It is so predictable. Every year we follow the same old pattern as we prepare for Christmas. Stores shelve holiday goods...decorations at home go up...cards fill the mailbox...the parties begin. Accustomed as we are to the stresses of the season, most people, with the exception of the occasional Scrooge, seem to be happy. Behind every smile, you can sense an added measure of good will.

Every year the church also follows a pattern as we prepare for Christmas. The season of Advent brings out special "decorations" for the pulpit and the table. We use Advent wreaths to mark the time as we wait for the baby to arrive in the manger. And, of course, today we got a sneak preview of that momentous night in Bethlehem when the Sunday school children presented their Christmas program. Words like hope and joy and peace fill our worship more than usual.

And just as the anticipation is reaching its highest level we are confronted not once, but twice with this John the Baptist person. Last week, if you will recall, provided much more of a visual for us. We were told he wore a garment of camel hair. Camel hair, if you do not know, was used for rugs in front of the door because it was so abrasive. It has a chemical in it that irritates the skin. Who in their right mind would wear camel hair? Moreover, we are told that he ate wild honey and locusts and wandered in the wastelands of Judea. A strange character, indeed!

I cannot help but wonder, in the middle of all this Christmas preparation, what on earth is John the Baptist doing here. His odd appearance certainly bears no resemblance to a particular, unnamed, jolly old elf. Nor does he remind us of the images we see of a glowing virgin mother cuddling that precious new baby. And the things he says. This man announces himself as a voice in the wilderness. I did not hear a word about one jingling bell, no shiny noses, and certainly no golden rings! This odd man John interrupts our culture's rituals and our religious rituals to remind us that something is happening; something is coming that is going to change the world.

We, of course, are far from the first people to be jostled by John. We know from this morning's gospel lesson that his ministry was attracting attention. People from all corners were coming to him. He was also breaking tradition and baptizing anyone who repented. These kinds of crowds and these baptismal practices did not go unnoticed by the priestly hierarchy. The synagogue leaders sent out some members on a fact finding mission to try and figure this guy out. "Just who are you, anyway?" they asked John. "No," John responded, "I'm not the messiah. No, I'm not the prophet Moses spoke of. No, I'm not Elijah." Upon hearing these refutations, his interrogators quickly and pointedly note that he was simply not worthy to be doing the things he was doing.

John, this man who had amassed such a following. This man who was making the authorities more than a little nervous heard their argument and said, "You know what? You are right. I'm not. I'm not even worthy to untie the thong of the sandal of the one who is coming after me." Now it is worth noting that in that culture this meant he was not worthy to be even a slave to the one who was coming.

John used water to baptize the repentant, and people were cleansed. But another was coming who would baptize with fire and the Holy Spirit and people would be changed! "You are right," he said. "I am not worthy."

John's response to this line of questions must have left his inquisitors puzzled. What could explain the attention he was drawing from the people? John was not purporting to be something he wasn't. So that could not explain his following. And he was certainly a strange looking character. He certainly did not fit the bill as an attractive, charismatic leader pulling people in. But the peoplethey just kept coming. One can be sure that some of those people just came out of curiosity. Some probably showed up out of cynicism or even raw skepticism. But whatever reason they came, we know many of them did not just listen and leave. There was something about him that connected with the people. He possessed a genuine quality...an authenticity, a truthfulness, a clarity of purposethat they wanted in their lives. Drawn to this, they walked down to the river, one by one, and were baptizedthey were cleansed. And after that they returned home somehow different than when they had come.

The story of this strange man, John, reminds me of a story I once heard from a pastor I know. A woman we'll call Sally was a member of his congregation. Sally was a bit of a strange person, too. She could be accused of shopping at the same clothing store as John the Baptist. And she also talked a little strangely. Turn to her and say, "Sally, the peace of the Lord be with you" she would place a strong grip on your hand and reply with her guttural voice, "You betcha." She was a character.

Well as fate would have it Sally would bring her fanciful dress and questionable vocal talents right into the choir loft. Her coarse, abrasive voice, unpleasant enough to listen to in a normal conversation, put the "noise" in the choir's "joyful noise." Where she lacked in talent, however, she made up for in enthusiasm and dedication to her congregation.

One year the worship and music committee at the church decided to invite anyone who wished to do so to sing a solo for the Lenten midweek services. The pastor was tasked with extending the invitation and coordinating the singing schedule. Well you probably already can guess who was the first to volunteer to sing a solo...Sally. She further complicated the situation by offering to sing a somewhat out of season song that was not going to add to worship and had nothing to do with God. As she asked to sing every instinct in the pastor's being was crying "Oh, no!!" The pastor looked at her and said, "Oh, sure!" How, he wondered later, was he going to be able to talk her out of this?

Well, the pastor never got around to convincing her not to sing. The dreaded evening featuring Sally's solo eventually came. They got to the part in the service for the special music and the pastor braced himself as she started to sing. But as she sang something strange began happening to the pastor. Tears started welling up in his eyes, then spilling over onto his cheeks. Now this pastor is not a known crier, but these tears would simply not stop. As Sally reached the end of her song the pastor was feeling convicted of his sin...and curiously inspired. God had entered the pastor's life that night in the person of Sally. You see, this pastor had pre-determined Sally to be unworthy of her moment of sharing her voice in the church. And by all accounts his judgment was justified. He had sung his first church solo before he started elementary school. He grew up studying music, he studied with some amazing teachers, and eventually he earned a Bachelor of Music degree in voice. But by the end of Sally's performance, this man of substantial musical talent, was praying to himself, "Lord, teach me to sing...like Sally." Because Sally possessed a genuine quality...an authenticity, a truthfulness, a clarity of purpose...A genuine quality, an authenticity, a truthfulness, a clarity of purpose the pastor sought in his life.

On this third Sunday in Advent we are entering deeply into the season. In the coming days and weeks we will be squeezed by papers, exams and travel plans. We will be pressed for time to have everything in order so that cards get in the mailbox and gifts get to the right people on time. We will be tidying up business to close out the old year and ring in the new.

In the midst of all of that, however, we also have the opportunity to partake in one of the real joys of Advent — the surprises that God reveals to us in this journey toward the Incarnation. This Sunday in Scripture we are surprised when a churlish looking character like John the Baptist directs our attention to the One who is coming to forever re-form our lives. Tomorrow, or next week, you may be equally surprised when encounter someone like Sally the singer who will, in his or her own way, "make straight the way of the Lord" for you.

So as we proceed on this Advent journey, let our eyes and our hearts be open to the surprises awaiting us. Surprises that restore us. Surprises that offer us the opportunity to transform another. Surprises that make God's presence most visible and powerful in God's wondrous creation.

Amen.