Comfort, comfort

'Comfort, comfort now my people; tell of peace!' so says our God.
'Comfort those who sit in darkness mourning under sorrow's load.
To my people now proclaim that my pardon waits for them!
Tell them that their sins I cover, and their warfare now is over.'
---Johannes Olearius

How long have you been struggling? For the right? Against the wrong? On the side of the little guy? How tired have you gotten in the struggle against the dark? Sometimes that struggle is against forces out there, and sometimes the dark creeps a lot closer to home. In this paraphrase of Isaiah 40, we hear the voice of the prophet, whispering a promise --- if we hold on, just a little longer, there is comfort coming, there is pardon, there is relief in your mourning.
Hold on, friends. Comfort is coming.

...so here we stand, whoever we are, 
bathed in the light of a star...

Silent stars

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep,
the silent stars go by.
---Phillips Brooks

In times of tragedy and pain, sleep eludes us. The more tired we get, the more exhausted our minds and bodies become, the less likely we are to submit to rest and peace. We toss and turn, running over mistakes, tragic events, 'if-only's, held hostage by the things our minds held at bay during the daylight. For days, we can stumble through nights of not-sleep, days of barely-there --- going through the motions of living.
What a relief then, what a gift --- the night of deep, dreamless sleep. Whatever brings it on, whatever coaxes it out of our psyches, we sleep. And we heal. And above it all, the stars. The stars.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Risen with healing in his wings

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings.

Mild he lays his glory by, born that we no more may die,

Born to raise us from the earth, born to give us second birth.

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the new-born King!”

---Charles Wesley

There is a danger in the carols of Christmas, one that threatens to deaden us to the wisdom hidden within. This danger is familiarity, the same quality that makes them beloved. Anywhere you go, you are apt to hear some version of this carol, sung or played by a wide variety of ensembles. Many of us could sing this carol in our sleep --- all three verses!

Our familiarity with this carol should not, however, blind us to the message of comfort and hope contained within. Hear these words anew: “Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings….” We all know that in the midst of the great joy of the season lurk illness, injury, grief, and sorrow. These are part of life, and do not miraculously disappear during Advent and Christmastide. But there is good news, even in darkness! There is one who brings light for our darkness, life for our dead places, and healing for what hurts us. In the middle of this tumultuous existence, Christ comes to meet our deepest needs.

...so here we stand, whoever we are,

bathed in the light of a star...

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...

Did Jesus look like his pictures?

He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
---Isaiah 53:2

Maybe it's been a slow news week, or maybe it's just that most wonderful time of the year when non-Christmas experts suddenly want to chime in on all things Christmas; but today a talking head on a national news network took to the air to state that it is 'just historical fact that Jesus was a white man.' And I just sat there, smh (for those of you who, like me are afraid of online slang, this one is safe --- 'shaking my head'). Because this TV lady (I'm not ready to call her a newscaster right now) had walked into the Children's Bible, Illustrated Edition trap. You have that Bible, don't you? It's the one with the full color front, with the picture of flower-child Jesus --- long, flowing, light-brown hair, shaggy beard (also light brown), righteous surfer tan set off by his white robe, rope sandals --- surrounded by a group of adorable (also white) pudgy children. What sets the picture off, though, are the piercing blue eyes.
Now, everything we know about Jesus' origin (yes, historically) tells us that he looked nothing like a gentle surfer dude. He undoubtedly looked like a typical middle-Easterner, dark-haired and -skinned. That is the history. And perhaps Isaiah's writing (quoted above) hints at Jesus', well...plain-ness. The piercing blue eyes? Probably not. Heads that turned when he walked by? Nope.
See? That was part of the idea of incarnation. Not that God took on human skin to walk the earth as America's (or The Galilee's) Next Top Model. Not that God came down in an Elvis sequined jumpsuit that shouted 'Look at me!' But that God came as a regular Joe, passed as the son of a regular Joe, and lived right here with us, like us.
What made Jesus holy, set apart, was the message bound up in his humanity --- the message that God is for us. It wasn't his historical dark skin and hair. And it wouldn't have been his whiteness.

...so here we stand, whoever we are, 
bathed in the light of a star...

Wait.

For you, O Lord, my soul in stillness waits;
truly my hope is in you.
---Ps. 62:5

And, sometimes, amidst the clamor of the season, there is a moment of stillness. It may have been sought after, it may have been urged upon you. But in that stillness, your soul waits. And there's the hope.

...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Make this hope your guiding premise

Match your present to the promise, Christ will come again.
Make this hope your guiding premise, Christ will come again.
Pattern all your calculating and the world you are creating
to the advent you are waiting: Christ will come again.
---Thomas Troeger

Does the whole 'Christ coming again' idea ever confuse you? It does me (good thing the world doesn't depend on whether I have it all figured out or not!). When I read the ends of some of the Gospel accounts, it seems Christ comes again, several times over. I know that throws open a debate over what age we are currently living in, and that makes lots of folks a little nervous. Me, too; but mainly nervous over what kind of 'Kingdom Come' created here on Earth.
I like what Thomas Troeger has to say to us here, though. I hear him saying, 'Leigh Anne, live your life in line with the promises you say you believe from God. Create the world you say you are waiting on. This is the arrival that is advent.'
What do you think?

...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Thin places

Now the heavens start to whisper, 
as the veil is growing thin. 
Earth from slumber wakes to listen
to the stirring, faint within...
---Mary Louise Bringle

In Celtic spirituality, there are spaces where the division between the physical world and the spirit world grow 'thin', allowing for a sort of supernatural transfer between realms. In these thin places, all kinds of magic might happen.
Christianity surely has at least two 'thin places' in its story. One, the moment of Jesus' death on the cross, is marked by a literal thinning of the veil --- the heavy curtain in the Temple at Jerusalem, separating the presence of God from the presence of God's people, is ripped open from top to bottom, ending forever constructed separation between God and us. The other thin place is surely the moment of God's 'crossing over' --- the Creator of the universe taking on the skin of a creature, Word becoming the frailest of flesh. It is this thinning that we await during the Advent season.
God presents us with this thin place --- do you hear the whispered invitation? Dare we step in?


