meditations on the Advents of Jesus
Happy New Year
Thank you for spending Advent with me. Check back next year, beginning December 2, 2007, for more advent reflections.
If you'd like to continue reading from The Book of Common Prayer, click on the link to the right for the schedule and add it to your favorites.
Preparing for Advent
These last few days before Advent never go quite the way I expect them to. Each year I imagine having all the holiday "chores" done -- sending Christmas cards, shopping for and wrapping the gifts, decorating the tree, baking the goodies -- before the first Sunday. But, another Advent season is upon us, and only a few of the "to-do" items are complete.
I can think of many reasons why it would be wonderful to eliminate all the hullabaloo of Christmas. During this season of "peace on Earth," a peaceful life would provide more opportunity for reflection and meditation. Not being swept up in the consumerism and gluttony of the month would allow me to focus more attention on living generously and sharing. Plus, it would be nice to spend time with people I love in a leisurely way, sipping hot cocoa and talking about important issues, rather than traipsing from one gathering to the next, wearing ourselves out. If I finished off the "to-do" list before Advent, maybe this is what my holiday season would be like.
Or not. Reflecting on the comings of Jesus doesn't require extracting ourselves from the very world he visited. Advent season is an opportunity to reflect on the all the ways Jesus' comings redeem our world, and to anticipate the day when that redemption will be complete. The frustrations and limitations of aging bodies, quickly passing time and inclement weather mean something important during Advent -- they remind us of the first Advent, when Jesus flesh and matter by becoming a man; they provide opportunity to live out the second Advent, when Jesus came into our lives for salvation; and they give us a longing for the final Advent, when all of creation will be glorified with Christ.
Advent is not a perfect time of year, but it is a "sanctified" season -- one set apart for reflection and hope. Join me in anticipating anew the comings of Jesus!
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Don't forget to buy your Advent calendars, candles and wreaths -- only three days until Advent begins.
Week One
Day 1
This morning, I woke up with my favorite Christmas hymn on my heart -- "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." The tune began to fill my mind as I emerged from bed and fed my dog. By the time I was in the shower, I was belting it out, making up words when I didn't remember all the lyrics. Even as I was rolling into church 10 minutes late and running down the stairs to Sunday School, I was still humming the tune. It's a haunting melody really, and fills me with longing hearing it. It's really more of an Advent hymn than a Christmas hymn, I suppose.
Later in Sunday School, we went around the circle in my small group, naming our favorite Christmas traditions and Christmas songs with each other. My answer was easy. Lighting Advent candles on the Sundays before Christmas, and "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." "We're singing it in the service," a friend mentioned. "Today?" I asked, feeling like I was about to receive a great gift. "Yeah, after the orchestra plays." I felt jubilant.
By the time we sang the hymn during the worship service, I felt overwhelmed with expectation of the words. The singer asks for Emmanuel to come to "ransom captive Israel," "to free Thine own from Satan's tyranny," "to come and cheer our spirits," and to put "death's dark shadows to flight." Life before Messiah was indeed oppressive and full of defeat.
I certainly don't want to call down from heaven any additional despair in my own life, but I do find it remarkable that the more difficult life is here, the more I long for heaven. When things are pretty good here, the urgency seems to disappear.
I am praying as this Advent season begins that the Lord would grant our time of reflection and meditation with a greater sense for Christ's ultimate coming, even as we reflect on his first coming.
O come, O come, Emmanuel.
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Don't forget to light your first advent candle today. I usually read the Collects from The Book of Common Prayer before I light them. Here's the Contemporary Collect for the First Sunday of Advent:
"Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen."
Day 2
Over the past couple of weeks, I've seen lots of commercials on television about The Nativity Story, Hollywood's latest effort to reach out to the Christian Evangelical community (and their wallets). I'm not sure yet if I am going to see the movie, at least at the theater. It's a lot of money, and some reviewers have said the movie is fairly uninspired. Kind of ironic, huh?
One thing I have noticed from the trailers that has really left an imprint in my mind is a reminder of how scandalous Mary's pregnancy was. Obviously, Joseph would have had questions, but in the shame-based culture of the Middle East, Mary's family would also have felt betrayed and humiliated. The dramatic music and theatrical lighting of the movie trailer make the disgrace of the virgin birth palpable.
Funny how the scandalous nature of Christmas never ends up in the Christmas carols or on the Christmas cards, at least not with shock and horror that the situation actually invokes. Though Mary understood the high calling she was answering by carrying God in her womb, she did so at risk to her life, the just punishment for adultery being death by stoning.
The days of waiting for the birth of her baby were probably the best and worst days of Mary's life. She of all people longed for the peace and comfort of Messiah. Though, how the baby kicking in her belly would bring it all to pass must certainly have seemed like a mystery.
The scandal of the virgin birth of Jesus was just the beginning of a life that seemed doomed. Born under questionable circumstances, claiming to be one of many in a long line of "Messiahs," and then a humiliating death on a Roman torture device. Only in God's wisdom could such foolishness mean the salvation of the world.
