Readings: Micah 5:2-5a; Psalm 80:1-7; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-45

But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule Israel…And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace. Micah 5:2, 4-5

And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has it happened to me that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Luke 1:41-42

One of the best parts of the movie version of Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings was a conversation between Frodo and Sam. Frodo found himself on a quest far beyond his own strength to accomplish, unsure of the right road, and afraid that a mistake might cost him his own life and the life of the world he loved. But Sam took a different approach. He reminded Frodo of all the heroes in all the adventures he heard when he was a child. His take: those heroes were just as afraid, just as fallible. They just kept going, even when the was wasn’t clear or easy. Perhaps their own adventure would be told one day, with children listening to their deeds of courage, the messiness and mistakes forgotten.

Mary said yes when the angel asked if she would be the mother of Emmanuel, the ruler from Bethlehem who would be a man of peace. She took a leap of faith, heading out on a holy adventure with no clear idea of how it would all work out. It’s a lonely business, bringing an ancient prophecy to fruition. There are precious few people in the world who would believe that Mary had been visited by an angel, but Elizabeth was one of them. She joyfully assured Mary that she didn’t imagine the whole thing.

When walking a holy road, all of us need someone to confirm our journey. A friend, relative, sometimes a stranger. Affirmation doesn’t change the road, but it makes us walk it with a lighter step.

A holy road stretches in front of you and me, disappearing into the distance beyond your sight. It takes courage to put one foot in front of the other. But somewhere not too far along the way, someone will recognize the road you and I walk – a blessed confirmation that we aren’t crazy! Thank God for the one who says to us what Elizabeth said to Mary:

…blessed is she or he who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her or him by the Lord.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:1-17; Galatians 3:23-29

Now the king was settled in his house, and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him. The king said to the prophet Nathan, “See now, I am living in a hours of cedar, but the Ark of God stays in a tent.”

Thus says the Lord: Are you the one to build me a house to live in?..Wherever I have moved among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?” 2 Samuel 7:1-2, 5b-7

When I was very young, maybe four or five years old, my sister and I picked out a present for my father: drawer knobs. We mistook them for something else, something we thought my father would be able to use. Needless to say, he was very surprised when he opened his present. Being a caring father with a wonderful sense of humor, he enjoyed them – a well intended gift from two young children who loved him. I didn’t give them another thought for years, when my mother told my sister and me about the gift mix-up. It’s still one of my favorite stories.

David’s desire to build a home for God reminds me of those drawer pulls – an offering of love and good intentions from a beloved child who reasons like a child. Since David hadn’t built the house yet, God graciously put a stop to the venture. Or at least delayed it, assuring David that one of his offspring could build such a home.

Thinking back on my own father’s response to his drawer knobs, I wonder if the building of the temple was a gift God gave his well intentioned children rather than a necessity that the children gave to God.

God, thank you for accepting the gifts I offer, even the drawer knob equivalents. Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 42; Zechariah 8:1-17; Matthew 8:14-17, 28-34

As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God…

When shall I come and behold the face of God?

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?

Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God. Psalm 42:1, 11

Not many experience it, and those who ask for the experience don’t know what they seek. It is the presence of an absence so profound that it defies explanation or sufficient articulation. A few saints and mystics have written about their long dark night, but I’d guess that most who go through that spiritual desert haven’t put pen to paper or led seminars to get the word out. It’s a path walked without the benefit of another person’s company and counsel. It’s a trek most of the faithful would rather not take, perhaps.

What happens when we can’t find a light to guide us home? When prayer fails, where do we turn? When none of our friends see what’s happening, because we can’t explain it or they can’t understand it, what is next?

I’m not far enough along my journey of faith to stumble into the long dark night. I’m not sure I will ever experience it in this life, and I’m not sure I want to. But I’ve been around long enough to know that spiritual growth in loving God, neighbor, and self comes at a significant cost. Who I am has to die for me to become who I am going to be – transformation feels like death before it feels like new life.

Isn’t that what this walk to Bethlehem is? A venture into the unknown, seeking the face of God without knowing what it might look like. Just a longing and a dark road that leads to God-With-Us, angelic choirs, and the light of the world. Isn’t that worth whatever journey my disquieted soul must take?

