On account of love

Friday of the Fourth Week of Advent

Let all praise the name of the Lord;
for God commanded, and they were created.
Psalm 148:5

The wind rages outside and the temperature has dropped rapidly. As darkness descends, I send out an “emergency Christmas worship plan” to members of my congregation. The basic message: we will do what we can.

Who knows what tomorrow will bring? I read the news stating two-thirds of the people in the United States are affected by these storms. Flooding, whiteouts, power outages for over 1.4 million households. Life-threatening cold.

We do know what Christmas will bring. The birth of Jesus. God incarnate. Love. And on account of this holy love we will pray for those in trouble, we will help those in need, we will find ways to extend hospitality and aid and care to any whom we meet.

Come, Jesus.

 

Amidst the storm

Thursday of the Fourth Week of Advent

God heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their  wounds.
Psalm 147:3

It is cold and rainy where I am, the freezing temperatures not expected until tomorrow. Yet I know so many are already in the midst of fierce storms. Even with warning, for many there is no way to prepare. Many will be caught. Many will reach out. Many are ravaged by storms not of weather but of war, violence, depravation.

Jesus was born into a world of tyrannical rulers, invaded lands, hunger and want. And Jesus reached out with compassion, helped the wounded, spoke words of love.

I text a friend to check in. She replies that she is awaiting a moment of calm amidst the storms.

The manger is that moment. Come, Jesus.

Those who tend

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

God shall have compassion on the lowly and poor;

and shall preserve the lives of the needy.

Psalm 72:13

As I brace myself against the cold, I think of all those who work outside. And those who do not have adequate warm clothing. And the shepherds. While the Bethlehem of Jesus’ time was not as cold as New Jersey today, still, those who watched their flocks by night needed warmth.

And who are the shepherds of today? Who are those who tend others, without much compensation? Those who watch long hours for the one moment when danger arises and their quick action saves lives? Those whose jobs are ordinary and overlooked and vital?

What would that manger scene look like, with all those shepherds gathered round?

Come, Jesus.

Holy light

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Advent

 

May God be merciful to us and bless us,

show us the light of the holy countenance and come to us.

Psalm 67:1

 

In the early morning, while it is still dark, I begin a long drive to the airport, my passengers on the first leg of an extensive trip to visit family. We head due east, and soon are rewarded with the splendor of a winter sunrise.

 

We do not actually see the sun, just the evidence of its rising. A swath of pinkish-blue seen amidst the bare trees. The roadway gradually becoming more visible. The sky incrementally brightening until we realize it is daylight.

 

With well wishes, I drop off the travelers and turn west to head home; they will continue east until they arrive on a different day.

 

The Advent path too reveals itself with gradual illumination. And as I will end this day headed toward the darkest night, there are others in the world who celebrate the birth of the savior with increasing daylight. Either way, the path stretches into the infinite. And still, the moment of revelation will arrive.

 

Come, Jesus.

Final stretch with Jesus

Monday of the Fourth Week of Advent

For God alone my soul in silence waits;

from the One comes my salvation.

Psalm 62:1

I wait for Emmanuel: God with us. I wait for Jesus: Joshua, Yeshua, Yahweh saves, God saves. I wait for God who saves by being the God who is with us. So with us as to become truly human.

I want to walk this final stretch as if God is with us. As if Jesus is alongside of me, chatting about the scenery as we go. As if the prophecy of wisdom, peace, and healing is about to be fulfilled. As if I am ready to dive deep into mystery.

Come, Jesus.

Advent balm

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

 

The cold sleet outside causes me to put on a coat I have yet to wear this season. As I reach my hand into a pocket, I discover an unexpected item. Chapstick. In the classic black and white colors.

This is not my preferred lip balm. It was my dad’s. He always had to have some on hand and it was often on my shopping list for him as I took care of him in his last years. Now as I hold the familiar tube, I feel his presence. He is always close to me during Advent, as one of my cherished childhood memories is of him praying the Advent collects around our family dinner table.

 

I have no idea how the Chapstick got into my pocket. But I hold it with gratitude, remembering my father and all the ways he shared his faith with me. He was one who introduced me to the Advent way as a way of life.

Not late

Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent

 

We can never ransom ourselves,

or deliver to God the price of our life.

Psalm 49:6

 

I look at the clock and am startled. How did it get to be so late? It is dark outside, so I should have known. Then again, is gets dark so early now.

 

I take a deep breath and begin to transition away from the work in front of me. Tidying up. Making a neat pile of what needs to be attended to tomorrow. Checking off things from my lists (one paper, one digital) and making quick notes of tasks I don’t want to forget.

 

Then I see the time on my phone, and I look at the clock again. Which was never changed when daylight savings ended. Which makes it an hour ahead. Which means it is not so late after all.