For Mary, the only response was faith, obedience, and waiting. And as we wait for the ultimate redemption of the foolishness of Christ, that's our only response as well.
"For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." 1 Cor. 1:18
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I'm sorry that I am posting the day's meditation late in the day. I am an afternoon/evening writer at this point in my life. I am hoping that by tomorrow, I'll be one ahead so even the morning people can read contemporarily.
Day 3
I spent the past two evenings running errands. Some of it was normal stuff -- dropping off the recycling, making copies at Kinko's, buying dog food -- but most of it is about Christmas. And I am happy to report that with the order I placed on Amazon.com just five minutes ago, my Christmas shopping is complete. (Plus, I also picked up three birthday presents for the next couple of months -- you know, planning ahead!)
Just as I suspected, running around doing errands this time of year can really tax a person's peace and goodwill toward others. Like today, when I waited in line for 10 minutes to buy gift cards, only to find that I needed to pick them up myself from the display across the store and had to go to the end of the line. Or when I was waiting in line for the next gas pump this evening, and a guy slipped right in front of me without even flinching. I have to admit that I threw my hands up in exasperation over the gas pump incident. Time is tight, and it's really cold out.
But as I continued making stops, I began to wonder how I can live counter-culturally in this place the Lord has set me. He knows the times I am living in, that Christmas has become a season of gift exchanges and work parties, and he is calling me to live differently in the midst of it. As I meditate on the reality of Christ's coming to earth, what difference does it make as I step up to the counter at Borders?
1.) I can be thankful. I have been redeemed through Christ, and I am a new creation. I feel conviction over sin (like my lack of kindness and patience at the gas pump), and I am forgiven. God has given me every spiritual blessing in Christ, and he's also given me a lot of material blessings, which means I can buy gifts for friends and family, and I can even afford to mail the gifts or travel to deliver them. God has been generous to me, and as I am able, I can pass that on to others.
2.) I can be different. A few times today I looked people straight in the eye and smiled at them. They visibly softened. Once, I let a lady go ahead of me in the checkout line, and she was truly grateful. And when I didn't complain about the dysfunctioning cash register at Borders, I could tell that the employee was relieved. I've already admitted that I didn't have the patience of Job all evening, but on the few occasions when I did yield to the Spirit, it made a small difference to someone.
3.) I can say "no." Just because I live in a culture given to excess and superficiality, I don't have to participate in all its ways. This is a tricky one, and I have to admit that I don't know how to do it. But I am praying that the Lord would give me wisdom. Saying "no" this time of year can make me feel like the Grinch or Scrooge, but I know that there's more to Christmas than lights and TV specials. One way I am working to say "no" is to plan ahead, intentionally setting aside time to reflect and wonder, and not scheduling every moment of the month. (I'd love to hear thoughts from you on this.)
4.) I can believe. It's hard to imagine how the Lord could break through all the clutter to speak to our hearts when things are so chaotic. And it's even harder to imagine how someone could believe in Jesus for the first time during the Christmas season, with the reason for the season being so obscured. But even Christmas is redeemable in the economy of Jesus. A kind word, a special gift, a smile at your neighbor, a cold cup of water (or a mug of hot cocoa) in the name of Jesus can do more than we could ever accomplish for our own name's sake.
It's a busy time, this Advent season, but we don't have to extract ourselves from the craziness to reflect on its significance. Let's work to stay focused in the midst of it, trusting the Lord for what He is going to do.
Day 4
Driving home from work this afternoon, I glanced over to my left as I was stopped at a stoplight, and I saw two middle-aged nuns out and about in their gray, mid-size sedan. The one behind the wheel was watching the stoplight intensely, not wanting to miss its cue. The other, the one sitting demurely in the passenger seat, seemed distracted, almost dismayed. I saw her peer through the windshield ahead of her a time or two, but mostly her eyes gazed downward. I think she was praying.
My first thought was a flashback to my own errands over the past day or two, and I wondered if anyone had cut off the nuns at the gas pump or made them walk to the back of the line to get gift cards. My second thought centered around the secluded life of spirituality. I wondered if I would be further along in my spiritual journey if I were cloistered and made to wear a head covering.
Then I thought of the metaphor of the "brides of Christ," which I had heard in reference to nuns. In Kristin Ohlson's memoir, Stalking the Divine, she writes about her unexpected involvement with the Poor Clares of Perpetual Adoration, a group of cloistered nuns at her church in Cleveland, Ohio. As she interviews the sisters, they talk about coming to the monastery with a "dowry," "a practical matter as well as an extension of the concept of nuns as brides of Christ, in which they took their vows wearing wedding dresses and holding bouquets of flowers." One of the sisters also talks about the decision to become a nun as falling in love with Jesus. "One day, she was driving past the church and said out loud, 'I love you so much I wish I could marry you.' Then she struck herself on the forehead: Bride of Christ!"
