There was a great feeling of optimism on the day my new boss started.

She was energetic, smart, and witty. But within the first week things changed. My co-workers and I noticed she wanted to review nearly everything we did, no matter how minute. Before we knew it she turned into a control freak.

So we naturally asked the question, what’s she scared of?

There were plenty of answers: Did she feel she was promoted above her capability? Was her compensation tied to our output? Was her marriage dependent upon her success? What kinds of parental expectations was she feeling?

As the old adage goes, show me a controlling person and I’ll show you a fearful person.

Jesus frequently clashed with such people, whose fear came out in all sorts of destructive ways. And we notice that the best way he found to deal with them was not by emulating them or hitting back, but by finding security in his humanity.

Jesus knew who he was, whose he was, and constantly reminded himself of the perspective needed to remain healthy and human. Being human means embracing our limits more than fighting them. Being human means finding our deepest contentment, not in solving the mystery, but in living into it. Being human means we’re not God and should thus be content not achieving perfection.

Letting go of our urge to control begins with accepting our humanity – we know there’s a God, let her rule.

It’s as if our beloved Episcopal Church entered the Temple of institutional religion.

We reached for the scroll from Isaiah - the one that talks about the Spirit of the Lord being upon us and anointing us to bring good news to the captives and the oppressed. It boldly declares that God has sent us to proclaim release and freedom.

After we’ve read it to all who would hear, we sat down and calmly declared, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’

That’s when the ruckus broke out. The institutional gatekeepers are hopping mad. Who knows where that anger will lead.

When the Episcopal Church decided, after decades of prayer, discernment, and open debate, that the full inclusion of all God’s people into the Christian fold was our challenge and calling, we knew this would bring liberty and joy to untold numbers of oppressed, persecuted, and downtrodden people. We also knew it would cause a ruckus in the Temple. And God only knows where that will lead.

Friends, taking a stand for what’s right is one of our deepest religious traditions. It is fearful. It is risky. It is not comfortable. But we have taken that stand in obedience to our higher calling. And so it is a time to hold tight to God, prayer, and each others’ hands, knowing that we are cared for and loved. And when all we can do is stand, to stand.

What’s more, we might even want to ask how this paradigm is living out in the microcosm of our daily lives. Dear Lord, for whom are we being asked to stick up in our home and work places? In what ways are we being called upon to stand up for the oppressed and the marginalized? Let your liberty and release flow through us, that our world might know, more deeply, your love.

There’s a humorous Islamic parable about a man who loses his keys in his house then goes outside to look for them.

“What are you doing?” asks his wife,

“Why aren’t you looking for your keys inside?”

“Oh,” says the man,

“The light is much better out here.”

How often we go looking for things in easy places! As we bypass the places where they may actually be found.

Think of the stereotypical drunk looking for happiness in alcohol (classified as a depressant no less!). Or love in a pick-up joint. Or weight loss at the ice cream store (frozen yogurt is only 100 calories!).

The ‘fast, fun, and easy’ have deep hooks in us. God only knows how they convince us that this is where we’ll find our keys…

That’s why, for a few chilly weeks each year, Christians try to pay particular attention to epiphanies. These are life’s small reminders that awaken us, and shed light on the truth all around. Epiphanies remind us of reality; they tell us we are loved and worth loving, we are at our best when we give to others, and we do well to look for our keys where we lost them.

This is Epiphany’s challenge: will we take the hard road to solving our problems? Will we realize that the best way is not the leisurely walk around, but to plow through? Will we take responsibility, accountability, and initiative? May the Light of revelation show us the way.

Years ago I was working for ABC in Los Angles and word went out that The Emmys needed volunteers.

I signed up.

When the day came, I found myself milling around the lobby before being approached by a starlet in a popular sitcom who clearly thought I was someone else. We chatted for a bit. She introduced me to a few of her friends who were going out for drinks. And I admit I was tempted to go along with the ruse. But I finally admitted I was not there to get an award, but to help with crowd control. My stock dropped quicker than Enron’s.

It can be so tempting to be who we’re not.

Yep, it’s fun pretending. But we know in our hearts, as our faith reminds us, that our deepest contentment will always come by being who we are. God often sends us epiphanies to help us do this. And in this liturgical season we open ourselves up to accepting the mirrors and spotlights that assist us in this deeply holy work.

Pray with me; Lord help me be, not who I want to be, but who you want me to be. For your kingdom comes as all your people play the parts you’ve given us. Help us to be content in ourselves and stop striving to be a poor imitation of someone else.

I had coffee with a friend this week.

She told me about how she got fired. It was a job way outside her field of study and interest – one that she didn’t even want. But things had gotten that bad. She couldn’t even hold a lousy job

So she went home to sulk. It was the lowest she had ever been.

Clicking on her computer with one hand, while gripping a pint of Haagen Daz in the other, she found the friend on social media, whose newborn inspired her to comment, who replied he had a job opening, who introduced her to her new boss, who needed help on a current project, that would go south, leading her to a new project, that would lead to years of employment and give her the most noteworthy credential she may ever have on her resume.

Time and again you and I discover that God takes care of us.

It’s rarely in the way we plan. It’s rarely the way we can predict.

But time and again you and I are shown that God can do it.

This Sunday’s gospel will attest to this – as well as 2016 that lies ahead of us.

My wish for us is that we would relax – rest in God, and let go.  Friends, time and again God shows us his faithfulness. May we find the faith and strength to believe that God is working everything out – and it’s all going to be OK.

