Advent 2012

Advent 2012

The Wonder of Advent

First week of Advent

Waiting & Expectation And I came home Like a stone And I fell heavy into your arms These days of darkness Which we’ve known Will blow away with this new sun

So I’ll be bold As well as strong And use my head alongside my heart So tame my flesh And fix my eyes That tethered mind free from the lies

And I’ll kneel down Wait for now And I’ll kneel down Know my ground

But I’ll kneel down Wait for now I’ll kneel down Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you So break my step And relent You forgave and I won’t forget Know what we’ve seen And him with less Now in some way Shake the excess

Raise my hands Paint my spirit gold And bow my head Keep my heart slow Cause I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you

But I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you And I will wait, I will wait for you I Will Wait by Mumford & Sons

December 2

Romans 13: 11–14 (The Message) “But make sure that you don’t get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God.”

There is always so much to do! Home is busy. Work is busy. Church is busy. We promise ourselves that once the work of everyday and of this season is done, we will have time to focus on the real meaning of Advent. How often have we felt the need to put the important to one side while we concentrate on the urgent? How quickly that becomes our habit, our frantic way of living. When things are less busy, we tell ourselves, we will have time for God. “The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber…”

Can all this busyness be called slumber? But we are exhausted! Or perhaps this is the spiritual numbness we often feel—induced by a culture that bombards us with images of earthly comfort and promises of happiness. But Christ is coming! Let us be awake and ready. “Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy.”

Debauchery… that’s a strong word! Perhaps the things that hijack our lives are more subtle—conflict, resentment, regret, the longing for success, the never-ending absorption with our material needs. “Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.”

Lord, there are so many things that clamor for my attention and which promise to satisfy but… “You have made us to desire only you, you, our beginning and our end, you, our food and our rest, you, our joy and our peace.” –Walter Brueggemann—Prayers for a Privileged People Susan Wade

December 3

Matthew 5:3 Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Throughout Advent we are reminded that Jesus will return. The idea of Jesus’ coming is naturally associated with Christmas but our focus in this season reaches far beyond the Nativity.  Like bridesmaids who watch for the bridegroom, their lamps filled with oil, we too anticipate Jesus’ final coming with longing and hope. In many ways our whole life is an advent of hope as we await the increasing “arrival” of God’s presence in our lives.  God has come to us, but not yet fully. We know there is more. We have been promised much greater things than we have yet received and so, in faith, we await that which is still to come.  In this we identify with the waiting ages before Christ was born. We sing their words, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel” as we draw hope for our own emancipation.  Advent summons us once again to the origin of such hope—to our beginning, which is also our end.  It returns us to the place of sincere longing for the God who is “not yet.”  In these weeks we embrace our poverty while emphasizing hope in the midst of all that is still lacking.  Without denying the blessings already received, we affirm the fact that, until God becomes “all in all,” our lives remain incomplete.   Our Advent focus helps us accept the predicament of where we are in our journey.  We are still far from home. Like the Israelites in Babylon, we too are in a place of exile from which we yearn for the courts of the Lord.   Singing our “songs of Zion,” we find courage to form a deeper relationship to our lostness. Jesus comes to us and so we prepare our hearts to receive Him.  We do so in the contemplative stance of waiting where, in our prayers, we affirm the place of our deepest need for God.  Though the Lord’s promises are not yet fully realized, we are certain of hope in the midst of our waiting.   This beatitude of poverty helps us accept our “not yet” state as a place nevertheless blessed by God. We must be still and still moving into another intensity For a further union, a deeper communion through the dark cold and the empty desolation, The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters Of the petrel and the porpoise.  In my end is my beginning. –T.S. Eliot Rob Des Cotes

December 4

1 Corinthians 1:3–9 Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. 4 I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, 5 for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind— 6 just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you— 7 so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. 8 He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. 9 God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. 3

