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

Saugatuck Dunes Hike

To celebrate Labor Day, I took a hike I’ve been meaning to take all summer.  I grew up going to the beach at Saugatuck Dunes State Park, but I had never really hiked there.  My trusty Best Easy Day Hikes: Grand Rapids, MI told me that there is good hiking, too.  So this morning I packed a lunch and set out.  I took the South Trail, which the book says is 4.8 miles and the state park map lists as 5.5 miles.

The trail on the way to Lake Michigan was mostly through deciduous forests on a sandy, but firm, trail.

Shortly before Lake Michigan, the trail passed through the foredunes.

Almost to the beach!

On the beach, looking north.  You can’t make it out in the picture, but I could see Big Red (the Holland lighthouse) in the distance.  After snacking on the beach, I started out on the return trail, which travels through the foredunes and then zig zags up through blown out dunes.  This part of the trail was harder than the first part!  But looking back at the lake, the views were beautiful.



This is now one of my favorite dune hikes in Michigan!  It has a more natural and remote feel than a lot of the parks (no stairs, for instance) and the dunes are extensive.  I’d highly recommend it to anyone who wants to explore the dunes and is ready to climb through a lot of sand.

Sunday Afternoon Prayer: My Mother's Day Prayer

God who comforts people like a mother comforts her child (Is. 66:13),

I have such mixed feelings about this day.

I love my mom.  Thank you for her. 

Thank you for her love and dedication.

Thank you that she always believes in me and thinks I’m great.

Thank you for her prayers and that she taught me about you.

Thank you for her gift of teaching and all I’ve learned from her—how to read, how to bake, how to play softball, how to serve, and how to love.

And I'm thankful for my many friends that are moms.

Being a mom is a hard calling.  Make your presence known to them when they are awake at 3am feeding an infant or cleaning up vomit.   

Give them wisdom as they begin to instill values and habits in their young hearts.

Help them to teach their precious ones about you and model a life of faith.  May all of these little ones grow up to love and follow you.

But there is also sadness in my heart on this day.

I wish that I was a mother, too.

I know that it is a hard calling, and I wish that it was mine, too.

My heart is full of wonderings…

Where do I fit when it seems that motherhood = womanhood?

Will there be a day when motherhood is my calling?

How long might I have to wait?

How do I keep my baptismal promises to the children in my community?

And there is sadness in my heart that the church hurts women today.

Instead of a place that pours salt into already open wounds, 

may we be a place of honesty and love.

May we be a place where it is okay to shed tears for the children you wish you had,

or the children that lived only in your womb,

or the child that has wandered away from then family,

or your own desire for an good relationship with your mom. 

Today in particular, may we be a place of lament, as well as praise. 

May we be a safe and loving community and not an exclusive and hurtful one.

So God, take my thanksgiving and questions, joy and sadness. 

Help me to live with it all. 

Comfort me on the dark days.  Comfort others for whom this is an excruciating day.    

Help me to know that you haven’t forgotten me, like a mother who doesn’t forget the baby at her breast (Is 49:15).

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Personal Photo, May 2013.

Easter Chives

We are coming into the end of the Easter season—this Sunday is Ascension Sunday, the last Sunday of Easter.  During the last five weeks the church has been celebrating the resurrection and the new life that we have because of the death and resurrection of Christ.  I love Easterseason.  We didn’t celebrate it in the churches I grew up in.  We just got the glory of Easter’s morning and evening service.  Then things became rather non-descript until 40 days later, Ascension Day comes along.

At Church of the Servant, we celebrate Easter for the whole season.  Our art is white and gold and full of joy.  I get to wear my white stole.  We sing hymns about the resurrection and its impact on our life.  It is all about new life from death.  We were dead to sin but alive in Christ (Romans 6:11). 

I was reminded of this miracle by the neglected pots on my balcony.  I neglected them last fall.  I just let the plants die.  I never cleaned the pots.  They have been there, brown and shriveled for months and months.  I was dreading cleaning it all up and considering not planting anything this summer.

A couple of weeks ago we got rain and more rain and more rain.  Some of it managed to get onto my covered balcony and into at least one of the pots.  The weather slowly warmed past the freezing mark.  And I noticed something remarkable.  There was a dash of green sprouting from those shriveled dead leaves.  The chives that I grew last summer had come back to life.  It was a little resurrection. 

That bright burst of green coming up gave me hope.  It reminded me that my God says, “See, I am doing a new thing! / Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? / I am making a way in the wilderness / and streams in the wasteland” (Isaiah 43:19).  I don’t know exactly what new things God is doing and will do in my life. I do know that God is doing a new thing.  Just like my Easter chives.

Personal photo of my Easter chives, May 2013.

