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Some Advent Reflections (4)

Dec 23, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality

The Polar Express, Ahaz, Joseph, and me…

Sunday, December 23 – Scripture Readings:
Psalm 80: 1-7, 17-19; 24; Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1: 18-25

Hundreds of years before Jesus’ birth, Isaiah challenges Ahaz to ask God for a sign. But Ahaz is afraid. Isaiah responds by saying, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.” (Isaiah 7:14)

Just months before Jesus’ birth, an angel challenges Joseph to believe God’s sign. But Joseph is afraid. In his dream, the angel says, ‘Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.’ All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: ‘Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,’ which means ‘God is with us.’ (Matthew 1:20b-23)

Thousands of years after Jesus’ birth, we are challenged to believe (anew and again) in God’s sign. But we are afraid.

I could talk much about why this might be, but I’m not going to. (I want to watch The Polar Express with Emma and Abby and the evening is quickly escaping.) We are afraid. If we were not, we would all be living full, abundant, amazing lives. Full in the grace and love of the Divine. Abundant in the gifts and graces bestowed by the Divine. Amazing in the awareness of Divine-with-us always, every single day.

We’re two days from Christmas; two days from honoring and celebrating THE sign – past, present, and future – who tells us we don’t need to be afraid; who bursts into the midst of our normal lives (whether we’re King Ahaz, Joseph, or a mom who is minutes away from watching a Christmas movie and drinking cocoa). Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Ahaz is reluctant. Joseph is chagrined. I am often unmotivated to really be challenged and changed by the proclaimed good news. I am afraid – just like the generations before me.

It doesn’t matter. For thousands of years, Emmanuel has come, no matter what.

‘…do not be afraid…God is with us.’

Now that I think of it, The Polar Express might be the perfect articulation of what I’m trying to say. The young boy is afraid, in many ways, to truly believe the signs around him. There’s too much chance for disappointment. Too much possibility that the magic just isn’t real. Beautifully though, he takes the leap. He sets his fear aside. He believes the sign and hears the ringing of the bell from Santa’s sleigh. The last words of the book say,

At one time most of my friends could hear the bell, but as years passed, it fell silent for all of them. Even Sarah found on Christmas that she could no longer hear its sweet sound. Though I’ve grown old, the bell still rings for me as it does for all who truly believe.

Just like the voice of Isaiah and the proclamation of the angel, the sound of the bell’s ringing continues through the ages.

No matter what.

The music sounds. The angels sing. Heaven and earth declare God’s glory. “…the Lord himself will give you a sign.” No matter what.

Emmanuel. God-with-us.

 

Some Advent Reflections (3)

Dec 16, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Sunday, December 16 – Scripture Readings:
Psalm 63, 98; Amos 9:11-15; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, 13-17; John 5:30-47

It’s Sunday – the beginning of the third week of Advent. For those of you counting shopping days, you’re down to only nine! In a season designed, in its truest sense, to invite us to anticipation and longing and hope, we more often know increased levels of anxiety and stress and exhaustion these final days. Not good. We need Advent. We need comfort and joy.

And, as though it somehow knows this (which I think it does), Scripture offers us words that call us back to what matters, what endures, what we most need:

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word. (2 Thess. 2:16-16)

‘Reminds me of a Christmas carol. It’s long, but worth reading (and maybe humming along):

God rest ye merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember, Christ, our Saviour
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan’s power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

In Bethlehem, in Israel,
This blessed Babe was born
And laid within a manger
Upon this blessed morn
The which His Mother Mary
Did nothing take in scorn
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed Angel came;
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same:
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

“Fear not then,” said the Angel,
“Let nothing you aright,
This day is born a Saviour
Of a pure Virgin bright,
To free all those who trust in Him
From Satan’s power and might.
“O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

The shepherds at those tidings
Rejoiced much in mind,
And left their flocks a-feeding
In tempest, storm and wind:
And went to Bethlehem straightway
The Son of God to find.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

And when they came to Bethlehem
Where our dear Saviour lay,
They found Him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His Mother Mary kneeling down,
Unto the Lord did pray.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth deface.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

I don’t think I need to extrapolate out application from this hymn other than to say that, at least for me, it reminds me of what matters. It tells me the story through which my own story makes sense (even if only in fits and starts). It offers me comfort and joy.

