Grace to you and peace from our loving God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Each of our texts this morning gives us information about the future. It seems quite relevant given our congregational meeting today, at which we consider our ministry plan for next year.

The future is an odd thing, isn't it?

Most folks plan for it, some more carefully than others. We pay attention to what's happening with Social Security. If we aren't yet retired, we try to make wise investments in 401(k) or 403(b) plans or Keogh's or IRA's and pension funds of one sort or another.

Other people don't plan at all. It is one of the most disastrous revelations of what poverty and lack of opportunity can do to a child, to find out that he has given no thought to what he might be when he grows up or she doesn't consider the long-term consequences of drug abuse. Some simply don't have the luxury of planning; their concerns are solely of the day-to-day kind. That's true for most of the population, for example, in Guatemala, at $2 or less per day. They live literally from hand to mouth. Time seems more cyclical than linear. It may become a weight rather than a gift, even a trap.

Then there's the worry that haunts those of us for whom the future seems real. How can we protect ourselves from dangers? How can we prepare ourselves for possible accidents and crises? Insurance of all kinds is available to calm our many fears.

The future is a matter of much conversation and concern, and I often wonder whether it is worth the energy we give it. I almost said "invest in it," but perhaps that would be a presumptuous way of speaking.

The future, in terms of our worship year, is here. The liturgical year has come to an end. We stand at a celebration of the fulfillment of time and scripture, when Christ comes as King of kings and Lord of lords, reigning forever and ever. Today we mark a day acknowledging that the future is already here, and it belongs to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Now what I've said thus far may not square too well with the title I've chosen, but I hope it has piqued your interest a bit. So, let's turn to the texts.

First, we hear from Daniel:

As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed. (7:13-14)

A new day is coming, Daniel announces. Hope is always there at the edge of crisis, and the dominion of the Lord is eternal.

As we live in the kingdom, we declare with the psalmist, "This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it." Yes, even today. Right now. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, "See, now this is the acceptable time. Now is the day of salvation." God does not and will not abandon us.

We also hear from the book of Revelation:

Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth"...I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty. (1:4b,8)

Our Lord is the God of all events and times. God is God of past, present, and future.

Time is not an obstacle for God. It's not as if God was present long ago and is somehow less so now. God is with us regardless of what we're experiencing—no matter how anxious we might feel.

In fact, this last Sunday in the liturgical year was designated as the Festival of Christ the King because of difficult circumstances. It's not an ancient festival like Easter or Christmas. It's less than a century old, designated first by Pope Pius XI in 1925. Europe was in chaos. Inflation was rampant, and colonialism was at its worst. The seeds of evil that were to produce the terrors of World War II were being sown. Against all this, the Pope established the Festival of Christ the King to declare that Jesus Christ remained the God of all and an anchor in stormy times. Jesus was and is the goal of all human history, the joy of all who hear, the fulfillment of our aspirations, and the answer to all of our anxieties.

The promise of Revelation is that the reign of Christ is not only for yesterday, but also for today and tomorrow. We can rejoice not only in what God has done but in what God will do. As Jesus says, "I am the Alpha and the Omega."

Finally, a word of hope from the gospel of John:

Then Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" Pilate replied, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

This dialogue with Pilate sounds odd. Jesus won't answer questions directly. But then, he wants to know Pilate's heart. He leaves the decision regarding who he is and what the truth is to Pilate—as he leaves that decision to us. Jesus won't misuse power. He won't force issues. He works to persuade. It is not God's way to coerce, but to lead us with a steady and a gentle hand, urging us on, inviting us and hoping that we will decide to follow his lead.

What Pilate saw before him made no sense because he chose not to recognize the truth.

Frederick Buechner, writing in "Listening to Your Life," says of the kingdom of God that it is not a place, of course, but a condition, insofar as here and there, and now and then, God's kingly will is being done in various odd ways among us even at this moment; the kingdom has come already. Insofar as all the odd ways we do his will at the moment are half-baked and half-hearted, the kingdom is still a long way off.

The challenge of the kingdom is for each of us to let God be God.

The issue in our Gospel and for our lives is "Who is really in charge?" Do we, like Pilate, pay attention principally to appearances; or, like Jesus, do we perceive a deeper reality? If we fail to realize who is really in charge, we miss the wonders of the kingdom that are right in front of us. We, like Pilate, let our troubles or our position cloud our vision.

An old Native American legend tells of a young warrior who found a lone eagle egg. To be helpful, he placed it in the nest of a prairie chicken. The little eagle grew up with prairie chicks, pecking and clucking around, searching the ground for worms, insects, and seeds. Life was one pleasant day after another—no challenges. When the eaglet flew, like the prairie chicks, he never rose more than a few feet off the ground. The years passed and the eaglet grew and matured.

One day, scratching the ground, the eagle glanced up. Soaring in the clouds was the most splendid bird he'd ever seen. He couldn't take his eyes away from the bird's gorgeous, strong, golden wings. It seemed not to move as it commanded the sky.

He asked the head prairie chicken what the noble bird was. "That's an eagle, the chief of birds, but he's far above you. Keep scratching." And he did. He died, never realizing that he was not a prairie chicken. (Rev. Dr. Wiley Stephens, "Thanksgiving in Three Tenses," The Protestant Hour, Inc., 1996-2003, adapted)

That is a parable of our blindness in the face of Christ's glorious kingship. When we worry about the future, when we get wrought up about any perceived crisis of spirit, heart, mind, or community, we are simply showing our failure to recognize who and whose we really are. We turn our gaze away from the truth of the eternal kingship of our Lord.

The faith and trust called for by the one who is the Alpha and the Omega—the one who is the way, the truth, and the life—is illustrated by one who knew more trouble than we are likely ever to know.

Scraped on the wall of a cell in one of the camps of the Holocaust, underneath a crudely drawn Star of David, in rough lettering on a crumbling wall, are these words:

God is always calling us gently into a new future. God is always leading us forward. Remember the Israelites as they struggled in the wilderness, when at times they longed for the security of Egypt, forgetting the hardships of oppression. Remember the disciples after the crucifixion as they questioned everything they had learned from Jesus, unaware of the astounding future that awaited them. They had yet to know about the resurrection or the ascension, the coming of the Holy Spirit or the preaching of Paul.

On this Christ the King Sunday, scripture has an equally astonishing message for us. A new day is coming, says the Lord. That new day and all of what has happened and is happening belong to God. And God is gently inviting us into the future. In Christ, who is King of all, we may trust absolutely. Our gentle God only asks that we decide for the kingship of Christ and see with eyes fixed on him. Amen.

May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus our Lord unto eternal life. Amen.