This past weekend, we commemorated the life of my Grandpa Shenk. On Saturday, alongside my cousins and siblings, I had the honor of bearing his coffin to its resting place on a hill, overlooking the Lancaster County farmland he cherished, not far from the home he lived in for the majority of his 86 years. Earl Eugene Shenk, born in 1935, was a man of profound and practical faith, a presence in my life since my own birth in August 1982.
My memories of him as a grandchild are fragmented, yet they coalesce into a portrait of sincere faith and a direct commitment to following Jesus. I recall a visit he and Grandma paid to Jenn and me while we were in college in Chicago, a five-hour trip from Pennsylvania. His dedication to returning to work at E E Shenk and Son’s, the family’s grinding and hauling business, was simply a part of who he was – he worked, and he did so with joy.
In his olive-green bathroom, a Bible resided – one of those yearly reading editions, noticeably worn from constant use. When he and Grandma transitioned from their farmhouse after decades, she remarked on its need for updates, explaining his consistent desire to contribute to the church as the reason for delayed renovations – a testament to his devotion.
He served as a deacon in his church for forty years, and to my knowledge, occupied the same pew for much of that time. As a child, I made it a ritual to visit him there every Sunday after service, to greet him and receive a mint. On November 18th, we hastened to his side, sensing his time was near. As we bid him farewell, my aunt shared that he had been telling everyone in the hospital of his readiness to meet Jesus.
Jesus. The anticipated infant, the resurrected Christ who is to come again. The one made tangible, made evident, by the multitude of witnesses – ordinary saints, embodying in their own ways the extraordinary reality of Emmanuel – God with us. These witnesses, these pioneers of faith, guide us as we navigate our own spiritual journeys towards the “mysterious city” of God’s Kingdom.
Today marks the first Sunday of Advent, the commencement of the church year. We once again await the arrival of the sweet baby Jesus, the one heralded by radical songs of the powerful being humbled and the downtrodden lifted. The one whom later scriptures reveal as foreshadowed and depicted throughout the Hebrew Scriptures – what the church often refers to as the Old Testament.
This is the profound mystery at the heart of our faith. A mystery theologians and preachers have striven to grasp and articulate for centuries. An elusive mystery, yet simultaneously remarkably straightforward and comforting. That the Almighty drew near, entering into humanity, embracing both suffering and joy. That the Creator of all things experienced hardship and loss, and met the needs of everyday people with compassion and care. This resonates deeply. God is not distant, but intimately present with us, even in the midst of our own “mysterious cities”—the complex and often perplexing landscapes of our lives.
Jeremiah, along with other prophetic and poetic books within the Hebrew scriptures, bridges the gap between contemporary events and those yet to unfold. Writers in the New Testament and throughout church history have readily interpreted these prophecies Messianically – as pointing towards Jesus, the Messiah.
Our passage from Jeremiah proclaims:
14 The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 15 In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. 16 In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”
This passage speaks of an anticipation of renewal, suggesting that the Messiah, from the lineage of David, will usher in ultimate restoration. This promise echoes through time, guiding pioneers of faith towards the “mysterious city” of God’s promise.
In Luke, we encounter the other facet of expectation and waiting. There was the anticipation of the Messiah’s first coming, and subsequently, the waiting for his return following his departure. In the Gospel of Luke, we read:
25 “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. 26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. 27 Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory. 28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”
Throughout history, one could argue that such signs of upheaval and chaos have been apparent. I won’t enumerate the litany of current woes, but I imagine your thoughts immediately turn to numerous contemporary realities upon hearing these words.
However, Luke asserts that the arrival of these signs will be unmistakable. This is not an invitation to speculate about the precise time of Jesus’ return, but rather an exhortation to preparedness. Like the budding of a fig tree – a clear signal for those familiar with its timing – the signs will be evident and unambiguous.
This imminent coming of Christ necessitates our readiness. No dawdling, no delay. Though this coming pertains to the Christ who was born, lived, ministered, was crucified, resurrected, and ascended to heaven, the theme of anticipation and waiting aligns perfectly with the Advent season. Eager expectation, preparation – these are the hallmarks of this season as we journey towards the “mysterious city” of God’s future.
Luke concludes, “Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.”
In the book of Hebrews, we find:
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely,[a] and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, 2 looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith…”
Here, Jesus is explicitly named the pioneer of our faith. His coming brings the Divine presence intimately close. The great cloud of witnesses – those who have preceded us and those who walk alongside us – demonstrate, illuminate the path, embody what it means to be with God, close to the heart of the one who breathed life into this wondrous world, a world teeming with wildebeests and vibrant red maple trees. These witnesses, these pioneers, help us navigate the mysteries of faith as we seek our place in God’s “mysterious city.”
In the book of Job, God poses to Job:
4 “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.5 Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?6 On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone7 when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings[a] shouted for joy?
This immense wisdom and power, mysteriously present in a newborn infant. Mysteriously manifested in the lives of Jesus’ followers. We are not perfect, and neither were Grandpa Shenk nor those in the great cloud of witnesses. Nevertheless, they bear witness. Luke urges us to be alert. Prayerfully alert, keeping watch for the coming Christ, the soon arriving baby Jesus. The Almighty draws near once more, guiding us as pioneers towards the “mysterious city” of hope and redemption. Amen.