Christmas Ornament Stories: My Ordination

Welcome to any new COS readers!  I am travelling today, so I am sharing the last post in a series about my Christmas tree ornaments.  My next post will be an update on my trip!

Every ornament tells a story.  That’s the basic philosophy of my Christmas tree.  During this Christmas season (and I’m including the church calendar Christmas season, which goes to January 6), I am introducing you to some of my favorites and sharing the story behind them.  So far, I have shared ornaments from my parents, grandparents, and aunt and uncle.

Today’s ornament is one of my newest ornaments.  I made this one myself at the end of last year’s Christmas season.  Sometime in the fall, I saw this idea on Pinterest made with a wedding invitation or program as a wedding gift.  As soon as I saw it, I knew I wanted to make one for myself with my ordination bulletin/liturgy.  My ordination was on January 1, 2012—one year ago today.  The next week I made myself this ornament.  It was probably my favorite to pull out of the box this year, because it reminded me of that joyous day.  The day the church said: “Yes! We publicly affirm God’s call in your life to serve in ordained ministry.”  The day that I vowed to love, serve, and lead the church.  It was one of the most important days of my life, and this ornament reminds me of it.

As I look back at one year of ordination, it has been a hard year and a joyful year.  I have seen human brokenness in new ways.  I have been stretched and wondered if I could do this for the rest of my life.  I have mined God’s Word for his word to us in this time and place.  I have been honored to be with people as they spend their first few months in this country.  I have been blessed by the love and support of the church council.  I have watched young leaders grow.  So even though it isn’t an easy calling, today I reaffirm my vows. 

With God helping me, I believe that in the call of this congregation God himself calls me to this holy ministry.

With God helping me, I believe that the Old and New Testaments are the Word of God, the only infallible rule of faith and life.

With God helping me, I subscribe to the doctrinal standards of this church, rejecting all teaching which contradicts them.

With God helping me, I promise to be a faithful minister, to conduct myself in a manner worthy of my calling, and to submit to the government and discipline of the church. (CRCNA Form for Ordination of Ministers)

Thanks be to God!

Merry Christmas!

"While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night.  An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.  But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.  This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger" (Luke 2:6-12).

Photo is of a nativity scene made in Nepal.  I purchased it at Global Gifts last year.

Christmas Ornament Stories: My Aunt and Uncle

Every ornament tells a story.  That’s the basic philosophy of my Christmas tree.  During this Christmas season, I am introducing you to some of my favorites and sharing the story behind them.  So far, I have shared ornaments from my parents and grandparents.

Today’s ornament is from my uncle and aunt, who also gave a Christmas ornament every year.  It’s really no wonder I love my ornaments--they were a huge part of extended family Christmas traditions.  My uncle was a pastor at a local church for over 30 years.  Every year, their family would host an open house in their home for anyone in the church the first weekend in December.  For several hours Saturday afternoon and Sunday afternoon, their house was filled with a steady stream of people from their congregation, celebrating Christmas together.  And every year, my aunt and uncle gave a Christmas ornament to each family who came to the open house.  Sometimes, especially in the early years, they were handmade.  I remember many a Thanksgiving where the after dinner entertainment was helping to finish up the ornaments for the open house.  Sometimes they bought small items they made into ornaments at some significant place for the year.  This is one of my favorites because it smells like cinnamon.    

The open house and ornaments are just one way that my aunt and uncle showed hospitality.  Family holidays at their house often included more than just biological family, but others who needed a place to celebrate too.  Throughout the year, they often had people knock at the door, whether church members dropping something off or friends of their kids.  They graciously welcomed them in and offered something to eat and drink.  My sister, brother-in-law, and at least one of my cousins lived in their basement for a while when they needed a place to live.  And they welcomed children with Downs Syndrome to their family through adoption.  They, probably more than anyone else I know, have lived out scripture’s command to “show hospitality to strangers” (Hebrews 13:2). 

Christmas Ornament Stories: My Grandparents’ Faith

Every ornament tells a story.  That’s the basic philosophy of my Christmas tree.  During this Christmas season, I am introducing you to some of my favorites and sharing the story behind them.  First were some creative ornaments from my parents.

Today’s ornament is from my Grandpa and Grandma.  Pretty much every year, they gave all the grandkids an ornament.  I have some they bought while volunteering in Salt Lake City, some they bought in Mexico while they wintered in Tucson, and several that they made (the creative part runs in the family).

This one is my favorite.  It is also the last one, because it is from my grandma’s last Christmas with us.  They worked together on this one.  They developed the idea and found the pattern together.  My grandpa did the cutting and sanding.  This angel reminds me of their deep faith that they passed on to us. 