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Emmanuel comes a-singing

To us, to all, in sorrow and fear, Emmanuel comes a-singing;
his humble song is quiet and near, yet fills the earth with its ringing;
music to heal the broken soul and hymns of lovingkindness.
The thunder of his anthems rolls to shatter all hatred and violence.
---Marty Haugen

I have a Tibetan singing bowl. To play it, I slowly and steadily circle a heavy wooden dowel around the rim of the bowl. At first, I would promise that nothing is happening. But I keep the dowel circling, slowly, steadily. And gradually I feel a vibration in the fingertips on which I balance the bowl. And then there is a low hum, the kind I wonder if I am imagining. But it is there, and it is steady and solid in some way. And the longer I circle the dowel, the fuller the sound grows, and I can hear it and feel it filling me.
I imagine Emmanuel coming, singing, this same way. We may not hear a song at first; may just notice a change in the quality of the air in the space. Then, the slightest hint of harmonic vibration; and as you stand very still, you realize the song the Savior sings resonates through every cell in your body, and rings in every corner of your soul. Overwhelmed with the music, you become the song the Savior sings.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

That was joy you heard

Repeat the sounding joy!
---Isaac Watts

I just hosted a Christmas party, and pure joy broke out. One minute we were eating chicken salad and chips and cookies, and drinking ginger ale, and playing Dirty Santa (I stole Meagan's totally cool mug set!), and Matt was dancing in an elf hat --- just your average party.
But then. Joy. And the best kind. The unexpected, sneak-up-on-you, pull-the-rug-out-from-under-you joy that takes your breath away. Someone turned around on the piano bench and pounded out a few chords, paged through one of the carol books. Someone got the guitar, Spenser tootled on the recorder (just like she learned in 5th grade). The bass got added, uke, bells, drum, kazoo, Tibetan prayer cymbals. And the joy broke out all over. The kind that makes this generation grab their iPhones and press REC. We sang, and played, and laughed. We made up our own song, made plans to take the show on the road.
It was a little bit of Christmas magic.
A moment of pure, sounding joy.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Peace...and quiet

The Lord bless you and keep you,
the Lord's face shine upon you,
Lord be gracious to you;
the Lord's countenance shine upon you,
and give you peace. And quiet.
---Isaiah 6:24-26, and Abby

If you have been a parent of several children who are all very young at once, you will know the feeling --- that sensation of never quite catching up, or settling down, or, you know, breathing. There is always something you didn't do, or something huge you've potentially dropped off the radar entirely. The physical exhaustion is hard to describe, and the mental contest of comparing the job you are doing to that of your closest friends and family also raising families is cruel and useless.
Into that kind of life, we could all use a little peace. At the end of each long day, full of joy, and wonder, and tears, and frustration, and fun, I would stand in the room where my three very young children lay, readying for what I fervently prayed would be a good night's sleep. I laid my hand on each head in turn, a blonde, a dark brunette, and a wispy dishwater, and prayed this blessing for these children who were surely the best part of me. And , showing that no careless comment goes unheard during the rest of the day, my observant middle child decided that the good Lord would, in all wisdom, give peace and quiet. Perfect. My first thought would have bee written in sarcasm font --- no scripture goes untwisted. But then. But then...I thought, perfect (remove sarcasm font). I had blessed my children, and Abby had returned the blessing to me. She had added the word she believed would make that blessing perfect in my life, in that moment. Perfect. and Blessed.
You know, sometimes peace comes quiet. Sometimes it come raucous. Sometimes peace comes suddenly, more often after long toil. Sometimes peace comes completely, sometimes ragtag and partial.
In this holy season, peace comes both beginning and achieved --- in a Babe.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Hold fast to dreams

Hold fast to dreams
for if dreams die
 life is a broken winged bird 
that cannot fly.
---Langston Hughes

Langston Hughes knew something that maybe the Apostle Paul did not. Forgive me if I overstate; maybe it was that Paul was off making a different point entirely. Paul ended his famous treatise on love with the bold statement "And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love; and the greatest of these is love" (I Cor. 13:13). The Beatles were known to have crooned 'All you need is love (ba-ba-ba-da-da)'. Maybe they got the idea from Virgil, who said 'Omnia Vincit Amor (Love Conquers All)'.
But Langston Hughes, he was on to something. When your hope runs out, when your dreams die, nothing else seems to count for much. Without hope, love seems empty desire. Without hope, any endeavor seems controlled by some heartless fate.
But hope. Hope gives wing to what may lie in our futures.
Take heart. Hold fast to hope.


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

AND...

They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks. 
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
---Isaiah 2:4

There is a long and proud tradition in this world. If you are against something, and need to destroy it, burn it up! Off the top of my head I can think of burnings of subversive books (in real life, in Nazi history, and in Farenheit 451), rock and roll records (young readers, I'll explain records later), ugly Christmas sweaters (I kid you not), confiscated marijuana crops, Korans, piles of old tires (if you live out in the country in the past), bought-back illegal handguns, dead bodies during plague years, even 'witches' (alive, during dark days of our country's own history).
And when I read the prophetic message contained in Isaiah 2, I could picture the efficiency with which swords and spears, implements of war one and all, could have been gathered up into the world's largest and most justified bonfire. What better way to bring peace than to destroy forever the instruments of violence and hatred? And yet God's ways are so much higher than my ways, God's creativity drawing lovely circles around my crude connect-the-dots. Because destruction, even of pure evil, is never God's final word. God's final word is redemption, even of evil.
Another way top say this might just be AND. Like the Coke Zero ad campaign, it is not enough for violence to cease for God to call it a day. No, the impulses that give birth to violence must be transformed to yearn for the birth pangs of peace. The dreams of revenge must morph into dreams that include sufficient supply for all of God's children.
Those spears? Those swords? Don't destroy them. Transform them. Then use them to transform the world.
Peace the world. With AND.


so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Hi Mom! Send Bitcoin!

Turn from evil and do good.
Seek peace and pursue it.
---Psalm 34:14

On Saturday our little town was visited by a few (hundred thousand) extra people. There was a pretty big football contest going on, and a show called Gameday broadcast from town on the morning of. During Gameday, folks endeavor to have their creative signs captured on camera and spread famously across the world for a few seconds. My son Sam told me a story he had heard about one college student's sign.
The sign was a riff on the familiar 'Hi Mom! Send $' scrawled by college students across the decades on signs, letters, and telegrams from State U to Hometown USA. This one, however, was for a new, digital age. This sign said, 'Hi Mom! Send ---' then had a symbol that looked like a combination of an upper-case B and a dollar sign, followed by a black and white jumble. The symbol was for Bitcoin, an "open source peer-to-peer electronic money and payment network." It is a traded commodity. The jumble was a QR code, which can be read and translated by smart phones. When folks saw the fun -looking sign, they scanned the code into their phones on a lark --- and this is where the magic began. Apparently the young man has so far made $24,000 in Bitcoin from the folk who scanned his QR code during the few seconds of air time his sign received during ESPN's Gameday broadcast.
He knew what he wanted --- and he went out and sought it. In the verse from the Psalm today, we are told to seek peace, to pursue it. We all dream of peace, visualize it, sing about it, long for it. And those are all important pursuits. But the time comes when chasing after peace is the noble pursuit. Here at Advent, we often extol the virtue of waiting. And a wise person said 'Good things come to those who wait.' But in our world filled with turmoil, mistrust, and violence, peace must be sought and pursued.
Peace must be made.
Don't wait for your Bitcoin to fall out of the sky. Get out your Sharpie and make your sign. Gameday's coming...


...so here we stand, whoever we are,
bathed in the light of a star...

