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

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined

You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder.

For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian.

For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.

For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. he will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore.

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

Isaiah 9:2-7, NRSV

In a world where darkness brings acts of cruelty and callous indifference  to the suffering of others, Christ’s light inspires small acts of kindness as well as acts of unspeakable love.  A light so strong, it leads a man to willingly take the place of a stranger in a starvation bunker at Auschwitz.  Another, so inspired by that light,  sacrifices his physical and emotional health to lead a decades long struggle to successfully end the slave trade and then slavery in the colonies of Great Britain.    

One old Christian hymn says His brightness ended darkness.  How true it is that when we bring the light of Christ’s love to others, darkness is replaced by light.  What joy we feel when we experience and share Christ’s love.  Saint Paul tells us we were created  to do these works as expressions of God’s love.  What a joy it is to be led by the Light which enables us to see God’s Truth in our fallen world.

Offered by Phil Ciulla, child of God.

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

Hannah prayed and said,

“My heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God. My mouth derides my enemies, because I rejoice in my victory.

There is no Holy One like the Lord, no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God. Talk no more so very profoundly, let not arrogance come from your mouth; for the Lord is a God of knowledge, and by him actions are weighed.

The bows of the mighty are broken, but the feeble gird on strength. Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread, but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.

The barren has borne seven, but she who has many children is forlorn. The Lord kills and brings to life; he brings down to Sheol and raises up.

The Lord makes poor and makes rich; he brings low, he also exalts. He raises up the poor from the dust; he lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honor.

For the pillars of the earth are the Lord’s, and on them he has set the world. He will guard the feet of his faithful ones, but the wicked shall be cut off in darkness; for not by might does one prevail.

The Lord! His adversaries shall be shattered; the Most High will thunder in heaven. The Lord will judge the ends of the earth; he will give strength to his king, and exalt the power of his anointed.”

I Samuel 2:1-10, NRSV

Hannah spent years hoping for a child, but remained childless. When she finally conceived, she gave her son back to God – a life given to her by God, a life given to God by her. Hannah gave Samuel back in a literal sense, losing the joy of raising him from infant to adult. It’s hard to understand such a sacrifice, but for the words of her prayer. Perhaps Hannah understood something even more fundamental than the bond between mother and child: that even the most intimate relationships have global repercussions. Who knows how the love of a mother for a son will transform the world well beyond the confines of their bond?

I hope Hannah’s prayer, her love for Samuel, and her willingness to give him back to God, brought hope to Mary when she had to do the same with her beloved son.

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God, which he promised beforehand through his prophets in the holy scriptures, the gospel according to his Son, who was descended from David according to the flesh and was declared to be Son of God with power according to the spirit of holiness by resurrection from the dead, Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name, including yourselves who are called to belong to Jesus Christ,

To all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be saints: Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Granted, Paul was a lawyer – and the four gospels weren’t written yet, so the saints in Rome didn’t have much in the way of scripture. And they were Gentiles, so their knowledge of Hebrew scripture might not be particularly deep or reliable. Still, who begins a letter with a one hundred word plus opener? Paul was doing his best to make sure everyone knew from the start whose words they were hearing, and why they should stick around to hear the thousands more to come.

Fortunately, Paul’s prose wasn’t always so prosaic. He penned some of the greatest verses in the New Testament as well as many mammoth run-on sentences. Paul wanted to be as precise as possible, and used his words accordingly. He also wanted to make sure everyone knew who he was, what he was about, and by whom he was sent.

It’s worth wading through Paul’s words, even though he buries the most important part at the end of his greeting rather than opening with it:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

These are the words that offer life and light; these are the words that hallow our days and sustain our lives. Take a breath and sit with them for a few moments. There’s no better way to begin this last leg of our journey to Bethlehem.

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Thank you, Paul.

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

The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is of the earth belongs to the earth and speaks about earthly things. The one who comes from heaven is above all. He testifies to what he has seen and heard, yet no one accepts his testimony. Whoever has accepted his testimony has certified this, that God is true. 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. Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever disobeys the Son will not see life, but must endure God’s wrath. John 3:31-36, NRSV

Heat the oil over medium heat until hot, but not too hot.

Knead dough until it looks right.

Season to taste.

Bake until done.

These are just three pieces of cooking advice that are only helpful if you already know what you are doing. None of them are helpful when you are trying a new technique or working with a new recipe – unless someone who already knows how to do it is present, guiding you through your first attempts.