As a kid, I remember well the chocolate advent calendar I got each year. What could be better? Everyday I got to taste the most divine foodstuff known to man (which I somehow knew even as a child) and after a few years of conditioning, I came to know that these little chocolate squares were leading somewhere. The taste of promise. Each bite of goodness brought anticipation, sustenance, and joy to the waiting period, while also tasting of the larger feast to come. In this text, we can see Paul’s chocolate advent calendar to the Corinthian church, and by extension, to us. For cosmic purposes beyond our understanding, Jesus cannot be fully present to us at this time. We wait—not without a sure and certain hope—but still we wait. The waiting time of Advent is symbolic of the wait we have in life for Christ to return and bring everything back to wholeness. Paul reminds us that God has set things up so there are little nuggets of goodness that provide anticipation, sustenance and joy to our hearts as we wait: spiritual gifts, enriched speech and knowledge, provision, fellowship with the Son, guiltlessness and faithfulness. If you have tasted any of these advent gifts, no matter how briefly, you will have a feast waiting for you so extravagant and loving, it is beyond imagination or comprehension. Better than chocolate even. Melodie Rae Storey

December 5

John 1:1–5 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being that has come into being. 4 In him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 1

In the beginning Before atoms and electrons, DNA and cells Before stars and planets, galaxies and nebulae Before hummingbirds and butterflies Before broken promises and broken hearts Speaking life into being God was Now In the middle of our muddled lives In the noise of children, the rush of doing In seven billion searching souls In our world so full of beauty and pain Light in the darkness God is Always When our plans collapse around us When we have more questions than answers When we must ask for help When the world has been turned upside down Ever unchanging God will be Clare van Maarseveen

December 6

John 1:6–9 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness, to bear witness about the light, that all might believe through him. 8 He was not the light, but came to bear witness about the light. 6

9

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.

The Crucifixion by Matthias Grunewald includes a famous depiction of John the Baptist. John stands over a slain lamb, holding a cross and pouring out its blood into a Communion chalice, which brings to mind the early words of John the Baptist, “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” (John 1:29). Behind John are the printed words, “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). These are indeed interesting words to speak as Jesus hangs upon the cross of crucifixion, which according to the authorities was supposed to bring an end to Jesus, not an increase! Yet, for me, the most striking aspect of this painting has always been John’s hand. Slightly enlarged with an elongated finger, John points towards Jesus, who was the telos of his life: sent by God to testify/bear witness/point out the Light… the Light of all flesh. As disciples of Jesus, each of us in our own way emulates this pointing. Through many cultures and influences, we have developed a myriad of traditions for Advent and Christmas. May we enjoy all that is good, wonder-filled, and awe-inspiring, as we remain ever watchful and mindful of pointing towards Jesus. David Jenkins

December 7

Jeremiah 33:14–16 The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 15 In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. 16 In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.” 14

When you read this passage from our vantage today, it quickly appears that what was promised to the house of Israel and Judah had not been so readily received. How is it that the gifts of such hopeful promises can end up being so easily dismissed? It seems that an openness is required while we earnestly await the things we hope for. And it seems that this is a hard to thing to learn. There are a couple questions I see meeting us in this text: For what promises are we awaiting today? How are we becoming people able to receive the answers to these promises in unexpected ways? Perhaps many gifts and promises have been given to us, but we have been unable to receive them. Perhaps it is difficult to receive these gifts because we are used to receiving things the way we want it, the way we expect it. If we could learn to receive all parts of life as though they are gifts, and not as things we assume to be our rights, we might take a first step in recreating our character so we are more able to receive the promises that are too easily passed by Curtis Ozirney

December 8

1 John 4:8–10 Whoever does not love does not know God, for God is love. 9 God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him. 10 In this is love: not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the atoning sacrifice for our sins. 8

Advent presents me with a wonderful opportunity to reflect on my relationship with God & the Christ Child whose miraculous birth we anticipate and celebrate at this time of year. But I often feel buried in the busy-ness and the myriad of emotions that accompany that experience. I lose the joy of anticipation. And when I finally raise my head from the waters (where I may feel I am drowning and desperate for air), I am rarely able to still myself to create the space for that joyful waiting and reflecting… interestingly though, there is a lot of time and space for guilt—which pushes me further from the spacious grace of God and His light. But—what if in those moments of coming up for air, I made a concerted effort to be compassionate to myself (on God’s behalf). What if I took a moment, and expressed concern for that drowning child of God—experiencing God’s grace for me through words he has taught me to speak to myself. “I sense your suffering in this moment… I care deeply for your struggle (sadness, anxiety, distraction…). What do you need to rebalance? And how can I support you to get there—one breath at a time… slowing you down so you can experience more of this present moment—more of God and His gift of Jesus.” It’s a new skill I am learning. What I always need to remember—God is in each moment. God’s love and spirit live deep within me and are available to me in each moment—if I can only pull my head out of the water long enough to breathe. O Lord, the house of my soul is too small for you to enter: make it more spacious by your coming. –St. Augustine Elizabeth Drance

