Reading the bible is a bit like watching a movie taken by a camera that shoots very few frames over a long period of time. We have all seen the nature films in which a small green shoot wriggles up from the bottom of the frame to near the top in a couple of seconds. A bud forms before our eyes, bursts open and a flower unfurls. A brief pause ensues as though the flower is getting its bearings, and then it turns toward the light of the sun. Once the flower has located the light, it tracks the sun as the sun moves over the face of the earth until night comes.

A slow motion camera makes visible the slow progression of things we would otherwise miss. But we see much of our own life in short clips or snapshots that will not yield as coherent a narrative unless we have some larger framework in which to place those perceptions.

It is like a nature film in which we can only see a segment of stem, then part of a flower filling the frame, and finally two pale petals on the ground. If we do not know the life cycle of flowers we will not make sense of such images as they shoot past us.

The bible moves from the dawn of all things to the final revelation in the time it takes to move from one cover to the next. The entire sweep of salvation history is there for us to see. That is the framework against which we will make greater sense of our lives and the events in the world around us.

Just as flowers turn toward the light, so do human beings. But we seek not just sunlight but illumination. We are made to seek a greater vision of the world around us, to ponder the meaning of our existence and pursue an understanding of our connection with creation just as a flower is made to turn toward the sun.

The light that appeared in the East so many years ago caused wise men to turn towards it rising and to track its progress across the sky. Who knows how long or how far they traveled? It was a long way, but in a high-speed film, the distance doesn't matter. What matters is that they saw the light, and they followed it. Even the temporary imposition of a storm cloud named Herod did not end their progress. In the blink of an eye, from our perspective, the wise men arrived at Bethlehem and basked in the radiance that shone from the straw. Knees were bent, gifts were given, dreams were had- then they left by another road, avoiding the storm in Jerusalem. This snapshot of distant strangers coming to see the Christ child is the beginning of the part of the movie in which the world begins waking up to God with us in human form.

Every day the sun rises again. Flowers raise their heads, feel the warmth and see the light. Every day they turn afresh to track the sun. Every generation of people has to rediscover - and name - that urge to seek the divine that is deep within us.

Jeremiah spoke into the darkness of a people who lives lay in ruin and he sang a song of standing straight, of no more weeping, but of people swaying with gladness like a watered garden dancing in the sun. It was still dark, but light was coming. Light was coming. See what a difference knowing the movie makes when one picks up the snapshot? All times and all lives have snapshots of darkness. Perhaps this is such a day for you. But know that stars rise in the east and light comes to people who sit in darkness. Hope for that light. Look for it's coming - light is coming - then follow it.

Paul, in his letter to the Ephesians, pointed to the same sweep of grace that is visible if we consider the wider story. "Christ chose you before the foundations of the world," Paul claims. Then he tells the Ephesians, and we who are listening, that we have been adopted into God's family through Christ's birth, baptism, ministry, death and Resurrection. If we bask in this light, and believe the words, we will receive a great gift- freedom from the fear of death, and release from the weight of sin.

Our story started when God breathed over the waters of creation. It will not end, if we believe what we read. The burial office claims that for faithful people life is changed not ended. And by next Friday we will have had the chance to remember this and to contemplate life as a high-speed movie at least four times. The reason for this is that we will have had five deaths and four funerals since Christmas. William Smith, Leib McDonald, Betty Bird, Emily Rush, and Marcella, Dr. Leggenhausen's mother.

Part of what happens leading up to a funeral is that a person's life is reviewed. With luck, the person themselves has time to ponder things in their hearts- a chance to ask forgiveness, to make amends, a time to tell others that they love them. With intention the family and friends can be present, shedding light and love into the coming night- pointing to the star that shines in the darkness to lead the dying on. With love and grace, the community gathers and hears the witness of Scripture- sees the sweep of the story- and comes to understand the snapshots of a single life in a greater light. This is why, even at the grave, we make our song, Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

We cannot know how long the road we travel may be. We can count on a certain amount of weeping, and hope for our measure of joy. We know there will be darkness, as night follows day. But we also know that a star has risen in the east, a son has been born in the straw, and that sun will rise over the living and the dead. So let us turn to face that light, and track it all our days, that we may feel the warmth and see the son who is our friend and not a stranger. AMEN.