The Sabino and Antrim Family would like to thank everyone at Westwind for your warm and generous welcome this morning.  You made our children feel welcomed & loved on with the gifts you gave them and both of our families appreciate the gift cards that were given to us as well.  We are looking forward to getting to know all of you personally as we join in the work that God is doing in Waukee, Dallas County, and surrounding areas.

“Maybe today.” Maybe today would be the day that I would see the promised one. I woke this way every day, ever since that day so long ago. Maybe today is the day the God of my father, Jacob will fulfill his promise made to me. Maybe today I would see “Messiah.”

It has been this way for a very long time. I remember the first time I heard it, that voice. The memories are not pleasant, for they come with heartache and pain. I am a simple man, with a simple life. My name is Simeon, and I live in Jerusalem. I have lived in this area all my life. I have grown up knowing the stories of my relatives. I am even named after one of Jacob’s sons. I studied to become a rabbi, but it was not to be. I knew the law, and did my best to keep it. As I said, I am a simple man. So I did what I could, and worked my way up the ladder, and even owned my own shop in the market. I sold the everyday wares needed in the house. I worked hard. I was so excited when my father told me a bride had been found for me. We were engaged, and the future looked bright. The first year of our marriage was rocky as we came to know each other, but our love grew. She was a simple girl as well, and she loved our people, and our heritage. Her faith was strong and she believed all she had been taught. She always reminded me that the day would come when the “Promised One” would come and take away our bondage. We talked of it often. It was as if she knew something was coming.

After several years, we found out she was going to have a baby. We were very excited, and it became the topic of our daily conversation. We talked of names, of our history, and of the future. I began to get our own home ready for the new addition. Then, the day of the delivery arrived. It did not go as I had thought. Something went wrong, and the midwives were scurrying around. There was not the joy and laughter that I had experienced as others had babies. It seemed as if I was in a dream, no, more of a nightmare. They came to me and told me that there had been problems in the delivery, and my wife had not made it. She had died giving birth. The baby, he never made it either. In one brief moment, I lost all I had planned. My family, my future, my joy, it was all gone. I stumbled around for days. My family did what they could, but there was no peace. I tried to focus on the business, but all I could see was the face of my wife, and my son, for the moment I held him close. How could I go on? What was there to live for?

So, not knowing what else to do, I went to Temple, and offered my sacrifices. I went to give God that which he deserved. I was not sure that I wanted much to do with this God. I knew the stories of deliverance, and the stories of miracles. There was no miracle in my life. I still believed that there was a promise coming, but it all seemed much harder to celebrate now. As I recited some of the Law, I heard the words of the prophets in the background, and then, I heard a much clearer voice. “You will see my promise. Your eyes will see my Salvation. You will see Messiah.” I turned to see who had spoken to me. While the yard was full of worshippers, no one was speaking to me. I put my head down, and I heard it again. “You will see the promised one of Israel. Your eyes will behold the redemption of the nations.” I looked around again, and thought to myself, “Simeon, you have had some really bad wine!” I asked, “God, is that you?” The reply was, “Simeon, you will see the Glory of Israel, and the light of the nations.” As quickly as it came, it was gone.

I woke up the next morning. My thoughts immediately went to the events of the day before. Had I really heard a voice? Was God telling me that I would really see “Messiah?” After all these years, with no words from God to anyone? I went to work, thinking about it the whole time, went to Temple, and came home. Nothing. I kept thinking that I would hear the voice again, but I did not. This became my ritual, my reason for living, everyday, would begin, “Maybe today?” The days turned to weeks, and weeks turned to years. I found myself meditating on the prophets and their description of the promised one. In the process, I found my sorrow being replaced with joy, and my despair turning to hope. God had spoken! To a simple man He had given a promise! So the “Maybe today?” became “Maybe today!” Year after year, it never got old. In time, I sold my shop to my young apprentice. I went to the Temple everyday. I looked in the crowds, and tried to scan faces. Messiah became my destination. I am now an old man, my hands shake, and my eyes have grown dim, but not my hope. Maybe today!

Then, about six weeks ago, I had a dream. It was more of a nightmare. I awoke in the middle of the night. I felt a tremendous burden of conflict. It was as if I was on the edge of a battle, but could not see it. There was hope and horror. There was victory and defeat. There was anger and hatred, and there was joy and love. Ridiculous, hilarious, love. I went outside to clear my head, and it seemed as if the whole world was involved in something otherworldly. I could feel captivity giving way to freedom. This was not the captivity that held Israel in bondage. This was a captivity of the soul. I did not know what to make of it. It might just have been the evening meal. I am an old man, and my stomach is not always right! I finally went back to bed. I slept restlessly, and awoke in the morning, “Maybe today!” Nothing.

