Before Advent

 

My blog has moved to https://stumblingintothesacred.org/

Please join me there for this year's Advent Meditations.

Anne

Sabbath Lent

As we begin the Lenten Journey this year, I am in the midst of a sabbatical. My beloved congregation of St. Luke's sent me off in January with a celebratory cake (we love cake at my parish) decorated with the words:

Rest - Renewal - Joy

For the past two months I have been living into these comfortable words. I have been spending my time in rest, prayer, contemplation, reading, retreat, and creation. I have also been writing--mostly poetry.

As I continue to honor this time of re-creation and in order to allow space for my current writing endeavor, I will not be writing and publishing new meditations on a daily basis on this blog. However, I have curated meditations from previous years which I will send out via email this Lent. You can subscribe to emails via the link in the right column of this blog.

It is quite possible (as it always is with me) that I may miss a day here and there. And, who knows, there may be a new meditation here and there as well.

Gift in the Bleakness

Christmas Eve 

Be still, then, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations;
I will be exalted in the earth.
Psalm 46:11

My morning devotions are accompanied by snow, and I imagine myself within the scene of In the Bleak Midwinter, once of my favorite Christmas hymns. Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow on snow.

As I make my way finally to the manger, I will be in the company of a band of children who will dress in the traditional costumes and tell the story to a churchfull of relatives and strangers. And later I will approach the manger again in candlelight accompanied by magnificent music. And in both circumstances, I will arrive emptyhanded.

What can I give Him, Poor as I am? What do I have to offer Love incarnate? What can the Holy One want of mine, when all that I have is tarnished? When I am marred by imperfection? Who am I to arrive at the birth of the Morning Star?

And who were the shepherds but tarnished, marred, imperfect human beings? Trusting, faithful, human beings who did not think twice about heading to the scene of the miraculous and holy. With the shepherds and the children and the faithful and the unconvinced, I am in good company. I will make it to the manger, and my hands won’t be empty. Because I will hold the one gift I have. Yet what I can, I give Him, Give my heart.

 

Pattern of salvation

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

For God alone my soul in silence waits;

from the One comes my salvation.

Psalm 62:1

The sun shines brightly, its brilliance magnified as it reflects off the snow. Yet the warmth it promises is fleeting; it is bitter cold outside.

It the lawn next to the church the outlines of the labyrinth can still be seen through the frozen whiteness; somehow the stones that mark the path resisted being completely blanketed by the snow. 

The invitation to complete my journey to the manger is clear. In this frozen stillness before the arrival of Emmanuel, the pattern of salvation remains visible.

What am I doing

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Feast of St. Thomas

I lift up my eyes to the hills;

  from where is my help to come?

My help comes from the Lord,

  the maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 121: 1-2

“What am I doing,” I whisper to myself in the pre-dawn. Having opened my laptop to complete a task, I immediately became distracted by the number of open files on my desktop and after taking care of a couple of them I can no longer remember what it was that I wanted to do.

What am I doing? This is probably an apt refrain as I head into the final week of Advent, which, in reality, is not a week but a few days. As the morning light increases, the angel on top of our family creche is revealed along with a backdrop of snow-covered trees that I had not expected. I didn’t know that yesterday’s sleet had become more substantial overnight.

What am I doing? What is God doing, is perhaps the better question. However else I spend these last few days of this season of expectation, I am reminded that I need to keep my attention focused on the Holy One. Who is ever active, always present, continuously redeeming heaven and earth.

Mastering getting ready

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving

and make good your vows to the Most High.

Psalm 50:14

I sit in the quiet room in the late evening, the space lighted only by the Christmas tree. I allow the peace of the moment to sink in, comforting me like a well-loved blanket. 

It has been a good day, a day of preparation. Some presents wrapped. A package ready to be mailed to family far away. The kitchen cleaned, email dealt with, work projects wrangled.

The day has been wrapped in prayer as well, beginning with a morning healing prayer group and ending with bible study, a discussion of angels, and the courage to ask God to come among us with great might.

Now I pray again, thanking God for the fullness, the holy solace, the solitude and the community. I realize that, at this point in Advent, preparation has become my spiritual practice. I may never be ready; yet I have come close to mastering getting ready. And for this I am grateful.