 

I have already set my work aside. Yet, the tasks tempt me with the thought of how much I can accomplish in an hour and how righteous that will make me. Except I know better. And I am grateful that I have learned that rest and play and contemplation are much better for my soul than doing “just one more thing.”

 

It is not late. It is the right time. To remember that my life belongs to God. To walk one day closer to the birth of salvation. 

In the midst

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

We have waited in silence on your loving-kindness, O God,
in the midst of your temple.
Psalm 48:8

 

Tomorrow is another day. This is what I remind myself as I look at the chaos on my desk and on my computer desktop. No telling what things look like inside my brain and soul. But I’m pretty sure “addled” covers it.
 
I am grateful for the number of times I have been invited into prayer today. In zoom, via text, through messenger. Grateful for each deep breath. Grateful for the person who promised to “have words with the angel responsible for your well being.” Grateful for all those who know it is the third week of Advent. And what that means.

And what that means is that we are in the midst. Of a familiar road with familiar ruts. Of a prayer-full path. Of people who wait expectantly together. Of sacred spaces discovered like rest stops along the way, taking form on digital screens and messy desktops and in addled minds and discomforted souls.
 
The loving-kindness of God is coming soon to a manger near you.

Dusk gift

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

If we have forgotten the Name of our God,

or stretched out our hands to some strange god,

Will not God find it out?

For God knows the secrets of the heart.

Psalm 44:20-21

The day is waning, the light fading moment by moment into the early winter dusk. And  as I take note, I also become aware of the deep quiet enveloping me. I linger. And choose to breathe slowly and take it in fully, so I can be nourished by peace.

Every moment is full of God’s marvelous presence. Who am I to be surrounded by such a gift?

The waiting. The journey. The holy way. The unexpected time. The promise of mercy. All gifts of Advent. And I have yet to arrive at the manger.

A Holy Way

The Third Sunday of Advent

A highway shall be there,

and it shall be called the Holy Way;

the unclean shall not travel on it,

but it shall be for God's people;

no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.

Isaiah 35:8

The Advent path carries us toward more than a baby in a manger. We meander and circle our way toward the comings. First and second. Both and. Just what are we getting into?

We will likely be hindered along our way. And when we are, God’s bountiful grace and mercy meet us. Then, we set our feet and our hearts once again toward the Kairos time of God’s promise.

The Advent way, the Holy Way, is for God's people. And no traveler, not even fools,

shall go astray.

 

Shadows and roots

Saturday of the Second Week of Advent

Send out your light and your truth,

that they may lead me,

and bring me to your holy hill

and to your dwelling.

Psalm 43:3

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows, and as I finish my walk I see my own shadow thrown across the winter grass and onto the roots of a large maple tree.

My last few steps had been accompanied by prayer, a questing for a sense of self and purpose. And now I see myself in my shadow, stretched across the sacred roots of faith. Which are themselves only a shadow of what lies deeper. Strength. Resilience. Age.

My life is grafted to this tree, my substance nourished through its roots, my soul shown the way by the wisdom embedded within this holy hill. 

The roots roughen the way, the ground uneven. Yet this too is my Advent path, leading to the manger dwelling.

A rock and a prayer

Friday of the Second Week of Advent

Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe,

for you are my crag and my stronghold;

for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me.

Psalm 31:3

I hold a small rock in my hand as I stand at the entrance to the winding path. The labyrinth welcomes me, takes me in, encircling me with its promise of calm.

I wend my way toward the center and back out again, always surprised as the path seems to lead me away from its center only to suddenly open its very heart to my wandering steps.

I stand and place my rock and my prayer on the boulder that holds the center. A heartbeat, or ten. Enough to feel strengthened for the journey, not just the return path. 

Remarkable

Thursday of the Second Week of Advent

Take delight in the Lord,

and God shall give you your heart’s desire. 

Psalm 37:4

It has been a day of banking and forms and problem-solving. And prayer. As I close files and clear my workspace to leave the office for the day, I offer a prayer of gratitude to God. I am grateful for the skills and experience I have gained along the way that make it possible for me to do my job well. And to love doing it. 

Certainly, there are days when the work is difficult and the road tedious. Yet the balance of my time living into my vocation is delight. And contentment. And often awe.

The way to the manger can seem a road so well-trodden that it is hardly remarkable. And this is why I pray. That I may always see the stars strewn along the path and know I step toward a holy mystery that will overflow my heart.

 

Clinging to Dust

Wednesday of the Second Week of Advent

My soul cleaves to the dust;

give me life according to your word.

Psalm 119:25

My soul cleaves to the dust in my house, the dust on the Advent road, the dust of grief and discouragement. I feel weary. I look at a week’s worth of mail heaped on the hall table and wonder how many important papers might be lost within it.