That was six weeks ago. This morning I woke up, and immediately thought, “Maybe today!” I cleaned myself up, and decided to go to Temple early. I thought of the events of the last several months, with the census, all the travelers, and the oppression of Rome. I thought to myself, “Today would be a good day to see Messiah.” I thought that all the time. I was becoming a vintage believer. I made my way to the Temple, and that is when I saw them. A young couple, obviously from the farmlands. He was a strong young man, holding a couple of pigeons. She was holding a baby close to her chest. They went to the priest, and made the offering. It was obvious that they were not from wealth or affluence. I watched from the distance. There was something different about them. They had a maturity about them. I came closer, and could see that he was a hard worker. His hands were calloused, and his eyes were those that measured everyone around. Her eyes were only for her baby, a boy.

It was then, I heard the voice again. “My redemption is here. This is Messiah!” I came closer, and the father looked at me. I haltingly held out my weak and aged arms, and she placed the baby in my shaking hands. At once, my hands became steady. My arms were strengthened. It seemed as if a whole new force was taking over my body. The words that flowed were no longer mine. “My God, you can now take me home. You can take your slave in peace, for today my eyes have beheld Salvation. You have been preparing the whole world for this light for all time. This glory for Israel, and the hope of redemption for the world!” In that moment, I knew that what I was holding and seeing was supernatural. The baby I held was the hope of the world! This was Messiah! In my simple, aged, hands, was the redeemer of all mankind!

I looked into Mary’s eyes as Joseph took Jesus from me. In that moment, I knew that she would feel some of the pain that I had experienced. She would lose her baby as well. It would be different, but it would be piercing. I told her what I had seen, and her eyes told me, she understood. It was as if my own pain had prepared me for this moment with Mary and Joseph. All of that dimmed in the glorious light of the restoration of God’s promise. This baby was the fulfillment of the promise made to Adam, Abraham, and Jacob. I had seen and held the Salvation of our God. Messiah had slept in my arms. Maybe today? It was today!

Today is the day that God has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it. For I have seen the glory of the Lord, and He has made me glad! Merry Christmas!

Growing up, one of my all-time favorite  Thanksgiving dishes was giblet gravy on mashed potatoes. For those of you who didn’t grow up in the south, giblet gravy is weird mix of gravy, hard boiled eggs, spices and cooked parts of the chicken that you wouldn’t normally eat (liver, gizzard, etc.). Sounds gross to most, I am sure, but it was a Thanksgiving staple that was part of the Barker family culture. I remember Karla coming to her first Thanksgiving with my family and being horrified at the lumpy, chunk filled concoction that my mom held prominently in a beautiful gravy dish. I couldn’t believe that she hadn’t heard of giblet gravy, and that she couldn’t imagine liking it. It took her some time to warm up to the idea.

I am sure every family has it traditions. Whether it is the food you eat, the things you do before or after the meal, or who sits where, traditions are a part of every community. The same is true of a worshipping community–there are traditions that give it identity. As people continue to come to Westwind, it is important to share those traditions so as to continually perpetuate the culture of our church. Just like the Barker family and giblet gravy go hand in hand, so does Westwind and its traditions. So, here are a few traditions I see at Westwind, that are our “giblet gravy” to our community. Feel free to write your own below in the comment section.

1. Westwind serves well: I want our church to be a place that is known for our service inside and out of our walls.
2. Smiles and Hugs: People will know the love of Jesus through a joyful spirit of those at Westwind.
3. Authenticity: No boxed potatoes for us, we want to be the real deal. That means admitting our weakness and mistakes and sharing who we are really.
4. Bible Doers: We aren’t just interested in hearing the Word, but actually putting it to use in our lives.

These Westwind traditions are already in place, but remember–what makes a tradition in the continuation of an event or behavior. So, lets use this holiday season to continue the Westwind traditions.

If you weren’t at our Celebration Service this Sunday then you missed an epic moment in Westwind history. Right as Brandon got up to deliver his message the intercom system went on playing Van Halen’s “That’s What Dreams Are Made Of”. Thinking that it was some sort of joke, Brandon laughed it off until the song ended, only to be interrupted by “Margaritaville” by Jimmy Buffet. Clearly this wasn’t a joke and there was some sort of technical issue going on.

Instantaneously, various people throughout the crowd got up and hustled to different areas of the school to see if they could lend a hand to stop the music that was being played (now it was “Freeze Frame” by the J. Geils Band). Although the music being played was completely distracting, it didn’t seem to bother our worshipping community. People laughed as different songs would be played. There were even people tapping their toes to the tunes.

When it looked like the music issue wasn’t going to be fixed, one person suggested that we keep worshipping. The band got back up to the platform and drowned out the classic 80′s rock songs with praises to the Most High God. It was great to see people praising God over the distraction. After the songs were sung, the crowd was encouraged to stick around and just hang out (with full accompaniment of the intercom radio station). It was a delight to see all the people who used it as an opportunity to get to know other people from Westwind. God did use it for His glory.

There were a lot of laughs that day, so here are just few of the funny things that got said:

• Best sermon ever, pastor.
• Even junior high boys should have their prayers answered every once in a while.
• Can I make a request for MC Hammer?
• So, is your church like this every Sunday?

Thanks again for all those who tried to help, and for those who laughed it off with us and had a great time of fellowship. We will make sure for next Sunday that we will clear the floor so people can “cut a rug”.