Are you familiar with the term “spoiler alert”? A spoiler, of course, is information about a movie or book or television show or other storyline that spoils the surprise of what is going to happen. And so, many times, when people talk about such a story and they want to address something that has happened but may not be known by everyone, they may preface their comments with the phrase “spoiler alert.” This warns the listener or reader that they may not want to listen or they will hear information that could spoil their viewing pleasure. I remember when the movie “The Sixth Sense” came out quite a few years ago now in 1999. The movie was brilliantly written with a shocking surprise at the end. And it wasn’t long before people began to talk about it and those who hadn’t seen it would get quite angry if those who had even mentioned that there was a big surprise let alone if they tried to tell them what it was. They were so worried about having their experience of the movie spoiled. It was almost anxiety producing. I remember deciding I’d better go watch the movie in the theaters quickly just so that I wouldn’t have to try to avoid the spoilers anymore.

The passage we read from Revelation chapter 7 this morning has the feel of a spoiler. John talks about his vision of the heavenly worship with angels and the four living creatures and a multitude of people in white robes. And then he describes being approached by an elder and asked, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” And John says, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” And here comes the spoiler. The elder replies, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” This is a hint about what happens to us later in the story. Spoiler alert: it all works out pretty good in the end. The elder in John’s vision says that, though we will go through a “great ordeal”, in the end we will be with God, worshipping him day and night, we will have no hunger or thirst, and God will wipe every tear from our eyes. Does knowing this, does knowing that God will ultimately prevail over all the evil and darkness of the world spoil things for us? Has it ruined the surprise?

There is a funny scene in the movie “Big Daddy” where Adam Sandler’s character Sonny, who is kind of a screw up in life, comes home to his apartment one day. Unbeknownst to him, his roommate’s girlfriend has planned a big surprise party for his roommate. When Sonny walks into the apartment, the crowd yells “Surprise!” And then they realize it’s the wrong person who came in. As they are settling back down, the roommate casually walks in, almost unnoticed, until one of the guests spots him and says half-heartedly, “Hey, surprise!” The girlfriend is furious and says to Sonny, “We wasted the good surprise on you!” Did God waste the good surprise by revealing it to John? Is heaven now just a half-hearted surprise? And perhaps more importantly, what do we do in the meantime?

Jill Duffield, in the book that is our guide during this season of Advent titled “Advent in Plain Sight,” asks the question, “If we see every tear as one that God will wipe dry in the future, are we prepared to ameliorate the circumstances that elicit that weeping right here and now, for Christ’s sake?” In other words, if God is eventually going to fix everything in the world and make it all right, what is the impetus for us to try to make anything right right now? Do we just ignore the pain and suffering of our present reality, knowing that God will make things better in the future? Or do we join with God in trying to make all things new? Do we strive for what we pray each week? That God’s will be done on earth just as it is in heaven?

The second Sunday of Advent is traditionally associated with the theme of peace. But we live in a world where peace feels very absent right now. Families are divided by politics. Churches are divided by doctrines and practices. Marriages and families are broken by divorce. Communities are ripped apart by tragedy or natural disaster. Some days it feels like we are living in complete and utter chaos. Like the orderly creation that God made has been unraveled and we’ve returned to that chaos from which we came. It can be very difficult to be a voice of peace in the midst of this chaos. It feels so much easier to just try to shout a bit louder or get a bit angrier. But we are reminded in Advent that Jesus came to bring “peace on earth, good will to all.” He said to his disciples near the end of his life, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” Jesus gives us peace in order that we might give peace to the world.

But that seems such a daunting task. The chaos around us is so aggressive and strong. How can what little bit of peace we can offer make any difference? Jill Duffield tells a beautiful story of a woman from one of the churches she served. Listen to the story as Jill tells it: “In a church I served early in my ministry, I came to count on the wisdom of a leader in the church whose counsel and presence never failed to encourage. She laughed easily, worked tirelessly to help the vulnerable, and exhibited a compassion to everyone that I can only aspire to emulate. When I needed not just an instructive word but one of hopeful faith, I called her. I learned that when she was a young mother she had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer, not given good odds for survival, and told to prepare for brutal treatment that may or may not save her life. She endured rounds of chemotherapy, multiple surgeries, radiation, and all the pain that accompanied it, all while attempting to tend to her preschool-age children. When I came to know her, those children were grown and having children of their own. Miraculously, she survived and remained cancer-free. Her tears had sown in her a great joy for life and given her a humility and gentleness through which she saw the world as a result. Having gotten to the other side of a near-death experience, she praised God for every moment, no matter how mundane. I loved working with her because her answer to whatever was before us, whatever request, whatever challenge, was an unwavering sense that with God’s help, we would figure it out. Her tears had sown an abundant harvest of hard-won faith that she in turn shared joyously with the world.”

Psalm 126 says, “May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy. Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, carrying their sheaves.” When we sow our tears, when we learn from our mistakes and grow through our challenges and love through our pain, we will find ourselves changed on the other side. And when we plant those tears in the lives of others or out in the world, amazing things might grow from that. This church leader that Jill Duffield knew didn’t plan on facing a life-threatening illness. It could have not only killed her but crippled her faith and her hope. But instead, she planted those tears in God’s fertile soil and she not only found faith and hope and joy for herself, but she became a beacon of those things for everyone who knew her.

And that, I believe, is how we make a difference in this world. That is how we speak peace into the chaos. That is how we bridge divides and tear down walls. We sow our tears in order to grow peace and hope and love and joy in the world. Isn’t that how Jesus lived? As the Son of God, he wasn’t immune to the pains of this world. But rather than hiding from them or getting angry about them, he wept and cried out to God. And from the planting of those tears, from the seed of that pain, burst forth life and love and hope. The Apostle Paul uses this seed imagery in his first letter to the Corinthians when he talks about the resurrection from the dead and he writes, “What is sown is perishable, what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. It is sown a physical body, it is raised a spiritual body.”

Let us sow our tears, our fears, our weaknesses, everything that is perishable and lacking honor, and watch how God will raise it from the dead to be something great that lasts…hope, peace, joy, love, faith. May we sow these seeds through patience and love. May we sow them through endurance and peace. May we sow them through grace and mercy. And may we find that it changes us and our little part of the world. And if we all do that together, perhaps we can live into the words we pray each week. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” And may the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen!