When Christmas Isn’t Tinselly

Maybe your first thought when you saw that the title of this post includes the word Christmas was “how behind is she?”  I do know that in the wider culture (and even sometimes in our churches), Christmas has come and gone.  New Years Eve and New Years Day has come and gone.  Store holiday sections are now anticipating Valentines Day.  But hear me out: I’m living into the church calendar and continuing to contemplate the miracle of the incarnation during this Christmas season (which lasts 12 days until January 6).  After the expectation and longings of Advent, we get more than one day for Christmas.  In the church calendar, the color of Christmas is white, a color of joy and celebration.  In American culture, which generally skips Advent, we get a whole month to be be happy and glowing and full of good cheer.  But the incarnation isn’t really a tinselly affair.  It is messy, gritty, painful. 


I’ve been listening to Handel’s Messiah during Advent and Christmas.  One song that stuck out to me takes its text from Isaiah 53:4-5: “Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows! He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon Him.”  This verse is often used during Lent, but it seemed so right to think about this verse during Christmas.  Jesus took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood (see John 1 in The Message) as a tiny, helpless baby.  And Jesus grew up; he lived a human life and faced its trials and uncertainties without sin.  Hebrews tells us that Jesus can empathize with our every weakness.  Jesus bears our griefs and carries our sorrows.

This is what Christmas is all about.  Jesus, the second person of the Trinity, took on flesh.  Through the Holy Spirit, Jesus walks with us.  He knows our pain.  He carries our sorrows.  He doesn’t take them away.  In this already-but-not-yet time we still face the troubles of this world.  But we don’t face them alone.  We face them with our merciful Savior who suffered the indignity to be born into this mess.

This has been a hard holiday season for me.  I identify with the themes of Advent—the waiting, the longing, the expectation—much more than the joy and peace of Christmas.  When I heard the chorus singing “surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” as I sat alone in my room, grieving this season of my life, I heard the Christmas story in a new way.  It isn’t just a “silent night, holy night.”  Christmas is pain and joy mixed together.  The joy of a child born mixed with the pain of childbirth, Mary and Joseph’s tenuous social position, and the humiliation of God taking on flesh.  The joy of Simeon seeing salvation and finding peace to depart this earth along with his prophecy that a sword would pierce Mary’s soul, too (Luke 2:25-35).  Jesus knows my pain and carries my sorrows.  I am not alone in my grief, but my grief is known by my loving God.

Perhaps this has been a hard season for you, too.  If so, I pray that you will know the presence of Emmanuel, our God-with-us, our God who took on flesh and moved into our neighborhood.  May God comfort you with the knowledge that Jesus carries your griefs and your sorrows, whether they are public or known to God alone.  May you see a glimpse of Christ’s light, shinning in the darkness. 

Photo by Jim Kenefick, used under a Creative Commons License

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: When The Timing Seems Wrong

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, a time of waiting and anticipation.  This is my prayer for these weeks (and my life).  If you are looking for devotional activities for Advent, you can print what I created.  If you are still thinking about American Thanksgiving, you can read about things I'm thankful for.

God of time,
You are outside of time.  Yet you created time. 
That time plays a big part of lives.  And sometimes, the timing just seems wrong. 
The Israelite people wanted their Messiah to come sooner to rescue them.
Zechariah and Elizabeth longed for a child to be born for years.
Mary faced a too-soon-pregnancy.
Christians have been waiting for Jesus to return.  For 2,000 years.
Some wait for a positive pregnancy test while others are overwhelmed with an unexpected pregnancy.
We wait to hear back about job interviews and scholarships, home sales and medical tests.
So often, the timing just seems wrong and our lives feel like they are crumbling.

How long, O Lord?

How long until you make “beautiful things out of dust”?

Jesus, you know time.  You too had to wait until your hour came.
Help us as we wait!  Give us strength and patience. 
Help us to trust in your timing, that you are caring for us even when it seems like our lives are dust.
Help us to see glimpses of “hope…springing up from this old ground.”
In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

With thanks to Psalm 13, Luke 1-2, John 2, and “Beautiful Things” by Gungor.  
Photo by gilliu00_, used under a Creative Commons License. 