Second week of Advent

Repentance & Preparation Comfort ye, comfort ye My people, saith your God; speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem; and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness:-Prepare ye the way of the Lord: make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight and the rough places plain. And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together; for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it. Handel’s Messiah

December 9

Malachi 3:1–4 See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight—indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. 2 But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; 3 he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness. 4 Then the offering of Judah and Jerusalem will be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of old and as in former years. 1

My dad and I love Handel’s Messiah. As I read this passage, I hear in my head the beautiful combination of the different voice parts in a particular section of Messiah. That music is so much a part of my Advent/Christmas experience that it’s become a signal of the season for me. Just as I prepare in other ways for the season by making or buying gifts and decorating a tree, I pull out my 4-disc set of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir performing Handel’s Messiah. On one level, all of these things are part of what Christmastime is for me—they are what I do, what it looks like and sounds like. Advent is about more than that, though, so I want to take the time each year to prepare on another level. The kind of preparation referred to in this passage needs to be just as much a part of what I do as me pulling out Handel’s Messiah. The suggested themes of judgment and purification in the passage may not seem very fitting with the “holiday spirit”. And for many of us, this more important, quieter preparation is easy to lose sight of in the midst of the busyness of Christmastime. However, I think this passage can be an encouragement to us. The message is this: like a refiner’s fire or fuller’s soap, God has work to do on us. God wants to refine us, cleanse us, and prepare us for his purposes. This is what Advent is about for the faithful. Lauren Lautzenhiser

December 10

Romans 15:4–13 For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope. 5 May the God of steadfastness and encouragement grant you to live in harmony with one another, in accordance with Christ Jesus, 6 so that together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. 7 Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God. 8 For I tell you that Christ has become a servant of the circumcised on behalf of the truth of God in order that he might confirm the promises given to the patriarchs, 9 and in order that the Gentiles might glorify God for his mercy. As it is written, “Therefore I will confess you among the Gentiles, and sing praises to your name”; 10 and again he says, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people”; 11 and again, “Praise the Lord, all you Gentiles, and let all the peoples praise him”; 12 and again Isaiah says, “The root of Jesse shall come, the one who rises to rule the Gentiles; in him the Gentiles shall hope.” 13 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. 4

This passage makes me wonder about the distant roots of my own family tree. What were my ancestors doing at the time Paul wrote these words? Perhaps putting blue paint on their faces and stealing cattle from each other, on some foggy islands near the end of the world? Maybe you have a more sophisticated heritage, and more in common with the Magi’s capability for detecting a single new star among thousands. But even so, according to the thinking of Paul’s time, we were not on track to inherit a seat at the table of communion. In this passage, Paul seems thrilled about the reunion of the sundry twigs and branches of the human family tree, brought back into conversation with God and with each other. In November, Jodi Spargur shared with us her work with the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Within living memory, in the history of our own city, hide stories of First Nations people disinherited by those who came in the name of the servant of Advent. I was struck by Jodi’s stories, and they have remained with me in this season. The reconciliation promised by Advent is not just theological, and it is not distant. Advent calls us to wait with expectation, but not to wait passively. We prepare our hearts, and look for the places where we can extend peace, joy and hope. Maybe, as with Jesus, that means absorbing blame even when we do not feel personally responsible for historical wrongs, in order to bring about reconciliation. Kevin Best

December 11

Psalm 43:3–5 O send out your light and your truth; let them lead me; let them bring me to your holy hill and to your dwelling. 4 Then I will go to the altar of God, to God my exceeding joy; and I will praise you with the harp, O God, my God. 5 Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God. 3

I remember once driving in the midst of a deep, dense fog. I could hardly see and traffic was at a crawl. I was tense with fear. A drive that would normally take me thirty minutes at most had taken me at least 45 and I was only half way there. The bright lights of the other drivers could only faintly penetrate the fog. Traffic lights were dim and ethereal splotches of color. The world felt eerie and afloat, without any of the usual comforts of orientation. When we are in the dark, when we have lost all sense of our bearings, we like the psalmist cry out “send out your light and your truth; let them lead me.” Despite the deep darkness of inner turmoil and a soul downcast, the psalmist finds room for hope, and even anticipates joy. God’s truth and light can pierce the darkness that penetrates our hearts and lead us to the height of the holy hill where we will worship. In spite of the fog of our mourning, our persecution, and the loneliness that threatens to unmoor us, we wait for the astonishing light to dawn and we yearn for the truth that will orient us in our uncertainty. In the midst of a world that often feels impenetrable in its fog of grief and darkness, we cry out for the light and truth of our savior, for our refuge and our deliverer. Anna Hillaker

