation tells but a small part of the story. Hearing from mothers about their pregnancy stories is really where it’s at.

WWMD
As we look to the birth of the Christ child in a few short days, I ask you to spend this season of anticipation like Mary. Consider this your WWMD: What Would Mary Do?

Listen to the angels. They speak blessings to us in ways great and small.

Then spend time with loved ones. Share stories of how you have been so richly blessed by our maker. The gift of presence will always surpass the gift of presents. The sharing of your time is the best gift of all.

And don’t forget to celebrate the upcoming birth with joy, with laughter, and with song. Let this miraculous birth warm your hearts for not just a day or a season, but for a lifetime.

Close
Are you ready for Christmas? The query is typically tied to the doing of preparations – aka have the gifts been purchased? The Christmas cards sent? The holiday meal prepared? How you answer signals your ability to navigate the gauntlet of cultural Christmas challenges. But these challenges often leave us stressed-out, exhausted, and flat out broke.

Today’s text begs us to consider the question in a new light.

Are you ready for Christmas? Are you ready to celebrate the goodness of God? Are you ready to spend time with loved ones, sharing with them how you have been so incredibly blessed? Are you ready to talk and laugh and sing, all in praise to our Creator? Are you ready to make room for the Christ child that will soon be here?

As the saying goes we make plans and God laughs. Instead, try this on for size.

God makes plans – good plans, Christ-child plans – and we rejoice.

Are you ready for Christmas? May it be so. Amen.

Google maps has this great feature that tells you how to get from one place to another via all sorts of transportation options. Just click on the icon that represents that mode of travel and the screen updates with trip distance, directions and time it’ll take update automatically.

Take, for example, getting from here, in Ames Iowa, to one of my favorite spots on earth, San Francisco California.

According to Google here are times and distances it’ll take you to arrive:

Travel by plane is the fastest, of course, both in time and distance. A flight from Des Moines to San Fran is about 1,550 miles as the crow flies. It can be done in as little as five hours and fifteen minutes with a one-stop flight. If a non-stop flight were available it’d cut that by at least 90 minutes. And the flight isn’t even that spendy – shop around some and a round trip can be yours for under $300.

Or you could simply drive. From here to San Fran by car is a smidge over 1,800 miles, and would take you about 27 hours of drivetime.

Or perhaps you’re more of a train person. I find that mode of transport rather relaxing. The Amtrak California Zephyr line goes from Chicago to San Fran. Hop on the train in Des Moines and you can take a relaxing 2,080 mile trip by rail. That’ll take you a little over 2 days; 49 hours and 51 minutes to be more precise.

Up for a long bike ride? Those same 1,800 road miles can be done in a little over six and a half days. But only if you don’t sleep.

Or perhaps you’re up for a really, really long walk? Those miles, walking, would take about 25 days with no breaks or sleep. Good luck with that ?

Wilderness
The first six verses of Luke 3 is also about getting from one place to another. It’s a long distance our text refers to, a wide chasm to cross. And the time it takes can be measured not in days or even weeks or years, but in millennia.

The distance we’re talking about is what stood between God and God’s people in biblical times. Up until this point the relationship between Creator and us, the designated caretakers of Creation, had been rocky at best.

Original sin cast Adam and Eve from that first utopian garden, into the wilderness of the world.

The Israelites, after fleeing Egypt, found themselves wandering in the wilderness, for 40 years, before reaching the Promised Land.

And in Jesus’ time the Jewish people, a minority in both ethnicity and religion, found themselves surrounded by the wilderness of a sprawling Roman Empire.

It was time, God said, for God’s people to be saved from their wilderness.

And to help prepare for that takes a special kind of person. Enter John the Baptist.

John, scripture says, was a bit of a wild child. Matthew 3:4 tells us he wore clothing made of camel hair and ate locusts and wild honey. Clothing for Jesus and the disciples was never mentioned specifically in scripture, making this outfit stand out. A diet of locusts and wild honey suggests that John wasn’t overly concerned with societal norms of the time either. God provided him food and clothing, plucked straight from the land.

John, the wild one in the wilderness, prepared the way for the Christ-child to join us here on earth. He did this in a very specific way, by proclaiming the forgiveness of sins for those who repent.

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Prepare the way of the Lord,
Make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

Looking at this passage with modern eyes much of this seems like perhaps not that big of a deal. We make straight paths, fill valleys, flatten mountains and make rough ways smooth all the time.

Highways
The US Interstate System, begun in 1956, and championed by President Eisenhower, was created with this very goal in mind.  The system has been called the greatest public works project in history; many of us use the roads this project completed daily.  My father-in-law, born in 1940, likes to tell of the car trips he’d take as a kid with his parents in the late 1940s and early 50s. Each year his family would drive from Chicago to the Florida Keys after closing up the family garden center for the year. Back then, before the interstate highway system, the trip would take a week. The route they travailed often required you to drive through one small downtown to the next, hitting countless streetlights and stop signs on the way.

These days, that 1,400 mile trip from Chicago to Key Largo Florida takes about 20 hours.

That’s just two days of driving 10 hours a day, plenty of time for rest stops, meals, refueling, and an overnight hotel stay complete with 8 hours of sleep.

All this, because, as a people, we decided to make straight paths, fill valleys, flatten mountains and make rough ways smooth. As a first world people we have become experts in our path-making and path-perfecting ways, and our commerce and economy and way of life are arguably better for it. We can move from point A to point B faster and cheaper than ever before. We have, at least as much as we desire, made our way out of the physical wilderness of our lands.