As I gazed curiously at the nuns in the car next to me, thoughts of Advent bouncing around in my head, I wondered if they were waiting for Jesus with more longing and expectation than I am. After all, if they are the brides of Christ, then they must be looking forward to his return as a wife waits for her husband. I felt a flutter of jealousy pass through me.
Then it hit me, I too am the bride of Christ, along with all of those who know Jesus.
"In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body. For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church." -- Ephesians 5:28-32
These nuns have a special vocation which they are fulfilling, but they are not alone in their longing for Jesus. As the church, we all can experience the anticipation of being united forever with the one we truly love.
Reminds me of the Prophetess Anna, from Luke 2, who never remarried after her husband died at an early age. Instead, she devoted herself to serving the Lord, worshiping and praying at the temple. When she saw Mary and Joseph bringing the eight-day-old Jesus for his purification, she knew he was the one she had been waiting for.
"Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem." -- Luke 2:38
Day 5
I've been meditating further on the biblical metaphor of Jesus as the bridegroom, and we, the church, his bride.
I think from Paul's passage we referenced yesterday, the metaphor of marriage certainly contains the dynamic of headship and submission. The church submits to Christ, and he is the head over us; he is our Lord. I also think there is a level of intimacy that we experience in our relationship with Christ that only the metaphor of marriage captures. But when Jesus talked about brides and bridegrooms, he wanted us to understand how important it is for us to be ready when he returns.
I can think of no better message for Advent.
"A that time the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were foolish and five were wise. The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep. At midnight the cry rang out: 'Here's the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!' "Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, 'Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.' 'No,' they replied, 'there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.' But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut. "Later the others also came. Sir! Sir!' they said. 'Open the door for us!' But he replied, 'I tell you the truth, I don't know you.' Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour." -- Matthew 25:1-13
Day 6
I thought for today, I would move to something a little more personal. This is an excerpt from my book, The Space Between, which is waiting to be bought. It's the chapter titled, “Lighted Candles: The Evolution of Advent.”
"Having grown up worshiping St. Nicholas and the gods of consumerism and materialism during the winter holiday season, Advent was never more than a calendar with foil-wrapped candy to me for years. And even after my conversion to Christianity at age 13, Advent still didn’t become part of my holiday ritual. To be sure, Christmas immediately took on new significance when I met Jesus – I participated in my share of the “True Meaning of the Season” Christmas programs during my early days of faith, but Advent has not typically been a part of the historical traditions of the churches I’ve attended.
"Not until my third year at Taylor University – a nondenominational, liberal arts school in the Indiana – was I exposed to the beautiful, liturgical observance of advent. The entire campus was participating in advent services during chapel in the weeks leading up to Christmas break. And as the features editor of the weekly campus newspaper, The Echo, I was assigned to cover the story of the lighting of the advent candles.
"The advent tradition was not only new to me; it was new to our campus as well, brought to us by the new campus pastor in his second year. But adapting the Advent tradition to the needs of our campus meant that my first advent was anything but orthodox. For instance, the candles in the wreath were no longer pink and purple (although if the tradition had allowed for yellow and purple we might have had something – those were our school colors). Instead, we celebrated advent by lighting candles of various colors representing various advent “players”: gold for the prophets, white for the angels, green for the shepherds and purple for the magi. The candle lighters were some of our favorite professors or other campus celebrities and their families. And constrained by the academic calendar and our weekday chapel schedule, the advent readings and candle lightings were not reserved for the traditional four Sundays preceding Christmas, but random Mondays, Wednesdays or Fridays in December. And of course we never observed the Christ candle on Christmas Day – the members of our campus community were scattered around the world by that time.
"And so my first experience with Advent was not in any way traditional or really all that liturgical, in the normal sense of the word. We were not knowingly connecting ourselves with the greater body of Christ through corporate prayers on universally agreed upon days. I hadn’t even heard of The Book of Common Prayer until several years later when I read John Irving’s, A Prayer for Owen Meany. But together we waited on Christ, we anticipated his coming, and then we did it again the next year. And now, I will do it again in my own life, year after year.
"Maybe it was because my college years were so formative or maybe it was because my life was so lacking in tradition that I felt disconnected from any past, or maybe it was just because the idea of anticipating God’s work in my life ritually, mystically, just resonated with my soul. Whatever the reason, I took that single sheet of advent readings and prescribed candle colors that our campus pastor had given me for the newspaper article, and I made them part of my life.
"I purchased my first advent wreath from a mail order catalog. It was a white ceramic ring with four built-in candle holders, painted with red, blue and green flowers. For a while, I used the same candle colors and the same Scripture meditations we had used during my first Advent at Taylor. But when the ceramic holder broke a couple of years ago during its tour of duty at a church where I was working, I replaced it with a trendy metal holder, which I surround with a huge artificial evergreen wreath. Both now suffer from wax remnants left by dripping candles that lost control of themselves in the draft. And for the first time, last year I chose the traditional purple and pink candles and meditated on the Collects from The Book of Common Prayer. I read from the USA version of the prayer book, though, and I had to use the contemporary version of the prayers. Going straight to the traditional version seemed too big of a leap.