Freedom...bathed in the light of a star

Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us; let us find our rest in thee.

Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a king,

Born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring.

- Charles Wesley

Advent is all about…well, you know…hope, peace, joy, and love, right? This hymn says Advent is all about…freedom…deliverance…a kingdom of grace. A topsy-turvy kingdom ruled by a child-king, reigning not over us, but in us. Free from what, we may wonder? We are living in the USA, as free as any people in the world. But there are bars that imprison us in a narrow world of small expectations and low risks. We are prisoner to our fears and sins, allowing them to hold us back from full participation in Christ’s kingdom of grace. In this kingdom there is no place for our small-minded fears and doubts.

Talk about your revolution….it’s independence day!

...so here we stand, whoever we are,

bathed in the light of a star...

Owning every bit of it

I turned 51 yesterday. And because I'm among the aged now, I'm allowed to ramble on. So --- a few things I've done in the last several years, in no particular order.
I have felt crushed, but lived to tell.
I have wept, and sighed, and stared blankly ahead into cold space.
I have laughed, sometimes because I wanted to and sometimes because I must.
I have given blood 14 times.
I opened my first solo checking account. Ever.
I've watched too much TV and read too few books.
I subscribed to a dozen magazines in one year.
I let them all lapse until I try out all the ideas I tore out of them.
I've panicked over 'getting things done'.
I've wasted time that I can't get back, no matter how panicked I am.
I have blamed myself.
I have, upon reflection and with much deliberation, rejected mislaid blame and laid it down.
I have watched as some friendships languished, and others flourished.
I have seen failure, and success, and I have obsessed over both.
I've grown more aware of the sadness in life, and more mindful of the joy.
I'm older. I'm definitely wiser.
I'm grayer.
And I'm owning every bit of it.

...though the earth should change

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear,
though the earth should change...
     ---from Psalm 46

The world of Psalm 46 is fearsome --- full of natural disasters, the man-made disaster of war, and, most of all, 'change'. When has the earth changed for you? Was it tsunami, wildfire? The Gulf War Syndrome or traumatic brain injury that have followed our fighting men and women home from war? The day we remember today, when terrorists flew planes into the twin towers of the world trade centers? The day 50 years ago when cowards in Birmingham set off bombs that took the lives of four little girls, and the dogs and fire-hoses were unleashed on the youth of the city? Or has your earth changed more privately? Beloved friend or family member wasting away with cancer? A child wandering away from you? A failure at work or in marriage?
Obviously, our belief in God didn't protect us from these disasters of circumstance, of nature, of hatred, of gaps in medical knowledge; nor were we protected from our questions about how these things happen to 'good' people in God's world.
In this 46th chapter of Psalm 46, though, God is described as 'refuge', 'strength', 'help', 'presence', 'with us'. Right here, right now, amid our troubles, God is present with us. When the earth changes, God is with us. When the whole world seems to shake with the portent of evils now or yet to come, God is with us.
Be still; acknowledge God's presence. When we need to hide from the changes and be quiet, God is here --- refuge, strength, help. God is here with us.

V Day: a look at love

Grant Lord that with thy direction, “Love each other” we comply,

Aiming with unfeigned affection Thy love to exemplify;

Let our mutual love be glowing, so that all will plainly see

That we, as on one stem growing, living branches are in Thee.

---Nicholas Zinzendorf

There’s an old song by Rockwell (featuring the lovely sound of Michael Jackson’s vocals) with the line, “I always feel like somebody’s watchin’ me.” When I read this hymn, with its text dating from the 1700’s, I immediately thought of Rockwell’s line. People may be confused about (or unconcerned with) the big ideas for which the church stands. They may not understand the intricacies of Biblical interpretation or theological thinking.

They thing they do know and notice? Society, the big ‘they’ out there, know that our law is love. That our corporate life is expressed in love. That our love is the representation on earth of God’s love for us. Or, they know all of that is supposed to be true. 

And the other thing about ‘them’? 

They are watching.

Lenten Journey: Between the Dust and Ashes

for those friends who couldn't be with us at AFBC this morning ---

join this Lenten journey with us...

Reading from the Psalms

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.

Before the mountains were brought forth,

Or ever you had formed the earth,

From everlasting to everlasting You are God.

You turn us back to dust, and say, ‘Turn back, you mortals.’

For a thousand years in your sight are like yesterday

When it is past, or like a watch in the night.

You sweep them away; they are like a dream.

Like grass that is renewed in the morning;

In the morning it flourishes and is renewed;

In the evening it fades and withers.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me

Bless God’s holy name.

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all God’s benefits.

Who forgives all your iniquity,

Who heals all your diseases,

Who redeems your life from the pit.

Who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy,

Who satisfies you with good as long as you live,

So that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,

So great is your steadfast love toward those who honor you.

As far as the east is from the west,

So far you remove our transgressions from us.

As parents have compassion for their children,

So you have compassion for those who honor you.

For you know how we were made;

You remember that we are dust.

(from Psalms 90 and 103)

Message

Ashes and dust. Hearing that these compose

Our beginnings and our endings is sobering for us.

But really, this helps us keep our lives in perspective.

The space between the dust and ashes is our life,

Embraced and energized by the steady,

Strong love of God.

What will we do with this space between dust and ashes?

How will we spend our time on this Lenten journey

That leads to the cross, and beyond it to the empty tomb?

The expression “give it up for Lent” is a familiar one.

I propose that there is more to life than what we give up.

The impulse to give something up comes from a desire

To make more space in our lives.

I am asking you today to find something in your life

To give up for this Lenten journey,

But not to stop there.

I ask you to lay down something,

And then to determine what you will pick up

In its place.

What service or devotion will you add to your life

In this season of waiting and preparation?

I invite you to find the slip of paper you received

On coming in this morning,

And to fill in both sides, the ‘lay down’ and the ‘pick up’.

Infuse your life with meaning in the time between dust and ash.

When you are ready, come receive ashes on your forehead or hand

As a reminder of your commitment to fully live each day.

Blessing

“You are ash, beginning to end. Live for Christ.”

Happy Birthday to My Favorite Radical

O holy night! The starts are brightly shining, it is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Truly he taught us to love one another, his law is love and his gospel is peace.
Chains shall he break, for the slave is our brother, 
And in his name ALL oppression shall cease.

The beloved French carol from the mid-19th century, 'Cantique de Noel', lays bare any comfortable, status quo message contained in the typical Christmas card. The Baby born today brought no message of "atta boy" and "You're doing a heckuva job, Brownie". The birth of this Baby, instead, was a clarion call for the turning of the world; and not a thing would ever be the same. With the break of a new morning, the old day passed away. With Jesus' birth, the value of each soul was upheld, and treating all people as sisters and brothers transformed relationships and communities. As easy as it is to see how popular this carol would have been with 19th century abolitionists, we give ourselves too much credit, perhaps, to think that our 21st century society values everyone equally. Who are the people we see as unclean, unworthy, or just a little too 'out there' to be included in the number of God's family today? What oppression is there yet to cease? And what is our responsibility in ending that oppression? No gospel for the weak of constitution, the message from this Baby-turned-radical. Lord, I want to be in that number!