John’s gospel is full of these kinds of sentences. The one who is of earth belongs to the earth – how is that helpful? He testifies to what he has seen and heard, yet no one accepts his testimony – what can you do with such a statement? The whole thing would be hopeless if you and I were alone in this mess.

Thankfully, we never are…for he gives the Spirit without measure.

Readings: Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19; 2 Samuel 7:18-22; Galatians 4:1-7

Then King David went in and sat before the Lord, and said, “Who am I, O Lord, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? And yet this was a small thing in your eyes, O Lord God; you have spoken also of your servant’s house for a great while to come. May this be instruction for the people, O Lord God! And what more can David say to you? For you know your servant, O Lord God! Because of your promise, and according to your own heart, you have wrought all this greatness, so that your servant may know it. Therefore you are great, O Lord God; for there is no one like you, and there is no God besides you, according to all that we have heard with our own ears. 2 Samuel 7:18-22, NRSV

Who am I, and what is my house, that you have brought me thus far? David prays to God, asking him this question. It’s a question any of us could ask – and many of us do. Why do you care, God? What did I ever do to deserve such attention? Why give me this life?

If we listen carefully, we just might hear the answer:

Because I am me, and you are mine.

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

Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith.

But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.

Galatians 3:23-29, NRSV

Something happens to rules when human frailty comes into play. Rules become a way to divide the worthy from the unworthy, to judge the deserving and the undeserving. Instead of guides to fostering love and togetherness, they become a justification for our prejudices and our need to feel superior. In our short-sightedness, we enshrine the rules instead of the love they point us toward. What was supposed to unite and heal is used to divide and hurt. We honor the letter of the law while killing its spirit – and in the process, we harm the spirits of those who differ from us. In doing that, we harm ourselves.

But when we remember that we are all Christ’s own, we can honor the unique aspects of each person without using them as a way to measure his or her worth. When we remember that God claims us all, we don’t need to exclude others based on differences. And we don’t need a measuring stick to value our own self-worth.

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

When Jesus entered Peter’s house, he saw his mother-in-law lying in bed with a fever; he touched her hand, and the fever left her, and she got up and began to serve him. That evening they brought him to many who were possessed with demons; and he cast out the spirits with a word, and cured all who were sick. This was to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah, “He took our infirmities and bore our diseases.” Matthew 8:14-17, NRSV

Most of the healings in the gospels are pretty dramatic. Leprosy, withered hands, paralysis, violent demon possession. This one is not so spectacular. There’s no dramatic confrontation with a wild man in a synagogue, no thunderous rebuke of an evil spirit. It’s just a tender scene: Jesus goes into Simon Peter’s house and finds his mother-in-law sick in bed with a fever. Like most fevers it’ll probably run its course in a few days. No one said, Come quickly and heal this woman! Jesus was just there to have lunch and finds, by the way, that Peter’s mother-in-law is sick. He simply walks over to her bed and takes her by the hand. He lifts her up, and the fever leaves her.

It’s very ordinary. Very domestic. That scene is repeated a thousand times over every day in hospitals and nursing homes, and in homes like our own. Anytime anybody gets touched, reached out to in their pain, lifted up, it’s nothing short of miraculous.

Most of us wouldn’t think of ourselves as healers, wouldn’t claim we had the touch of miracle in our hands. But we have all been laid low—by physical diseases of body or mind, by grief in loss, by trauma of wind or fire or water. Then all that mattered was that we were not alone, that someone was there to stand with us, put an arm around our shoulder, hold our hand.

On a May night in 1998 I received a call that got me out of bed. My church was on fire. By the time I drove three minutes to the scene, the building was engulfed in flames. For the next five or six hours I stood and watched the horror, as the fire spread from the school—where it had started—to the beautiful parish hall with its oak-beamed cathedral ceiling, and finally to the sanctuary itself. The night air was cool and I began to shake and shudder. I didn’t realize it, but my body was in shock. Thankfully, others realized what was happening to me and came to hold me, to make me sit down, wrap a blanket around me, hug me, tell me we were going to get through this, together.

That’s a healing. That’s a miracle. That touch was as divine as the famous finger of God reaching across the Sistine ceiling to touch the outstretched hand of Adam with the life of all creation. And just because it happens all the time is no reason not to be momentarily dumbfounded.

After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific example of one. “There is only one miracle,” he answered. “It is life.”

That is what we acknowledge in one another when we reach out, whenever we stand beside a sickbed, whenever we receive a troubling story. When we touch another person in need, when we refuse to let them be alone in their suffering, we are healers (even if we’d never say that of ourselves!), we are witness to a miracle.

Offered by David Anderson, child of God.

