Readings: Psalm 27; Malachi 2:10 – 3:1; Luke 1:5-17

Planets spin us back in time

where stars wink silently on a non descript stable,

dank and cold.

Reality before perception:

as on Christmas cards all glitter and light,

Mary, child-woman,

holding the “breath of heaven” within her being

cannot fathom that same breath

rippling into time and space

thousands of years henceforth.

All creation waits.

And in one great exhalation

              HOPE!

that the promise still holds.

That as the shepherds, we too will look in awe,

songs of wonder and praise

filling our ears and hearts.

In the land of the living

the very same stars will illuminate

The Word fulfilled,

God among us,

In the peace and beauty of holiness.

 12/01/2017

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord

in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

Offered by Debbie Hill, artist, musician, seeker of the Christ Child.

Readings: Psalm 27; Isaiah 26:7-15; Acts 2:37-42

O Lord, you will ordain peace for us,

for indeed, all that we have done,

you have done for us.

O Lord our God,

other lords besides you have ruled over us,

but we acknowledge your name alone.

Isaiah 26:12-13

I don’t usually rearrange poetic prophetic passages, but my eyes and mind reversed these two verses – a forward-backward and backward-forward commute:

O Lord our God,

other lords besides you have ruled over us,

but we acknowledge your name alone.

O Lord, you will ordain peace for us,

for indeed, all that we have done,

you have done for us.

Isaiah 26:13-12

In proper order, the peace I find when I know my entire life is God’s gift to me long before it could be my gift to God allows me to admit that I’ve given myself over to other rulers. Serving greed, gluttony, sloth, and all the other usual vices has taken me down paths better left alone. God’s peace allows me to see my straying for what it is and brings me back home.

In reverse order, admitting to the things I have done and left undone show me where my life has been ruled by other lords. Aware of my fractured loyalty, I can offer all I do and all I am to God, once again held in love and peace by the One who gifted this life to me.

I am thankful for Isaiah’s palindrome of grace.

Readings: Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13; Ezekiel 36:24-28; Mark 11:27-33

I will take you from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land. I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleanness, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. Ezekiel 36:24-28 NRSV

“Pathetic old man.”

I overheard one of my high school teachers say this. He was looking at Mr. Quimby, my English Literature teacher, who was resting on the landing halfway up the staircase; cancer treatments had weakened his body, and the stairs were a challenge. I’d never heard such a callous comment before, and it’s stayed with me these thirty-eight years. What had gone so wrong with someone that he could make such a remark? 

Heartsick. Only someone whose spirit is diseased could say such cruel words. Mr. Quimby was physically sick, something everyone could see, but he was kind and patient in spite of his pain. This man was sick internally, a terrible disease revealed in that offhand remark. I understand now what I didn’t then: a spiritual sickness was killing him from the inside just as surely as Mr. Quimby’s cancer was killing him from the outside. His heart was a tombstone.

God alone can cure such a death, resurrecting the spirit within and returning someone to the land of love, joy, and life. Such a resurrection is not just for individuals: whole communities are reborn when God touches them. The old heart of stone is removed, and the new one pulses with life. But such a miracle has consequences: a heart of flesh cannot disregard the pain and suffering of others. The  heart’s love and compassion will see in the dying man resting on the stairs God’s beloved child. His suffering cannot be ignored or discounted by anyone with a heart of flesh. But God’s presence will give a living heart the strength and courage to mourn his death, and the faith to see his resurrection beyond it.

O Lord, take away my heart of stone and give me a heart full of love and compassion. Amen.

Readings: Psalm 79; Micah 4:6-13; Colossians 1:11-20; Revelation 18:1-10

May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, and may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. Colossians 1:11-20

We wait. And wait. And wait some more. Wondering when deliverance will come—when we will be delivered from the hatred that oozes through society, the racism that abounds, the abuse that so many ignore or remain silent about or even seek to justify, the violence that kills and maims both body and spirit. We wait. And it just seems to get worse. The darkness grows greater. We can’t help but wonder if we can endure, if deliverance is possible.

And then we remember. We remember another time and another people caught up in oppression and injustice, feeling as if their world was unraveling, wondering if God could do anything and if it would make any difference, even sometimes believing that the harsh realities of this world were just too much to overcome.

And God came to them. God was with them in the midst of the suffering and the pain. God was with them, sharing in all they experienced and in that sharing leading them to a different way of seeing, a different way of being.

Even so, God is with us, sharing our suffering and our pain, leading us to a new way of seeing and being. We celebrate the birth of a child at Christmas, but it is far more than that. It is the assurance that God is with us, God is at work in the world and that the ways of God, the peace of God, the love of God are what life, our lives, are really all about. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace. That is the great hope that counters the harsh reality. A hope so strong that it is expressed in the past tense, as if it had already been fulfilled. That is the hope we hold this Advent season.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Offered by Jeff Jones, writer, pastor, seeker of the Christ Child.