Today’s scripture reading is so ‘far out,’ so to speak, that it might could benefit from a brief word of introduction. In Luke 21, we find Jesus’ last words of instruction to his disciples prior to his death. His disciples have just asked him about what would happen in the future. Jesus answers by speaking about the immediate future for his followers - of the turmoil that will surround the fall of Jerusalem to the Roman army in the year 70 AD. And then, in the passage we overhear today, Jesus speaks of the long-term, of the last days of this age and the beginning of the next. Here is what he said: [Text from Luke 21 is read.]

“Signs in the stars.” Perhaps it hasn’t been long since you walked out into an open field and stared up at the canopy of cold, blue stars. If so, you likely experienced the awe and wonder that moved the author of Psalm 8 to write: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which You have set in place, what is man that You are mindful of him...? (Ps. 8:3-4a) . To gaze into an unfathomable ocean of galaxies, seen and unseen, has always made humankind feel tiny on our remote little ball, spinning in space. But it also makes us feel privileged beyond words to see something so perfectly beautiful in its vastness, shared completely with us. We, like the ancients, don’t have to be told - we know “the heavens are telling the glory of God.”

So it’s no great surprise the Bible is chock-full of images of the numberless hosts of the night sky. We are told that Israel will be as numerous as the stars of heaven (Gen. 26:4; Deut. 10:22), and that the number of the stars is known only to the infinite mind of God (Ps. 147:4). While that’s still true, we do know a lot more about stars today than our ancestors did. Today we can speak of binary stars, protostars, white dwarfs, supernovae, and quasars that dot the galaxies. Now that we’ve lengthened our gaze by the science of astronomy, identifying stunning variety in the heavens, we find that the Apostle Paul was right when he observed to the Corinthians that if stars seem indistinguishable to us, each one differs from all others in its splendor (1 Cor. 15:41). To Paul, every star speaks uniquely of the marvelous Mind that made it. Seems to me he got that right.

But for any of us who ever wished upon the permanence of a star, the words of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke might just fall hard upon our ears. In response to his friends’ awe as they gazed at the majesty of Herod’s Temple, Jesus offered them a glimpse of the future - a future in which not even the stars will be the same. The Temple will be thrown down, Jesus tells them, and the people of God put to flight before their enemies. There will be turmoil, wars and rumors of wars, persecution and confusion - but in the end, make no mistake - God will get the last word. For the Son of Man will come again in all his glory.

With this abrupt (and not overly Christmas-ey) image, we meet Luke on this first Sunday of the year we’ll spend exploring his Gospel. As we begin Advent, the ancient season of the Church that calls us to get ready for the coming of Christ, Luke tells us that Jesus said to be on our guard! Be alert! Because the One who came clothed in humility will one day come again in glory. Because no one knows when that day will be, be alert.

So says Luke - but what does this mean to us? What are we supposed to do after two thousand years, with mysterious stories about Jesus’ Second Coming? Just keeping up with the celebration of his first coming keeps us busy all December! Why, a few weeks from today, we’ll feel blessed if we just get a moment to take a breath and glance at Matthew’s star over Bethlehem. But as for signs in the stars and the return of Christ - well, we might be temped to think, I’ll just have to worry about that when it happens, what with 25 shopping days to go!

And yet it is to us, the Church of Right Now, afflicted not with persecution but with sheer busyness, that Luke says: stay alert. That’s the whispered secret of Advent. In the churn of human activity this time of year, the reason we have hope is found exactly in the promise that we are in the in-between time - that Jesus has come and is coming. Amid rumors of wars, news footage of wars, there’s another word on the wire: our Lord is coming again. “The hopes and fears of all the years” were met in Bethlehem, yes! But they will be answered once and for all when Jesus Christ comes in final victory. That’s the double-message of Advent.

So just in case you’re already tired, or if you are worried about family squabbles or squeezed budgets, or you can already see the “holiday blues” dogging Christmas this year, you don’t need a baby in a manger, friend - you need a triumphant Savior! The good news is, that’s who is coming to dinner! Luke says that now is the time to burn as brightly as that star over Bethlehem. Is your life a star over Bethlehem? Are you evidence that God is quietly at work in our midst?

Because those in whom the love of Christ dwells burn brightly in a dark world. These really do shine like stars! People look at them, and wonder at the source of their peace and joy. That sense of wonderment is the beginning of true evangelism, and there isn’t nearly enough of it going on in our corner of the universe. Why?

Maybe because, although from a distance they might look it, not all stars are the same. You see, in terms of the light they emit, there are two basic classes of stars. The first is what one might call healthy stars - those that shine (like our own Sun) with radiant energy. The other type includes unhealthy, in fact dying stars, which we call quasars. Quasars were once luminous suns as well, but over time they faded and at last collapsed in upon themselves. At the very center of a quasar is a rapidly spinning, ultra-dense core called a pulsar. These stars emit no light of their own, for they are dead. The light that we see around them comes from the friction they cause as they drag other things into the void they’ve created.

Luke reminds us to keep alert and alive. He knew that just about all Christians can be vibrant and vital for at least a short time. But the journey called ‘salvation’ is for the long haul. Discipleship is the art of staying alive spiritually with others who are doing the same. If we lose the joy of anticipation, the breathless urgency of the Good News that Jesus is coming, then we can become dense and dead at heart ourselves, spinning furiously in our busyness, perhaps, but illuminating nothing (and no one) with the light of God’s love. We need better than that. And those who look to us for love and wisdom need better than that, too.

The Apostle Peter says we don’t have to settle for less. He once said: “We have the word of the prophets made more certain, and you would do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts” (2 Pet. 1:19). People of God, we are called never cease to burn brightly until that last day dawns. So stand up, raise your heads - because the day of our redemption is drawing near. And may the morning star arise in your hearts, this Christmas. Thanks be to God.