December 12

Psalm 27: 1–4 The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? 2 When evildoers assail me to devour my flesh—my adversaries and foes—they shall stumble and fall. 3 Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident. 4 One thing I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to inquire in his temple. 1

There is hope! During this season we celebrate the in breaking of God’s presence into our land of deep darkness. The Land of Deep Darkness As I ride the bus, I travel with those who are described by others as “intensely marginalized.” Where is God in this? What are we doing to give these people a comfortable and welcoming home? In a time of grief we struggle to see the light of Christ. There is only hair loss and lack of appetite for someone we love so dearly. Yet in her burning coffin I see a flame of light. On a daily basis I hear people judging others on the basis of dress, education, profession or ability level. Where are those people who welcome and embrace others through God’s love? Social injustice is all around us and yet we just go on living our days.

God is Deliverer In the midst of this, we see the light. God alone is the deliverer, the ultimate agent of change in our world. I feel blessed to be part of a community that cares about our community, our neighbors and our country; and connected to organizations that strive to do the work of His kingdom. We are stewards of His light, challenged to live in a world where God is not the focal point. In Him, we are equal. The lines are blurred between the powerful and the weak, the able bodied and the disabled, the capable and the incapable. I dwell in the house of the Lord, finding strength to face the challenges and adventures of each day. This season, we prepare to encounter the ever-burning light in this land of deep darkness where God acts to break the rod of the oppressor and the light shines to make us real. Karen Lai

December 13

Luke 1: 26–28

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, 27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 26

When I look at The ‘Pieta’ it breaks my heart. I look upon a young mother holding her dead child. What pain does her serene face conceal? She holds out her left hand as if to signify that she submits to the events that the Strangers foretold. Just when her mind was full of wedding bliss a stranger appears. The angel Gabriel tells her that God has chosen her to conceive and bear a son. She asks how this can be as she is a virgin. Despite what this will cost her socially as an unwed mother, she consents. She humbly says, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.” So as it was foretold, the Holy Spirit moves and Mary conceives a child. The events of her pregnancy and delivery are not recorded. As a mother myself I can imagine. There would have been physical changes that would cause her anxiety and discomfort to say the least. Despite what this will cost her physically, she submits to the will of God. Postpartum, when there are many other physical discomforts happening, Mary meets another stranger. Simeon at last meets his Salvation, “For my eyes have seen my salvation.” Does this affirm in Mary the uniqueness of her child? Then Simeon turns to her and says, “And a sword will pierce your soul.” The ‘Pieta’ becomes “The Girl with the Sword in her Soul.” Her face conceals the pain in her heart and soul. Mary’s pain is the cost of my salvation. When I look at The ‘Pieta’ it breaks my heart. Barbara Phillips

December 14

Ephesians 5:6–14 Let no one deceive you with empty words, for because of such things God’s wrath comes on those who are disobedient. 7 Therefore do not be partners with them. 6

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light 9 (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) 10 and find out what pleases the Lord. 11 Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them. 12 It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. 13 But everything exposed by the light becomes visible— and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. 14 This is why it is said: 8

“Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

Deceit, wrath, disobedience, darkness, shame, secret deeds, evil days: I recoil at this onslaught of hostile verbiage. With pharisaical superiority I want to skim past the wrath and disobedience to get to the happy bits. Alternatively, I might experience the other extreme and feel so stuck in my own darkness that I wallow in hopeless despair at my own depravity. The “fruitless deeds of darkness” can certainly feel more familiar than fruits of “goodness, righteousness, and truth.” But this passage allows neither shrugging off the darkness nor wallowing in it. In too plain language, God confronts us with the darkness present within us, our past, and our world, purposefully inciting our discomfort so we are driven gratefully toward the Light. For why seek Light if the darkness is comfortable? Herein is the call of Christ, herein is the journey that is the spiritual life: to advance toward the Light. In this season of repentance and readying ourselves for more of Christ’s presence, it is time to spurn our darkness, climb out of the coffin, and move pace by pace through dimness and shadows toward an ever-increasing Light. Gradually, we find the world becoming more vibrant, God’s goodness, righteousness, and truth more perceptible, the contrast between dark and light more dramatic. In this second week of Advent, let us choose to repent from the darkness that seeps into our lives and instead live carefully in these evil days, remembering our true identity as “light in the Lord!” May the discomforts of this passage shift and prod us into greater desire for such Light, confident in the knowledge that Christ is the Light of the world. Christ, guide us toward your Light! Megan Jenkins

