Readings:  Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; Titus 2:11-14; Luke 2: 1-14

Winter is a tricky time of year.  For some it is memories of snowmen, skiing, holiday parties, and the adventure of swirling blizzards.  For others it brings the bleakness of short days and cold nights, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), holidays muted by the absence of departed loved ones, or the urge to get to the warmth of Florida as quickly as humanly possible.  So it is, as the days of autumn rush toward late December, that many experience a paradoxical mix of anticipation and melancholy.

Over two-thousand years ago, as the days continued dark and discouraging for the people of Israel—occupied by Roman legions, deluged by worldly ways, ruled by a “king of the Jews” who wasn’t even Jewish—there was a similar mix of anticipation and melancholy.  For hundreds of years their lives had not been their own as they were overrun and ruled by one kingdom after another with only the briefest glimpses of freedom.  They had lived in this condition long enough that their various responses to their plight to become solidified into sects—Sadducees, Pharisees, Essenes—each with their own politics, theology, and lifestyles.  One of the few things they may have had in common was the word of the prophet, Isaiah.

¹Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—

²The people walking in darkness have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

³You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy;

they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest,

as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.

⁴For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered

the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders,

the rod of their oppressor.

⁵Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood

will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire.

⁶For to us a child is born,

to us a son is given,

and the government will be on his shoulders.

And he will be called

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

⁷Of the greatness of his government and peace

there will be no end.

He will reign on David’s throne

and over his kingdom,

establishing and upholding it

with justice and righteousness

from that time on and forever.

The zeal of the Lord Almighty

will accomplish this.

Isaiah 9:1-7 (NIV)

The days in which Isaiah uttered these words were days of hardship and fear.  The northern kingdom of Israel had been overrun in an Assyrian invasion.  Isaiah’s friends in the southern kingdom of Judah feared a similar fate.  It was during these tense times that the Lord spoke through Isaiah with a message of hope.  A light… a nation… a victory… a child… a King!

In one sense very little had changed in Israel in the 700 years since the time of Isaiah’s prophecy.  Instead of the Assyrians or the Babylonians it was the Romans.  Conditions were much the same.  His words would have fallen on the ears of those in Jerusalem, Nazareth and Bethlehem in much the same way they had been heard by their ancestors: Don’t despair.  God’s anointed messiah was on his way!  Can you imagine the mixed emotions of anticipation and melancholy?  Can you imagine the relief and joy of those who actually witnessed the life of the Child… the Son… the King?

Two-thousand more years have come and gone.  Have our lives been overrun by worldly ways?  Are we ruled by kings who bear no resemblance to the King of kings?  Are we beginning to question the promise of the messiah’s Second Coming?  Are we experiencing a SAD season—memories of spiritual victories and God’s breakthrough moments tempered by defeat and discouragement and a desperate longing for something more?  Is it only melancholy, or is there a hint of anticipation?

Isaiah’s words were enough for his contemporaries as well as those who were tending their flocks on the hillsides around Bethlehem 700 years later.  Are they enough for us today?  In these tricky days of winter they are enough!  Winter is a season of our spiritual lives when we may not see much happening.  We may feel the melancholy that comes with dormancy.  Yet, if we can but lift our heads above the snowbank we will get a glimpse of what is coming—a glimpse of springtime showers, summer warmth, and harvest time.  Let the words of Isaiah kindle a spark of anticipation in your soul.  The SAD season won’t last forever!

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Words offered by David Shaw – minister, listener, child of God.

Readings: 1 Samuel 2:1-10; Genesis 21:1-21; Galatians 4:21-5:1

What troubles you, Hagar? Do not be afraid: for God has heard the voice of the boy from where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him… and God was with the boy, and he grew up… Genesis 21:17-18, 20a

Sarah didn’t want Ishmael around to inherit anything. As far as she was concerned, her own son Isaac deserved it all. Getting rid of Hagar and her son didn’t sit well with Abraham, but after talking with God he let Sarah have her way. Hagar and Ishmael were sent away, and Sarah’s Isaac didn’t have to share his father’s blessing with his half brother. As far as Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac are concerned, Hagar and Ishmael disappear from the story of their lives and their faith. The main story goes on as it was meant to: Abraham becomes the father of a people through his son, Isaac.

But that’s Isaac’s main story, not Ishmael’s. Hagar and Ishmael have their own story and their own holy adventure. God seeks them out, providing water in the desert and a future full of blessing and faith. For Ishmael and Hagar, it’s their story that takes main stage. Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac fade into the background for them.

So whose story is the main one? They are both about mothers and sons, fathers and faith. They cross paths on the way to separate blessings and adventures.

