"Transition"
Luke 1:46-55
Yonce Shelton, Westmoreland UCC
Dec. 14, 2025
When I guest preached here in August 2024, we didn’t know that Westmoreland would soon be in pastoral transition and that I’d assume this role. But into transition we were thrust. Out of that transition, comes the next transition with Emily.
All life is transition. We are always in the in between in some way. The more we are aware of that, the more intentional we can be. The more meaningful life can be. The more we can participate in deep, significant ways. But transition is different than change. Transition is different than change. Sound familiar? If you were here and paying attention about this time last year, it should!
Decades ago, William Bridges wrote a book entitled “Transitions.” He said that “Change is situational. Transition is psychological. Without a transition, change is just rearranging the furniture.” Change happens to you and can be understood as external dynamics shifting around you, but transition happens only if you engage with that change to understand how it affects your inner journey.
I think transition is not only psychological, but also spiritual and emotional. I think that no matter what we know about a transition and what hopes we have, there are ways to open and engage. No transition should be treated only as change.
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Advent. We know what will happen. So there is the temptation to treat it as a season of change. But it's a transition. It can be different for us each time – if we open deeply and personally. Your invitation is to experience Advent anew.
One way is to not just skim over the words and stories in Advent scriptures. Today’s reading from Isaiah talks of “the lame leaping like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless singing for joy”; of “waters breaking forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert”; of “burning sand becoming a pool.” The Advent story can be described as mind blowing and turning things upside down.
Have you ever sat with such passages and images? Ever spent time envisioning what that would be like? Spent time believing it happened – and could happen? Maybe this is how, each year, God tries to reach us in new ways. Mary gives us another powerful invitation for adopting a posture of belief and experience.
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In today’s reading, Mary says:
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant. Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name ...”
It sounds so polished. Like going from being a simple country girl to the mother of Jesus just required simple acceptance and affirmation. But, let's consider what happened before and how radical her transition was.
Just before this part of her story, the gospel tells us that Mary was "deeply disturbed" by this revelation (Luke 1:34). Deeply disturbed can come across as a casual observation. If we gloss over the event, we can miss what was probably going on in her spirit; with her emotions; with her sense of existential being. This was not just a change. It was a major transition. For her to say yes probably wasn't easy. And could she have really, really known what it meant? Have you ever “placed” yourself in her situation and wondered what it was like? Wondered what you would have done?
Mary was probably shaken up, despite the measured description we have. But what gets my attention more is: how might it shake us up? That question got me thinking about another Advent character: John the Baptist.
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We heard about John last week; about how he “wore clothing of camel’s hair with a leather belt around his waist, and his food was locusts and wild honey” (Matt. 3:4); that he was a "lone voice in the wilderness" (John 1:23); that he called the self-righteous a “brood of vipers!” (Matt 3:7). People of that day simply did not address leaders, religious or otherwise, in this manner for fear of punishment. But John’s faith made him fearless in the face of opposition. He was solely focused on “preparing the way of the Lord” (Matt. 3:3).
A fire was lit under him. Like Mary, his orientation to the world had been changed. They had changed – or, rather, transitioned. The usual words, ways of being, and ways of understanding just didn’t work anymore.
How can we allow Advent to do this to us? Are we open enough? Trusting enough? Humble enough not to limit God in order to enjoy the usual flow of the season?! How open are you to receiving God in ways that fall outside of the usual language, patterns, and practices – like Mary and John did?
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I’m in an interesting place with those questions. I have found myself somewhat re-oriented in recent weeks because of: a conversation with a friend who has discovered she can deliver messages from beings in another realm to people here with us; and remembering a recently deceased hard rocker who was convinced of our continuing journey past this life.
Yes, this is one of those “hang in there with me” moments. But, you know, I’m now a lame duck in this transition. So I can step out a bit.
My friend who fosters conversations between realms has been on a lifelong spiritual quest and has been intentional about faith and community. She explored Christianity for a while. The conviction with which she talks of life beyond this one is compelling. She intimately knows a reality that is similar to – yet different from – what our faith professes. She helps people discover that they are capable of connecting almost effortlessly with guidance, support, wisdom, and love from the other realm; with angels, ancestors, guides, and more who are helping us whether we are aware of it or not. She believes the more we consciously open – the easier love and support comes.
Her language is different. She says things like “Christians use the word X for it.” But her understanding resonates as I struggle with what I think I know about God, faith, and trust. She struggles to always say yes to this gift. She can’t predict how others will react.
Brent Hinds, the rock star of the band Mastodon, was a wild man – like John the Baptist. He acted and looked the part, complete with a tattoo on his forehead. Now, to ensure you don’t dismiss him outright, let me mention to this esteemed crowd with impeccable musical tastes that he was a classically trained guitarist before he turned to the dark side. Sure, there are the usual stereotypes about rock stars – there are the concept albums flowing from loss, a coma, and mystical insight. He maintained that this life is not all we are; that we are light that lives on, and on, and on.
Why does he make it into a sermon? What's unique about him? I’m not totally sure, except that he has grabbed me at this time. He speaks in a different language. Maybe I need that to open me up. Maybe like John did for others who were set in their ways, no matter how “good” those ways might have been. Maybe God uses modern day Johns to shake us up; to prepare us; to ready us with glimpses of truth so that we can better know what is ultimately coming.
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Please hear me clearly: I can’t say I know what my “place” and awareness means for my journey. I am not telling you to believe differently. I am not telling you to pursue my interests and threads of awareness. But I am inviting you to consider that God just might use some pretty creative people and situations to get our attention – like God did with Mary and John. And that the words on the page of our lives may be more complex, like the scriptures we often return to but maybe don't go deep enough with. We might need to read between the lines more. We might need to take seriously Isaiah’s repeated attempts throughout Advent to get our attention with metaphor and images that seem so impossible, and just might prepare us for the impossible: our Saviour coming as a baby in a manger.
I am not “disturbed” by my recent experiences, like Mary was with hers. At least I don't think I am. Or, maybe I'm still thinking of this time as only change. Hmm. Who knows what may happen in transition when long held views and ways don’t match experience. Perhaps this is a time in which God is saying: “It's going to take a shock or two to get you focused on me like I want. Pay attention to those who will prepare you. They are not the final answer, but ...”
Advent. An invitation to embrace the wildness of John and the disturbed yes of Mary. To find new language and messengers. This is a time of transition – don’t limit how you understand that. Don’t miss new invitations.
Amen.