"I’m not sure exactly what Advent will hold for me this year. Even as I embrace tradition, I am always invigorated by finding new ways to express old truths. One year, I invited a different group of friends to dinner each Monday of December, and then I read the advent meditation, lit the candle, and facilitated a discussion among my friends. Some years I have been a stickler about reading the morning and evening lectionary from the prayer book; other years I’ve read through more contemporary devotional books. Some day, I would like to incorporate the practice of sending Christmas cards with the Advent tradition—maybe emailing friends and family on each Sunday of Advent with a scripture or story. Whether I’m moving nearer or farther away from the traditions of Advent, I want the memories of the spirit and season to be part of every year of my life – just like that first Advent."
Day 7
If you've been reading the Psalms for each day, you've probably noticed the same thing I've been noticing. The guy who wrote those seems to have a lot of enemies. Considering that David is the author, I'd say that is a pretty accurate representation. David and the nation of Israel were certainly not well-liked among their neighbors.
What strikes me about these Psalms is the stance David takes against his enemies, asking God to bring punishment down on them. I've heard this kind of Psalm referred to as "imprecatory," which means "to invoke or call down curses." How does this harmonize with Jesus' call to love our enemies? And what do these Psalms have to do with Advent?
I've been wrestling with this issue a little more personally lately as I have had occasion to develop an actual enemy, or as close to one as I've had in a while. Without boring you with the details, the situation involves fraud on someone else's part, and great financial damage on my part. And there seems to be no common middle ground.
This has been no simple issue for my spirit to wrestle with. What is appropriate for a believer in Jesus to do in this situation? Words like "lawsuit" and "restitution" and "fairness" always come up in conversations about this matter. Though these words might constitute some plan of actuion, they haven't really helped me much in my heart.
Where I have come down on the matter involves both "justice" and "vengeance." Though the Lord alone is truly just, he also gives to us the mantle of justice, asking us to treat one another fairly. In Amos 6:12, the Lord says we are to "let justice roll on like a river," and in Matthew 23:23, Jesus says that justice is one of the "more important matters of the law." Justice means looking out for the weak and oppressed and treating our neighbors fairly. I believe it also means we can pursue fair resolutions for ourselves within the authority structures God has given. Within the church, I can pursue justice from the elders. Outside of the church, justice comes from the government authorities God has established. We are called to seek justice, but as we all know, justice is not always served.
Vengeance is another matter. In Romans 12:19, Paul says, "Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay,' says the Lord." The Lord himself will ultimately right all wrongs and punish all evil, but not in this life. Only when Jesus returns in glory will he avenge his name and his people.
In an important way, then, vengeance is part of the Advent message. We are waiting for the Lord to come to judge the world. This is what David was longing for in all the Psalms we've been reading. But David knew something else. He knew that apart from God's grace, he also would receive God's vengeance. In Psalm 14, David says that all men have turned aside, all are corrupt. "There is no one who does good, not even one."
David was not only looking for Messiah to enact vengeance, but also mercy. We are looking forward to the same.
"Oh, that salvation for Israel would come out of Zion!
When the LORD restores the fortunes of his people,
let Jacob rejoice and Israel be glad!" -- Psalm 14:7
Week Two
Day 1
Today, the second Sunday of Advent, we reflect simply on the Contemporary Collect for the Second Sunday of Advent.
"Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever."
Day 2
"The Star of the Nativity" by Joseph Brodsky
In the cold season, in a locality accustomed to heat more than
to cold, to horizontality more than to a mountain,
a child was born in a cave in order to save the world;
it blew as only in deserts in winter it blows, athwart.
To him, all things seemed enormous: his mother's breast, the steam
out of the ox's nostrils, Caspar, Balthazar, Melchior -- the team
of Magi, their presents heaped by the door, ajar.
He was but a dot, and a dot was the star.
Keenly, without blinking, though pallid, stray
clouds, upon a child in the manger, from far away --
from the depth of the Universe, from its opposite end -- the star
was looking into the cave. And that was the Father's stare.
This poem came to be my friend during a graduate course shortly after college. This was my first poem to unravel (I was trained to write as a journalist, not a literary critic), and after my first attempt at a critical analysis, at the bottom of my essay, my professor wrote, "This is a wonderful reading of the poem, but you need to start your analysis from here." I cried.
What I learned through the subsequent drafts, however, is that understanding complex themes takes time. Also, words matter. Over and over in my first analysis, my professor made comments like, "Basis for this from the text?" and "Does the language of the poem suggest this?"
I took these principles to the text of this poem and discovered rich truths about our God who is both immanent (as close as our own breath) and transcendent (sovereignly controlling the universe from heaven) [I'll try to add a link to my graduate essay to my website. It's moderately interesting.] I also took these principles to the Bible, becoming a "close reader" of scripture and a lover of precise words.
Perhaps another outcome of my time with this poem was my exposure to new ways of describing old truth. I think these may have been among the first stirrings in my heart that I could write about sacred things for an audience. Sacred things like Advent, and audiences like you.