But what if the wilderness we find ourselves in is a matter of the heart? What if no plane, train or automobile is available to deliver to us what we so desperately need? What if all our technological advances leave us in the same place we started? Places longing for community, searching for meaning, desiring healing for our brokenness?

In those moments making straight the path begins not with a shovel or dynamite or the laying of asphalt. Instead salvation from the wilderness of the heart begins within. And, similar to the planning it took to achieve the Interstate highway system, wrestling with the wilderness of our heart requires that we set some goals.

Prepare
This Advent, as we prepare for the coming of the Christ child in two short weeks –

Fill the valleys of the wilderness of seasonal stress by carving out time with your maker. Do this with reflection, meditation, and prayer.

Flatten the mountains that separate you from divine wisdom. Do this by reading ancient scripture. Even better than Google, the Bible has this great feature that tells you how to get from one place to another, and through all sorts of wildernesses. Just open to a different book, chapter and verse and you’ll receive useful, constant updates, automatically, guaranteed.

And then make rough ways smooth by reaching out to others, seeking to mend broken relationships among all you know. Don’t settle for a wilderness of individual, family and communal lethargy, as easy as that may be. Instead strive for peace with each of God’s beloved.

Because ultimately it’s not about paving roads through the wilderness, as important as that work can be. It’s about preparing the way, within us, and within others. It’s about preparing for the salvation of God, though a child in a manger, making smooth *that* path, for all.  Amen.

In 1987 the Danish movie Babette’s Feast was released in Europe. Stateside it won the Academy Award for the Best Foreign Language Film that year, and has a 96% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes.

That equates to a really big two thumbs up.

These days you can rent it online for a few dollars, complete with English subtitles.

I first saw Babette’s Feast during seminary, watched it again last night, and highly recommend it.

The film, a 19th-century fable, is set in a small, remote Danish town in Jutland, and is about a small Lutheran congregation.

The homes and shops and walls in town are all fairly drab, there’s lots of grays and browns in each scene.

The food the congregation eats is bland; there isn’t enough money to buy salt.

But this is how the town and people are, it’s their norm.

The long-time town pastor is well liked, and leads this pious sect in the study of scripture, in song, and in preaching. The congregation and town seem unified, and at peace in this modest, rural setting.

Decline
When the pastor dies, the leadership of the church falls to his two unmarried adult daughters. And over time the peace, tranquility, and the modest joy of the people begins to decline.

They still sing the same songs.
They still say the same prayers.
They still eat the same bland food.

But their relationships are in decline.

Two women argue about something that’d happened decades ago, each determined to ruin the other.

Two graying brothers quarrel about a deal done in their youth. One felt swindled, the other was in denial.

A man and a woman, part of an affair long ago, worry about the consequences. Was their punishment rendered here on earth? Or was it eternal?

In the middle of all this decline, all these arguments, quarrels and worries, a refugee from France, named Babette, comes to town. Babette, penniless and with no family, offers to cook for the sisters. She asks only for a room to stay. The sisters agree.

Feast
The climax of the film happens when Babette wins the lottery. She offers to pay for and prepare an exquisite five-course French cuisine for the congregation, who now only number 12.

Babette, who we later learn was the best chef in all of France, imports a live turtle, huge blocks of ice, game birds like quail, amazing fruit and vegetables, cheeses, and wines. She spares no expense for the meal.

The sisters secretly worry that Babette’s fine French cooking could be too decadent, perhaps even scandalous, perhaps even sinfully so. To mitigate this they encourage the congregation to eat the meal quietly, to say nothing at the table, to show no joy.

It’s a showdown of sorts, between the extravagant and the drab.

As the meal begins you hear only the quiet clinks and clanks of silverware on fine china.

There is no talk. There are no smiles.

But as each new course is consumed, as each glass of wine is refilled, the quiet, unhappy, frozen people begin to thaw.

Compliments are given, compliments are received.
Rifts between women, brothers, and lovers are healed.
And the smiles. Oh to see the people smile.

As the party disbands we watch as the entire congregation joins hands, together, around the town well, singing joyfully in ways they never had before.
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One man even shouts Halleluiah!

It’s a scene reminiscent of the classic 1960s Grinch movie. You know, the part where the Whos in Whoville gather around the town Christmas tree, singing joyfully despite having not much of anything except each other.

Wisdom
Proverbs 9:1-6 portrays a similar feast.

And this feast is prepared by no one less than Wisdom, personified.

Wisdom has built her house,
Slaughtered her animals,
Mixed her wine,
And set her table.

Lady wisdom calls to the town
“You who are simple,
You, the downtrodden,
You, who argue,
Turn in here!”

“Come, eat of my bread,
Drink of my wine.”

“Lay aside immaturity,
Put down your quarrels,
And *live*”

Walk with me, she says, in the ways of Wisdom.

Wisdom’s Brother
Too often so it is with us.

We hold on to the past, while letting go of the present.
We embrace conflict, at the expense of peace.
We settle for the drab, when we’re offered the extravagant.

And in all these choices we lose.

But then Wisdom steps in, and offers us so much more.

Meet brother Christ, she says, for you have much to learn.

Eat of His bread, she implores. It is His body, given for you. Drink of His cup, she urges. This is His blood, shed for you. But most importantly, open your heart, she extols.

Don’t merely walk through tradition.

Instead allow yourself to be transformed by it.

For it is in the embrace of Wisdom’s feast where we find joy. It is in Wisdom’s banquet where broken relationships mend. It is Wisdom’s bounty where our ultimate healing can be found.

And it is in the walking, and the feasting, with Wisdom, where we truly live. Amen.