As I journey to Bethlehem, may I remember that there are any number of faith stories in the world, and countless people whom God cares for. They may get no more than a passing mention in my faith story, but that says more about my own limited awareness than it does about God’s loving care.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:23-29; John 3:31-36

For you, O Lord God, have spoken, and with your blessing shall the house of your servant be blessed forever. 2 Samuel 7:29b

He whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure. The Father loves the Son and has placed all things in his hands. John 3:34-35

Consequences. Pretty much everything we do has them. Some are obvious: if I plant tomato seeds, the plant that grows will produce tomatoes. Some are not quite as obvious: If I engage with an infant, mirroring her actions with smiles, words, and eye contact, her brain will develop as it should. Even less obvious: the infant girl I mirror will one day do the same for her infant son, handing on the blessing. One thing leads to another. Consequences.

God promised David a blessing for his people and for his family. There is no unblessing, no taking back the love God has freely given. It returns in the words of the prophets, the prayers of the faithful, the care for the widows and orphans. It returns in Jesus, the man of Nazareth. Blessing is writ large in his words, the healing of the sick, and in his love for even the ones who condemned him to die.

What are the consequences for us, loved for so long and so well? How will we hand the blessing on?

Mary’s Boy Child/Oh My Lord, Boney M, Nightflight to Venus 

Come, Lord Jesus, Come

Readings: Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19; Isaiah 4:2-6; Acts 1:12-17, 21-26

May he judge your people with righteousness, and your poor with justice…

May he be like rain that falls on mown grass, like showers that water the earth. Ps. 72: 2, 6

“Let another take his position of overseer.” Acts 1: 20b

Power corrupts if it is attained and exercised for its own sake. Power also exhausts the one who wields it if he or she is not grounded in something far more gracious than personal talent, drive, and energy. It’s why communities of faith pray for those who hold the reins of government – not so much a statement of agreement for a particular agenda, but a recognition that without a connection to something holy it will end in damage.

Today’s psalm reminds us that leaders can choose to rule for the benefit of those who will never have enough money to help them get re-elected, whose influence cannot open political doors. Ruling for the good of those who most need help rather than those who can offer material reward is a road less travelled, but it will make all the difference. The Acts reading implies that the best leader might not be the one who wants it the most: it might be someone whose constancy and service is evident to others.

If I judge leaders by a higher and holier standard of serving the least and last, I must also judge myself by that higher and holier standard. Am I serving the needy in the work I do, or am I serving only those who can reward me in material goods or influence? In the end, the blessing I offer others without seeking reward brings peace. In the end, the blessing I withhold because it doesn’t line my pockets or promote my welfare will shrink my soul in proportion to the harm I do to others.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Readings: Psalm 124; Genesis 8:1-19; Romans 6:1-11

What then do we say? Should we continue in sin in order that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin go on living in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is freed from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.   Romans 6:1-11

I admit it seems odd: all this talk about sin and death and even resurrection when we are supposed to be thinking about a birth of a baby in a stable, surrounded by shepherds and magi and celebrated by a heavenly host. It might cause you to wonder what was going on in the heads of those who chose this passage to be read during Advent. What kind of malcontents insist on putting a damper on this holiday season, when the new regime has promised us that even store clerks will be able to say “Merry Christmas” once again? But I think they knew what they were doing and what they were doing is particularly important for us in these days. It’s not the baby that should be our focus in these days before Christmas: it’s the incarnation. And that’s why death and sin and resurrection are all important to keep in mind in this season when we are plagued by persistent pulls toward petty piety.

I have often thought I would like to play a video of a real birth at a Christmas Eve service. It would help us ground the birth of Jesus in the often harsh realities of the real world. Mary may well have pondered many things in her heart that night, but it was only after she had endured real pain and worry and fear. And that is what incarnation is about. It is about God coming to the pain of our lives. It is about God becoming part of a world in which worry and fear are never far from us. It is to suffer and to die. But as this passage from Romans reminds us, it is also to be raised from the dead and to walk in newness of life. The truth is we can truly experience that newness of life only after we know the reality of pain and suffering and fear. This Advent, let’s understand that this is at least part of what preparing for the birth of Christ is all about. It is only through the pain of childbirth that new life happens. So, let’s acknowledge the concerns and worries we have for ourselves, for those we love, for our world that are part of living in these days. We don’t need to wallow in them, but neither should we ignore them, thinking that somehow they undercut the merriness of Christmas. They are, after all, the reason we need a savior. The incarnation reminds us that God is with us in our all our concerns and worries and suffering, so it is possible to face them. And God leads us through all this to new life. This is our faith. This is our incarnation/resurrection hope.

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Offered by Jeff Jones, author, teacher, seeker of the Christ Child.