December 15

1 Peter 2: 5–9 Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 6 For it stands in scripture: “See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.” 7 To you then who believe, he is precious; but for those who do not believe, “The stone that the builders rejected has become the very head of the corner,” 8 and “A stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall.” They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. 9 But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. 5

Because God is outside of time, each stone into whom He has breathed life is created for an eternal purpose. Each has been chosen by God to be built into a royal priesthood and a holy nation. We cannot create this priesthood or this kingdom, but it is an organic temple that can be affected by our involvement. We bring light into this edifice when we choose holiness (wholeness) over that which lacks meaning. The spiritual sacrifices we make matter. Because we are living stones the present is pregnant with possibility. Countless words have been crafted to describe spiritual sacrifices and holiness. Those of us who love to read would never disparage the written word. But here we must take the time to read our hearts. Augustine wrote: “God, you were within; but I was without.” Physical immobility often limits me to the same locale. But in reflection my stone may be suffused with eternal light. Yet I am also sometimes beguiled by inertia to settle in the shadows. Shadows in themselves are not bad; after all they indicate the proximity of light. But decisions made in the shadows can plunge us into stygian darkness—a state portrayed by Herod even within the narrative of Advent. Can you imagine how lonely and dangerous the journey of Advent would have been if the only characters were Mary and the Christ Child? Peter’s metaphor of living stones gives a sense of proportion. Individually we are just one stone, but together we become part of a cosmic narrative that was written before time began. Carolyn Couillard

Third week of Advent

Joy Joy (to the World) Through the silence Through the darkness Through the doubting Through the fear Love was watching Love was waiting Through the heartache Through the tears An angel has promised Mary a baby See, the heart of God is breaking open Joy to the world Heaven is with us Hear the angels sing Joy to the world

Joy to the world Heaven is with us Hear the angels sing Joy to the world Joy to the world A new day is dawning Lift up your head Joy to the world

Joy to the world A new day is dawning Lift up your head Joy to the world



In the alleys In the shelters In the shadows He is here

Let every heart Let every heart Let every heart Prepare him room

Joy to the world Heaven is with us Don’t be afraid Lift up your head A Saviour is born Joy to the world

In our families In our stories In our ordinary lives He is here Nowhere on earth His love cannot find you Nowhere on earth His light won’t shine

Bev Willms Best Download the song at http://bit.ly/s6LLLH

December 16

Job 12:22 He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light.

In the prologue of his gospel John announces, with regards to Christmas, that  “the true light that gives light to every person” has come into the world (Jn. 1:9).  It is a light that brings us hope and the promise that darkness will soon be dispelled from our lives.  We are to watch, pray and wait as we witness the effects of this light in us and in our history.  And we are to serve its increase in the world.  But as time unfolds, we realize that this light has properties that are quite different from those we would normally assume.  We learn that its increase is more incremental, and not as immediate as we might expect light to be. When a light switch is turned on in a dark room the light bulb immediately dispels the darkness.  But the light of Christ is different.  Like yeast in the dough, it works itself slowly through all creation.   As the book of Proverbs notes, it is like “the first gleam of dawn, that shines ever brighter till the full light of day” (Prov. 4:18).  The gleam of Christ will eventually fill all things.  But before it does, the darkness must first be exposed.  Its “deep shadows” must be fully brought to light.  And this, it would seem, is what takes time. If you have ever worked with long exposure photography you know something of the beautiful effects one can get from the slow accumulation of light.  The longer the shutter remains open, the more light comes into the camera.  If it were left open, the light would eventually fill the whole negative and completely expose the dark parts of the film.  So it is with the light of Christ in our lives.  As we remain open, His light reaches our darkest shadows. In order for a camera to capture a true image in a dark setting a tripod is necessary to keep it still.  If there is movement in the camera, the image produced by the light will be blurred.  For us too, the stillness we bring to our prayer allows Christ’s light to form its image more precisely in us.   The general rule for photography then is that the darker it is outside, the longer the shutter needs to remain open, and the more still the camera needs to be in relationship to the light that is accumulating.  It would seem that something very similar is taking place in us as well. 1 John 2:8—The darkness is passing and the true light is already shining. Rob Des Cotes