So, happy birthday, Jesus! You will always be my favorite radical.

The Currency of Love

Love came down at Christmas, Love all lovely, Love divine:
Love was born at Christmas; star and angel gave the sign.
Love shall be our token; love be yours and love be mine;
Love to God and others, love for plea and gift and sign.

In this lovely poem by Christina Rosetti, a world where love is the currency of the realm is imagined. It got me to thinking; what would our world be like if its most valued, most precious, and most plentiful resource was love? What if, instead of money, we threw love at the problems of our world? What if we lavishly spent our love on each other, confident that more could just be 'minted'? Imagine a currency with no scarcity!

In our world, love is available freely to us, with no scarcity or shortage. The thing is, I think it is a little like the manna the people encountered in their wanderings in the wilderness. That manna fell in plentiful supply, with enough for everyone, every single day. Human nature being what it is though, there were those who tried to hoard the manna against some future scarcity, thinking to safeguard or enrich themselves. The thing about the manna, though, is that it was only good if used (eaten) the day it fell; otherwise, that manna spoiled and rotted, tucked away for greed.

Let us trust enough in the Maker of Love to lavishly spend our love on God and each other, confident in its unending supply. Yes, we can 'just print more'!

Half-spent

Lo, how a rose e'er blooming from tender stem hath sprung.
Of Jesse's lineage coming as saints of old have sung. 
It came a floweret bright, amid the cold of winter,
When half-spent was the night.
This flower, whose fragrance tender with sweetness fills the air, 
Dispels with glorious splendor the darkness everywhere.
True man, yet very God, from sin and death he saves us,
And lightens every load.

Are you like me? Do you have those nights where you wake, peer futilely into the darkness, and know that you won't be going back to sleep? 'Half-spent night' seems like the perfect description of that 3 a.m. kind of waking; Ray Bradbury said in his novel 'Something Wicked This Way Comes' that nothing good ever came of a wakefulness at such an hour. When I picture the world at the time of Jesus' birth, I think of a half-spent night kind of existence. For the Jews, a prophetic voice had been absent for 400 years or so, and the Romans were firmly in control of their lives. It was time for...something; they may not have known what, but for something.

Then, into the emptiness and dark of a 3 a.m. waking, a rose; more than that, a winter rose, one out of season, and the more precious for it. I am not sure what 'glorious splendor' would look like, but it seems you would have to feel such a splendor. And, along with the darkness are chased away the fears and doubts that wait till 3 a.m. to surface. The fragrance of splendor takes up the space once filled with the acrid odor of unknowing and doubt. And that Rose, with an unimaginable tender power, lightens our load, and continues to lighten our load.

Creators of Justice and Joy

For everyone born, a place at the table, for everyone born, clean water and bread,
a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing, for everyone born, a star overhead; 
and God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy, compassion and peace!
---Shirley Erena Murray

You have probably said it, prayed it, whined it even. I know I have. 'God, where is the justice? Why must we live in such an unfair world? Why can't we all just get along?' For those times that I find myself in need of a 'Why, Lord?' intervention, this hymn hits home every time. Entitled 'For Everyone Born, a Place at the Table', this modern hymn by New Zealand hymnist Shirley Erena Murray turns all my questions upside down. For in this song, God is cheering us on, as we work for justice, as we seek to make this world a fair and safe place for all. God is delighting as we use our power as children of God as a force for good in this world --- for looking after the least, the lost, the littlest in the kingdom. When we as people of faith let loose a little more compassion in the world, a little more peace, a little more 'enough' for God's global family, that star overhead shines a little more brightly, guiding the way to the place where the Baby lies.

God will delight when we create justice in this world! Imagine a world where everyone born has enough, and God rejoices over us!

Mighty King, Gentle Friend

Child appealing, Light revealing, Jesus Christ, our Pleasure;
God, yet very Son of Mary, heaven's Gift and Treasure.
Mighty King, gentle Friend, as our Lord to us bend,
with your blessing us caressing, now descend, now descend.
---Let Our Gladness Banish Sadness

This hymn is new to me, but not new. Its tight rhyme is a contemporary translation by Jaroslav Vajda of a Slovak version of a 14th century Latin text. Whew, that's a mouthful! In its simple words are deep, joyful truths about the person of Jesus Christ. One of the great mysteries of the faith I have chosen as my title today: Jesus as both a mighty ruler and a gentle friend. Might and gentleness don't often meet in one person, and it fascinates me to think of Jesus as both. Then look at a phrase that would seem impossible, a lord bending to serve, only in a world turned on its head by our gentle friend. And a phrase to fall in love with: Jesus Christ, our Pleasure. To our world, with its sadnesses and sorrows, our gentle friend, our pleasure, comes, caressing us with the only blessing that counts --- the blessing of Christ's presence with us.

The Weary Road

All 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

This unfamiliar verse of the very familiar carol "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" has always drawn my soul. We all read our lives into the songs we sing, I think, and I read mine into this verse. I have felt that this verse speaks to anyone dealing with a chronic condition, toiling sometimes with 'painful steps and slow'. This Advent, I feel it speaks to many, many of us, burdened with cares and sorrows beyond our comprehension. Who of us does not now feel crushed, stooped, weary of the pain of being human in a world full of humans?

But look! Ahead of us shine hours of ease and gladness, golden in their comfort. Some who know me may be saying, right about now, that it is not like me to talk about "pie in the sky, bye and bye", and you would be right. Stay with me. The genius in this verse, and in the grace offered us, is that the angels don't come like shiny aliens and whisk us away to a world where nothing matters anymore. No, the angels' song fills the skies over the weary road. Picture yourself, and me, all of us, laid out on the hoods of our cars, wrapped in fleece blankets against the December chill; and there, because we happen to be travelers on this weary road, we hear angels. Because life has led us here, where we are, how we are, dealing with what we must, we hear the angels sing.

Wouldn't miss it for the world.

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.

I Will Gather You

The Lord your God is with you, mighty to save.
The Lord will take great delight in you, 
will quiet you with love, 
will rejoice over you with singing.
I will rescue the lame and gather those who have been scattered.
At that time I will gather you;
at that time I will bring you home.
---the prophet Zephaniah

On this Gaudate Sunday, this Rejoice Sunday of Advent, it is hard to summon up joy. When we close our eyes, it is the faces of slaughtered children that stare back at us, it is news reports of carnage that ring in our ears, it is nightmares that flood our dreamscapes. Where does joy come from in a time saturated with sorrow?