Day 3
Today seemed like a good day to expound a bit on "the space between," a phrase I have come to believe aptly describes the purposes of Advent.
Though I initially understood Advent as a symbolic waiting for the birth of Jesus, trying to imagine what it would have been like for Israel to await their Messiah, Advent has become a much richer tradition for me as I embrace all of the comings of Jesus: coming to the world as a baby, coming into our hearts for salvation, and coming to the earth again to consummate his kingdom.
To make sense of Advent as more than a mindless ritual, I have been working hard to situate us all within these three Advents. Where do we fit, and why does it matter? And without too much thought, I discovered that we are living today in the space between these comings. Some, those who don't know Jesus, are living between Jesus' first two comings. Those of us who know Christ are living between the second two. But all of us, every person alive, and even those who have died, are waiting somewhere between the first and last coming, between that birth we all know so well and the ultimate return.
How we spend our time in the space between must certainly matter. But this waiting and anticipating, not just for the month of December but for all of life, somehow brings meaning to all that we do. Praying, working, reading, loving, writing, growing, singing, teaching, building, painting, shopping, eating, and sleeping all take on new meaning in light of the comings of Jesus.
Another interesting aspect to the space between is that Jesus also occupies it. In a mysterious way, Jesus himself is waiting between these comings, and how he is spending his time also matters significantly. The Bible says Jesus is spending the space between his comings hard at work preparing a place for us (John 14:2), interceding for us (Rom 8:34) , sustaining his creation (Col 1:17), finishing what he started in us (Phil 1:6), being present with us through his spirit (Matt 28:20), and more.
The idea of a space between the comings of Jesus where we are saved and formed by God has been an important way of considering the traditions of Advent for me over the past few years, and I hope it is helping your season of anticipation as well.
Day 4
Shalom.
During this season of longing and expectation, perhaps the thing we want the most is shalom, the wholeness of Christ.
I like the word shalom rather than its oft-translated "peace" because I think it embodies something more than our English word. Too often "peace" simply means an absence of war. Shalom, however, is not just about a lack of conflict, but a pursuit of the fullness of life that God offers us. Wholeness in our relationships with others -- our neighbors, our enemies, our friends and family. No more conflict, no more misunderstanding. Wholeness in our relationships with God himself. No more sin, no more self.
In addition to completeness in our relationships, "shalom" also seems to encompass a wholeness of mind and body. Not a disjointed obsession with intellect and/or fitness, but an understanding that the physical and intellectual aspects of our lives are very much connected to the social and spiritual parts of us. Shalom happens in our lives when we are actively seeking grace in all of these areas.
The Messianic prophets are full of the messages of peace. Only when Messiah comes will shalom ever truly be accomplished. And Paul says that Jesus himself "is our peace," our shalom. "He came and preached peace to you who were far away and peace to those who were near" (Eph 2:17).
Even now we can experience moments of Shalom. A few weeks back when the November temperatures were feeling more like Spring, I sat at my desk watching my neighbors hired crew vacuum up all the leaves from her yard. My life was feeling rather chaotic at that time, and seeing the order and system that they implemented in slowly removing every leaf from the lawn felt like a moment of Shalom to me.
But if I looked at the situation too closely, I remembered that my neighbor is a shut-in whom I haven't even met, and her lawn crew were smoking like a couple of chimneys. Their machines made a lot of racket too, and when I snapped out of my reverie, I realized that it was kind of nuisance. That's the problem with Shalom right now. It's fleeting.
And that's why we wait, and anticipate. One day, the wholeness we long for will be complete.
"Justice will dwell in the desert
and righteousness live in the fertile field.
"The fruit of righteousness will be
peace;
the effect of righteousness will be quietness and confidence forever.
"My people will live in peaceful
dwelling places,
in secure homes,
in undisturbed places of rest.
"Though hail flattens the forest
and the city is leveled completely,
"how blessed you will be,
sowing your seed by every stream,
and letting your cattle and donkeys range free."
Isaiah 32:16-20
Day 5
I've been reading a collection of short stories by Kentucky author Wendell Berry. He has written many novels and stories about five generations of families in the fictional town of Port William, Kentucky, and in the story I finished today, "Making It Home," a soldier is returning home after serving in Europe during World War II.
The soldier, Art Rowanberry, had been injured during combat and spent a few weeks in a military hospital. Now, he was on his way back to Kentucky, first by train, then by boat, then by bus. For the last leg of his journey, though, he is walking.
"He could have taken another bus to Hargrave had he been willing to wait until the next morning. But now that he was in familiar country he did not have it in him to wait."
This story is loaded with plots and subplots. We see the futility of war, the patriotism of soldiers, the tenderness of a father welcoming his son home. But we also see that this fictional story of homecoming in Port William, Kentucky, is an Advent story. It's the tale of a man fighting a battle far from home with nothing but home always on his mind. It's about the longing for home that flares up particularly strong during suffering. And it's about the feeling that having made it this far, he can't wait anymore.