Your cancer’s cured.

Your credit cards are paid off.

You got the job.

Lions won the Super Bowl.

Lions made it to the Super Bowl (for ye of little faith…)

The baby’s healthy.

The Syrian civil war has ended.

ISIS has been crushed.

The Good News of Christmas is better than all of the above.

It’s because we, a desperately imperfect and fearful race whose insecurities and lack of faith create many of the burdens under which we suffer, have been put on notice that the most sought after gift in the universe has arrived: Peace.

Peace that comes from the power we now have to forgive those we hate. Peace that comes from an indwelling spirit that strengthens us to endure paths we dread. And peace that comes from the assurance that our most worried about concerns have been taken care of.

This is why angels sing and shepherds preach.

The Incarnation unlocks the mystery of God’s power that has come to break the chains that are binding us, liberating us to a vast universe of possibility.

God has shown us that he cares deeply about us – about every little thing – and we get a sense of this by imagining if everything on the list above (you can add more) were to actually come true. Think about your joy. And bring it with you to church to share with the rest of us tomorrow.

What’s going to make us happy in these fear-filled times?

Let’s admit to the temptation of our present age that calls us to emphasize personal protection and security, the need to defend, guard, and preserve, the need to ‘look out for number one,’ and to save not share.

But is that really where it’s at?

In 2011, the top 20% of Americans gave 1.3% of their income to charity. Presumably this was because they felt they did not have enough to be more generous – they needed to hold onto more in order to be happy.

In contrast, the bottom 20% gave away 3.2% to charity – more than double, almost triple what their wealthier counterparts gave away.

Now the propensity for lower income people to be more generous than wealthier people is well documented, though its benefits are not nearly as well known.

The fact is that countless longitudinal surveys reveal one consistent measurement of happiness: warm caring relationships. Financial success and the acquisition of material goods rank considerably lower on the list of factors that create contentment. In fact, wealth can become, and often is, a curse. Famous psychologist Karl Menninger once commented that over many decades working in mental health, happy and content people are more likely to be generous people.

All this comes to mind as we head into the Christmas home stretch, and particularly on a Sunday when we will hear a related gospel reading. If we want to have the best Christmas ever, it may mean putting less emphasis on ‘stuff’ and more emphasis on cultivating warm caring relationships. It will call us to generosity and sacrifice, kindness and liberality of heart.

May God give us the faith to be charitable and giving, as well as the assurance that in his hands, we can be as generous as he is.

I was so bummed when the developers next door took those trees down!

I used to park under them so my black-on-black sedan wouldn’t get so blistering hot under the summer sun.

But they’re building something amazing next door – a posh rest home for the private pay crowd. It’s going to be a state of the art, custom landscaped campus to help retirees enter the winter of their lives in elegance. So the developers did not leave the old walls and footings from the last rest home that stood there. Nope. They are chopping down trees and digging up basements. The high things are being brought down and the valleys are being filled up.

Amazing how that happens when The Builder is up to something amazing.

I’m so tempted to lament the loss of the familiar mountains and valleys that have dotted the pathways of my journey. And on my better days I can’t help but suspect that it’s because The Builder is up to something really, really great in my life.

Careers, relationships, addresses, and the coming and going of children, were all once seen as immovable as the landscape – but that’s not what the journey had in store. Instead, we are being honed and shaped and formed - scars, smiles, and all - to be who we’re supposed to be.

So in keeping with the Spirit of Advent, let us remember that God’s not finished with us. We’re to be alert and open-minded to the ways God is messing with the landscape – and continuing to form us into the kind of people God wants us to be. Take heart. Be not afraid. It’s all part of the plan. God is up to something amazing.

My friend went to a bar because he lost his ticket to the concert.

The rest of us went inside and enjoyed an amazing show. Afterward we met him at the bar. He was chatting with a terrific young lady. They got married.

It was English poet John Keats (1795-1821) who is credited with saying, ‘Life is divine chaos.’ He was apparently trying to describe the reality of the disorder that surrounds us as it relates to the faith that there’s some higher purpose to it all.

This weekend begins the holy season of Advent. And on this first Sunday we are told to ‘be alert’ to the divine chaos of life.

We are challenged to be aware of the hand of the Almighty in the seemingly random occurrences in our lives. Be attentive to the fact that all that’s happening around us has heavenly meaning and purpose. Be alert to the divine chaos that surrounds.

While Advent is about awaiting the arrival of something new, it’s also about looking out for what’s new in the familiar – in what’s going on in the everyday.

Where’s the divine chaos in your world? How does that motivate us to love God and serve others?

Once my dear friend Judy, a nurse, told me a wild story about a patient suffering from mental illness. After the story I asked her to explain the behavior. She told me, ‘you can’t make sense of crazy.’

This comes to mind in the aftermath of the barbaric attacks carried out in France by the Islamic State. There has been much talk about the role of religion in these attacks and in modern public life, given the caustic behavior of a few, regarding how religion should be evaluated.

It is important to remember some of these basics that Episcopalians, and many others adhere to:

As long as there is humanity, there will be brokenness. A small number of us will do despicable things to one another in the name of most anything. Sometimes the motives will be understandable, many times they will not. But in these times of pain and chaos, let’s avoid the temptation to distance ourselves from the very thing God gave us to better cope with them and to assist the victims: our faith.