What a great question for this text! What do good news beginnings look like? Do they start with "once upon a time" or more like "it was a dark and stormy night?" For Mark, the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ does not include an extensive genealogy or an elaborate birth narrative. It does not wander around in metaphysical language about the presence of the Word before time began. There are no angels, no shepherds, no wise men, no stable, no star. Mark's not much of a "happily ever after" writer either. Whereas Jesus' other biographers take great pains to talk about his post-crucifixion appearances to the disciples, Mark is satisfied with an unknown stranger in a white robe telling the women who come to prepare his tomb, "He has been raised, he is not here."

Was Mark just scrambling to get pen to paper here? Was he the on-the-scene journalist while the other gospel writers were note-taking biographers and wordy theologians? Or does Mark's characteristic terseness and immediacy give us a whole different sense of urgency about this message of good news?

Mark begins the story of Jesus with an introduction to John the Baptist, not as his pre-birth cousin leaping for joy in the womb, but as a fully adult protagonist. John is, literarily, the dark and stormy night in which we begin this tale of good news. John is the messenger of this most important message. The gospel writer paraphrases the Isaiah text we also read from this morning saying, "See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.'"

This preparation is what John's teaching is all about. He is trying to pave the way for something much bigger. He preaches from the wilderness. He eats bugs and wears weird clothes. He tells people that he is not worthy, that they are not worthy, and this one on whom they wait will have the power to bring the Holy Spirit into each and every one of our lives. It is a very, very big deal. He cannot say enough really about the impact of how the world might change once Jesus starts baptizing, not with water, but with the Spirit.

But we often get the message wrong, especially at this time of year. We hang on the familiar stories found in the other gospels. It's about a baby. It's about the myths and meanings of the past. It's really not about us, at least not unless it's about what gifts go under our trees. But Mark wakes us up from our dreamy nativity naiveté with an urgent message. It is about us! It's about what we do today, not tomorrow, not on December 25. It's about right here, right now; and it's about the kind of repentance required of us to catch even a glimpse of what Jesus Christ is really all about.

Self-proclaimed religious skeptic, Nevada Barr, gets it right with her reflection on repentance. She talks about how she used to think about forgiveness. She thought, like many of us do, that it was all about the person whom we have wronged. For her it was about saying "I'm sorry," making amends, and getting right what was wrong in the past. But then she says that she had a realization. Repentance is not about the other person, nor is it about the past. She says, "Repentance is not about changing the past. The past is, if not written in stone, certainly beyond our mortal reach. Repentance is about changing the future." And she continues, "True repentance is to turn back, turn back and don't do it again. If you do plant a poison seed, turn back, choose not to nurture it." (Seeking Enlightenment Hat by Hat, p. 194-195)

This is where Mark begins with the good news story. We humans have planted a lot of poison seeds. You know it. I know it. John's whole preaching career was based on this principle. The night is dark and boy is it ever stormy. But John tells us that there is hope on the horizon. We don't have to be stuck in our past; we can make a turn toward the future. Repentance is about changing your life, it's about turning from sin and guilt, and turning to love. When we turn in love to Jesus, the unworthiness that we've felt all along melts away, and when we bend to untie Jesus' sandal, he meets us in our humility with an embrace.

There's something different going on here. There's something that is surprisingly good about Jesus meeting our unworthiness with the gift of forgiveness. And it all whooshes upon us during the season of Advent right as the beginning of winter has stripped our landscape down to bare branches.

I wrote in the church newsletter this time about Advent. For me, it is a time of remembering just how hard it is to follow Jesus. Part of the reason for that is that I tend to get wound pretty tight around the holidays - which is nothing all that unusual. It's easy to get caught up in presents to buy, cards to mail, and decorating to be done. Put on top of that, as most of us do, the year-end of whatever happens at work, a few unreasonable family expectations, and voila - the stress factor registers a little higher on the Richter scale. What does it take to turn down the volume? What centers us back in what's truly important? What can we do when the "happiest time of the year" leaves us feeling a little too much empathy with George Bailey, the suicidal main character of "It's a Wonderful Life?"

Can we truly turn everything over to our saints and guardian angels? Perhaps. But Mark's gospel offers us another option, to open our eyes from the first verse, of the first chapter, of the first narrative of Jesus and recognize that the story of Jesus is the Message, it is the good news. It's meant for us and points us directly toward the future rather than sticking us with the past. Repent. Believe. Be forgiven. God's Spirit is bestowed upon us from the very beginning of the good news story of Jesus Christ.