I sigh. Then, I acknowledge my weariness and offer it to God. And in doing so, feel the weight of it lessen. I look at the table again and decide I can at least throw the junk mail away. And having done that, I tidy up one pile. Then one more. I put away one thing. And then one more. I choose one task at a time. Commit to one doable thing. And as the clutter around me clears, the lethargy within me begins to clear as well.

As I move gently from task to task, I sense the holy One, breathing tenderness and words of life around me and into me and through me. I rest for a moment. And then another. And then one moment more. Still tired. No longer burdened. Another day along the Advent path. 

Family traditions

Tuesday of the Second Week of Advent

Feast of St. Nicholas

We will recount to generations to come

the praiseworthy deeds and power of the Holy One

and the wonderful works God has done.

Psalm 78:4

The container of gold-wrapped chocolate coins on the store shelf catches my eye. A perfect day to spy them. Today is the Feast of St. Nicholas, and when our children were little, they left their shoes by the door on the eve of this feast for the saint to leave chocolate coins in them. One of our loved family traditions.

Some years I was ready, other times I was making hectic runs to different stores trying to find the coins at the last minute. Now, when I am not looking, and when my offspring are young adults no longer at home, I am met with this abundance. Not wanting to waste my find, I take a picture and text it my kids.

The psalmist reminds us of that we pass along our faith stories so that the generations to come might know, and the children yet unborn, that they in their turn might tell it to their children; so that they might put their trust in God. Sometimes putting my trust in God is like leaving my shoes, or my soul, by the door and knowing they will be filled.

Boundless

Monday of the Second Week of Advent

I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with my whole heart;

I will tell of all your marvelous works.

Psalm 9:1

I do not understand lumens. Trying to find the right lightbulb is opaque to me these days. If it were watts, 25, 40, or 100, I would have an idea of just how bright it would be. Soft white, blue, or daylight would tell me something about the quality. My light vocabulary and knowledge are out of date.

And as I watch the afternoon light outside my window shift with each passing minute, I think how inadequate and less-than my indoor lighting choices really are. Could there be a bulb to replicate three o’clock in the afternoon on a winter’s day, or dawn in the spring, or six minutes after nine on a midsummer’s evening?

And how pallid is the minute-to-minute play of reflected light in the world around me compared to the boundless glory of God? How can I begin to tell of the marvelous works of the Holy One?  

Prepare

The Second Sunday of Advent

The Lord has been mindful of us

and will bless us

Psalm 115:12

Sometimes in order to prepare, we need to collect stuff. Likes gathering and setting out all the ingredients for a recipe before beginning the baking process.

Sometimes in order to prepare, we need to remove stuff. Like putting away coats and shoes and clearing off furniture and tables before company arrives.

And sometimes in order to prepare, we need to repent. Like taking stock of our lives and seeing where we have been at fault and confessing our sins and turning back to God.

Repenting can be about cleaning up our mess. Not because someone tells us to, or because we don’t want to get in trouble for it. But because it is the right thing to do. Because it will make the world better. Because it makes room for new life: in our lives and in our community.

Repenting can be full of joy. It can include setting down burdens we have been carrying and letting light into our lives.

Prepare. Make room. Repent. Make ready. Expect new life out of a stump. God sees us. Always. And God’s blessing is already on its way.

Refuge

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

I curl up in a favorite chair, warmed by an afghan and the winter sun streaming through the window. Also wrapped around me is a sense of God’s loving-kindness. I marvel at the gifts around me. The sun. The comfort. The ability to see and perceive. This moment of refuge.

A refuge is not just a place of retreat. It is a harbor, a place to rest and to rebuild. Where supplies and skill are at hand to repair and provision. In order to sail forth once again, to explore, to seek out, to engage with the world.

To take refuge with God, to retreat into the marvelous loving-kindness, is an act of wisdom and strength. Of expectant hope.

Invitation to an Open Place

Thursday of the First Week of Advent

The Lord brought me out into an open place,

and rescued me because the Holy One delighted in me.

Psalm 18:20

As I drive down the country road toward the nursery, I am surprised by a sense of eager anticipation. I am on my way to pick-up greens for the church, which could be perceived of as a bothersome errand. Yet, I am not at all cranky; I am joyful. I realize that I am excited about this season, about preparing for Christmas. And that this excitement has somehow caught me unawares.

As befitting the Advent theme, I feel like I am waking up. Waking up to the return of traditions and practices that had to be laid aside the last couple of years. Waking up to new and renewed relationships. Waking up to possibilities.

I had not expected replenished energy in my soul. Yet there it is, lightening my burdens and lighting the way ahead. I can see that what now unfolds before me is new, is of this time, not of the time before.

Somewhere ahead of me, an infant of the infinite awaits. I will not hurry. I will take the time that is needed. I step into the open invitation and let sacred delight wash through me.