I thank God for the lectionary, the 3 year cycle of prescribed Bible readings for use in worship and study. The lectionary, if followed, keeps us from selecting "pet" scriptures to which we return repeatedly at the expense of other scripture. If not for the lectionary, what are the odds that many of us would have spent time today with the prophet Zephaniah, looking for joy? And here we find our source of joy, in the midst of any circumstance. The God of the universe is here with us, rejoicing over...us. We will be gathered to God, a gathering that is not just a heavenly gathering, but one that can begin here and now. Like a loving Father, God will save and rescue. Like a loving Mother, our God gathers us to God's bosom, and brings us home.

Rejoice, brothers and sisters.

Where Is God?

How could this happen? How could we let this happen? Didn't his mother know he was ill, know that a home with mental illness inside is not a place for guns? Were security procedures followed? Was he seeing a therapist or counselor who should have known he was a danger? How will shattered families be made whole? Will the world ever feel safe again? Where is peace?

In all of these questions, we really just ask this one: Where is God? Where is God when innocents are slaughtered, when madness goes unnoticed until it is too late, when the world turns upside down? Where in God's name is God?

Immortal Babe, who this dear day
Didst change thine heaven for our clay,
And didst with flesh thy godhead veil,
Eternal Son of God, all hail!

The answer, whether in verse (this one from the Bishop of Exeter in the 1600's), or in a word (Emmanuel) is...God with us. When we suffer, when we mourn, when we give in to despair --- somehow, someway, God with us. There may be unanswered questions, and asking them may rend our hearts. But the answer to THE question, the one that vanishes our loneliness and fears, is just this: God is with us, in the middle of our mess, our sorrow, our anguish.

Emmanuel --- God with us.

Passing Understanding

Today should be a day of peace, in a week of peace observed during Advent. Today should be one for viewing each other as brothers and sisters, seeking community and fellowship. Today should be a day blanketed in thanksgiving for the gift of peace continually offered to our world. Today is not that day.

Today is a mourning day, a questioning day, a rearranging day. How are we to think of our earth-mates, our community members, when one of us could gun down twenty-six others of us? How are we to live with this not-peace? How are people of peace to respond?

First, to know that families touched by unspeakable violence will need the freedom to express whatever emotions they may encounter; to know that we should be ever ready to offer a listening ear, free of judgement or platitude; to know that this deep hurt, the hurt especially of losing a child, will shape parents and other family members now and forever. Second, to know that the family of the shooter will never outlive the taint of association, or of blame; to know that we cannot be agents of healing unless we are willing for all to be healed and embraced; to know that we can't know. Third, to know that a 24-year-old young man, who should be starting out his adult life and seeking to contribute to society, has broken the peace in such a way; to know that the not-peace of an unquiet mind is a kind of confusing hell; to know that our society must explore what can be done to heal the mind, and what can be done to safeguard the  society, the suffering, and the perpetrator from massive acts of violence. If there are ways we can make this happen, we as peace-seekers must make these things happen.

And last, and first, and overarching, there is peace to be experienced. It is the peace that passes all understanding, crazy peace. Somehow, peace...

Pregnant with Peace

The peace of the earth be with you,
the peace of the heavens too;
the peace of the rivers be with you,
the peace of the oceans too.
Deep peace falling over you;
God's peace growing in you.

If you are in Auburn this night, and you happen to walk out of doors, you will fall in love with the sky, too. I just know it. Dark, dark velvet, yard upon yard of fine velvet; pinpricks of a million stars blinking down stillness; your breath creating the only not-black in the expanse. You will stand still, resisting the shaking and shivering that tempt your not-quite-dressed-for-the-weather body. You will look up. And up. And up. And not get to the top of up. And you will feel the pull of a tide of peace on your body; the earth and heavens long for peace; your own longing answers.

And as peace falls on you, you will realize: the Advent season offers a chance, maybe the only one in a frantic time, to wait with peace. And on this night, you will wait like Mary. You, too, are pregnant with peace.

Creation Will Be at Peace

In the holy mountain of the Lord, all war and strife will cease; 
In the holy mountain of the Lord, creation will be at peace.
The wolf will lie down with the lamb, the cow and the bear will feed,
Their young will lay together; a little child will lead.
The leopard and goat will graze, the lion will feed on straw.
They will war no more. A child will lead them all.
---J. Paul Williams

In this beautiful setting from the prophet Isaiah, Williams envisions a world at peace. what catches me off-guard is that a little child is the only human mentioned. In my mind, I picture creation at peace, until humans come in and screw things up. This setting reminds me that human and animal nature both tend toward violence, domination, and power-grabbing. When we speak of 'the way of the world', it is this world of which we speak. This 'mine, mine, mine', every man for himself, dog-eat-dog world, where there is a 'king of beasts', and a 'king of the mountain', and a 'top dog'. But Jesus, the little child foreshadowed in Isaiah's prophecy, was a topsy-turvy kind of savior; he of the littlest, least, lost, and lonely. In Jesus' vision of the world, even natural animal adversaries can take on a peace nature. Creation itself. and all that is in it, can live at peace.

In Paths of Peace

Through war-torn streets where hope is dead,

Fly bombs and anger ‘round our heads.

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through homes where love cannot to be found,

And violence spreads the fear around,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through lands where food just will not grow,

And streams of water never flow,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through minds where illness takes first place,

And wholeness longs for any space,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

Through challenges of this our time,

Through rage, neglect, greed’s paradigm,

We raise the cry, “God hear our plea

And guide our feet in paths of peace.”

When things seem worst, we hear the song

Hope sings above the din of wrong:

The song of One who hears our plea.

Christ guides our feet in paths of peace.

...and Give You Peace

The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord's face shine upon you and graciousness cover you;
the Lord's countenance turn toward you,
and give you peace...
---priestly blessing
"and quiet."
---Armstrong kids

This blessing, recorded in the book of Numbers, was a favorite 'goodnight' for my children when they were small. There is a hush about it, a kind of settling peace. It encapsulated a sacred moment of the sometimes hectic days with three small children in tow. Without fail, one or the other of my kids would whisper their own benedictive ending to the blessing, adding 'and quiet' to the ancient prayer. Apparently the concept of 'peace and quiet' was a familiar refrain for them at that time, although I will promise you that I don't remember the words being paired in my vocabulary! Somewhere, sometime, they had heard the wistful wish for a little peace and quiet.

But this peace --- the peace of looking into the face of a loving God, of being known to the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, of being cherished, of basking in the warmth of God's grace --- this peace is not the 'peace and quiet' variety. It is the transforming variety.

"...and give you peace."

No King, But a Prince

His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor...

Prince of Peace.

When my son Sam was a child, he asked me a question during the Christmas season: "Why is Jesus called Prince of Peace? Who is the King of Peace?" I was stopped short in my tracks. Having grown up in choirs, singing 'For Unto Us a Son Is Born' from Handel's Messiah, I had never given a second thought to the moniker 'Prince of Peace.' But, Sam is right --- why not a king? I have since reflected on this (after, I'm sure, stumbling on my initial response), and feel some stirrings of what might be understanding.