That is the message that all of Scripture offers, really. It’s the message, invitation, and reality of the Divine – throughout time, now, and forever.

Here’s a smattering of even today’s readings:

My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast, and my mouth praises you with joyful lips when I think of you on my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night; for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy. (from Psalm 63)

Comfort and joy.

Let the sea roar, and all that fills it; the world and those who live in it. Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming… (from Psalm 98)

Comfort and joy.

I will restore the fortunes of my people Israel, and they shall rebuild the ruined cities and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and drink their wine, and they shall make gardens and eat their fruit. I will plant them upon heir and, and they shall never again be plucked up out of the land that I have given them, says the Lord your God. (from Amos 9)

Comfort and joy.

And again:

Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and through grace gave us eternal comfort and good hope, comfort your hearts and strengthen them in every good work and word. (2 Thess. 2:16-16)

Advent. God-with-us. Emmanuel. Comfort and joy.

May it be so.

Some Advent Reflections (2)

Dec 9, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Spirituality

Sunday, December 9 – Scripture Readings:
Psalm 114, 115; Amos 6:1-14; 2 Thessalonians 1:5-12; Luke 1:57-68

I’m struck today by the contrast between the words of the psalmist, Amos, Paul, and then Zechariah at the birth of his son, John.

The Psalmist says:
Tremble, O earth, at the presence of the Lord,
at the presence of the God of Jacob,
who turns the rock into a pool of water,
and flint into a spring of water. (114:7-8)

Amos says:
But you have turned justice into poison and the fruit of righteousness into wormwood – you who rejoice…who say, “Have we not by our own strength taken Karnaim for ourselves?” Indeed, I am raising up against you a nation, O house of Israel, says the Lord, the God of hosts, and they shall oppress you… (12b-14)

Paul says:
[Those who do not know God] will suffer the punishment of eternal destruction, separated from the presence of the Lord and from the glory of his might… (9)

And Zechariah, as a brand new father, says:
Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. (68)

Words that speak of a trembling fear of God. Words that speak of God’s oppression of God’s people. And words that speak of God’s blessing, favor, and redemption. All words of God-with-us, Emmanuel. I certainly prefer the latter, don’t you?

But what if it’s not either/or; rather both/and?

During Advent (and frankly all year long), Scripture requires that we interact with a voice of God that is clearly about judgment, a God in whom we should fear, a God who articulates significant disappointment and plans for oppression, a God who, at least from Paul’s perspective, intends to punish those who do not obey Jesus’ gospel. We read of a God who, through the birth of John, is fulfilling prophecy (even like that above) and looking favorably on God’s people and redeeming them. One could be, understandably, confused or at least be tempted to just stick with the gospel passage.

How are we to make sense of these seemingly mixed messages? How are we to let these words coexist and remain in a both/and reality?

Maybe I’m an exception, but I don’t find this all that hard. It feels far more like my reality. Of course, my preference is to stick with the favor and redemption stuff, but that belies what I experience and know to be true.

Nearly every day I face experiences that provoke fear on some level, feel like oppression, and have me longing for punishment (for others, of course). I don’t have the luxury of a life that stays only in places of God’s kindness and blessing. Further, I don’t really think that’s God’s expectation or plan.

It’s appropriate that Zechariah’s words come out of the context of labor and birth. It’s appropriate that the larger context of this passage has us hearing more of Elizabeth than her husband; that it’s her labor, her rejoicing, her naming that tells us this story. That’s the reality of life: out of labor – its pain, its anguish, its seeming-endlessness – that life bursts forth, life that offers favor and redemption.

This is our both/and reality: labor – its pain, its anguish, its seeming-endlessness and life that bursts forth with a God offering us favor and redemption.

