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New Year’s Day 2012 began with worship in Crafton Heights.  We sat under the familiar story of Simeon in Luke 2:21-35 and considered the encouragement of the unnamed apostle in Hebrews 10:19-25  I’m not one for “resolutions”, but I like a good dare every now and then.  How about you?  Will you join me?

When you take a child to an amusement park for the first time, what’s the one ride that you expect to go on?  I mean, if it’s little Billy’s first trip to Kennywood, do you get in line for the Phantom’s Revenge right away?  Probably not.  My hunch is that you head for the carousel.  You might choose one of the horses, or the lion or tiger on the outer row.  Or perhaps you’d opt for one of the “jumpers” on the inside rows.  Or, if the excitement was just too much for you, you’d choose one of the benches.

Kennywood Park's Carousel was built and installed in 1927 by the William H. Dentzel Company

What happens on this ride? Well, you go around.  You listen to music.  Maybe you bounce up and down a few inches.  And every rotation, you take the kid’s head and say, “Hey, look!  There’s grandpa!” and wave like an idiot.  Ride. Listen. Bounce. “Hey grandpa!”.  Ride. Listen. Bounce.  “Look, dad, let’s not go through this again.  I get it.  Grandpa’s still there.  He’s always gonna be there every time this stupid thing turns around…”

I know that this is a pretty subjective issue, but for my money, the carousel is the worst ride in the amusement park…but every park has one.  Why is that?  Why do people like them so much?  My hunch is that we like them because they are predictable, they are safe, they are pretty, they are shiny, and they are loud.  And most of us have a fascination, if not an appreciation, for the predictable, safe, pretty, shiny, and loud things of the world.

The reality, of course, is that while we call the carousel a “ride”, you don’t really go anywhere, do you?  There is a lot of noise and movement but no actual transportation.

For too many people, life is like that – a seemingly endless stream of meaningless encounters of the same stuff on different days.

Do you remember the 1993 film Groundhog Day?  Bill Murray stars as Pittsburgh television weatherman Phil Connors who seems doomed to repeat the same day over and over again. In one key scene from that movie, he turns to Ralph, at the bowling alley, and says, “What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered?

Ralph’s reply brings out the pathos in the movie. He says, “That about sums it up for me.”

No one in this room is literally stuck on the same day, but you know how cyclical life can be.  Doesn’t it seem as though sometimes it’s just a constant blur of motion?  You are putting away your Christmas things and, as you do so, you discover something new that you bought last year and forgot to get out for this year.  This morning, you woke up thinking, “Holy smokes! Is it 2012 already?”  You’re thinking about the fact that you’ve got to get your house straightened up, and then the taxes will need to be worked on; it’ll be Easter before you know it, and then school will be over…

Life just seems to be rushing by!  There’s no meaning or purpose to each day; no overarching theme to the months or the year…it’s just a whirl, and every now and then you catch grandpa waving at you, trying to make you smile so he can take your picture…

That’s not how it’s supposed to be, or course.  And it surely doesn’t need to be like that.  What if instead of seeing our lives as revolving around atop a meaningless and changeless platform, we actually got somewhere?  What if instead of feeling like we were spinning our wheels, we were able to live with the conviction that we were going higher up and deeper in every single day?

The Dungeness Lighthouse stands guard by the coast of Kent, in England

I’m going to ask you to leave the merry-go-round and come with me to the lighthouse.  Have you ever been to visit a lighthouse before?  Let’s take a walk around the outside, at the very base of the structure – and it’s a circle, just as we made on the merry-go-round.  As we walk, which directions will we cover?  North, East, South, and West, right?  The same exact directions traversed by the carousel.  As we walk around, what do you see?  Water.  The Beach.  Rocks.  Trees.

Now, let’s go inside.  Look up, and you’ll see that big circular stairwell.  And there are windows looking out in all directions – North, East, South, and West.  Let’s climb the steps, pausing to peer out of the windows in the directions we’ve just looked when we were on the ground.  What do you see when you look out the windows?  Water.  The beach.  Rocks.  Trees.

The steps inside the Dungeness Lighthouse

We see the same things that we saw when we were on the ground, don’t we? Or do we?  What happens as we climb?  The perspective changes.  We see the horizon differently.  The shadows and the colors play out differently.  We appreciate the topography a little more.

So what’s the difference between the lighthouse and the merry-go-round? While both involve 360° views, in a lighthouse, you’re actually getting somewhere.  The views are similar, but not the same.  Your perspective on reality changes as you climb.

Oh, and another thing: the lighthouse is a lot more work, isn’t it?  There are no benches in a lighthouse.