You may be confused at this point. You're probably saying to yourselves, "I thought Advent is about waiting." And you're right. But lately, I've been thinking that Advent is as much about wanting the waiting to be over. During this season of anticipation, we don't focus on the waiting as much as the one we're waiting for. And we prepare ourselves for his coming, reminding ourselves what "home" looks like, so we'll know it when we get there.
And when Jesus does come back, and the waiting is finally over, we'll feel the relief of the returning soldier, finally getting what we longed for but better because of the waiting.
"He was in his own country now, and he did not see anything around him that he did not know.
"'I have been a stranger and have seen strange things,' he thought. 'And now I am where it is not strange, and I am not a stranger.'
"He was sitting on the rocks, resting after his bath. His bag, repacked, lay on the rock beside him and he propped his elbow on it.
"'I am not a stranger, but I am changed. Now I know a mighty power that can pass over the earth and make it strange. There are people, where I have been, that won't know their places when they get back to them. Them that live to get back won't be where they were when they left.'
"He became sleepy and he lay down on the rock and slept. He slept more deeply than he had in the night. He dreamed he was where he was, and a great, warm light fell upon that place, and there was light within it and within him."
And Jesus will make over us just like Art's father made over his homecoming, "Honey, run yonder to the house. Tell your granny to set on another plate. For we have our own that was gone and has come again."
Day 6
As I was doing my daily blog surfing today, seeing what people are thinking about in the middle of December 2006, I stumbled onto a post by author Al Hsu. He was summarizing a recent lecture by Lauren Winner about retrieving our Hebrew roots at Christians.
One point that particularly struck me in Hsu's commentary was the idea that the spiritual practices that are so crucial in Judaism are effective because they are practiced in community. And practices like observing the Sabbath, because it is interpreted so variously now in Christendom, are difficult for Christians to adhere to because they are not practices and priorities of the community. Hsu summarized it like this: "If a community does not practice the practice, then the individual cannot (or is far less likely) to practice the practice."
I think this sentiment was significant to me on a couple of levels. For one, I've struggled to understand what a Sabbath observance should like in my life for this very reason. I don't live in a community that emphasizes day of rest and quiet. I also thought of practicing our practices in community with regard to Advent. My church doesn't celebrate Advent per se, with the candles and the readings and the prayers, though we do spend a great deal of time reflecting on the incarnation. I visited a church last weekend that does celebrate advent, and I realized as I slipped into the pew and noticed the Advent candles just the the left of the pulpit, that this month of reflection and meditation would be easier with a community that practiced together.
Even if I don't have a group of people around me to light candles with, I certainly am not alone in worshipping Jesus and wanting this season to be about him. This is what I think of each time I am invited to a Christmas party during the holidays. With an unrenewed mind, it could just feeling like a lot of busyness, but really, these occasions of getting together help me remember that one of Jesus' best gifts to us when he left was that we would be waiting together for him to return.
I agree with Al Hsu that we are far less likely to practice the practices
apart from a community. And the take-home message about community during
Advent is that we MUST have people around us as we wait for Jesus. This
"community" may not be ideal or what we expect, but without the
encouragement we offer each other during good and difficult times, we might
forget that the promises Jesus made to come back are true.
Day 7
I promise I was planning to write Saturday, but after a morning of errands, I needed to make a couple of apple pies for a party at a friend's that evening. Since I am relatively new to the piemaking world, and since I started from scratch on the crust, my afternoon was gone in a flash. But speaking of flashes, I just inherited a hand-me-down digital camera which works like a charm (thanks, Bergerons!), and here is a picture of the apple pies in progress.
Time flying by on Saturday reminded me how quickly Advent is passing by. One week from today is Christmas already. And the tedium of rolling dough and peeling apples felt a little like the boredom I sometimes feel after days and days of reflecting on the same truths of Advent day after day. The payoff only comes when we pull the pie out of the oven and taste a little. Hang in there, my friends.
Week
Three
Day 1
Today, the third Sunday of Advent, we reflect simply on the Contemporary Collect for the Third Sunday of Advent.
"Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen."
Day 2
Yesterday, the busyness of the season began to catch up with me. I had at least one party a night for the previous three evenings, as well as working full-time, baking, running errands, etc. You know, the same stuff we all do everyday, plus the extras of the holiday season. By the time I finished with Sunday School, church, and lunch with friends, I was starting to feel a little draggy.
When I got home around noon on Sunday, my first thoughts were of all the things that still needed to be done -- too much going on on Saturday meant the cleaning hadn't been finished, plus, most of the Christmas gifts still needed to be wrapped, and I haven't even started the Christmas cards. And if all of that could wait, I have candy to make and bread to bake, and ingredients for chowder to chop for a Tuesday evening gathering. A really productive Sunday would have made the week go a lot more smoothly.
Or would it?