In the last few years, I have become increasingly thankful that the faith they passed on is a well-rounded faith.  They were (and are) people of great piety.  They kept a drawer of Bible story books to use when the grandkids came to visit.  They wanted to help us learn the stories of faith and the practice of family devotions.  For their 50^th wedding anniversary, the family gave them a Bible that each of the kids and grandkids had marked some of their favorite verses in.  In the years since, both Grandma and Grandpa have added notes of passages that are significant to them.  It is a wonderful physical heirloom of faith.

But their faith is more than knowing the Bible well and having right theology.  Their faith has legs.  It showed itself us in the care they show—the gifts, showing up on all sorts of occasions, being good friends and faithful church members.  And it showed itself in the way they spent their time.  Instead of going to Florida for the winter to go golfing and shopping, they went to Tucson to volunteer at a fledgling Christian high school.  My grandpa is a Christian school teacher by trade, and so every winter he helped this school as it grew.  He did everything for them from substitute teaching to digging ditches and building things.  Grandma helped to work in the library.  Their selfless care for others was a living model for us and shaped our family.  I would not be the same person without them.  I thank God for them, and for this ornament that reminds me of my heritage.

My Thanksgiving Adventure

“Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;

give thanks to him and praise his name.  For the Lord is good and his love endures forever;

his faithfulness continues through all generations.” (Psalm 100:4-5)

For Thanksgiving this year, my parents and I decided to celebrate at my apartment and invite some of the refugees I work with.  I invited a family of 5 that recently arrived from Nepal, and we cooked and set the table accordingly.  As I was driving over to pick them up, I was wishing my apartment was bigger so I could have invited a Sri Lankan family that lives nearby, too.  When I got to the Nepalese family’s home, I found out the mother wasn’t feeling well and the daughters were going to stay home to care for her.  That meant only 2 of 5 were going to come. 

We got in the car and started driving home, but as we were about to pass the Sri Lankan family’s apartment I decided to stop and see if they wanted to come over.  I didn’t have their phone number in my phone to call them, so I just knocked unannounced (which I don’t usually do).  I asked if they had plans and invited them over.  They said yes and I waited while they got ready to leave. 

I arrived home with 6 people instead of 5, so we slipped another chair around the table and put the food on the table.  My mom and I cooked a pretty traditional Thanksgiving meal—turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, roasted vegetables, cranberry sauce, a spinach salad.  At times, conversation seemed strained, since I was the only person that really knew everyone.  But as the meal went on, it got easier.  Everyone helped clean up (except maybe my dad because one of my Nepalese guys told him in their culture the young people serve the older people) and participate in the day.  My parents told them stories about life in Michigan farmland.  My mom played with the 3 year old.  He had discovered my baskets of toys and games, and one of the young men asked my mom how to play Phase 10.  She explained it and then I heard him enthusiastically say “let’s play.”  He has been through an incredible amount of pain in his short life, and it made my heart glad to hear him excited about a game.  So we played a few phases of Phase 10 before it was time to go home.

As we were saying goodbye and leaving the house, several of them said they felt like they were a part of a family today. 

That is about the best thanks I could receive.  The day wasn’t quite what I was planning, but it worked out well.  I am thankful for this opportunity to share home, food, parents, games, a holiday, and love with others.  I am thankful to be able to share “hospitality with strangers” (Hebrews 13:2).  

Thanksgiving Standing Stones

“In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean? tell them that the flow of the Jordan was cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord. When it crossed the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. These stones are to be a memorial to the people of Israel forever.”(Joshua 4:6-7)

When God’s people entered the promised land, Joshua instructed the leaders to set up standing stones to remind them of what God has done.  They were reminders of God’s presence in human history.  For the past few years, I have created a “Thanksgiving Standing Stones List.”  I usually draw stones in my journal and write what each one symbolizes.  This year, I am sharing the list here—my reminders of what God has done.

 

Ordination!  I was ordained as a Minister of the Word on January 1, 2012.  Even most of a year later, sometimes I still can’t believe it.  The fact that I am ordained is a testament to God’s faithfulness and sometimes mysterious ways.

      Liz and Allison, friends who have been to the heights and depths with me this year.  They celebrated my ordination with me, let me cry on their couch, brought me Jimmy John’s in the hospital while my mom was having surgery, and ate lots of meals with me.

My mom’s healing; she had a serious infection in her knee last winter which resulted in a hospital stay, 2 surgeries, and a long recovery period.  She has recovered really well and been able to maintain an active life this summer and fall.

      Starting the second year of my residency.  It is fun to be going through things the second time around, when I have at least an idea of how they go.  It is also exciting to see the Holy Spirit moving in our midst.

      Rediscovering camping and hiking this summer and fall.  I loved getting away and spending time outside in God’s creation.

Thanks Be To God!

Standing stone photo by Ian W Scott, http://www.flickr.com/photos/ian-w-scott/5752055707/, November 12, 2012.  Used under Creative Commons License.

All other photos are my own.