Category Archives: Advent

And You, My Child

Readings: Luke 1:68-79; Malachi 3:13-18; Philippians 1:18b-2:6

In response to “what is this child going to be?,” John’s father, Zechariah, sings the Benedictus Dominus Deus, which ends:

And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
77 to give his people the knowledge of salvation
    through the forgiveness of their sins,
78 because of the tender mercy of our God,
    by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
79 to shine on those living in darkness
    and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”   (
Luke 1:76-79)

Talk about high expectations! Is that even fair to impose such onto a new- born child? Well, God seems to have high expectations for John – and for us. This can be a heavy burden but only if we believe we have to carry it by ourselves.

Am I not also called to prepare the way of the Lord?—to give people the knowledge of salvation? Do I know someone living in darkness (maybe moi)?

Is it time to let the sun shine in this Advent and allow our feet to be guided into the path of peace?

Or are my expectations too low? My God too small? 

My prayer is that I never underestimate God.

Offered by Bill Albritton, God’s beloved child.

Moving Away

Readings: Luke 1:68-79; Malachi 3:5-12; Philippians 1:12-18a

Then I will draw near to you for judgment; I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me, says the Lord. For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, have not perished. Ever since the days of your ancestors you have turned aside from my statutes and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you, says the Lord of hosts. But you say, “How shall we return?” Malachi 3:5-7, NRSV

A former rector of our church was fond of saying that if you don’t feel as close to God as you used to, make no mistake about who has moved.

    Advent can be a time to take stock of our current  relationship with God as we prepare for the coming of the Messiah. Have I moved away? Has my time spent in prayer and meditation become too routine and less reflective? Sometimes during my devotions, I find myself thinking about what I’ve got to do afterwards, looking forward to getting back to “work”. Really? Not a very effective way to worship, now is it?

    I’m not a big fan of the  word intentionality, and yet Malachi, which means My messenger , has a message for me here. “How shall we return?”, he asks. Being more focused, more intentional, in the time I carve out for prayer and devotion is a good start. As I do this, I find myself returning.  The old gospel hymn goes: In moments of despair and grief, my soul has often found relief, And oft escaped the tempter’s snare by thy return, sweet hour of prayer.

Offered by Bill Albritton, God’s beloved child.


The Sign of Jonah

Readings: Psalm 90; Isaiah 1:24-31; Luke 11:29-32

When the crowds were increasing, he began to say, “This generation is an evil generation; it asks for a sign, but no sign will be given to it except the sign of Jonah. For just as Jonah became a sign to the people of Nineveh, so the Son of Man will be to this generation. The queen of the South will rise at the judgement with the people of this generation and condemn them, because she came from the ends of the earth to listen to the wisdom of Solomon, and see, something greater than Solomon is here! The people of Nineveh will rise up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it, because they repented at the proclamation of Jonah, and see, something greater than Jonah is here! Luke 11:29-32, NRSV

“As the crowds increased, Jesus said, ‘This is a wicked generation. It asks for a sign, but none will be given it except the sign of Jonah.’” Luke 11:29

As the crowds increased suggests popularity, lots of people glomming on for the magic show, signs and wonders. You want a sign? Jesus says. You want a sign? Ok, I’ll give you one: Jonah.

People who want a sign are generally looking for something hopeful, positive,  something to help them keep hanging on. “Give me some kind of sign, God!” But Jesus uses some pretty strong language to push back against that kind of signal. “This,” he says, “is a wicked generation” of uplifting sign-seekers. What he offers—the only thing he offers—is the sign of Jonah, the one who descended, who rode Moby Dick all the way to the bottom of the sea. It’s an ancient, sea-faring version of the paschal mystery—three days down, down in the belly of the beast, and only then salvation. 

Best not to read this story to your kids around the Jesse Tree. This is an adults-only Advent message. The “coming” we await at Advent is a coming down, a divine “humbling” (Phil. 2:7) that leads to exaltation. Perhaps we should, in addition to the oxen, cattle and sheep, add a nice little whale to our creche scenes this year. 

Offered by David Anderson, God’s beloved child.

Who Am I?

Readings: Psalm 90; 2 Samuel 7:18-29; Revelation 22:12-16

Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and said, “Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? (2 Samuel 7:18, NRSV)

He wasn’t the obvious choice, and he didn’t kid himself into thinking he had earned or somehow deserved to rule. He was chosen for God’s own purpose for reasons beyond his own grasp. So what else would David pray except for this: Who am I, O Lord God, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far?