What I’m Listening To: Dry Bones

The album I’ve been listening to on repeat lately is called The Blood & The Breath: Songs That Sing the Story of Redemption by Caroline Cobb.  The songs trace God’s big story from Genesis to Revelation.  They thoughtfully bring scripture to life—even some texts that aren’t often sung.  My favorite song is called “Dry Bones,” based on Ezekiel 37.  I don’t know many songs based on this strange passage (or Ezekiel in general), but this song has helped me see the beauty of life coming from dry bones.  And it gives me hope that situations that seem dry and hopeless can be revived by the Spirit of God.  The words are good, but to get the full effect you should go to Caroline’s website, listen to the song, and download the album.
Dry bones
Hearts of stone
Slain and left
In the valley of death
Been dead so long
All the flesh is gone
A mass grave
No one can raise

But you said “live”
And the ground it gives
The bones start to rattle
And the darkness lifts

You give them blood and bone and
Hearts of stone to flesh
You give them muscle, skin
And life within the breath

Open graves
Bodies raised
The living breath
Reversing death


Written May 2011 for The Scripture to Music Project
Words and music by Caroline Cobb
From Ezekiel’s vision in Ezekiel 37:1-14; 36:26,27
Photo by _ChrisUK, used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: All Things Bright and Beautiful

Lake Michigan from a trail along one of the dunes
 at Nordhouse Dunes National Wilderness Area

I did a lot of thinking while I was in the woods this weekend. Besides my gratefulness to my mom, I thought about this hymn, "All Things Bright and Beautiful," a lot. When I got home I looked it up and discovered: "Cecil F. Alexander (PHH 346) wrote a number of hymn texts on articles of the Apostles' Creed. This text, whose biblical source is Genesis 1:31 ("and God saw all that he had made, and it was very good"), is Alexander's explanation of the Creed's phrase "Maker of heaven and earth" (Psalter Hymnal Handbook, from hymnary.org).
This afternoon, may we raise our voices to praise the maker of heaven and earth.

Refrain:
All things bright and beautiful,
all creatures great and small,
all things wise and wonderful,
the Lord God made them all.


1 Each little flower that opens,
each little bird that sings,
he made their glowing colours,
he made their tiny wings: Refrain

2 The purple-headed mountain,
the river running by,
the sunset, and the morning
that brightens up the sky: Refrain


3 The cold wind in the winter,
the pleasant summer sun,
the ripe fruits in the garden,
he made them every one. Refrain


4 He gave us eyes to see them,
and lips that we might tell
how great is God Almighty,
who has made all things well. Refrain

Source: Church Hymnary, Fourth Edition #137a

Personal Photo, June 2013

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: Psalm 42 & 43

This song has been my prayer this week.  I woke up with the chorus on my heart Monday morning, and it has continued throughout the week.  Greg Scheer, the composer, describes it: "Psalm 42 and 43 are set to a haunting, melancholic melody that mirrors the poignancy of the original Psalm text."  You can listen to Greg sing the song on his website.

I think this song is on my heart right now because it both captures the longings of my heart in a challenging time and my trust that God is faithful and will see me through.

1. As the deer pants for the water
so my soul longs for you, my Lord.
When can I come to You again
to praise You as before?

Chorus
Why should I let this sorrow fill my soul?
My life is in His Hands, my hope is in the Lord;
and He, I know, will be my Savior still.

2. Day after day He sends His love
I feel His peace come raining down.
I raise a song to Him at night
like fire from the ground.

3. Send me Your light and truth to guide me
as I travel through this land.
Lead me to Your holy dwelling
at my journey's end.

If you would like to sing this song in your congregation, music is available on Greg's website and it is included in the recently released Lift Up Your Hearts hymnal.

Photo by Paul Gorbould.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: How Long, O Lord?