Radiance

 Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent

O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,

as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.

Therefore I have gazed upon you in your holy place,

that I might behold your power and your glory.

Psalm 63:1-2

I must consciously breathe my way through the store, focusing on my list and not allowing my senses, and my soul, to be captured by all that is on offer. I can so easily become overwhelmed by commercial appeals, brightly colored items arranged attractively on shelves, and aisles that lead me to more stuff. I had thought this was going to be a one-stop trip. But I am now at my fourth store. And I’m getting cranky.

The enemy is always close at hand at the holy times, a friend tells me. Well of course. What better way to disrupt the peace brought by the one with healing in his wings than to lead us astray on our way to the manger.

I remind myself that the one who wants our joy to be complete can have nothing against stars and glitter and holiday cheer. After all, think of the magnificence that accompanied Jesus’ birth. An entire host of angels appeared to the shepherds! Just how many are in a host?

As I leave the store and step into the cold night, I see the radiance of the moon, just past full. Are angels hiding somewhere beyond that brightness, getting ready? I imagine a heavenly choir practice going on, a host preparing to light upon us in a week’s time, guiding all who seek to the glory of the incarnation. Again.

Slowly and silently

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

This God is our God for ever and ever,

and shall be our guide for evermore.

Psalm 48:13

I hear the hum of the washer and I see the fallen leaves from a house plant that need to be swept up and my list of things on today’s calendar runs through my head. Where is the sacred in all of this?

We have hurtled past the third Sunday of Advent and suddenly I am afraid I have missed the opportunity to envelope myself fully in this season. I want to surround my heart with expectant hope. I yearn for long stretches of contemplation on the miracle to come. I wish to slow down and savor the unfolding mystery of the incarnation that was and is and is about to be.

Just out of my sight, I know one of the houseplants is about to bloom. As it leans towards the window, its tiny buds stretch toward the winter sun, eager to soak up its energy. And there, I realize, is expectancy and hope. Slowly and silently this creation of God’s has been steadily divulging the ongoing mystery of new life.

God is here, always. And God guides me, scatters my daily path with direction and encouragement. The holy invitation to enter deeply into this Advent never expires.

Tasks

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

For I do not rely on my bow,

and my sword does not give me the victory.

Psalm 44:6

My brain is slow to kick into gear as I try to take care of important end-of-the-year administrative tasks. The problem with some of these is that I only do them once a year, and so I don’t remember the process. Which website? Which login? Do I still have that password?

I know that these tasks are worth my time, and that good administration supports fruitful ministry. And now, as I struggle to stay focused, I remind myself that even in this mundane work I can rely on God; in fact, I need to rely on God rather than solely on my own prowess.

Ultimately, my skills and knowledge come from God. I may have honed them, but God created me and gifted me and guided me.

I lean my head back so my face lifts heavenward and I offer thanks. The breath of God washes over me and I return to my tasks refreshed.

Dreamer

Saturday of the Second Week of Advent

Weeping may spend the night,
but joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:6

My morning coffee arrives in a large mug, steaming and beautiful. The café is warm, full of people and good smells and Saturday morning bustle. I sit solitary in the midst of this community, happy for the company that others probably don’t realize they are providing.

My coffee also comes with a message; “Idealist” is scrawled across the mug. Of course I see this as a sign. In the midst of this Advent, in the midst of this cold December, in the midst of God’s people, I am invited to see myself as a dreamer.

My breakfast companions have no idea whether my road has been smooth or troubled, and I know nothing of their sorrows and struggles and triumphs. Yet for this moment we share the way, and I will dream of a baby being born in our midst, crying out with new life, as this unknowing crowd witnesses salvation. 

A No Fret Zone

Thursday of the Second Week of Advent

Refrain from anger, leave rage alone;

do not fret yourself; it leads only to evil. 

Psalm 37:9

The fierce rains of yesterday have been replaced by fierce winds, causing the chimes in my backyard to sound almost riotous as if clamoring for my attention.

There is much competing for my attention right now so that I even overlook appointments that I placed on my calendar. The temptation is to fret about this, to try and cram everything in, as if Advent were a suitcase and I an overly ambitious packer.