There are other ways to say the same thing: Why do you care so much about me? What makes me different, and what makes you think I’m worthy of this life? Why am I here?

We would do well to ask such questions, particularly during this season of reflection. But God’s answer will not be a list of talents, accomplishments, or potential. A question this profound is usually answered with an equally profound and holy truth:

Because you are my child, my beloved, and a delight to me.

Advent 2024: Hope

Intervention

Readings: Psalm 90; Numbers 17:1-11; 2 Peter 3:1-8

The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to the Israelites, and get twelve staffs from them, one for each ancestral house, from all the leaders of their ancestral houses. Write each man’s name on his staff, and write Aaron’s name on the staff of Levi. For there shall be one staff for the head of each ancestral house. Place them in the tent of meeting before the covenant, where I meet with you. And the staff of the man whom I choose shall sprout; thus will I put a stop to the complaints of the Israelites that they continually make against you.. (Numbers 17:1-5, NRSV)

Sibling rivalry, perceived favoritism, someone getting away with something – the basics of most of the fights I had with my siblings. Whenever possible, my parents let us resolve it without intervention – a good way to learn how to deal with conflict and get on with life. When it wasn’t possible, they stepped in. The matter was resolved for us and the outcome not up for further discussion.

This story from Numbers is sibling rivalry gone awry – complaints of injustice and favoritism, an unwillingness or inability to resolve the issue, resentment building. Judgement in the form of a sprouting staff put an end to the fighting (at least for the moment), the outcome not up for further discussion.

As individuals and as communities, we can take our fighting to the point where we cannot resolve the issue without intervention. Tempers flare, old resentments and slights are rehashed, and there’s no resolution in sight. This is understandable among children, but tragic when those of us long past our childhood days cannot or will not do the work to resolve the matter in a respectful, thoughtful way.

What better way to show our love for the Prince of Peace than to seek peace in our own time and place, among this human family, in God’s great creation.

Advent 2024: Hope

God Loves Us

Readings: Jeremiah 33:14-16; Psalm 25:1-10; I Thessalonians 3:9-13; Luke 21:25-36

Heaven and Earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. Luke 21:33

The sun will burn out in about 5 billion years. As with other stars the size of the sun, our star will collapse on itself and die, emitting little to no light. Earth, of course, will die along with it. Though you and I will not be present for the death watch, it seems like an ignominious end to our beautiful blue and green orb we call home.

Our planet, as well as the rest of the universe, has been in continuous flux since the beginning. Data from the Webb telescope (which measures background radiation well beyond our solar system) confirms scientists’ suspicion that the universe exploded into existence billions of years ago. And the universe is expanding at unimaginable speed. Galaxies, including our own Milky Way, are hurtling through space and moving away from each other. The furthest galaxies are moving away from us faster than galaxies closer to us. As a friend once rhetorically asked me, “What is the universe expanding into?” It is indeed an exercise in courage to ponder such imponderables.  As scientific discovery expands our knowledge base, forcing us to rethink the way we relate to the universe and our place in it, we might feel uneasy if not a little insecure.  

Jesus, who himself lived through times admittedly much different from our own but difficult just the same, assured us there is a divine constancy that reaches out to us across time and space.  “God needs man,” said the mystic Meister Eckhart. Evelyn Underhill put it this way: “It is Love calling to love; and the journey, though in one sense a hard pilgrimage, up and out, by the terraced mount and the ten heavens to God, in another is the inevitable rush of the roving comet, caught at last, to the Central Sun.” 

This Advent may the whir of existence not drown out the singular message in Jesus’ words that “will not pass away:”  God loves us. 

Offered by Bryan Fredrickson, God’s beloved child.

Advent 2024: Hope

On the Road (again)

On the Road to Bethlehem by Margaret Hill

It’s time to set out: to put on our shoes, grab a hat and jacket, and make the journey. The road will be dark at times. We won’t arrive in what feels like a timely manner – there’s no point in rushing because picking up the pace won’t make God With Us come any faster. It’s a pilgrimage, not a race.

Our destination isn’t a lovely bed-and-breakfast. We won’t gain social status or admiration for making the trip. The road offers sore and tired feet. When the journey is done, we’ll have to turn around and come back home.

So why do it? Why take the journey at all?