December 17

Luke 1:67–79 Then his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke this prophecy: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them. 69 He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of his servant David, 70 as he spoke through the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, 71 that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us. 72 Thus he has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors, and has remembered his holy covenant, 73 the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham, to grant us 74 that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear, 75 in holiness and righteousness before him all our days. 76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, 77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. 78 By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, 79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” 67

68

In reading Zachariah’s prophecy, what moved me most were the words “…through the heartfelt mercies of God, God’s sunrise will break in upon us”, breaking on those sitting in the darkness. I had an image with dark grey rocks and inky ice-cold shadows of a predawn desert.  The night star-studded sky brought no warmth.  Gradually the eastern horizon began to change into dawning light, revealing silhouettes of people, individuals crouched on the rocks, between boulders—cold, despondent. The sky began to reveal hints of orange, yellow gold, and red, getting brighter and then, suddenly, the sun broke over the crest of the hills!  By the tender mercies of God, he causes the sun to bring light, warmth and hope. Come, let us embrace the hope of this new day, welcoming the warmth.  Let us rise up and follow Him who leads us “down the paths of peace”. Promises of hope, warmth, forgiveness, tender mercies, walking into the light… Ann Tkachenko

December 18

1 John 1:4–7 We are writing these things so that our joy may be complete. 5 This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all. 6 If we say that we have fellowship with him while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; 7 but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus his Son cleanses us from all sin. 4

Click, click, click! The electric lighter is not working. I find matches and try to light the candles. I strike and break one match after another. Now that I am used to using an electric lighter, matches are not such an easy way to light a few candles. Carefully I move the match head closer to the candle, but a wind comes from somewhere, and I almost burn my hand. I realize that I need to hold the candle and make sure of the angles in order to light it. Is it the same if I want to put a light to people’s hearts? God is Light. I do not need complicated devices or procedures to find the light of God. Yet how many times do I forget I am living in the Light? The fear of rejection or uncertainty envelops me, and I become afraid of the darkness. My body becomes tense and I forget to listen to His voice. Be assured. God is with us. Turn on the light. You are the truth. Lord, I will walk with you. Help me to be a light to the people in my circle of influence and give them hope and light for the future!

Yumiko King

December 19

Luke 1:39–45 In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40 where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41 When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42 and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43 And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44 For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. 45 And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” 39

Mary hurries to visit her cousin Elizabeth with a hidden life enclosed. Tentative, vulnerable, fearful, she offers her greeting. It pierces the silence of Zechariah’s house. There is expectancy; there is response. A baby leaps in its mother’s womb: a jolt of recognition; tiny spasmodic limbs thrash in the dark. Something felt, glimmered, welcomed, known. This baby is the silent but insistent first witness of God’s presence. Elizabeth cries out to Mary in affirmation, “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the child you will bear.” Mute prophecy is given voice. Heaven’s secret cannot be contained, erupting in the violent tremors of an unborn baby and the prophetic shouts of an old woman. Elizabeth, subdued, then asks in naked humility and wonder, “But why am I so favoured that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Visitation of God; God with us; eternal love enfolded in flesh; within; infusing; transforming. Already, Mary, cradling her Lord within her, is changed; made holy. And us? “Blessed is she who believed that what the Lord has said to her will be accomplished.” Maggie Martens

December 20

Isaiah 40:1–11 Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. 2 Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins. 3 A voice cries out: “In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. 4 Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. 5 Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.” 6 A voice says, “Cry out!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. 7 The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass. 8 The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever. 9 Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!” 10 See, the Lord God comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him, and his recompense before him. 11 He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep. 1