Simeon with the Christ Child in the Temple Rembrandt (c. 1666-69)

Our Gospel reading for today offers us a lighthouse perspective.  When Jesus is only 8 days old, his folks bring him in dedicate him. Simeon takes the little screecher and sees him, not as “just” a baby, but as the Messiah.  He is filled with the Spirit of the Lord and makes predictions about the life of the baby who rests in his arms.  Simeon sees Jesus as the new thing that God is doing in the world.

Think about all the folks we’ve met around the manger this Christmastide.  It seems to me that of all the people who greet the Lord, it’s Simeon who has the gift of perspective.  The shepherds hear a snappy song from heaven and they come looking for the one of whom the angels sang.  The wise men saw the shiny light in the heavens and followed the star, and came to see where the baby was laying.  By and large, these folks were essentially tourists who were brought in to see a wonderful sight.  But Simeon recognizes Jesus when Mary and Joseph bring him in.  For his entire life, Simeon’s been climbing in the lighthouse of God’s dealings with his people, and he’s therefore able to recognize God doing something new in a way that the other people cannot.  Simeon’s practice of going to the temple, of participating in worship, of seeking the holy every single day, have brought him to the place where he’s able to recognize and celebrate the gift of God’s son while that same son is wearing only diapers and unable to speak.  Simeon’s perspective gives him wisdom and insight that the shepherds and wise men do not have.

This morning I’d like to issue a challenge to each of you – to make 2012 a “lighthouse” year.  Let me encourage you to get off the merry-go-round and take the opportunities to look for God’s perspective on the events of your daily lives.

Think about those newsletters that we send out at Christmastime.  You know, the one or two page notes in which you announce to your friends which relatives have made the honor roll, which are eligible for parole, and which are simply taking their toll on you.  We send one of those out most years, and the last time that New Year’s Day fell on a Sunday was 2006.  In my letter for 2005, I dared my readers to go to church on January 1.  I predicted that the place would not be crowded and that it might be as good a place as any to start the New Year off right.

Imagine my surprise when early in 2007 I got a letter from “Darlene”, who had been a member of a youth group I led in the early 1990’s.  She and her husband were living in the Midwest, where their lives were comfortably hectic as they pursued graduate degrees, paid off student loans, and simply enjoyed each other.  Darlene went to church on January 1, 2006, and she took her husband.  They’d grown up in different places, both spiritually and geographically.  It took them some time to find a worship space that was comfortable and challenging to both of them. But they found one.  They joined that church.  They had a baby, and baptized her.  She wrote me a letter, more than a year after the fact, to simply thank me for daring her to go to church.  Her belief was that her world had changed as a result of the perspective she gained from acting on that dare every week.

So in that spirit, I have a dare for you.  I can’t simply follow Hebrews 10:25 and dare you all to come to church, because, um, well, you’re already here. While that might be the easiest New Year’s resolution you’ve had for a while, to me that’s a lot like sitting on the bench at the merry-go-round.  It’s just too easy.

So let’s back it up one verse.  Hebrews 10:24 : “Let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds…”

I dare you to act on this in the next twelve months.

What would our lives and our community be like if we, as a congregation of a hundred or a hundred and a half people decided that we were going to be intentionally affirming in our communication with and about each other?  What would happen, do you suppose, if we chose to be direct and honest in our relationships, motivated by love and seeking the best for each other?

I dare you to expect the best from the people sitting next to you this year – and to tell them that.  And to help them get there.  I dare you to “provoke” each other to behaving in loving and affirming ways.

The Amplified Bible translates verse 24 in this way: “And let us consider and give attentive, continuous care to watching over one another, studying how we may stir up (stimulate and incite) to love and helpful deeds and noble activities…”

So bring a friend to worship.  Sit next to someone you don’t know.  Talk with your brother about how he decides to spend – or give – his money.  Show up at a service project.  Help out at the after school program.  Read the Bible.  Pray. Come to Faith Builders.

A lot of people I know tell me that they can’t read while they’re riding in a car or on the bus.  There’s something about the motion that distracts their concentration, or invites them towards nausea.  How often do you see anyone reading – or praying, or contemplating – on the carousel?  Not often.  It’s too hard to be looking deeply for meaning and purpose when the world is so loud and is whizzing by and it’s about all you can do to reach out for a glimpse of grandpa every now and them.

But in the lighthouse, it’s a little slower.  A little quieter.  And you can stop to read, to talk, to pray, to think if you need to.  So come in, and take a look around.  And encourage someone else to climb in with you.  I dare you.  Amen.

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