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 42; Ezekiel 47:1-12; Jude 1:17-25

Then he brought me back to the entrance of the temple; there, water was flowing from below the threshold of the temple toward the east…

Reflecting on the passage from Ezekiel brought me back to the time when I lived near a beach adjacent to a river.  During certain tides the river would spill into the sea.  This created a swift current close to the beach shore.  I sometimes observed bathers body surfing with the current, having fun that I was too fearful to attempt.   One day I was with a friend who encouraged me to try the surfing with her.  “Don’t be afraid,” she said, “the water isn’t too deep.”  So we did it and I experienced childlike joy and abandon as I left control behind and watched the sky and the shore go whizzing by.  Freedom and deep peace for those few seconds.

Very often I return to that experience in my prayer.  I needed a companion to lead me into that living water just as my parents led me into the living waters of Baptism.  Today I need to let go into the deep waters of my life and let the Spirit carry me to a life giving, fruitful place.  God is the River and if I surrender to God’s plans, I trust I will find freedom, peace, and joy, with a little help from my friends!

Come, Lord Jesus!

Offered by Ann Fowler, spiritual director, seeker of the Christ Child.

Readings: Psalm 42; Isaiah 29:17-24; Acts 5:12-16

In the years 750-689 BCE, Judah was in a series of political crises.  The Middle East was in turmoil.  There were wars between countries and cities, one after another.  Into this chaos came the prophet Isaiah, a man of God, who answered a call from the LORD, a god of justice and righteousness.

The situation in Jerusalem was one of waywardness on the part of its leaders, who seemingly looked at things as mainly to their benefit.  Their oppression of the poor and needy caused the Lord to turn against the corrupt elite.  He gave the news to Isaiah to warn the people of Judah that difficult days were coming.  However, God also left room for a remnant to take hold in the future.

On  that day, the deaf shall hear the words of a scroll,

  and out of the gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see.

                          The meek shall obtain fresh joy in the Lord,

              and the neediest shall exalt in the Holy One of Israel.

            For the tyrant shall be no more, and the scoffer shall cease to be;

                           all those alert to do evil shall be cut off_________

Isaiah 29: 18-20

Just as Isaiah waited  for the Day of the Lord, we too wait to see the reversal of the fates of the suffering.   Over and over this event seems to occur, as leaders forget their role as the clay not the potter, the made not the maker. The warning continued through the many prophets in the Old Testament as they looked forward to the waiting of the Messiah. They ask God, “How long will it be until before you bring justice to earth?”  We know that God remains with those who suffer.  And in many ways we still see the reversal of realities in our 21^st century as we observe the many oppressed and needy in our times. 

As we look forward to Advent and the celebration of the birth of Christ, we give thanks for His present time with us.  Come, Lord Jesus.

Offered by Marge O’Brien, hearer of the Word, seeker of the Child.

Readings: Zephaniah 3:14-20; Isaiah 12:2-6; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18

Surely God is my salvation;

I will trust, and will not be afraid,

for the Lord God is my strength and my might;

he has become my salvation. Isaiah 2:2

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything, by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Phil. 4:4-7

I’m not sure which is harder: trusting God with what shatters my heart with grief or giving voice to my deepest longings in prayer. It’s so hard to put those things into words because once I’ve spoken them, I can’t take them back. What I’ve put into words claims me in some mysteriously tangible way. Words expose who I am. There’s nowhere to hide from my creator, redeemer, and sustainer. To be so vulnerable is an act of deep trust. When God keeps faith with me, my fear disappears: I am not afraid, and I am stronger for revealing my deepest hopes and hurts.

I’ve never really thought much about the “peace…will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” part of this reading. The peace God grants when I pray can’t be reduced to a good reason for praying, and it isn’t merely a coping mechanism. This peace surrounds, enlivens, encourages, sustains. Whatever happens, I am held in a peace that fills my heart, boggles my mind, and enlarges my soul. It keeps me on this road to Bethlehem. It will keep me on the road to Jerusalem, too.

Dear God, Here are my hopes and fears. Take them and make of them something holy. Love, your dear child.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.