I get a kick out church signs and often wish we utilized our location here on the Lincoln Freeway a bit more to have some fun with passersby. These signs can make you laugh as you appreciate their sharp wit, they can make you groan and shake your head and thank God that’s not your church, and sometimes they can give you pause and make you go “hmm.” Here’s one from St Cyril of Alexandria Catholic Church in Houston, TX: “Staying in bed and shouting ‘O God!’ does not constitute going to church.” Or try this one from Goodwood United Methodist Church (who probably would do well to consider a different name for their church): “Free Coffee. Everlasting Life. Yes, membership has its privileges.” Or this one from Donelson Baptist Church, “Forgive your enemies. It messes with their heads.” But I think my favorite one is “Looking for a sign from God? This is it!”

A sign from God. At some point or another in our lives, most of us have probably asked God for a sign. For a sign that we were on the right track. For a sign that we should take the next step. Or just some small sign that God might still hanging around somewhere nearby and paying attention. Or perhaps we have interpreted in retrospect certain events in our lives as being some sort of signpost from the divine. Something or someone that came along just in the nick of time to help us see something in a clearer way, assured us that we were going to be okay, or perhaps that we ought to change course and alter our plans.

Jesus speaks of signs from God in this morning’s gospel text, and it’s not exactly the holiday greeting you might have hoped for in coming to church at the tail end of this Thanksgiving weekend. Jesus’ words come on the heels of his prediction of the destruction of Jerusalem, which by the time of the writing of Luke’s gospel had already occurred in the year 70 of the Common Era under the Roman Emporer Titus. But then Jesus’ words take a turn. He does sort of the opposite from “Think global and act local” and speaks of cosmic endings such as the world has never seen.

If you’d like to see this illustrated, I suggest you go and see the movie 2012 which I finally did this weekend. It seems our culture is currently obsessed with all things end-of-the-world, and if you’re up for 2 1/2 hours of apocalyptic distress including but not limited to (in Jesus’ words from today’s gospel) “distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves” and “the powers of the heavens” being shaken, then this is your film. You’ll even watch the arms of the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio (pictured on the front cover of the worship bulletin today) collapse, followed by the whole statue crumble into cataclysmic dust.

At one point in the movie before the world begins to literally fall apart and LA falls into the ocean, Jackson Curtis the main character in the movie, a failed writer and divorced father of two young kids (played by John Cusack) takes his kids to Yellowstone Park on a camping trip, but with the ulterior motive of investigating rumors and reports of a federal investigation on Yellowstone being a geographic “hot spot” for an alarming rise in the earth’s temperature. As he takes his kids hiking to a lake he remembers from a previous visit, they find the whole area has been taped off and fenced in, with posted signs sternly warning no trespassing and severe penalties if disregarded. As Cusack’s character jumps over the fence and helps his young children do the same, his young boy asks — with a twist of irony — “Dad, can’t you read the signs?”

Jesus is teaching his disciples and us today both to be aware of the signs of his coming and rather than being fearful, to have hope. Though nature and world as we know it may descend into chaos — as we have seen with tsunamis and earthquakes and catastrophic occurrences beyond our ability to fully fathom, though political and military domination seem to preoccupy the nations of the world, and though the fainting fear and foreboding of such imaginative films as 2012 give us a vividly-disturbing picture of global apocalyptic disaster, Jesus’ words to us this morning are not to incite dread and doom in the hearts of his followers, but rather to inspire a sense of being alert, attune, and aware of his nearness, his imminence, and his redemption of all things. “Now when these things begin to take place,” Jesus tells us, “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

The voice of the young boy in the movie 2012, asking his father as they were hopping the fence if he wasn’t reading the signs, reminded me of meeting around the baptism font on Friday afternoon with the Banfi family in preparation for the baptisms of Carlotta and David which we will celebrate in a few moments. As we gathered in a holy huddle around the baptism font for a brief rehearsal in anticipation of the actual moment, 8-year-old David became distracted by the words in white letters on that sky-blue parament up in the high chancel. It wasn’t quite in place yet — the altar guild was still busy doing their work and had draped it across the communion rail — but the words on the hanging were still visible. David stopped me as I was busily going over the logistics of the baptism — details which in the moment seemed so very urgent and important to the pastor - and had an even-more urgent question for me: “What are you going to do with that ‘Peace On Earth’ up there?”

Pause. Stop the rehearsal. Take in the question. Read the signs. Gather your wits. David’s question cut to the chase.
The voice of the Lord is a very powerful voice, and so often it comes to us in the voices of those who are small and yet who, in their perceived weakness, are strong signs of God’s presence in all things — even in things as mundane as a baptismal rehearsal. “Be on guard,” Jesus says to us today, “so that your hearts are not weighed down with…the worries of this life…”
Today, Jesus’ words juxtapose with David’s question. Jesus says “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”
David’s question follows on the heels of those, “What are you going to do with that ‘Peace On Earth’ up there?”

Today, in this moment, Jesus is calling us to be alert and on guard and aware of the signs all around us. Signs pointing to his presence amid all the cares and concerns and preoccupations of our lives. Wars and rumors of more troops being sent into harm’s way. Violence in our city streets. Global warming and environmental peril. Economic upheaval. Broken relationships. Invading viruses and illnesses plaguing our bodies.

And a banner message before our very eyes, “Peace On Earth.” A sign. Reminding us that the One who came to earth as a babe on a night when angels sang “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace,” will “come again with power and great glory” and redeem all this wretchedness with peace on earth once and for all.

But in the meantime, as a liturgy professor of mine once said, “In worship, we are doing the world as God always meant it to be done.” The signs of it are everywhere. Here strangers become friends. Here the needy are not forgotten. Here we splash in the water and God comes down and plays in it with us. Here we eat bread and drink wine and God comes down and dines with us. Here we listen and recognize a familiar and comforting voice saying be alert, be on guard, be aware: Here there is enough for all. Quite enough love. Quite enough welcome. Quite enough grace. Quite enough peace.

And a little boy’s haunting question of us all, “Can’t you read the signs?” “What are you going to do with that ‘Peace on Earth’?” Amen.