I struck a sort of compromise with myself as I changed into my sweat pants and sweatshirt -- a little reading and a short nap on the couch, then I would tackle the list in earnest. But as I finished the short story I was reading and laid the book down, I didn't even bother setting an alarm. I could feel my body sinking into the rest it needed, and I decided not to intervene. When I woke up three hours later and found a phone call I had missed from some friends inviting me to dinner, I again dismissed the "to do" list in favor of a relaxing evening over dinner and Charlie Brown's Christmas special on ABC. Before I left, I wrapped a few packages, took a phone call, and did about 30 minutes of cleaning, but overall, the day was entirely unproductive. And exactly what I needed.
One of the main things I didn't get done in my day of rest was adding to this page of meditations. I didn't forget Advent altogether. I lit the third candle on the Advent wreath and read scripture out loud to my dog (actually, I was reading out loud to myself, but Precious seemed vary captivated by it), but I never even turned the computer on. As I wrestled with the guilt of not living up the expectations I had set for myself, I wondered what a good Sabbath rest might have to do with Advent.
With just a moment or two of thought, I remembered the passage in Hebrews that the New American Standard version labels, "The Believer's Rest," and I knew that my nap on Sunday and dinner with friends was as much an Advent observation as any hymn I could have sung or any prayer I could have prayed.
All three of the comings of Jesus are loaded with promises of rest for believers. The first rest for Christians is realized through Jesus' first coming -- we can rest from the work of trying to earn favor with God and rest in the salvation Jesus accomplished on the cross. The second rest comes as Jesus meets us each day, carrying our burdens and letting us take his yoke. But even in this daily rest, we still have some work to do, carrying the burdens of others, picking up our own crosses, going into all the world. Only in the final coming of Jesus will we experience the final rest, when we no longer have to work against sin and wrestle with the flesh.
Even as I was pulling the blanket up to my chin for my Sunday afternoon nap, this final rest was on my mind. In the busyness of the season, this future blessing seems even sweeter.
“Therefore, let us fear if, while a promise remains of entering His rest, any one of you may seem to have come short of it.
For indeed we have had good news preached to us, just as they also; but the word they heard did not profit them, because it was not united by faith in those who heard.
For we
who have believed enter that rest, just as He has said,
"AS I SWORE IN MY WRATH,
THEY SHALL NOT ENTER MY REST," although His works were finished
from the foundation of the world.
For He has said somewhere concerning the seventh day: "AND GOD RESTED ON THE SEVENTH DAY FROM ALL HIS WORKS";
and again in this passage, "THEY SHALL NOT ENTER MY REST."
Therefore, since it remains for some to enter it, and those who formerly had good news preached to them failed to enter because of disobedience,
He again
fixes a certain day, "Today," saying through David after so long a time just
as has been said before,
"TODAY IF YOU HEAR HIS VOICE,
DO NOT HARDEN YOUR HEARTS."
For if Joshua had given them rest, He would not have spoken of another day after that.
So there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God.
For the one who has entered His rest has himself also rested from his works, as God did from His.
Therefore let us be diligent to enter that rest, so that no one will fall, through following the same example of disobedience.”
--Hebrews 4:1-11
Day 3
Today, my email box was full of messages, but only one of them really had anything to do with me. The rest were all ads for last minute shoppers with phrases like "super last minute sales" and "don't miss out." The phrase that really caught my eye, though, was one from Kohl's: "There's still time." This struck me as an aspect of Advent I have not thought much about.
I am spending a lot of time dwelling on Jesus' comings, and I think he wants us to do that. His comings provide points of reference for our entire existence. But this last arrival that I think so much about seems to have been postponed indefinitely. Why hasn't Jesus come again?
This last coming also has been the subject of a lot of cultural interest in the past few years. Millions of dollars and millions of hours have been spent on books, movies, lectures, and tapes speculating about the whens and hows of Jesus coming again. But he still hasn't come. Why?
The Bible gives a few answers to this compelling question, but the answer that seems most touching to me during this time of year when glory and misery collide so violently is simple. Even Kohl's knows it. Jesus hasn't come yet so there will still be time. Not everyone has heard; all the lost sheep have not yet been gathered. There's a missing coin that must be searched for. There are two sons who don't yet know the love of the Father.
Even as we long for Jesus to come, let us not forget to praise him for his patience and kindness toward the world in his delay.
"But do not let this one fact escape your notice, beloved, that with the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day. The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, in which the heavens will pass away with a roar and the elements will be destroyed with intense heat, and the earth and its works will be burned up."
-- 2 Peter 3:8-10
Day 4
"This Advent we look to the Wise Men to teach us where to focus our attention. We set our sights on things above, where God is. We draw closer to Jesus... When our Advent journey ends, and we reach the place where Jesus resides in Bethlehem, may we, like the Wise Men, fall on our knees and adore him as our true and only King."
-- Mark Zimmermann (Our Advent Journey)
Here's how Eugene Peterson interprets this sentiment from Colossians 3:1-2:
"So if you're serious about living this new resurrection life with Christ, act like it. Pursue the things over which Christ presides. Don't shuffle along, eyes to the ground, absorbed with the things right in front of you. Look up, and be alert to what is going on around Christ—that's where the action is. See things from his perspective."
