Tag Archives: Advent2017

Shattered

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)

Go Out Weeping, Return in Joy

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

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,

we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter,

and our tongue with shouts of joy;

then it was said among the nations,

“The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us,

and we rejoiced.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord,

like the watercourses in the Negeb.

May those who sow in tears reap with shouts of joy.

Those who go out weeping,

bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

carrying their sheaves.

Psalm 126, NRSV

I’ve never seen it in real life, but I’ve seen it dozens of times in movies and television shows: a New Orleans funeral procession. Musicians play a dirge, giving mourners a slow beat as they walk with the casket, heading for burial. Through streets they go, their grief on display for everyone – a bartender heading to work, a mother pushing a stroller, the tourist taking selfies and some kids with their homework. Grief cuts through all of them, keeping its own graveyard appointment. Memento Mori.

But the way back is something else. When the casket is lowered and the last prayers said, the band picks up the tempo. Those who buried a friend or relative leave the mournful music behind, dancing back to life with exuberance and joy. Those who went out weeping come home with shouts of joy, just like the psalmist said. The fruits of mourning and loss are joy and a renewed appreciation for life: the seeds of loss become the sheaves that nourish and enrich life. It’s Psalm 126, it’s the hope of resurrection, it’s an acceptance and release of death set to music, walking down a street.

The older I get, the more I like the idea of this kind of funeral. There’s no denying the loss – everyone sees it and no one attempts to keep it private. Grief walks every street in every city: New Orleans is just more honest about it. On the other side of the grave is a street celebration of life with drums and horns to get everyone moving back into life. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? Accept the loss, share your grief, let it go, return to the land of the living in joy.

It’s an old pattern and a modern one, found in two thousand year old psalms and New Orleans funeral processions and Irish wakes. Mourn, let it go, return to life a bit wiser and a bit more joyful. It’s a holy pattern, one of the gifts of faith from a God who wants even our greatest losses to end in jubilation. May I have the strength, courage, and wisdom to follow it.

The Blind Boy of Alabama, Uncloudy DayDown in New Orleans, 2008 Available on iTunes

 

Advent 2017

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.

Among Friends

Readings: Psalm 27; Isaiah 4:2-6; Acts 11:1-18

The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us. Acts 11:12a

There’s a scene in the movie, The Shack, when Mac is talking with the Spirit about all the violence and acts of hate that had been done in the name of God, faith, and religion. One claims to know the true God and accuses those who disagree of heresy, perhaps even justifying harming them for their blasphemous beliefs. The Spirit says something remarkable: It was always meant to be a conversation among friends.

Is that how we see our verbal interactions with people of other faiths, or with people who share our faith but practice it in a different way? Do cultural and religious differences lead to lively conversation and appreciation, or argument and rejection? It’s a mixed bag for the Christian faith: even Peter needed a vision from God to overcome his avoidance of Gentiles.

In a time when “keep Christ in Christmas” is taken as “if you wish someone a happy holiday, you aren’t a true and faithful Christian,” I’d like to see those words interpreted in a different way. How about keeping Christ in Christmas by honoring the prayers and beliefs of others – after all, Jesus was a Jewish rabbi. How about remembering that the Magi weren’t Christian or Jewish, but still sought out the Christ child?

On this walk to Bethlehem, as I ask God for the wisdom and faith to see God-With-Us born into poverty, I’d be thankful for good company of any kind on the journey.

Guide me, Lord, to the stable in Bethlehem. Amen.

Backwards, Forwards

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.

Expectations

Readings: Isaiah 40:1-11; Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13; 2 Peter 3:8-15a; Mark 1:1-8

A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,

Make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Isaiah 40:3

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. As it is written in the prophet Isaiah,

See, I am sending a messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way;

The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, Make his paths straight.

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins… Mark 1:1-4

Why do I expect the miraculous to be blatantly, glaringly obvious? Super size and high volume don’t guarantee anything other than a long shadow and temporary hearing loss. So why do I expect God’s messenger to be a rock star, crowd pleaser, larger-than-life superman?

John wasn’t powerful among the religious leaders. He didn’t wear expensive clothes or dine at the finest restaurants, he had no army and no money. He just gave witness to God’s presence in this world and saw in Jesus God-With-Us. That’s more than enough: that’s a miracle.

Would I recognize John if I passed him on the street? Would I hear his voice? Would I listen?

Come, Lord Jesus, Come.

Heartsick

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.

Steadfast Love

Readings: Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13; Hosea 6:1-6; I Thessalonians 1:2-10

For I desire steadfast love and not sacrifice,

The knowledge of God rather than burnt offerings. Hosea 6:6

Steadfast love and faithfulness will meet;

Righteousness and peace will kiss each other.

Faithfulness will spring up from the ground,

And righteousness will look down from the sky.

The Lord will give what is good, and our land will yield its increase.

Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps.

Psalm 85:10-13

God, Self, Neighbor. Everything in faith is about the relationship of these three. What I do is never done in a vacuum. If I give money to worthy causes only for the recognition it brings me, I’ve missed the point: knowing God’s heart, the holiness of my neighbor and the meaning of my own life. I don’t want to miss the point. I don’t want to mistake self-righteousness for righteousness.

It’s not easy, living a life of deep God-Self-Neighbor awareness. But an easy life isn’t really what I want. A righteous and faithful one is. When I seek God, I must do so without harming others – even and most especially the ones I don’t like and don’t agree with. When I encounter my neighbor, I cannot forget that he or she is God related and God created- just like me. Steadfast love, faithfulness, and peace – gifts God offers that can only be opened with the help of my neighbor.

Guide my feet, O Lord, on this road to Bethlehem.

Photograph by Jared Fredrickson, high school learner, keen observer of life, child of God.

Worry, the Vice?

Readings: Psalm 79; Micah 5:1-5a; Luke 21:34-38

Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the earth. Luke 21:34-35

Worrying is focusing on all that could possibly go wrong and wasting the precious few days I have on this earth trying to outsmart a reality that isn’t real and most likely never will be. It drains color and harmony from the unique work of art that is this day, as if it were an oily smudge on a dirty canvas. If the worst doesn’t happen, worrying is in vain; if it does happen, worrying robs me of the strength and courage to face hardship. It robs me of hope and trust in God, self, and neighbor; it ruins my present because it’s fearful of my future. No wonder it weighs down the heart like a wasted life or boozy befuddlement.

I trust that God will hold me fast no matter what happens. I trust God’s love for my family, friends, strangers, and this beautiful broken world. What will be will be. I’ll have my share of sorrow and joy in this holy gift that is my life. Worrying can’t turn sorrow into joy, but it’s fully capable of turning joy into despair. If I’m not careful, I just might let it…

Lord, give me strength, courage, and a good sense of humor so I won’t waste my time worrying. Amen.

Wait, wait, wait…and remember

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.