In my mind's eye, a king, regal and powerful, rules (either well or poorly) over subjects. A king would use power to rule. A king speaks, and it is so. A king is indisputably the most important being in any room, sphere, or realm. A king is "the man", no ifs, and or buts.

A prince? Well now, a prince is a different sort of ruler altogether. The prince must win the hearts of the people, must take a place in the hierarchy as one without absolute power. The prince might lead with gentleness, with good humor. 

A Prince? A Prince might just wage not war, but peace. The image is of an incomprehensible reign of peace, maybe even the peace that passes understanding.

Prince of Peace.

Revealed in its season

As first time homeowners in Atlanta many years ago, Henry and I pulled up a dead bush that looked like a bundle of kindling from a front flowerbed, and threw it on a pile of dirt in the side yard. Summer came, and we noticed it had burst out with lovely pink torrents of flowers; we had pulled up a dormant crepe myrtle! Despite our lack of care and proper treatment, it had somehow survived to show its true colors, in its season.  How glad I am that, in the dormant periods of my life, when I may look as dead as a bundle of sticks, God doesn't toss me on the trash heap. In season, I believe, we can all begin to show signs of life again. If you see someone who seems dead to you, no signs of life, no visible growth, don't count them out; don't write them out of your life. Only wait, and love; in her time, in his season, there may be torrents of bloom there once again. And friend, if you are experiencing a great dryness, a great alone-ness, an other-ness, a deadness of soul...wait. Just wait. Though dormant for a season, there will be a living time for you. Wait for beauty's revealing in you, friend. Wait with expectation.

Pillar of the world

Hope is the pillar of the world.

If you are like me, there are times in life when you need a firm foundation. All around you, because of trouble you have caused, troubles others have caused, or just because of the frailty of being human, the ground gives way. Things you thought you could believe, you now question. Institutions you once trusted, you now doubt. People you thought would be there always, go away. Clouds obscure the sun in the day, and the stars at night.

But hope...hope is the pillar of the world. Hope is invested in tomorrow, and can nourish us through the famine of present disappointment and sorrow. That hope; that hope sustains, strengthens, enables.

Hope holds us up.

Dark the night...

Now, Lord Jesus, hear our calling, 
Deep the darkness where we stray;
How shall we, mid boulders falling,
Know for thine the rough-hewn way?
Lo, a light shines down to guide us,
Where thy saints and angels are! 
Now we know thy love beside us;
For our eyes have seen the star.

The words of this Welsh carol strike me today, which in east Alabama was dreary and hot, with a threatening, steely sky. One of those days when it is easy to feel lost, or at least tiny and overlooked. It is so easy to be distracted by what seems a good enough path, to follow what seems like a path but is really a rut. But, friends, as lost, or tiny, or alone as I feel, there is One whose presence I cannot deny on my path. The birth we celebrate in this season is the hope of not having to journey solitary through this life, of not having to blindly lurch through our day-to-day existences. I have felt the love of the Christ beside me, illuminated by the star.

Never alone.

Faith, hope, and love, these three...

Faith, hope, and love, these three remain;
But the greatest of these is love.

Who of us has not been at a wedding (our own or another's) and heard this famous quotation from Paul's letter to the church at Corinth? According to St. Paul, love trumps everything else. Not everyone agrees. Jim Evans, a former pastor of mine, claimed that hope reigned supreme of the three (I'm sure he meant no offense to St. Paul, or inerrantists). Without faith, he said, a life could still be meaningful with hope and love; likewise, without love, a life of faith and hope could sustain someone. Hopeless, though, all the faith and love in the world would be useless. Without hope, the soul is rendered helpless to wield the weapons of faith and love in the good fight against the shadows in the world. Hopeless, nothing else matters.

Friends, it may be shadowy or even inky dark in your life right now. But the dawn is coming. Hold on to hope.

Life, for our dead places

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings.

Mild he lays his glory by, born that we no more may die,

Born to raise us from the earth, born to give us second birth.

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the new-born King!”

There is a danger in the carols of Christmas, one that threatens to deaden us to the wisdom hidden within. This danger is familiarity, the same quality that makes them beloved. Anywhere you go, you are apt to hear some version of this carol, sung or played by a wide variety of ensembles. Many of us could sing this carol in our sleep --- all three verses!

Our familiarity with this carol should not, however, blind us to the message of comfort and hope contained within. Hear these words anew: “Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings….” We all know that in the midst of the great joy of the season lurk illness, injury, grief, and sorrow. These are part of life, and do not miraculously disappear during Advent and Christmastide. But there is good news, even in darkness! There is one who brings light for our darkness, life for our dead places, and healing for what hurts us. In the middle of this tumultuous existence, Christ comes to meet our deepest needs.

'Wish' is not 'hope'

Perhaps hope has wings,
and feet...

St. Disney is famous for the phrase, "A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep." And while, a week ago, I made a wish on (mercifully fewer than the actual 50) birthday candles before I blew them out, I have always felt that wishes were toothless and lacking in power. Now, hear me out; I'm not anti-dream-for-the-future. I just think there has to be a more active way to mold the future than by wishing.

Consider 'hope'. Not the "hope you feel better" hope, or even the "hope Santa is nice to you" hope. I'm thinking of that hope with some lift in it, and some feet under it. To hope for something, to place your hope in something or someone, is to commit your own efforts to bring the thing you hope for to fruition. To hope is to step across the line from interested observer to active participant.

The kind of hope the birth of Jesus brought, was this --- hope with power; the power of the hoper, the power of those who 'catch' the hope. This kind of hope, now, in a mean season, is hope with wings, and feet.

God with us!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel shall come to thee,

O Israel!

Breathless from the bustle of autumn, we arrive at the first Sunday of Advent. Here in a football town, it seems we rush straight through football season ( no matter what kind of season it is) headlong into the string of holidays that stretch from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. If we observe it, the season of Advent can give us a chance to take a breath, focus on the meaning of Christ’s birth, prepare our hearts for a sea change.

Abby and Sarah have always felt that this hymn, from the 12^th century, is the only appropriate way to usher in the season. I think that its words delineate the difference between Christianity and religion. First there is the name given for this coming Savior --- Emmanuel, “God with us”. Not “God up there”, or “God on a throne”, or “God with a big naughty or nice list and a long memory”. God…with…us. Then there is the rest of the short refrain: “Emmanuel shall come to thee”. Jesus is the God who comes to us. No more beseeching the heavens, stumbling around in the dark, crying out and hearing only the echo of our prayers.

God with us, come to us. Rejoice!

Light in a Shadowy Night

It's true. The birth of Jesus, what we celebrate as Christmas, was no big thing. Conception shrouded in personal scandal, to backwater parents, in a busy little town preoccupied with a Roman census, marked by domesticated animals and a scruffy group of shepherds. No big thing.

