Mary got an angelic visit with a life-changing message. Shepherds got a world premiere anthem from the sky with promises of peace (and quite possibly a light show). Wise, wise science guys from the East got sky charts that lined up just right.
<sigh> Things were so much clearer, back in Bible times...
Calling. Do you have one? Have you always? How did it come to you? Has it ever changed?
...what if you're wrong?
One thing I am certain of: I always pictured myself, at 50-something, knowing. You know, knowing what the path was. What I should be doing. How I should be getting from A to B. What A and B even ARE.
<facepalm> Things were so much clearer, back in Bible times...
And then I hear the voice of the prophet:
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord,
"plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future."
--Jeremiah 29:11
And I realize, from this side of 50, that those "plans" that God has for me, the ones that give me "hope and a future"--maybe, just maybe, those plans are less about doing specific things at specific times, and more about living with my face turned toward the light, walking in hope. Maybe, just maybe, life is the sign I've been waiting for.
...not saying I'd turn down a chat with an angel, though...
Showing posts with label angel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angel. Show all posts
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Monday, December 21, 2015
...the present instant
No wind at the window, no knock on the door;
no light from the lampstand, no foot on the floor;
no dream born of tiredness, no ghost raised by fear:
just an angel and a woman and a voice in her ear.
---John L. Bell, 1992
You just had to be there. Sometimes experience is gold. That instant when Mary understood...something...happened because she was present, in that moment, open to that experience. She heard...something...because she was listening, ready for the whisper of the messenger-voice.
The world...changed...because Mary was really there.
What voice might we catch, what message might we intuit, were we to be fully present to life, in all its messy moments?
How might the world change if we were to really listen?
no light from the lampstand, no foot on the floor;
no dream born of tiredness, no ghost raised by fear:
just an angel and a woman and a voice in her ear.
---John L. Bell, 1992
You just had to be there. Sometimes experience is gold. That instant when Mary understood...something...happened because she was present, in that moment, open to that experience. She heard...something...because she was listening, ready for the whisper of the messenger-voice.
The world...changed...because Mary was really there.
What voice might we catch, what message might we intuit, were we to be fully present to life, in all its messy moments?
How might the world change if we were to really listen?
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
...the weary road
And ye, beneath life's crushing load,
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing!
---Edmund H. Sears, 1849
Are you on the weary road? Not yet? Almost? Running parallel, and hoping to avoid the cross street that will carry you there? I don't mind telling you, I've been there---sometimes through no fault of my own, life's roadmap having directed me there through circumstance or happenstance, and me none the wiser. Sometimes, that destination was the fault of my own internal GPS, sending me down roads for which I was ill-equipped, weighed down with too much freight, exceeding the maximum passenger limit, barreling down some highway to God-knows-where, God-knows-why, because I have long ago forgotten the where and why. I'm weary, and that's what I know.
Right about then---right about now---angel song would sure sound nice. Right about then---right about now---I could lay down my burdens, and stretch my aching muscles, tense from constant alertness for that next thing coming to ambush my perfectly good day. Right about then---right about now---pulling over onto the shoulder of that weary road, and wrapping a blanket around me, climbing onto the hood of the car and leaning against the smooth windshield would feel pretty fine. Right about then---right about now---bathing in the starfall of a zillion messengers with heart-burstingly good news of real peace feels like all the heaven I need.
Right about then---right about now---glad and golden hours. Thanks be.
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing!
---Edmund H. Sears, 1849
Are you on the weary road? Not yet? Almost? Running parallel, and hoping to avoid the cross street that will carry you there? I don't mind telling you, I've been there---sometimes through no fault of my own, life's roadmap having directed me there through circumstance or happenstance, and me none the wiser. Sometimes, that destination was the fault of my own internal GPS, sending me down roads for which I was ill-equipped, weighed down with too much freight, exceeding the maximum passenger limit, barreling down some highway to God-knows-where, God-knows-why, because I have long ago forgotten the where and why. I'm weary, and that's what I know.