Lift up your voice… We hear so many voices raised up in this Advent season… So many competing voices vying for our attention that we are unable to hear any of them. We cannot hear our own voice let alone the voice of God. Advent is supposed to be a time of anticipation, hope, faith, and a longing for joy. I want to echo Nehemiah’s words in 8:10b that the “Joy of the Lord is my Strength” but my strength fails and my voice fades. It is such an irony that Isaiah asks me in verse 9 to “lift up my voice with strength”. Does Isaiah know what he is asking? Isaiah may not, but God does. For in the midst of personal turmoil of any kind, seasonal or otherwise, this passage begins with the soothing, deeply felt balm of verse 1 “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God”. Ah, Yes, comfort. I soak up these words like finding water in a desert, peace in the midst of chaos. While the passage reminds us of the awesome nature of God and our own finiteness (verse 6), the passage also gives us two of the most treasured gifts of Christmas. The first gift is this: that amidst the many voices, and insistent obligations that come with life: the Lord brings comfort. He asks us to receive that comfort for ourselves and for us to be comforters of others. The second gift is the declaration of the reality of the Advent season and its culmination on Christmas Day “Here is your God” (verse 9) indeed, here he is in Jesus, the Christ child. “Lift up your voice with strength… here is your God”… even now, come Lord, into our lives. Jeremy Bell

December 21

John 9:1–7 (The Message) Walking down the street, Jesus saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked, “Rabbi, who sinned: this man or his parents, causing him to be born blind?” Jesus said, “You’re asking the wrong question. You’re looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do. We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines. When night falls, the workday is over: For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world’s Light.” He said this and then spit in the dust, made a clay paste with the saliva, rubbed the paste on the blind man’s eyes, and said, “Go, wash at the Pool of Siloam” (Siloam means “Sent”). The man went and washed—and saw.

My recent experience with blindness came rather suddenly as the result of eye surgery. The two weeks between two surgeries was filled with disorientation, inability to see anything clearly and unexpected exhaustion. Neither productivity or efficiency were possible. Initially, I tried to carry on as usual, dismissing these unwelcome inconveniences as a trivial nuisance. During this time however, the invitation emerged to ‘live into’ the blind man’s story: Jesus taking dirt, something so common to the landscape that it would have seemed insignificant and thus be stepped upon and overlooked, Jesus mixing this dirt with saliva, his own life, and Jesus rubbing this messy paste on the blind man’s eyes. As I entered the story, the ordinary stuff of my own experience became the dirt: the disorientation, exhaustion, lack of productivity. To my surprise, I found I wasn’t repulsed by the application of the ‘muddy paste’, but welcomed it, trusting the life that infused my experience and trusting the hands that applied the messy slurry. And in welcoming Jesus in this manner, I was able to see truths about myself to which I had been blind, such as the illusion of my self-sufficiency, truths that opened me to receive from Jesus and others in a fresh way. A deeper inner freedom was birthed out of this encounter and new sight. Christ comes in ways we could not possibly predict, often in the ordinary and especially in the places of vulnerability, the places we would sooner dismiss. Similarly, we might not recognize joy at first. It too may look different from what we were expecting. Karen Webber

December 22

Zephaniah 3:14–20 Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! 15 The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. 16 On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem: Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak. 17 The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing 18 as on a day of festival. I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. 19 I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. 20 At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord. 14

My Christmas fatigue, like the mall Santas, arrived not long after Halloween. We’re starting into another Christmas season, and I’m already thinking, “How am I going to conjure up the feelings of joy I’m supposed to have at Christmas, when really, we just finished doing this ten months ago, and it’s not as if I haven’t heard the story before—how do I make myself feel joyful?” While pondering the “joy” that is celebrated in the third week of Advent, I read Zephaniah, and what jumped out were the words of the prophet, “Do not be afraid.” In the story of Christ’s birth “Do not be afraid” shows up a lot. Apparently we need to hear these words over and over. It reminds me of the line in the old Christmas Pageant, when the shepherds cower in fear before the angel, and the angel asks, “What part of ‘fear not’ don’t you understand?” God doesn’t say “Be joyful” in this passage. It’s God who is doing all the rejoicing—he’s going to exult over us with “loud singing as on a day of festival”. I love that thought, not angelic choirs with serene choruses, it’s going to be LOUD! God is telling us “Now you don’t have to be afraid anymore. Just do that one thing for me—don’t be afraid.” I don’t even need to be afraid of not feeling joyful enough. Maybe Fear Not is the flip side of Joy. And maybe when we are not afraid, we make a space for joy to happen. Susan Ferguson

Fourth week of Advent

Incarnation

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King; Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!” Joyful, all ye nations rise, Join the triumph of the skies; With th’angelic host proclaim, “Christ is born in Bethlehem!” Hark! the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!” Christ, by highest Heav’n adored; Christ the everlasting Lord; Late in time, behold Him come, Offspring of a virgin’s womb. Veiled in flesh the Godhead see; Hail th’incarnate Deity, Pleased with us in flesh to dwell, Jesus our Emmanuel.

