What gift will you offer the
King?
Three wise men came from
country far,
following a star,
to seek for a king.
When they finally arrived,
when they finally found the
king they had been searching for,
they entered in full
rev’rently on bended knee,
and offered there in his
presence
their gold and myrrh and
frankincense.
Fit gifts indeed for one of
royal birth.
What gift will you offer the
king?
This would be a great way to
end a sermon
on the Epiphany story.
And if, by chance,
you’re wondering what gift to
offer the king,
I’ve got a few suggestions.
To be frank, our gifts from
afar fund is running low this Epiphany,
for whatever reason.
Normally, we gift our gifts
from afar on January 6,
but I might like to wait a
little longer this year.
We remember that when we give
to those who are in need,
we are giving to the king,
the king who says,
‘Truly I tell you, as you did
it to one of the least of these
who are members of my family,
you did it to me.’
We pastors are always
encouraging our congregations
to regularly give time,
talent, and treasure
not only because the church needs it,
but because we ourselves need to give,
our lives are made for
worshiping God,
and to give indeed is to
worship.
And so we can ask ‘What gift
will we offer the King?’
and it is an edifying thought
for today.
But Lutheran sermons are not
just about edifying thoughts for the day.
For some of us may wonder if
there is anything the King wants from us,
or if there is anything that
we have to give.
Not only do some of us have
no gold, no frankincense, and no myrrh,
some of us are not wise.
Some of us have little
book-learning,
and some of us have little
common sense.
We have little time, and we
don’t think we have too much talent, either.
Even if we are unfamiliar
with the entire poem,
many of us will know the last
stanza
of Christina Rosetti’s
hauntingly beautiful
In the Bleak Midwinter.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I
would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I
would do my part;
Yet what I can I give
Him: give my heart.
Now this would be a beautiful
place to conclude an Epiphany sermon.
What gift will you offer the king?
Don’t envy what other people have,
or wonder about what you don’t have,
Give Jesus your heart,
the greatest gift of all.
But you know that my sermons usually run longer than this.
So this can’t be the end of the story.
More to the point,
some of us will wonder
just exactly what our Lord Jesus wants with our hearts;
our battered, bruised, broken, rebellious and stubborn hearts.
Hardly gifts fit for a king.
In Bishop Bo Giertz’s novel The Hammer of God,
we meet Fridfeldt,
an earnest young Swedish curate
who has been swept up in the
revivalism of the nineteenth century.
He has been assigned as an
associate to an older pastor.
He’s not even sure whether
this pastor is really a Christian.
Rather than a cup of coffee,
the rector prefers a glass of
cognac
to warm him up after dinner.
He reads sermons he’s
prepared
rather than preaching from
his heart,
inspired by the Holy Spirit.
And his conversation after
dinner is not of spiritual matters,
but he shows the new vicar
his collection of small figurine soldiers
which remind him of the great
history of Sweden.
Fridfeldt decides that he
simply must let his mentor know
just exactly where he stands.
‘I just want to let you know
from the beginning, sir,
that I am a believer.’
And after the rector asks
what he believes in,
the young man replies,
‘In Jesus, of course.
I mean that I have given him
my heart.’
‘The
older man’s face became suddenly as solemn as the grave.
‘Do
you consider that something to give
him?’
By
this time, Fridfeldt was almost in tears.
‘But
sir, if you do not give your heart to Jesus,
you
cannot be saved.’
‘You
are right, my boy,
And
it is just as true that,
if
you think you are saved
because
you give Jesus your heart,
you
will not be saved…
One
does not choose a Redeemer for oneself, you understand,
nor
give one’s heart to him.
The
heart is a rusty old can on a junk heap.
A
fine birthday gift, indeed!
But
a wonderful Lord passes by,
and
has mercy on the wretched tin can,
sticks
his walking cane through it,
and
rescues it from the junk pile
and
takes it home with him.
That
is how it is.’
The
old rector realizes, of course,
what
the zealous young man does not –
that
our hearts are not pure.
Even
when we have given them to Jesus,
we
still have fears and fighting within ourselves.
And
so we may wonder what Jesus may do with such a gift,
a
gift which we wish to take back for ourselves,
as
soon as our hearts turn in another direction,
as
soon as we wish to have God and anything
else,
rather
than anything through God.
We
get this story slightly wrong, you see.
We
look at the gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
and
we see these as gifts fit for a king,
which,
of course, in a sense they are.
But
is that what the wise men thought?
Perhaps
indeed they wondered,
as
they prostrated themselves before the child Jesus
and
his Blessed Mother,
just
what was to be done with the gifts
they
had so painstakingly prepared,
just
how they could possibly face the King with such paltry trifles.
Gold,
frankincense, myrrh:
What
could these mean to the infant King
who
was revealed to them in weakness and humility?
And yet what could they do?
They had come all this way.
And so they lay the gold, frankincense, and myrrh
before Him,
and he accepts them,
not because they are worthy gifts,
but as a gift to the wise men themselves.
He accepts them,
just as he accepts us.
We have nothing to offer him
that he has not already offered to us.
We have nothing to offer him,
only battered, bruised, broken, rebellious and stubborn hearts.
Rusty old cans on a junk
heap.
And yet our Lord has mercy on
us,
and accepts the gifts,
and out of these gifts he
fashions something,
something which may not look
particularly impressive to us,
but because it is God’s work,
we ought not despise it.
What gift will you offer the
King?
Do offer him your time,
talent, and treasure,
and offer him your battered,
bruised, broken, rebellious and stubborn hearts.
Give him your sinful and
anxious self.
Give him the worship that is
ready to be given to another
at the slightest provocation.
Give him the life that can be
snuffed out at a moment’s notice,
He accepts our gifts,
as he accepted the paltry
gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh,
and he gives to us
the endless treasures of his
kingdom.