Right about then---right about now---angel song would sure sound nice. Right about then---right about now---I could lay down my burdens, and stretch my aching muscles, tense from constant alertness for that next thing coming to ambush my perfectly good day. Right about then---right about now---pulling over onto the shoulder of that weary road, and wrapping a blanket around me, climbing onto the hood of the car and leaning against the smooth windshield would feel pretty fine. Right about then---right about now---bathing in the starfall of a zillion messengers with heart-burstingly good news of real peace feels like all the heaven I need.
Right about then---right about now---glad and golden hours. Thanks be.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Calling all angels
Before the marvel of this night, adoring, fold your wings and bow;
then tear the sky apart with light and with your news the world endow.
Proclaim the birth of Christ and peace, that fear and death and sorrow cease:
sing peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace!
---Jaroslav Vajda
On this Christmas Eve, maybe a few angel instructions are only appropriate. This modern era carol is the only one I know addressed to the heavenly beings. We know from the Biblical account that the shepherds were shaken and stirred (and maybe terrified) by the angels' arrival on the scene that peaceful night. Now from Vajda's imagination we hear the angels instructed to 'tear the sky apart with light'! What a scene! A marvel, even!
And the message? Birth. And death. The birth of Christ. The birth of peace. And the death of fear, and sorrow, and death itself. The angels' song? Straight up peace, with no room for anything that breaks it.
That good news is enough to tear apart the sky!
...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...
then tear the sky apart with light and with your news the world endow.
Proclaim the birth of Christ and peace, that fear and death and sorrow cease:
sing peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace!
---Jaroslav Vajda
On this Christmas Eve, maybe a few angel instructions are only appropriate. This modern era carol is the only one I know addressed to the heavenly beings. We know from the Biblical account that the shepherds were shaken and stirred (and maybe terrified) by the angels' arrival on the scene that peaceful night. Now from Vajda's imagination we hear the angels instructed to 'tear the sky apart with light'! What a scene! A marvel, even!
And the message? Birth. And death. The birth of Christ. The birth of peace. And the death of fear, and sorrow, and death itself. The angels' song? Straight up peace, with no room for anything that breaks it.
That good news is enough to tear apart the sky!
...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...
Friday, December 13, 2013
Life's crushing load
And ye, beneath life's crushing load, whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.
--- Edmund Sears
There is no doubt about it --- real life doesn't stop for Advent and Christmas. And tragic times of loss and sadness are just as likely to befall us during this holy time as at any other. Doctors deliver life-changing health news. Beloved friends and family members pass away. Young disturbed boys with guns walk into schools and shoot away. People you trusted to stay, leave.
And just like that, the shine can be dimmed on the Christmas glitter. And honestly, that glitter may not ever come back with the same intensity. Because of all the things we are promised, a return to 'before-ness' is not one of them. And some days, it takes more effort to put one foot in front of the other. And some days those aches feel like a 'crushing load', and the path a 'climbing way'.
But there is comfort for the hurt, balm for the pain, a softening for the raw edges of grief. Because even here, resting beside the 'weary road', there is an angel song for what ails you. And me.
...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...
Who toil along the climbing way with painful steps and slow,
Look now! for glad and golden hours come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road, and hear the angels sing.
--- Edmund Sears
There is no doubt about it --- real life doesn't stop for Advent and Christmas. And tragic times of loss and sadness are just as likely to befall us during this holy time as at any other. Doctors deliver life-changing health news. Beloved friends and family members pass away. Young disturbed boys with guns walk into schools and shoot away. People you trusted to stay, leave.
And just like that, the shine can be dimmed on the Christmas glitter. And honestly, that glitter may not ever come back with the same intensity. Because of all the things we are promised, a return to 'before-ness' is not one of them. And some days, it takes more effort to put one foot in front of the other. And some days those aches feel like a 'crushing load', and the path a 'climbing way'.
But there is comfort for the hurt, balm for the pain, a softening for the raw edges of grief. Because even here, resting beside the 'weary road', there is an angel song for what ails you. And me.
...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...
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