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

But you, beloved, must remember the predictions of the apostles of our Lord Jesus Christ; for they said to you, “In the last time there will be scoffers, indulging their ungodly lusts.” It is these worldly people, devoid of the Spirit, who are causing divisions. But you, beloved, build yourselves up on your most holy faith; pray in the Holy Spirit; keep yourselves in the love of God; look forward to the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. And have mercy on some who are wavering; save others by snatching them out of the fire; and have mercy on still others with fear, hating even the tunic defiled by their bodies.

Now to him who is able to keep you from falling, and to make you stand without blemish in the presence of his glory with rejoicing, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen. Jude 17-25, NRSV

[Just before Revelation, you’ll find Jude – just a few short verses before it’s the end of the world as we know it finishes out the canon. This is the end of the letter, the last few words of advice and farewell, and a benediction to end it all.]

We spend years getting to the point where we can stand on our own two feet. From helpless infancy through dependent childhood, from prickly adolescence to self-sufficient adulthood, we go from being carried to standing on our own. But in the process, we can lose sight of something important: we don’t grow through it all just for our own benefit. We grow so that we can move from needing a helping hand to offering one. Growth and greater independence isn’t for moving away from everyone else so much as it is for becoming a solid presence when others need stability.

If we happen to grow in wisdom as well as stature, we just might remember something important: no matter how sturdy our legs, we will waver and fall without God’s embrace keeping us steady.

Lord, hold my hand and keep me steady on this road to Bethlehem. Amen.

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

As the deer pants(longs) for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. Psalm 42:1

[Note: Jehovah Rapha is a Hebrew name for God, meaning God Who Heals.]

It seems Jehovah Rapha is always busy restoring things. All three of the texts for this Advent reading have the beautiful thread of restoration woven through them.

In Psalm 42 David is experiencing a season of deep depression. He likens it to a very thirsty deer running, seeking, and panting for water, for cool springs of life-giving water. His description of the deer as panting is so deep and beautiful, it speaks to others who are also panting. Yes, I can recognize that feeling. 

Deep calleth to deep. David knows that he is depressed, his whole soul is cast down. You can almost picture his face, head bowed, eyes cast down, deep frown line across his brows, his skin color waxy gray. He even falls prey to the usual self-talk of those whose thoughts are in trouble, he rebukes himself for his feelings. He looks for comfort from himself, for restoration, but finds none there. Later in his song journaling he realizes that it is when he recognizes his only hope comes from God that he can begin to be fully restored. He sees a glimmer of hope in the covenant of love he and God have made together. Restoration is dawning on the dark horizon. Deep calls to deep at the noise of your waterfalls . . . Hope in God; For I shall yet praise Him. The help of my countenance and my God [Psalm 42:7, 11].

Isaiah could see the darkness that was in the present condition of his people, but he could also see the light of the future coming. Though Israel was down, the time was coming when God would bring a restoration. Every enemy who opposes the onward progress of the work of God will eventually be destroyed. There is hope for even the most hardened and rebellious among us. God is a God of – well – Jehovah Rapha! Hang on, it’s coming.

In Acts the early Christian church is growing rapidly, and many miraculous healings are happening every day. Were they taking the newest medication? Were they on the internet watching the 1.8 bazillion posts and videos about how to heal their bodies? No. The disciples were moving among them, laying their hands on them as the channel from Jehovah Rapha to them for their healing.  Their only hope for restoration was from God and it was flowing to them through the disciples, God’s hands here on earth. Jesus healed a multitude while he walked around the last three years of His life, and He gave all the glory to His Father. People were restored physically, but more importantly emotionally and spiritually. Their belief and faith in the one true Healer were springing forth. And you can bet their cast down faces were radiating the joy and peace that can only come through Him.

Perhaps God has not yet restored you? Or at least restoration has not come according to the prescription you wrote Him, or the list of suggestions you gave Him to consider. Perhaps you cannot see it?   But make no mistake – He is restoring all, or part of what needs restored. The time it happens is not for us to know. Look deeper. Go check around behind the pain. Something good and right sits there. Can you find your gratitude? How about your faith?  Or even better, can you see the faithfulness of Jesus, working always for your good?

 I, myself, am a clear example of restoration. Jehovah Rapha led me out of a very deep hole, and into life. I know you have a similar experience. We have nothing to fear unless we forget where God has led us in the past. Right now, we are celebrating the birthday of the greatest restoration expert ever known, that will ever exist. Let us give Him the chance to restore us and let us lead others to His hands this season.

Offered by Linda Benningfield-Hasham, child of God.