"How long, O Lord?  Will you forget me forever?"  (Psalm 13:1)

This is one of my favorite musical settings of Psalm 13, which is one of my favorite psalms.  I know the song from the wonderful collection Psalms for All Seasons.

How long, O Lord, will you forget
an answer to my prayer?
No tokens of your love I see,
your face is turned away from me;
I wrestle with despair.

How long, O Lord, will you forsake
and leave me in this way?
When will you come to my relief?
My heart is overwhelmed with grief,
by evil night and day.

How long, O Lord? But you forgive
with mercy from above.
I find that all your ways are just,
I learn to praise you and to trust
in your unfailing love.

Text: Barbara Wollett

Tune: Christopher Norton

More information at Hymnary.org

Sunday Prayer: I'll Wait

My prayer tonight is a song I have been listening to a lot lately, called “I’ll Wait.”  It is written and sung by Sara Groves on her Invisible Empires album.

She wrote this song during a stressful time of life. On her website, Groves says, "I knew from the beginning this is something I'm going to have to walk through, but I also knew from the very beginning I was going to be a stronger person when I came out the other side. So that song is saying, ‘Now more than ever I know, I know that I have to wait for You. I can't move on my own.'"  It is a prayer of trust during a difficult time, when she didn’t know how everything would work out.  And that is my prayer, too.   

I can't run with the horses

If I can't keep up with men

I can fight all these forces

On my own and never win

I can take it from here

And have nowhere to go

I could take it for years

And have nothing to show

I can work like the devil

Build a tower to the sky

I can work for my possessions

Till they empty me of life

I can build my own house

And be building in vain

I can plant a seed

But I can't bring the rain

I'll wait for you

Now more than ever

I see it's true

Now more than ever

I'll wait for you now

I can take my own vengeance

Make a war of all my pain

I can get my own insurance

Find a way to lay the blame

I can win the whole world

And lose my own soul

Holding on for dear life

Spinning out of control

I'll wait for you

Now more than ever

I see it's true

Now more than ever

I'll wait for you now

I don't want to do this by myself

I know I need your help

And so I'm waiting for you

I can take it from here

And have nowhere to go

I can take it for years

And have nothing to show

I'll wait for you

Now more than ever

I see it's true

Now more than ever

I'll wait for you

I don't want to do this by myself

I know I need your help

And so I'm waiting for you

P.S. When I read her bio, I discovered that kids from NewCity Kids, where my sister used to work, sing in “Eyes on the Prize” on the same album.  Very cool!

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: A Prayer for the Year to Come

I'm continuing the birthday theme for one last post (previous here and here), with my prayer for the coming year of my life.

God my help in years past and hope for years to come,

Thank you for your faithfulness in the past year,

For grace in difficult situations,

For growth as a pastor

For relationships that have supported me.

And in this year to come, may I be a person of

Strength,

Joy,

Stability, and

Hospitality.

May I grow in my

relationship with you,

prayer life,

memorized scripture, and

identity in Christ.

May I live in community with friends

Near,

Far,

Old, and

New.

May I serve you

Faithfully,

With wisdom,

With self-less love for others, and

Wherever you call me.

May I be filled with joy

Exploring your creation,

Creating beautiful things,

Laughing with friends,

And trying new things.

May whatever I do,

Whether in word or in deed,

Be done in the name of Jesus.

In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Personal photo taken in the Iona Abbey, Iona, Scotland, January 2013. 

UK #7: The Iona Community

Iona Abbey

One of the reasons the Isle of Iona has contemporary significance and is well-known in some Christian circles is the Iona Community. I think in North America we sometimes think of them as being the whole island, but they are not. In fact they share the abbey with Historic Scotland who cares for and manages the site. 

