Readings: Psalm 125; 2 Kings 2:9-22 (23-25); Acts 3:17-4:4

Now the people of the city said to Elisha, “The location is good…but the water is bad and the land unfruitful…then he went to the spring of water and threw the salt into it, and said, “Thus says the Lord, I have made this water wholesome; from now on neither death nor miscarriage shall come from it.” So the water has been wholesome to this day, according to the word Elisha spoke.

Elijah has been taken up into the heavens, leaving Elisha to pick up his prophet’s mantle. He is a true prophet, having the power to do mighty things in the name of the Lord. Putting grief aside, he manages to cleanse a spring of water – an act that saves the people from illness and death. Prophecy and help don’t die with Elijah because God continues to provide for the people through Elisha. God’s power has passed into new hands. That’s where the story ends when it’s heard in church or listed in daily devotionals, but it’s not the end of the story as written:

He went up from there to Bethel; and while he was going up on the way, some small boys came out of the city and jeered at him, saying, “Go away, baldhead! Go away, baldhead!” When he turned and saw them, he cursed them in the name of the Lord. Then two she-bears came out of the woods and mauled forty-two of the boys. From there he went on to Mount Carmel, and then returned to Samaria. 2 Kings 2:19, 21, 23-25 NRSV

As our weary and grieving prophet heads out of town, a pack of small boys runs alongside, shouting insults and taunting Elisha. Elisha snaps, turning his grief, exhaustion, and annoyance into a curse that leaves dozens of young boys injured and dying. He keeps walking, leaving behind life-giving water and heartbroken families. Human frailty and great power can harm just as easily as it can heal.

Perhaps this is why God-With-Us came to Mary and Joseph – a young woman willing to risk everything to serve God and a man kind enough to refrain from harming her even when he thought she had been unfaithful. God knew they would love him and teach him to act with compassion. For Mary and Joseph were so loving that God gave them his only begotten son…

Come, walk with me to Bethlehem.

Readings: Psalm 126; Habakkuk 3:13-19; Matthew 21:28-32

Though the fig tree does not blossom and no fruit is on the vines;

though the produce of the olive fails and the field yields no food;

though the flock is cut off from the fold, and there is no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the God of my salvation.

God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,

and makes me tread upon the heights.

Habakkuk 3:17-19 NRSV

Habakkuk was a prophet in the late seventh and early sixth centuries BCE.   It was a time of great turmoil in Jerusalem and of many great injustices in the world.  In many ways like in our own world, the question arises, “Where is God’s justice?”  Why do the poor suffer while the powerful seem unpunished for their misdeeds?  Why do bad things happen to good people?

Perhaps we ask the wrong questions.  Is it up to us to criticize God?  Or is it possible that there is something else going on. Perhaps we have a role in bringing God’s kingdom into our world. Over and over again, in both the Old and New Testaments, we are reminded that our God wills a world of righteousness and justice, a world with compassion for the poor and the sick, a world of peace and love. Sometimes we are depressed by what we see in the events of our time. We feel helpless to make things better. Habakkuk foresaw great troubles coming to Jerusalem in the form of warring nations.  He knew that times were going to be rough.  “YET I will rejoice in the God of my salvation!”

There are times in our own lives when we feel helpless. We do not have control over what is happening. Jobs are lost. Relationships fail. Illness consumes us or someone we love. YET, in all of the sadness and violence, God is beside us, loving us, guiding us, helping us. As we look back on some of the dark times in our life, so often we see God at work picking up the pieces for us and helping us get through to a brighter side of the darkness.

And there is the answer: God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, with us always.  In the darkness or the light, as Julian of Norwich reminds us All shall be well.

A Prayer from St. Augustine: Lord Jesus, let our minds rest in your Word, so that when doubt and grief would overwhelm us, faith will open our eyes to see your hand at work in our life and enable us to turn toward the future with hope and toward each other in perfect charity.

Marge O’Brien wrote these words in 2014. She died a few months ago, leaving behind a world better for her life. I was blessed by her friendship, and I am grateful for the words she leaves behind.

Readings: Psalm 126; Habakkuk 3:2-6; Philippians 3:12-16

The Lord stopped and shook the earth; he looked and made the nations tremble. The eternal mountains were shattered; along his ancient pathways the everlasting hills sank low.

(Habakkuk 3:6)

When God comes into our lives, what happens? The Bible is full of stories about exactly that. There are burning bushes, clouds, pillars of fire, wrestling in the night, and strangers dropping by for dinner. Then there are the earth shaking, brilliant light in heaven appearances. The coming of the Lord is glorious. This is exactly what we expect: spectacular and overwhelming evidence of God’s power.

Then we get to the last line of Habakkuk’s prayer: the eternal mountains are shattered. Along his ancient pathways the everlasting hills sink low. The eternal places and roads of God are gone. We can’t find them in the rubble and there are no landmarks to guide us. We are lost.

Advent is something coming into creation that has never been – God with us in human form. No earthquakes, just angels and shepherds seeking a baby. God comes to us in this child Jesus. We see in him the way to our eternal home. Hope and glory are ours in the coming of Jesus. We live in God “because Christ Jesus has made us his own.” When we find the stable, we find God.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

(Images from Pixabay.com)

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.