I’m pretty sure fretting does not lead to the manger, and I know that worrying leads me astray. I have learned that the best approach to such clamoring is actually to be still. To do nothing. To listen. To wait. Only then will I be able to focus my attention on what is worthy.

No rush

Tuesday of the Second Week of Advent

The Lord is my strength and my shield; 

my heart trusts in him, and I have been helped;

Psalm 28:8

After a rush of morning engagements, the afternoon opens slowly before me with spacious time for the tasks at hand. I began the day with worry about how much needed to get done and the necessity to rush flustered me.

I take a moment to sit still, thanking God for the calmness. I remind myself that I have been here before. I know from experience that all will be well, and that if I approach things calmly, dealing with first one thing and then the next, I will not be overwhelmed. If only I can keep this in mind when I feel anxious.

Now, my day has been transformed from impossible-to-manage to one filled with grace. Even when my mind is pummeled by disquiet, my heart somehow still trusts in God.

Now

Monday of the Second Week of Advent

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul;

my God, I put my trust in you;

let me not be humiliated,

nor let my enemies triumph over me.

Psalm 25:1

It is only the beginning of the second week of Advent and somehow I feel like I am already behind. In this season of preparation, there is so much to prepare for: the birth of a savior and a Christmas pageant. The redemption of the world and way too many bulletins. The embrace of holy mystery and next year’s budget.

“O God,” I pray, “do not let me be humiliated by failure in the bulletin department.” So many variables, so much room for error.

Yet, I also know there is no error in God’s love for imperfect humankind, no variability in God’s faithfulness. My life is all preparation, any given moment laying groundwork for the next. And when I am present in the moment, I cannot be ahead or behind. There is only now, and in any now God is ever-present.

Restfulness

Saturday of the First Week of Advent 

Turn again to your rest, O my soul.

for the Lord has treated you well

Psalm 116:6

I sink into the quiet of the pre-dawn morning, even as the comfortable sounds of the house blanket me: the hum of the humidifier, the rhythmic swoosh of the washer, the crackle of heat moving through the baseboards.

The familiar brings a restfulness even as my day begins. I settle into the everydayness of it all, grateful for the pattern of prayer that sustains me.

God is good and gracious. The mercy of the Almighty is everywhere for me to see, take note of, breathe in. Love is on the way. 

Hope cast long

Friday of the First Week of Advent

Show me your marvelous loving-kindness,

O Savior of those who take refuge at your right hand

from those who rise up against them.

Psalm 17:7

Although the outside air is held in a frozen grip, the morning sun urges heat through the window and over my face and shoulders. I am safe. I am warm. And my soul aches.

I feel loss. The loss of a friend and somehow the loss of certainty as well. I see the tops of the trees move in a wind that does not reach the stillness at their trunks. Likewise, the loving kindness of my savior is present, seen and unseen.

I must cast my hope long, beyond even this season of waiting. For now, I will hunker in the refuge of the knowledge that God has the world in hand and me as well. There is goodness beneath the frozen ground that will yet spring forth.

Might

Thursday of the First Week of Advent

God delivered me from my strong enemies

and from those who hated me;

for they were too mighty for me.

Psalm 18:18

As I scroll through my phone in the morning, checking my calendar, the weather, and my to-do list, I realize I am avoiding all my news feeds.  The world around me is so full of trouble, and my soul is so bruised, that I cannot bear even the headlines.

Growing up with two older brothers, I was always trying to prove myself, to compete with them, determined to show I could keep up and even win. My self-reliance has been a gift in my life. And it can lead me astray.

There are troubles in this word that I cannot solve, injustices that I cannot overcome. The enemy whispers in my soul that these are too mighty for me, and I will be destroyed.

This is a half-truth. They are too mighty for me. Yet I belong to a God who does not abandon me, and my strength rests in trusting the Holy One. I whisper a prayer and intentionally place myself in God’s hands as I wait for the infant who delivers us all.

The Practice of Yearning

Wednesday of the First Week of Advent

O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you; 

my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,

as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.

Psalm 63:1

I wake to frost covering the yard, the cold of the season having finally arrived. The dusting of white is its own kind of barrenness, signaling, among other things, the need to bundle up before venturing outside.