What I need today is just this: to look up, not just pulling my eyes off the ground, but also off myself, off those around me. To look up, up, up to heaven, where Jesus is. To pray that today "your will be done on earth as it is in heaven."
Day 5
I love this picture of the hands of my friends making cookies. Workmanship and creativity are so much a part of our image-bearing of God, and when we shape and form and make things with our hands we are being like Him.
Today, I am making bread. I've already mixed the ingredients, kneaded the dough, and set it to rise. In just a minute or two the dough will be ready for shaping, elastic and soft. Most of the dough will become two big round loaves, but some will be formed into small, plump rolls. They will become part of the meals I eat with friends and family over the next few days.
This Advent has given me opportunity to think about the things I do each day, reading, cooking, writing, walking, shopping, watching TV, and I have been wondering which ones will last beyond Jesus' coming and which ones are the chaff to be burned. The kind of handwork involved in baking, creative yet also providing sustenance, seems like work that should never end. It's holy work.
Part of the anticipation of Jesus' final return is the expectation of the new heavens and new earth he will bring, when everything, not just humans, but the mountains and leaves, our cities and even our work, will be made new. Redeemed. We won't cease using our hands to make and build, only the frustration and futility of work will end.
These hands of mine, of my friends, will continue to knead and fold and cut and press, for all eternity, bringing glory to God and joy to us for eternity.
"For my people will be as long-lived as trees,
my chosen ones will have satisfaction in their work."
Isaiah 65:22 from The Message
Day 6
This weekend, two of my nieces and a nephew are coming to stay overnight with me on Christmas Eve eve. They will stay with me in the space between Christmas at Granny and Gramps' and Christmas at Mamaw and Papaw's. The energy will be uncontainable.
As I realized that they would be with me on Christmas Eve, which this year also figures as the Last Sunday of Advent, I was elated that they would be here to light the last two candles of Advent with me (I sometimes light the Christ candle on Christmas Eve because I'm not home on Christmas Day). Then, I began to wonder how I was going to explain Advent to them. How do I articulate the three comings of Jesus, and the longing we feel for all three, to children?
This may not just be a challenge for me but yet another Advent challenge for us all: how do we approach the comings of Jesus with the childlike faith He says is necessary to enter the kingdom? If we seek to understand incarnation, redemption, and glorification only as theological concepts discussed in hushed tones among adults, I'm sure we'll never really understand them at all. But if we come with the innocence and simplicity and faith of little ones who have nothing to bring on our own, I think we may find ourselves a little closer to the longing that pleases Jesus.
Day 7
"How will this affect my daily life?"
This is a question my friend Kay often asks herself when she is faced with a decision. She recently was deciding whether to buy an artificial Christmas tree, which she would use a couple of weeks a year for the next few years, or a vacuum, which she would use almost daily (she likes to clean). Applying her "daily life" test to this choice, the answer was obvious. She's buying a vacuum.
Calculating the daily impact of something on our lives is a reasonable litmus test for a lot of the choices we face. It's steeped in pragmatism, which is often grossly lacking in our society of instant-gratification, and it's actually more far-reaching that at first blush. Our daily lives go on and on and on, until they end. In fact, our lives are simply the sum of our daily lives. What we do each day adds up to a lifetime.
Maybe that's why I've been trying to ask myself this same question about Advent lately. All this thought and care about Jesus' comings seems worth a lot more than something I pull out just a few weeks a year. If it's as important as I've made it seem over these past several days, maybe I need to implement it more in my daily life. But what does that look like?
How will my life be different in the third week of January when I am called for jury duty if I remember Jesus' comings? What about late Spring when I'm digging up the dirt in my garden and planting herbs, vegetables and flowers -- how will the comings of Jesus make a difference then? On June 3, the first anniversary of a dear friend; sometime next summer when my car has problems; or the day next year when I finally hear back from the publisher that they aren't going to publish my book (or maybe they are, who knows?): on all these days, in all these occasions, how will the comings of Jesus change the way I feel, the path of my response, the strength of my faith?
My prayer for Christmas Eve eve is that Advent doesn't end on Monday. For any of us.
Week
Four
Day 1
Christmas Eve
Today, the fourth Sunday of Advent, we reflect simply on the Contemporary Collect for the Third Sunday of Advent.
"Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever."
Day 2
Christmas Day
"O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of true light: Grant that we, who have known the mystery of that Light on earth, may also enjoy him perfectly in heaven; where with you and the Holy Spirit he lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen."
-- The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Day, from the Contemporary Collects of The Book of Common Prayer
Advent Links
The Book of Common Prayer: Daily Lectionary Year One
(A schedule of Bible Reading for each day of the year)
The Book of Common Prayer: Contemporary Collects
(Prayers for Special Days including Advent Sundays)
How to Determine When Advent Begins
about your Advent Meditations and Traditions
Today's Bible Readings
Morning
Evening
An Index of Meditations
Preparing for Advent
Week One
Week Two
Week Three
Week Four
Day 2 - Christmas Day ©
2006, 2007, 2008 Charity Singleton All
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