In the 1930s, in the midst of the Great Depression, a pastor named George MacLeod came up with the idea to restore the abbey using unemployed craftsmen and young pastors (so they would have training before they went to urban missions). In addition to their construction work, they practiced living in community. Today the Iona Community is "an ecumenical Christian community of men and women engaged together, and with people of goodwill across the world, in acting, reflecting,and praying for justice, peace and the integrity of creation; convinced that the inclusive community we seek must be embodied in the community we practice." It is a sort of untraditional monastic order. Members commit to live by a shared rule which includes daily prayer and Bible reading, mutual accountability for use of time and money, meeting together, and action for justice and peace. There are about 300 members, mostly in Britain. They are divided into geographical family groups. There are also 1450 associate members and 1250 friends scattered across the world "from Michigan to Malawi." 

The abbey on Iona serves as a sort of base. There is a core group of resident staff, and from March to October they offer week-long experience of living in community for people from around the world. They also maintain daily worship at the abbey, which is open to the public. I joined in a couple of their morning prayer services while I was on the island. They were small, quiet gatherings with a few songs, prayers of confession and intercession, and a scripture reading. Each day in their intercessory prayer, they pray for specific countries, specific needs, and specific members of the community (on a cycle that all members follow). 

Chapel where worship is held in the winter

 Before coming, I was probably most familiar with the Iona Community's publishing and especially liturgical resources. I think that is probably what has made the biggest worldwide impact. We have used some of their liturgies at ÇOS (an excerpt I shared). Many songs we sing regularly come through the Wild Goose Resource Group: "He Came Down, " "Take, O Take Me As I Am," "Your Will Be Done On Earth," "Come Now, O Prince of Peace," "Come All You People" and more. 

 What I knew less about was the Community's commitment to advocate for social justice and peace. In the Abbey church, they have some displays about different justice issues. Their shop is completely fair trade (much of it local). It was a great place to do a bit of shopping. I am not exactly sure what this commitment looks like in the everyday life of a member, but I would be curious to find out some day. Looking at this ancient building and place and seeing Christians confront modern problems and experiences is inspiring. Throughout my trip so far, I have noticed that trend--communities breathing new life into old places and practices without demolishing the old. 

Displays on social justice issues

I am fascinated by the idea of living in community, while not actually living together. Things like their rule bind them together, but they can actually be spread apart. I wonder what this could look like in other situations. I am thinking especially of pastor-types who make friends and have community, but move often. This question of how to have community when people keep moving or getting married and moving, knowing there is a good chance I'll be moving this summer has been on my mind in the past few months.

St. John's cross (modern replica)

 I wonder if we could create a community for ourselves based not on living near each other, but on a rule that we would create and a commitment that we would continue to support each other. I think our rule would look a bit different than the Iona Community, but I think it could work. I would be interested to try.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: We Are Waiting

This afternoon’s prayer is inspired by a song that we are using as our prayer of illumination during Advent, “We Are Waiting” (Contemporary Songs for Worship 18, text and tune Greg Scheer).

We are waiting, waiting, waiting to hear God’s word.

We are waiting, waiting, speak we are listening Lord.

It’s Advent, and we’re waiting, God.

I am waiting, God.  Waiting to see what will happen in my life.  Waiting to see where you will lead me.  Waiting.

My parishioners are waiting, God.  Waiting for their families to be able to join them in the U.S.  Waiting to see what you have for their lives.  Waiting.

My friends are waiting, God.  Waiting for graduations, babies, and proposals.  Waiting to see how you will guide them.  Waiting.

We are waiting, God.  Waiting for you to return and make all things new.  Waiting to hear the trumpets of your arrival.  Waiting.

Maranatha.  Come quickly, Lord Jesus.

Photo by Li'l Wolf, http://www.flickr.com/photos/schneelocke/2201266557/, 22 December 2012.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

I have written about this song in the past, but it seems right to me again this weekend, when I don't really have words to say.

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Till ringing, singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men."

In the Least Expected Places

One thing I’ve discovered about being a pastor is that I start thinking about the next church calendar season well before it actually arrives.  Advent doesn’t start until Sunday, but I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of months now--planning a sermon series, doing initial research about Luke 1, working on our liturgy, making sure that someone got candles for Sunday. 