Bundling up is also good preparation before venturing fully into the season of Advent. I want to wrap myself in comfy reflections and warm traditions to ward off the chill of a world which is not at all interested in the sweetness of newborn salvation. I want to hold my hope close to the warmth of my heartbeat and protect myself from cold indifference and the cruelty that seems to creep into daily life.

And so I remind myself that eagerly seeking God and yearning for the mystery of the incarnation are the practices that will sustain me. For now, they are enough.

Refuge

Tuesday of the First Week of Advent

But all who take refuge in you will be glad;

they will sing out their joy for ever. Psalm 5:13

We walk in the brisk cold, our bodies warming with the steady movement. The landscape of the trail is familiar, but not completely known, and we pause at each junction to discuss the way forward.

I soon become aware that the picture I have in my mind of the twists and turns of this path is faulty. The trail coils right and up when I expect it to curve left and down. And just how many times does it cross and recross the stream?

Yet even while I seem to have lost all sense of direction, I know where I am. The trail itself is a refuge, the stream singing glad psalms to the Holy One, the bare trees raising limbs in homage. I am safe in God’s sanctuary.

We reach the bottommost section of this trail and I pause in awe at the formation of icicles along an overhang, brilliantly protecting whatever lies within that mystical space. A refuge within a refuge. I know I stand on holy ground.

Wanted: A Shield

But you, O Lord, are a shield about me;

you are my glory, the one who lifts up my head.

Psalm 3:3

Advent has just begun and already I need to shield myself from the assaults of a world that is not at all headed toward the manger. Where is the tenderness I expect from a world of God's making? Is my confidence in the practice of hopefulness a fool's naiveté?

In worship yesterday, I entered this season of expectation in community. We lit the first candle. We prayed to cast away the works of darkness. We sang for love, the guest on the way. A child eagerly gathered up the materials to make her own advent wreath at home. A couple asked for a blessing of their 51 years of marriage. An elder warmly greeted the parents whose infant daughter will soon be baptized.

And I realize, once again, that it is God who shields me. The Holy One transforms this community into a sacrament and once more the ancient traditions feed and heal and nurture. I step out on the road in good company, and God lifts my face toward Bethlehem.

Be Bearers of the Light

A Meditation on The Feast of William Temple

November 6, 2024

Your word is a lantern to my feet

and a light upon my path. (Psalm 119:105)

I hear children on the athletic field
across from my house

laughing and shouting in warm sunshine.

I contemplate the twists and curves of the now-bare branches of the maple trees,

having been stripped of their final fall glory

by yesterday’s wind.

I linger in uncertainty;

the day and the laughter are bright,

creation offers beauty in bareness,

I am loved,

and I am afraid

I seek a path to walk.

Your word is a lantern to my feet

and a light upon my path.

I seek sure footing to move forward

with hope and joy and trust in God’s goodness.

I seek a way through familiar landscapes now obscured,

tendrils of shadows reaching to conceal and confuse

the way of love.

Your word is a lantern to my feet

and a light upon my path.

And I know with certainty

that the True Light,

which enlightens everyone,

came into this world,

is eternally coming into this world.

And I have been promised,

that God is at work in me,

that God is at work in you,

enabling us to choose goodness

and justice and dignity and compassion.

I have witnessed how that Light,

mingled sorrow and love

on a cross;

pouring salve on the world’s wounds

salvation for the broken

salvation for the contemptuous

salvation for the lost and lonely

salvation for the fearful

salvation for the hopeful

salvation for all

a redemption that can barely be imagined.

Your word is a lantern to my feet

and a light upon my path.

So once more I step out into the light,

the true light,

and I remember that I am also a light bearer--

we are light bearers.

We are light bearers for one another,

and we do not walk alone.

We are light bearers,

as life goes on.

We are light bearers,

dispensing compassion and diffusing hostility,

cradling the vulnerable and protecting the joyous,

binding up the broken-hearted and filling the hungry with good things.

We are light bearers.

We belong to God.

We give ourselves over to love,

over and over,

because Love so amazing, so divine,

demands our souls, our lives, our all.*

And that Love never lets us go.

* last stanza of the hymn When I Survey the Wondrous Cross