But, like the smallest flame in total darkness, thoroughly transformative. From dark, to not dark.

If you have always wondered what the big thing was, or if you doubt that a little light could make that much difference, you are invited. Come with me on a journey, a search, for a little light in our shadowy night.

Let's make Advent together --- hope in a mean season, peace in a tumultuous time, joy in a desert place, love in a wounded world.

50 Ways to Celebrate!

Hello, friends! In this month of November, I will turn 50 years old. Now many of you may be asking, "What in the world can I do to make Leigh Anne's birthday memorable?!" Well, I'll tell you! For the 50 days leading up to the big day, I have been doing something small to help make the world around me a little better place, and I'm asking you to join me. The list that follows consists of 50 examples of acts of kindness, ways to invest in your community, from which you might want to choose one. When you have picked an act of kindness, and performed it, you can wish me a happy birthday by reporting on your kindness, either here on the blog or on my facebook page.
I'll have a great birthday month, and we'll all be better for it! If you're ready to roll up your sleeves, read on! And thanks in advance for helping me to make this birthday a really meaningful one!

50 Ways to Celebrate

1. Give blood.
2. Donate to your local food bank. $ go furthest, but peanut butter and tuna are welcome.
3. Donate to domestic violence shelter: working cell phones, black trash bags, bleach.
4. Donate household goods and clothes: ACHR allows eligible clients to shop free.
5. Pay at the drive-through for the next customer in line.
6. Offer to rake an elderly neighbor's yard.
7. Write a note to an old friend with whom you've been out of touch.
8. Tell a family member something you love about them.
9. Apologize sincerely for something you've done, or failed to do.
10. Celebrate someone else's good fortune.
11. Sit and mourn with a grieving person.
12. Thank someone for an uplifting tweet or facebook post.
13. Compliment someone on something other than appearance.
14. Write a letter or email to someone in public service, thanking him or her for their work on behalf of the community.
15. Walk somewhere instead of driving.
16. Listen to a child.
17. Listen to an elderly person, at their pace.
18. Drink water at a meal out, and donate the price of it.
19. Buy a $5 bunch of flowers. Give them to a stranger.
20. Sing a song out loud.
21. Drink a glass of clean, virtually-free tap water, then make a donation to a clean water organization, such as Watering Malawi or Living Waters for the World.
22. Spend 2 hours volunteering@ a school cleanup, assisted-living facility, library, food bak, or Big House.
23. Write a poem.
24. Unload the dishwasher when its not your turn.
25. Vacuum out someone's car for them.
26. Offer to take someone's empty grocery cart to the corral for them.
27. Donate pet food, bleach, or used bed and bath linens to the animal shelter.
28. Hug someone when they need it, even if you don't.
29. Forgive someone who has wronged you.
30. Gather up the change lying around your home, and donate it to a charity. Roll it first.
31. Fill the bird feeder...even if the squirrel will get some.
32. Invest in someone's dream: make a microloan on kiva.org.
33. Pet your cat or dog when you don't feel like it.
34. Return a gentle answer for rude words. Again.
35. Laugh at a bad joke. Someone else's.
36. Smile at a stranger.
37. Let someone else choose the restaurant or activity for the evening.
38. Step out of your comfort zone to make someone else comfortable.
39. Pray about something that does not personally affect you.
40. Sit in a new place @ church, school, or a gathering.
41. Forgive yourself. You can't reach for something better if you are holding tight to your failure.
42. Be open to a new idea or perspective.
43. Leave the laundry or emails. Treat yourself to a few minutes outside.
44. Let someone teach you something.
45. Take a moment to honor the memory of someone you love.
46. Leave an extra tip.
47. Cede control of the remote.
48. Write an encouraging note to someone training in your career field.
49. Carry a sack with you on your walk. Pick up trash along the way.
50. Post a 5th grade picture of yourself on facebook, to encourage a 5th grader you know.

Wing My Words

English 19th-century hymnist Frances Havergal has penned a phrase that sticks in my brain, there to intrude upon my thoughts during odd moments of reflection. Most known for the (unfortunately named) gospel hymn "Take My Life and Let It Be", Havergal, in the hymn "Lord, Speak to Me, That I May Speak", used the phrase 'wing my words'. Listen again: 'wing my words'. Wow. Aside from wishing I'd written this, I am in awe of the longing found in three short words. Oh, for the words I speak to breach space and time, finding their target with meaning and intention intact! Oh, for the hearer to really hear! This could be the breath prayer of anyone who crafts writing or speaking, desiring their words to make a difference in others' lives.

Today, though, it occurs to me that we need not pray or wish for our words to be winged. Often, our words fly, for good or ill, without our even considering them. Our words, carrying balm or wound, already wing their way to the ears and eyes of others. And these words? Carefully crafted or not, they can soothe, heal, build up, bind together. Carefully crafted or not, these words can wound, break down, destroy, build walls. For better or worse, our words are already winged, taking on a life of their own once spoken or written.

Wing my words; and let them be words of healing and encouragement. There are already enough winged words of destruction, and condemnation, and wounding. This is my breath prayer today.

When It Hurts to Be Human

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

---Rippon's Selection of Hymns, 1787

There are lots of ways to look at the rough patches and tragedies in our lives. Some folk choose to look at everything that happens as God’s distinct will, some look at bad stuff as karma or payback. I see the bad things that happen as part of the price of being truly human in this world. For me, this resonates with my observations, with history, with my own life experience, and with my belief in a loving God.

In today’s hymn, with its text from the 18^th century, the hymnist speaks from the viewpoint of a strong, caring God to a searching believer. We will be called, no choice about it, through our life experiences, to journey through deep waters; but we will not go alone. God goes with us through our troubles and distress, to bless and even to make holy those experiences that try us the most. To me this says that God can bring some worth out of even the most tragic, worthless, hurtful situation.

What a hopeful thought from a loving God!

Re-membering, and re-union

As Christ breaks bread and bids us share, each proud division ends.

The love that made us, makes us one, and strangers now are friends.

---Brian Wren

The word “communion” has shadows of many other words in it. I see community, common, commune, union, unity (also ‘ion’, but that doesn’t fit with this devotional!). What is it about communion that makes us keep it central to our religious tradition? Why is it so important to us? I think it is the concept of ‘one-ness’ that communion implies. Brian Wren has gracefully captured that yearning we have for belonging in his hymn, 'I Come with Joy' (set to a lilting American tune that will always make me want to sway when I sing it). The meal is to break down barriers, to remind us through shared elements that we are the same on some fundamental level. As John Bell, preacher and musician from Scotland says, the tradition is kept to re-member the body of Christ --- to put the pieces back together, to unite us at last.

See you at the table, to re-member the body of Christ.

