...to turn on the light

Do not, Mystery and Mercy, keep from me
what you alone can grant;
wrap me in the safety of your
strong and steady love,
let me feel the 'yes' of your faithfulness.
For the darkness of the world 
tangles around me,
enmeshed with my own 
inner shadow spaces,
until vision is a memory,
or a dream;
the shadows innumerable, 
my weakness takes my breath away.
You would delight to see me
delivered, relieved of
threats from the world,
and of my own weaving.
---Psalm 40:11-13 (para. laca)

It is so easy for me to get 'wrapped up', entangled, knotted, in the bad things happening out there. World things that happen because we are part of this world. Stuff that goes down in this broken world. Things people do that they have no business doing. Some of those things, they do to me. I know, right? And it makes me want to cry out, "God help us!" And sometimes I do. And once in a while I get a little more selfish, and I want to cry, "God help me!" 

And sometimes I do.

And God, Mystery and Mercy, says "Here I am." Which isn't always as satisfying as, "I hereby slap the baddies with tough karma and the flu!" But, then, God is God, and maybe plays the game a few moves ahead of us.

And there is this other thing. With all the darkness in the world, we sometimes can't let well enough alone. We go around creating more, and hiding it away in the nooks and crannies of our own souls. Friends, those shadowy places inside of us? They are at least as dangerous and threatening as the darkness the world tries to wrap around us. They push against us from the inside, sending out tangles of pain and hurt that interweave with the hurt and pain winding around us from the outside, and we are caught in the middle, left breathless and helpless, bound by the shadows. We can't even remember what it was to see clearly, or picture what it might be like to see again.

But the story doesn't end there. The great mystery and mercy is that, in the moment of our night-blindness, when we are bound by darkness falling on us and coming from us, there is One who is pleased to cut us loose, and turn on the light.

Praise be.

...just what I needed

Who would think that what was needed to transform and save the earth
might not be a plan or army, proud in purpose, proved in worth?
Who would think, despite derision, that a child should lead the way?
God surprises earth with heaven, coming here on Christmas Day.
---John L. Bell and Graham Maule, 1987

"Oh, it's just what I needed!" I wonder how many times this refrain was heard around Christmas trees and hearths today as family and friends gathered and opened packages. I also wonder how many different ways there are to speak this simple statement --- "Just what I needed!" "Just what I needed?" "JUST what I NEEDED!" (teen angst version) "Juuuuust what I needed!" (flat tire when you're running late version). The funny thing is, there have been a couple of times I've gotten that gift, you know the one, that I can't quite figure out. I don't know the giver's motivation, or what good it will be to me, or (honestly) whether this person even knows me at all. It's the kind of gift that tempts me to say, in one of it's variations, "Just what I needed?"

The world, then as it does now, clamored for a ruler with some muscle behind his rhetoric. A little firepower to back up his diplomacy. Someone with the guts to stick it to the man, not back down,  to throw off the yoke of Roman oppression. Enemies smell weakness, they will eat you alive. No time, this, for peacemakers, for path-straighteners, for do-gooders, for God's sake.

And then the gift we are given, the one that confuses and confounds, turns out to be our salvation. Turns out to be "just what we needed".

Thanks be to God, on this Christmas Day, that we don't get to pick out our own gifts.

...a not yet world

You come, O Lord, with gladness, in mercy and goodwill,
to bring an end to sadness and bid our fears be still.
In patient expectation we live for that great day
when your renewed creation your glory shall display.
--- Paul Gerhardt, 1653

We live in a 'not yet' world. It is easy to look around and see that things are not as they should be. There is pain, disease, systemic failure; there is evil, cruelty, apathy, human weakness. There are a few with way too much, and way too many with way too little.

Our world does not reflect its Creator. Not yet.

But part of the Advent waiting we do, in addition to looking forward to observing the birth of the Babe in the manger, is looking forward in eager anticipation to the time when God's dream for this world and the reality of this world become one. This, too, is Advent.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed. And all flesh shall see it together.

In Equal Measure

God rest ye merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.
For Jesus Christ or Savior is 
Born upon this day
To save us all from Satan's power
When we are gone astray.
O, tidings of comfort and joy!

Into this world, into this mess, into what we've made of God's world, a Savior is born. Into our lives, our troubles, our aches and pains, our sorrows, a Savior is born. The joy and comfort come so close together sometimes, like two sides of a warm blanket, a refuge and an encouragement. Saving us from the full wrath of Satan's power (and you would have to be blind not to acknowledge there is darkness in our world right now), from our own dismay, there is a Savior, himself wrapped in the weakness of a newborn babe, wrapped perhaps in the same blanket of comfort and joy offered us.

Listen hard, and you may hear tidings of comfort, and of joy.