We will be preaching through Luke chapter 1 over the next four weeks.  This Sunday I'm preaching on the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth from Luke 1:5-25.  Along with the text, this poetic and musical retelling of the story has been in my heart over the last couple of weeks.  This song is by a band called So Elated on their Christmas album, The Bewildering Light (follow the link to get the album legally for free at noisetrade!). 

Jerusalem and the holy temple filled with smoke
Zechariah shuns the news from the angel of hope
Stuck behind an incense cloud of religion and disappointment

God keeps slipping out of underneath rocks 
in alleys off the beaten path
Open both your eyes.

Prophets and kings and poets can contribute their work
just like eggs in a nest are alive with the promise of birds
But the Lord of Creation will not be subjected to expectation

God keeps slipping out of underneath rocks 
in alleys off the beaten path
Open both your eyes.

Elizabeth, barren, her knees black and dirty like coal
her consistent prayers float to the sky and revive her soul
God we will wait though we don't understand your redemptive story

God keeps slipping out of underneath rocks
in alleys off the beaten path 
Open both our eyes.

I love the reminder that “the Lord of Creation will not be subjected to expectation.”  I have expectations, and hopes, and dreams, but God who created heavens and earth doesn’t fit neatly into those boxes.  But that doesn’t mean God is absent, because often we see glimpses of God where we least expect it, “in alleys off the beaten path.”  God came to Zechariah and Elizabeth in the middle of their dashed expectations, and he did something unexpected in and through them. 

And my prayer for myself and for you this Advent, especially while we are in those places where God isn’t doing what we expect, is that our response will be like Elizabeth: 

Elizabeth, barren, her knees black and dirty like coal
her consistent prayers float to the sky and revive her soul
God we will wait though we don't understand your redemptive story.

Image by Nick Thompson, http://www.flickr.com/photos/pelegrino/1356007875/, November 30, 2012.  Used under a Creative Commons License.

Be Not Afraid

I was talking with a friend today.  She is in a time of some uncertainty.  As I think about it, almost all of my friends are in some time of transition or uncertainty—looking for a new job, starting a new job, beginning a new relationship, moving to a new home, or having a new baby.    

This reminded me one of my favorite songs I’ve learned at Church of the Servant, “Come, Holy Ghost.”  I first heard it sung by the choir as they prepared for a service.  It was during the first month or two I was at COS, just trying to get my bearings.  The chorus really struck me: “Be not afraid, where you go there I am with.”  At that time, the words floating through the church building set me at peace.  Even though I was in a new place doing a new thing, God was with me there, too.  I didn’t need to be afraid, because God was with me.

I did some research on the song today and found that the words are attributed to the early church.  The chorus was added and it was set to music by Ray Mills and Bruce Benedict a few years ago.  You can listen to this setting on their website.

So for all of us in some time of transition, this is my prayer:

Come, Holy Ghost, Creator blest, And in our hearts take up Thy rest; 

Come with thy grace and heav'nly aid to fill our hearts which thou hast made, 

To fill our hearts which Thou has made. 

 

O Comforter, to thee we cry, Thou heav'nly gift of God most high; 

Thou fount of life, and fire of love, And sweet anointing from above, 

And sweet anointing from above. 

Chorus: 

Be not afraid, where you go there I am with you. (2x) 

 

O Holy Ghost, through thee alone, Know we the Father and the Son; 

Be this our firm unchanging creed, That thou dost from them both proceed, 

That thou dost from them both proceed. 

Praise we the Lord, Father and Son, And Holy Spirit with them one; 

And may the Son on us bestow all gifts that from the Spirit flow, 

All gifts that from the Spirit flow.

Photo by Messiah Lutheran (Mechanicsville, VA), http://www.flickr.com/photos/mlcas/6970671144/, November 16, 2012.

Used under Creative Commons License.

For the Troubles...