Softening Rain

I waited for it; the long-promised 'big rain', the one that would feed the ground with renewing life, that would set things green again. 'It's coming,' said the weather guy, 'and it's gonna be big.' Driving early yesterday morning, I see the first spatters on my windshield. Thing is, it didn't turn into the pouring rain predicted; it just...stopped. Then started again, a few splattering drops any time I ventured outside for errands. What a rip-off, I thought; more of the same. Not even enough rain to wash the dust off the grill cover, not enough to pearl up on the bird feeder roof. Not enough.
This morning, again woke to grey, threatening skies --- the haze that makes you squint and vaguely unsettles you. And then it came: not heralded by thunder and lightning, not accompanied by gusts of wind. The rain came in sheets, one drop indistinguishable from another. Rain you couldn't stay awake in, rain you couldn't see through, the soaking rain. It didn't last long, though I think it may pay a return visit.
And then I realized: yesterday's rain had been the softening rain, loosening up sere soil and parched lawns. The softening rain, then, had not been a disappointing outcome, but a promise, a readying of the thirsty earth for the soaking rain of this day.
When you look at your life, are there times when you are disappointed by what may be only a softening rain? Await with expectation the soaking.

The Bright and Morning Star

Near the cross, a trembling soul, love and mercy found me;

There the bright and morning star sheds its beams around me.

In the cross, in the cross, be my glory ever,

Till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.

---Fanny Crosby

There is a stained-glass window here in town. It is a marvel to me, and never fails to capture my attention any time I pass. The window is all the things one would expect from stained glass --- colorful, bright, kaleidoscopic, faith-themed. For me, the window is also theologically profound. Whether this is the message intended by the artist, or the church, I don’t know; I am hoping that message, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder. Boy, do I behold it!

The window features a towering cross, perhaps three stories high. Typical, you might say. But around the cross --- oh, around the cross --- is a bursting rainbow, shards of color and light exploding from the crux, the crossing point, of the cross. Whenever I see it, I think of the way Jesus’ grace, light, love cascade down from his cross, showering the whole world with its unfocused mercy. Showers of blessing, indeed, on all of us mortals.

I have a feeling that the hymnist Fanny Crosby would dig this window, too. Because if I close my eyes, I can picture, in the center of the cross, the bright and morning star, shedding its beams. If she were here with me, we would park the car, and walk to the churchyard, and stand in the shadow of the cross, and bask in the prismatic light of the Morningstar.

---Leigh Anne

40 days, wild animals: Lenten Journey

And a voice came from heaven, "You are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."
And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was there forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.
---Mark 1:11-13

Lent. Forty days (plus Sundays) of reflection leading to Easter. But why forty? The passage above, detailing the aftermath of Jesus' baptism in the Jordan by John the Baptizer, provides our model. I have always been fascinated with Jesus' fully human state --- feeling the things we feel, experiencing the gamut of our experiences. The old court hearing question --- "What did you know, and when did you know it?" --- seems to me to apply to Jesus' life. A human like me, would Jesus have doubted his readiness for his calling, questioned his life's meaning, wondered where he fit into the grand scheme of things, been confused or afraid? To me, these are essentially human questions.

So, after hearing that he was indeed claimed by God as Beloved Son, Jesus was 'driven' into the wilderness. Have you ever had those times in your life where you felt 'driven' to ask the hard questions about yourself and your place in the world? Have you come to places where to compromise something essential in yourself seems to be the only way to accomplish your goals? Have you been tempted to give up on something good to accept something adequate? Looked for shortcuts to good ends? Wondered, "Why me?"

Here, then, is your wild place, your forty days to ask the hard questions, to find out what you believe about yourself and your relationship with God and this world, to reflect on what it means to be 'beloved' of God.

And the 'wild beasts'? That is a fascinating mystery to me --- important to the story (else the succinct Mark would not have wasted space on it in his slim Gospel), mentioned in the same breath with the angels that attended him. My immediate reaction to the phrase --- 'wild beasts' --- evokes snarling, predatory danger. But then I think, could those beasts have been a benevolent part of this episode? What could Jesus have learned from the beasts of the field, the fish of the sea, the birds of the air? We know the stories of Jesus that are preserved as parables are full of animal examples of how the reign of God looks. I have to think that every part of this wilderness period of Jesus' life deepened his understanding of who he was, and what was to be his journey.

May our journey be blessed, by knowing our belovedness, by searching, by angels attending, maybe even by the company of wild beasts.

Put down, pick up: Lenten journey

Wednesday marks the open of the Lenten season, and we are familiar with the idea of "giving up something for Lent." I would encourage you to consider with me the purpose of giving up something. At the risk of offending popular culture, "giving it up for Lent" is not to help break a bad habit, to jump start a diet, or to save money. And though there may be some aspect of self-denial involved in the practice, I don't believe Lent is meant to be a body- or spirit-punishing discipline. Stay with me here, if you will. I believe that the purpose of Lent is to open our hands. When we hold onto our lives, our things, our status, our comforts, our time tightly, to keep them close (and to keep them to ourselves), our hands are clenched around them; the only way to hold on is to grab and to grasp, and to hang on for dear life. Only, so often it turns out that the life we are holding on to is anything but dear; it is plain, and dreary, and common. In order to make room in our hands for some truly worthy thing, something of value, we must open our fists and risk letting something go. Just let it go. And look at your open hands. And wait, with expectation. Blessings in this wilderness season...

Home by another route

"And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
they left for their own country by another road."
---Gospel of Matthew 2:12

Just days ago, the Feast of the Kings was celebrated; Epiphany, the festival of the manifestation, the "made-known-ness", of Christ as Gift to the world. In this season, we celebrate eyes opening, hearts softening, minds embracing the possibility of a Savior for all of humanity. From the time the Magi (whoever they were, and however many, and from wherever they had come) had begun their star-guided journey, till the time they turned around to head home, the world had changed. The Treasure to which the Magi had been led had become worshipped, and hunted. Their insight, openness to dream, warned them home by another route.

Perhaps another way to describe the insight of the Magi is the word 'epiphany'. Epiphany, the moment in time when something becomes crystal clear, when the essence of an idea is stumbled upon. The thing is, I'm of the mind that epiphanies are not serendipities. See, serendipities are discoveries made by luck or accident, and they are great when they happen. But epiphanies? I think they occur when we prepare for, study for, hope for, wait for them with expectation. If you stumble upon a sudden enlightenment, it is more than likely you were wandering in the general vicinity of your epiphany. It is not surprising that the Magi discerned the danger in retracing their steps; they lived a life of seeking, and of openness to being guided. They were in position for their epiphany.

You and I? I hope the same goes for us in this new season. Can we be open, seeking, expectant --- ready for our epiphanies? Can we be led, by star or by dream, toward a place of more grace?

And getting home? It's been my experience that all of us travel home by another route. The road we got there on just doesn't serve us on the way home. That trail has grown thick with weeds, choked with the half-formed ideas of our youths. We all need to go home by another route, God help us...