Because we may never understand how very much we are loved if we don’t.

Time to get walking…

Travel Companions and Guides

Once again, we find ourselves living in a world so beloved that God-With-Us came to live here. Although the journey to Bethlehem is undertaken every year, each year brings its own unique experiences. Many people offered their words and images to guide us on our way to the stable. I am grateful for their willingness to add this to their pre-Christmas to-do lists. To learn more about these children of God, click Advent Authors and Artists 2023 above…

Breathe and Welcome Christmas

Daily Readings: Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-4(5-12); John 1:1-14

How beautiful upon the mountain are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation, who says to Zion,” Your God reigns.” Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices, together they sing for joy; for in plain sight they see the return of the Lord to Zion. Break forth into singing, you ruins of Jerusalem; for the Lord has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem. The Lord has bared his holy arm before the eyes of all nations; and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God. Isaiah 52:7-10, NRSV

O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory…make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises…let the sea roar, and all that fills it. Psalm 98:1, 4, 7a, NRSV

In ruminating on my blog post this year, I asked myself: what message do I want to hear? It’s the same message I think everyone worldwide wants to hear. Whether true or likely or not true or likely, we want to believe there are reasons for all the current strife, that it will eventually end, and that most of us will be alright.

I looked to my Scripture choices for confirmation of this promise and what I found were strong verbs, auditory imagery, and nature personification. But, with judicious excerption, I discerned a theme that appealed to me and seemed to answer the question above.

To further flesh it out, at least for myself personally since I happen to be reading the following two books and getting a lot of out of each, I compared the state of the world in 1944-45 that Dr. Eva Eger, current 96-year-old psychologist and former Auschwitz and Mauthausen concentration camps and death march survivor, writes about in her memoir The Choice: Embrace the Possible. Certainly times then felt catastrophic, apocalyptic. Even in the most horrific of circumstances, however, Eger argues (inspired by her mentor Victor Frankl) that we have a choice on how to respond. Faced with torture and death people can despair or can find hope. 

The other book currently rocking my world is Breath: The New Science of a Lost Art by James Nestor. He is an engaging science writer and puts the whole history and current practice of respiration into an understandable perspective. I’ve never thought so much or so deeply about nose vs. mouth breathing, why exhales and CO2 are more important in many ways than inhales and O2. And much more. I now understand why I’ve experienced some of the respiratory issues I’ve had over the years and what I can do to mitigate having more in the future.

To merge these texts with the Biblical verses referenced above is an easy jump for me. There is no lifting up of voices or singing, certainly no shouting or roaring or doing anything for joy if I struggle to breathe. No breaking forth! All involve not only an inner attitude of exultation but also the impulse and ability to show it in loud and forthright ways. 

In the face of wars and hate how can I even feel like praising unless I take back control of the narrative? Instead of allowing external events to dictate my mindset, how much more desirable and healthy is it instead to control my inner response to troubling current events? Experiencing peace and happiness is our privileged inner choice, if not for immediate dire occurrences but as a way of affirming the future. Eger had no way of honestly knowing she would survive the war let alone go on to marry, have three children, earn a doctorate degree, and help thousands of other people. None of this was without intense struggle and much courage to face the traumas she endured, but, in the end, everything was alright in that she lived and thrived.

In writing this post I hope I’ve said enough to encourage you to obtain and read these two books yourself. They have, in quite different ways, provided me with inspiration and hope at this time in our world’s desperate history. I am doing breathing exercises to rehab my diaphragm and choosing to believe in the spirit of this holiday season that there is hope for better days to come. 

Welcome, welcome, God-With-Us!

Offered by Jill Fredrickson

A Promise Kept

Readings: Isaiah 9:2-7; Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalms 96-97; Luke 2:1-20

A world in a dark night of its own making sleeps in the stillness of despair,

as the turning of creation slows in its dusk to darkness.

A sudden vibration wakes the rocks and grasses, man and creatures alike feel the quickening of life.

The brilliance of the stars begins to obliterate all shadow.

And while the planet begins to spin, a haunting melody whispers and builds

to a song of praise echoed by every living thing.

The tiny cry of a savior has awakened all senses and beings to the promise anew.

A heavenly song of praise,

A promise kept,

Yesterday, today, and tomorrow

Hallelujah! to Hope and Salvation,

once again.

May shadow and light guide you to God-With-Us.

Offered by Debbie Hill