Hark! the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!” Hail the heav’nly Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness! Light and life to all He brings, Ris’n with healing in His wings. Mild He lays His glory by, Born that man no more may die. Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth. Hark! the herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!”

December 23

Isaiah 11:1–10 A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. 2 The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. 3 His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide by what his ears hear; 4 but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth… 5 Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist, and faithfulness the belt around his loins. 6 The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them… 9 They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. 10 On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious. 1

Through Yahweh’s prophets it had been foretold: salvation will be coming from Israel’s fold. Though far beyond their comprehension The call was to watch and pay attention. After centuries of hope and waiting The angels finally arrive saying Raise up and sound the horn For unto us a child is born. In the stable, began a baby’s cry, And it ended with a final sigh; Oppressed and stricken, crushed and afflicted, What child is this? Who, laid to rest, Becomes the Messiah It is I, Jesus Christ David Jenkins

December 24

John 10:36 & 2 John 1: 7 (Jn 10:36) So why do you accuse me of a terrible sin for saying that I am the Son of God? After all, it is the Father who prepared me for this work. He is also the one who sent me into the world. (2 Jn 1:7) Many liars have gone out into the world. These deceitful liars are saying that Jesus Christ did not have a truly human body. But they are liars and the enemies of Christ.

God had a marvelous plan of redemption set in place long before the creation of this world. The revelation and unfolding of his plan would boggle the minds of those who had their own expectations of what their long awaited king would look like and how he should rescue them from the tyranny of their violent society. Their expectations would not be realized as the God man entered this earthly scene. What! Their king is born in a stable, in the midst of animal smells and the dinginess of a barn, with pandemonium outside where weary travelers scramble to find accommodation. God, our creator entered this earthly scene in his own humble way, as a little baby completely dependent on his parents for survival in a society ruled by the whims of an evil, cruel and merciless dictator.

The Three Wise men and the Wise woman Enter the Wise men. Guided by a bright star, they knew exactly where to find their king. Bringing gifts, they came to worship him. They knew who he was. Jesus was a real human being and so he continues to relate completely to the “humanness” of our own daily living. He has experienced every human emotion; joy, apprehension, frustration, pain and agony. Yet in all of his experience he has never sinned because he was God in the flesh. The long awaited King had come; God himself, sent to be the King of our hearts, minds and souls. Blessed be the name of Jesus! Lee Best

Christmas Day

Matthew 1:18–25 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit. 19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to dismiss her quietly. 20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “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. 21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: 23 “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” 24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, 25 but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. 18

A deep, joyous and boisterous happy Christmas to each of us as we celebrate the birth of the child who is Jesus the Christ. G.K. Chesterton once wrote “A stable once contained someone who is bigger than the whole world” and so Jesus is exactly that, someone who is “bigger than the whole world”, larger than anyone we can long for or imagine. He is the Lord and Redeemer known as Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. These words are only the beginning of the ways in which many of us wish to express the glory of this day. Childhood habits however are hard to break. At Christmas time, despite the wonderful Christ centered focus in my parents home and in the church we attended, the Christ part never quite worked out that way for me. As a child, Christmas was not about Jesus. Christmas was about me. Much of that self-centeredness has travelled long into my adult life. I love the gifts of Jesus, his life, passion, death, resurrection, and promise to return yet I relentlessly forget that in order to be fully present with us, he needed to leave his place beside and before God the Father, in order to be the Christ of Christmas. This ‘coming amongst us” variously described as tumbling down, condescending or lowering himself never quite captured the amazing truth of him setting aside so much to be so much part of us. Fully human, fully divine. The challenge of the incarnation is simply this: If Emmanuel means God with us and Jesus was willing to set aside so much to be “God with us”, then to what degree am I willing to inconvenience myself, give up my own comfort, privilege and insularity to imitate this incarnation for others. Emmanuel, God with us… God with me… God through me, with others. Merry Christmas

Cover art: Advent Starry Night 2 by Virginia Wieringa