This is our both/and reality: fear, oppression, punishment (whether or own or our desire for others’) and God’s blessing.

This is our both/and Advent: a God-with-us, Emmanuel who speaks through psalmists, a prophet, an apostle like Paul, and a father’s words about the God who gave him a son via the labor of his wife.

Both/and not either/or. This is reality. And into such, we are told of a real, flesh-and-blood god who comes, again and again, not to take away the harder, even harsh aspects of our day-to-day life, but to inhabit them, to dwell in their/our midst, to live himself in places of fear, oppression, punishment and favor and redemption.

I choose both/and. You?

Some Advent Reflections (1)

Dec 2, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, My sort-of Sermons, Spirituality

In the spirit of Advent – the beginning of the church year – I decided to begin something (again): I went to church.

Not having been on a Sunday morning for nearly a year, it was an odd yet very familiar and comfortable experience. I saw many faces I recognized, most of which I haven’t seen for a long time. I sang songs I recognized, most of which I haven’t heard for a long time. I felt home…even though this particular community of faith is new for me.

This morning felt like an appropriate start for Advent – the season of beginnings, of anticipation, of expectation of God’s coming, of God’s longed-for presence. Though my theology tells me that God is with me whether I ever darken the door of a church or not, there was something right and good about knowing Emmanuel (God with us) in a sanctuary with candles, bread and wine, music, and others. I’m grateful.

But wait, there’s more…

I’ve been thinking about the acknowledgement and celebration of Advent as a discipline for myself this year. Perhaps going to church this morning sparked that reality; nevertheless, it’s my desire and intent to be able to post some reflections using the daily texts (though I’ll extend myself enough grace here at the outset to acknowledge that I may not get to this every day…).

So, I begin.

Sunday, December 2 Scripture Readings:
Psalm 111, Amos 1:1-5, 13-2:8, 1 Thess. 5:1-11, Luke 21:5-19

With the exception of the Psalm, these are some scary verses – all doom and gloom, warnings of God’s wrath, and projections of what life will be like at the end of all things. In the Old Testament reading we hear words of anger, war, judgment, fire, exile, battle cries, much harm to pregnant women. In 1 Thessalonians, Paul speaks of the Lord coming like a thief in the night and…again with the pregnant woman
language…with destruction coming on people suddenly as labor pains on a pregnant woman. And in Luke, Jesus speaks of nations rising against nations, of being betrayed by family and friends, of being hated.

Not really the messages we like to read – especially in a season filled with happy Christmas carols, jolly Santa’s, twinkling lights, and present purchasing.

What are these passages about? Why the first readings of Advent? What are they trying to say?

These verses, in many ways, articulated the reality that people already knew. The Israelites had been waiting for deliverance, for their Messiah, for a very long time. They knew much about God’s anger, judgment, and the experience of exile. In such a state wouldn’t one anticipate and long for God-with-us, Emmanuel even more passionately? Wouldn’t advent be a beginning deeply hungered for? And in Paul’s day, a church in early beginnings, fits and starts, and much persecution, wouldn’t the be hungry for a message that reminded them that the Divine was yet to come; to be alert and on the watch for God-with-us, Emmanuel? As Jesus prepared his disciples for his imminent departure, would they not hunger for the signs that would let them know that he was going to return; that God-with-us, Emmanuel would come and reign?

Advent: a season of anticipation.

Advent: a season of acknowledging what is – in our fear, in our disappointment, in our dashed expectations, in our tired-of-waiting state.

Advent: a season of hungering for more – for God-with-us, Emmanuel.

In the midst of what is we can take heart. We can encourage one another. We need not worry. We will be cared for. We need not fear. We can stand firm. That is good news. That is, indeed, God-with-us, Emmanuel.

Happy 47th Birthday to Me!

Nov 30, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power, Women's Wisdom, Writing

After writing posts for both of my daughters on their birthdays, I thought it only fitting that I do the same for myself!

Happy Birthday to me!