This is the text to one of the songs that we sang in worship this morning.  It comes from Brazil and is called “For the Troubles”: For the troubles and the suffering of the worldGod, we call upon your mercy:The whole creation’s laboring in pain!Lend an ear to the rising cry for helpFrom oppressed and hopeless people.Come!  Hasten your salvation, healing love!We pray for peace,The blessed peace that comes from making justice,To cover and embrace us.Have mercy, Lord!We pray for power,The power that will sustain your people’s witnessUntil your kingdom comes,Kyrie eleison!  These words capture much of what I have been thinking and feeling in the last few weeks.  Last week, I visited a family--a grandmother and three grandsons who are in middle and high school.  They are Rwandan, but each of the boys was born in a different country (Kenya, Tanzania, and Democratic Republic of the Congo).  At one point, the boys lived in an orphanage in Zambia.  They all ended up together in Grand Rapids, but life is not blissful here.  In the faces of the boys I saw adults not children.  They should be playing video games and thinking about girls, not worrying about translating for their grandmother or how she is going to pay the rent.  And in the midst of all this trouble and suffering, God, we call upon your mercy, because it is the only thing big enough to help. 

And in the midst of all the troubles, we pray for peace.  We pray for shalom—wholeness and flourishing—to come.  I am intrigued by the phrase “peace that comes from making justice.”  I know in a theoretical way that it is true.  Without justice, there can’t be shalom.  But I wonder what it means in my life and in the life of my church?  We pray for it, but we also have to participate in making justice.  And I’m not sure what that might mean for us, in our neighborhood.  How are we called to make justice?
Of course, suffering isn’t going to stop, and shalom isn’t going to come fully until Jesus returns.  Until then, we live in a fallen world full of genocide and sudden deaths, starvation and terrorism.  But we look forward to the day that God will make everything new.  So as we live in a world of sorrow, kyrie eleison!  Come quickly, Lord Jesus!      

Advent One: I Heard the Bells...God is Not Dead

Life seems messiest at the holidays, when everything is supposed to glitter and gleam.  In addition to the family and economic pressure from the holidays themselves, it is the end of the semester for students and teachers; deadlines for college, grad schools and jobs are looming; and the hours of light in a day are the shortest.  Instead of bright lights, darkness descends.    

Today is the first day of Advent, the time in the church’s calendar when we wait for the coming of Christ.  Unlike the way Western culture gets ready for Christmas, with parties, tinsel, and cheesy Christmas songs, the church embraces the darkness of the season.  We acknowledge that human life is a mess.  And we remember that it is into this mess that God incarnated himself.

My first December in China, I learned a new Christmas carol, which has become one of my favorites: “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.”  That year, in addition to being far away from home at Christmas, my team was struggling.  We were struggling with our relationships with each other, and we were struggling with the knowledge that only two of us would stay at our school the next semester (the other two would hopefully be moved to another school in China.  But we didn’t know who was staying and who was moving or where we would go).  I was also praying about a nomination to the in-country leadership team for the next year.  I had many questions and lots of stress.  The world seemed dark.  My life was a mess. 

God came to me through this carol.  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, the great American poet, wrote it in a time when he was also in great darkness.  The country was a mess as it fought the Civil War.  Longfellow’s wife had died a few years earlier in a tragic fire and the previous year his son was seriously wounded in a battle.  His life didn’t glitter and gleam the Christmas he wrote these words:

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old familiar carols play,

And wild and sweet the words repeat

of Peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair, I bowed my head

“There is no peace on earth,” I said,

“For hate is strong and mocks the song,

Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then plead the bells more loud and deep;

“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail

With Peace on earth, good will to men.”

During Advent, we have the chance to acknowledge that we are in despair, that it seems like our world lacks peace and evil is winning.  We don’t try to sweep it under the rug or wrap it up with a beautiful bow.  Instead, in the Biblical tradition of lament, we look it square in the face.  We name the mess.  But in Advent we also bring the mess to Jesus, who took on our flesh and dwelled among us.  Because Jesus came and lived among us and eventually died and rose again, we know that God is not dead.  Jesus will come again and the wrong will fail permanently.  Right will prevail, and all things will be made new.  

But while we wait for that day, we have Advent to help us face our darkness with hope.  Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus!