A young country singer, Josh Turner, has a song which includes these cautionary lyrics, "You don't tug on superman's cape, you don't spit into the wind, you don't pull the mask of the ol' lone ranger, and you don't mess around with Tim." Actually, you don't mess around with Jim. But since I'm messing around with Turner's song, I would add one more piece of advice: you don't go to Walmart on Black Friday. Across the country, line jumping, stampedes - with one girl trampled in the mad rush for X-boxes. There were also two incidents of pepper spray, several beatings, a few arrests. A shopper in North Carolina said, "The difference this year is that instead of a nice sweater - you need a bullet proof vest and goggles"! One thing for sure about Black Friday: you need to be streetsmart at Walmart!

The Gospel lesson for this First Sunday in Advent, to say the least, sounds a bit frightening - with Jesus talking about fully, failing and falling: the sun fully darkened, the moon failing to give light, the stars falling from the skies. The end times. How appropriate a name: Black Friday. I know it refers to merchants finishing the year in the black - but for those caught up in the Walmart mayhem, Black Friday had a different meaning, I'm sure. It might have seemed as if the end times had begun!

And the Church says, "Welcome to Advent." If ever the Church is out-of-step with the culture, it is during this time of Advent. In this wacky, warring, Walmart world - the Church says time out, "Be still and know that I am God." One commentator has even likened the words of Jesus to the two minute warning. The game is still going on, but the end of the game is drawing near, if you are behind and have a Hail Mary play, now is the time pull it off. The Church proclaims that God had a Hail Mary play - and Advent is the time we take to ponder the implications.

I once shared this story which illustrates this reality that the church is out of step with our culture, thankfully so, out of step when it comes to anticipating Christmas. A woman is shopping with her three young children. Mom is feeling what so many of us feel as we make our way to Bethlehem. There is pressure to go to every party, to find that perfect gift, to make sure everyone on the card list gets a card.

Mom is at wit's end when she and the kids finally push their way into the crowded elevator to the parking garage. She struggles with the bags as people grumble about a couple of false starts for the doors to close. In the quiet solitude of a crowed elevator, Mom says, "Whoever started this whole Christmas thing should be found, strung up and shot." People are nodding in agreement, even as a voice responds, "Don't worry, we already crucified him." You could have heard a pin drop. A pin drop as people journey from Black Friday - to Good Friday. A pin drip, as people consider the reason for God coming into the world as an infant, so many long years ago.

"Pastor," I am asked each year about this time, "How come the malls and the neighbors and the television are 'Jinglebelling' all the way - and when I get to church we do not sing the show tunes of Christmas but the slow tunes, the plain songs of Advent?" I understand the question, the world is awash with bright lights, and we tend to merely an extra candle ... or four.

The question is a fair one. As a worship leader striving to be relevant, from time to time I ask the question myself. And then somebody says something to me like a friend did the other day, "I gotta tell you, when December the 25th rolls around, I'm sick of the whole thing." And so this morning, we overhear the pleading words of Isaiah, "O that you would tear open the heavens and come down...!" as a part of the Church's path to Bethlehem. This mighty man of God, Isaiah, begs God to make an appearance - and to save the people of God from our enemies - and from ourselves. You see, before we are ready to sing "Away in the Manger," we need to rethink the Why of the Manger. This morning, instead of getting all wrapped up in Christmas, Advent is a needed reminder that God got all wrapped up with us.

And so it is that we've lit one additional candle this morning. And the stable door is opened a crack. But another door is opened wide - the door of salvation. Actually, two additional candles this morning, as God tears open the heavens to enter the life of a special baby girl. Then again, all babies are special - just as, in the eyes of God, each one of us so very special and unique.

My granddaughter's name is Lianna. As I did my research I discovered there are several possible meanings for the name. The one that seems most prevalent is "entwined," like evergreens entwine about the Advent wreath. I've got to tell you this: my granddaughter has already entwined herself around the hearts of her family. And now, with the irrigating waters of baptism, Lianna will be entwined with the God who created her, the God who has called her by name.

With a gentle stream upon her head, God holds out to Lianna the promise that whatever happens on her pilgrimage through life, no matter how many Black Fridays and Good Fridays - Easter lies at the end of it all; her destiny no longer is dust. How appropriate that at the very beginning of her days on earth - she will be splashed with the water and the Word of eternity! And this special treat: there will be two cousins at the font as well as one big sister. I hope you don't mind a little personal pride, but I'm the Granddaddy of them all!

Today is the beginning of a new Church Year. Please do not bemoan our gentle Advent emphasis. The avenue of Advent may swim against the tide of Walmart, Wall Street and Main Street. The avenue of Advent gives us a pause, a time out, a two minute warning. The game is not over ... but victory has already been assured.

"Slow down," Advent tells us. "Take time to smell the poinsettias," Advent tells us. "The more we participate in Advent," Tim tells us, "the less we'll need to reach for the Advil." And when the stable door is finally opened Christmas Eve, we won't be out of breath - merely breathless. Breathless as we witness the mangered infant awash in the soft glow of candles. God has torn open the heavens and come down! Advent tells us, "just you wait and see."