This has been a full, rich, painful, beautiful, long, amazing, surprising, miraculous, arduous, labor-filled year. I have known many tears, much frustration, and deep anguish. I have also known more laughter and life than ever before. I have been struck again and again by how amazing it is that both can coexist and frankly, be enhanced when juxtaposed to one another.

I’ve had many conversations with Emma and Abby this past year about what it means to let more than one thing be true at the same time: disappointment and hope, sadness and joy, frustration and desire. And this has been a year of that being enfleshed within me – on their behalf, certainly, but powerfully, on my own.

I have found much strength within me these past twelve months; strength that has enabled me to make difficult decisions and then live with the ramifications of such, strength that has allowed me to survive – and even thrive – in places I’d feared (and avoided) for many years. And that strength has, amazingly, not made me tougher, harder, or colder; rather, its enabled me to feel more tender, compassionate, and “present” to my own heart and the heart’s of others. I’m grateful.

Last year at this time I could have never been convinced of or prepared for the twelve months that were about to commence. Note to self: be glad you don’t know the future! Out of curiosity, I went back to the past – to my blog posts from about a year ago to see what I was writing. I came across some October, 2006 reflections on the women of Proverbs 1 and 31 that were amazingly prophetic for the year that was to come:

These women – metaphorical and real – are who I want to be: wise, listening to and living with those on the margins, gaining strength through perseverance and struggle, dignified and fearless, forever laughing with the abandon of a child. God knows and loves this woman. I am becoming this woman.

Indeed, I am. I feel more wise, more able to listen to those who are unseen, forgotten, or harmed, strengthened through perseverance and certainly struggle, more dignified, more fearless, and often laughing both with the abandon of a child – and with my own children.

I am this woman. Amazing.

That’s a year worth celebrating in the midst of acknowledging and grieving its losses and pains.

Another year older. Another year of being the grateful recipient of consistent, unpredictable, mysterious, and precious life.

Cruising – literally…

Nov 28, 2007 | Hope & Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters

Is there a place that one can go to get away from all thought of stolen cars or even the graciousness of given ones?

I found it.

Emma, Abby, and I just returned from 7 days on a cruise ship to the Mexican Riviera (along with my parents, my
sister, her husband and two boys, and my brother and his girlfriend). None of us thought about cars. In fact, we didn’t think about much at all. We did, however, thoroughly enjoy every second of our trip.

I’ve now been officially bitten by the cruise-bug. I loved it! No thought of schedules. No thought of work. No thought of cooking or cleaning. No thought of dieting. No thought of too much sun. No thought of rain. I told you: we didn’t think much at all!

I’m torn as I think back on our ventures: I loved getting off the ship and seeing Cabo, Mazatlan, and Puerto Vallarta – sitting on the beaches, buying cheap silver jewelry from the vendors, watching the girls play in the surf and the sand; but I also loved the days at sea – watching the water stretch to the horizon, feeling the rocking of the ship, knowing that every detail and necessity would be taken care of on my behalf. How can you go wrong when faced with these options?

More than anything (yes, even more than not needing to think) I enjoyed the time away – together – with my daughters. It was lovely to see them relaxed, spontaneous, uncensored, full of laughter and life. It was lovely to be the same in their presence.

And it was hard to return – to realities that don’t always imbue relaxation, spontaneity, or easy truth-telling. We’ve been back for 5 days and our land-legs are returning – as are our guard, our tension, our roles.

I think for me, more than the desire to cruise again, I have the desire to live in a way that enables the kind of freedom and joy we knew while gone. I know it’s not completely possible in the contexts and realities of everyday responsibilities and stresses; but I also know it can happen.

That’s the memory to which I’ll return – again and again – and seek to recreate, both in imagination and in reality.

In the midst of stolen cars, given cars, and even returned cars (yes…mine was found, finally, quite a bit worse for wear, but now in front of my house again), I’m grateful I can go to a place that is warm – yes, in the memory of the beaches and 90+-degree temps; but even more, in my heart as I picture the three of us together laughing, living, loving.