Musings on This Fourth Sunday of Advent 2017

Although I made it further than I did last year with AdventWord, I ended up unable to blog through the rest of the days. In fact, on the last post (day 19 -- "renew"), I realized I became distracted and forgot to write the thoughts most precious to me. So, here, I am musing about the last of the words, starting with following up my thoughts on "Renew."

I discovered there were a great many times of renewal for which I had no photos. Precious moments of laughter, sacred times of prayer, companionable times of silence filled my memories. For each, it dawned on me that these had been holy moments, moments when I needed to take off my shoes, for I was standing upon holy ground. What a surprise, also, that holy moments can be moments of laughter and dancing as well as moments of reverent awe. This led me to understand that in joy or sorrow, I can look for holy moments.

Whether I am like a quiet child reading, a holy family on an arduous journey, or celebrating with gaiety, I can look for holy moments.

Day 20's word was "greeting" and Day 21 was "child." (The first Sunday of Advent started on December 3; thus, we have twenty-three days of Advent which do not line up exactly with calendar dates.)

I chose this Christmas greeting card to send out to friends and family who would delight in it because the family looks like they could be from Jerusalem. As I enlarged the picture, I saw the artist had painted what looks like dirt under the fingernails. They still look a lot more pulled together than I would after a journey, but the picture had more touches of realism than others I have seen.

Pictures of reality and thinking of others appeal to me. I would like to greet each person I talk to in such a way that I think of the person and his or her personal pool of tears or lake of joy.

My Savior, the child Jesus, grew up and reminded all he met to love others as we love ourselves. We also have Matthew 7:12 -- "Treat others as you would have them treat you." Our insistence upon our way of greeting does not lead a person closer to Christ if he or she is far away.

A child can lead us. My granddaughter delights in the tradition of moving Mary and Joseph. So much so, she used the tradition as the topic of her speech in a second grade public school classroom. She spoke with delight, and the other children asked questions in an equally delightful way. When our relationship with someone we love naturally spills out of us, there's no feeling of "my rights" and "your rights."

The word for day 22 was "believe." Please forgive me if in the interest of space and time, I leave that word (just as I did for the word "trust") for another day.

Today's word is "celebrate." Many families I know struggle with that word this month and this year. Loved ones have died and other loved ones are seriously ill. Families have lost homes to fires that raged throughout my state this year. For each, my prayer is for holy moments, healing and hope; for love and peace when celebration is not there. I close with two poems that came from a dear friend in her Christmas card. The poems were written by a poet unknown to me (Jan Richardson), but I intend to look her up.

May there come 
One searing word -- 
Enough to bare you 
To the bone, 
Enough to set your heart ablaze, 
Enough to make you 
Whole again. 

Blessed Are You Who Bear the Light
Blessed are you 
Who bear the light 
in unbearable times, 
who testify 
to its endurance 
amid the unendurable, 
who bear witness 
to its persistence 
when everything seems 
in shadow 
and grief. 

Blessed are you 
in whom 
the light lives, 
in whom 
the brightness blazes--
your heart 
a chapel,
an altar where 
in the deepest night 
can be seen 
the fire that 
shines forth in you
in unaccountable faith, 
in stubborn hope, 
in love that illumines 
every broken thing 
it finds. 

Day 15 -- Light on This Fifteenth Day of Advent

The word "light" shows up on an Advent word list every year. I get it. How can it not? However, it becomes more challenging each year to think of a new image. Perhaps we don't need new images, but without a challenge to think "How else can I show light?", we easily fall into complacency.

(Yikes! I looked up the definition of complacency -- "smug or uncritical satisfaction with oneself or one's achievements".)

So, I thought and thought and thought. I decided to show that light comes in colors, too. I was going to dig through my boxes to find the multi-colored Christmas tree light set. Before I did that, I also wanted to see if I could get the colors of a candle flame to show up in a photo. On the way to lighting the candle, I noticed the candle lighter glowed white, yellow, and blue. I liked the picture so much, I chose it for my #adventword2017 #light.

This circumstance inspires me to look for light in the unexpected: people, places, and things --  not to replace the Light of the world (John 8:12), but to remind me to be in constant communication with the Lover of my soul (as Charles Wesley originally penned in a famous hymn, and now known through Hillsong lyrics).

As I sat in a fellowship service today, I noticed light on the ceiling. That was another way to picture light that I had not thought of: reflected light. Plenty of new ideas for "light" exist, if only I have eyes to see.

Past pictures of light for your enjoyment --

These latter two pictures were in my Day 6 post on "Light and Hope".

I know, I have pictures of two candles lit and 4 candles lit and today is the Sunday for 3 candles to be lit. Nonetheless, enjoy the light! 

Sixth Day of Advent: Light and Hope

No eyes were harmed in the taking of the picture above. Whether pointing my phone directly at the sun to take a picture of light will harm my phone and/or the camera within it, I don't know. What I do know is the reason why God wouldn't let Moses see the our Almighty Creator in full glory. Even looking at this picture, the brilliance is amazing, and this is a created light. What I am also thankful for is that God wants relationship with me, with us. Jesus does not hold us at sun's length.

I know so many have already used Madeleine L'Engle's poem in their blogs, but it bears repeating since it is that good.


He did not wait til the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.

He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.

He came when the need was deep and great.

He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure.

In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.

To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.

In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

-- Madeleine L'Engle "First Coming"

(With gratitude to a friend who got this from her friend and sent it to me!)

You don't see the word "hope" in this poem, yet I titled this piece "Light and Hope." Here is why:

This, too, is light. It is the light of my flashlight, or "torch" as I believe they say in the UK. It is human created light, and it is not perfect. Its light will go out. Batteries will need to be replaced as will the bulb. Still, it does shine and, given the proper care and maintenance, it can shine even if it is not the equivalent of the sun.

I see hope when I connect the picture above with the poem for two reasons: imperfect as it is, it is still light and we cannot wait until the world is sane to shine; and, the Lord came with Love, not waiting until we are perfect.

I am loved, and so are you.

"Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom is no fickleness, neither shadow of turning"
(James 1:17).

Fifth Day of Advent: Proclaim

Pastors, preachers, priests, must have a difficult time every year between Thanksgiving and New Year's. How does one teach a lesson that they've already taught before to the same crowd? I was a teacher, but at least I had a new crowd each year. However, I have written Advent posts before, and it was tempting today to just leave proclaiming to the picture below and resurrect an old post. 

What impelled me to write was Facebook. Yes, there's lots to dislike about social media, but, thus far, the Facebook organization allows the pages of deceased people to stay in circulation. (Stick with me here.) As I write this, I'm not deceased obviously. Yet a time will come when I am not here and it could be that my post will touch someone's life, just as saints of old made a difference in my life from an early age. 

Through stories of St. Teresa and St. Therese, the stories of St. Augustine and St. Francis, and many more, I learned how to have a relationship with God. I suppose some people cast off the relationship with God of their younger years as some friendship with an imaginary friend. I did not. The relationship was too real. And, I wasn't the only one who knew God existed. 

I did, however, like young Goodman Brown of Nathaniel Hawthorne short story fame, want to check out the wild side. I've learned that the wild side of God is quite an adventure, but back then, the world's wild side killed some of my friends and usually found me throwing up in a toilet bowl. Frankly, it just was not enjoyable. 

I cast my lot with the Christians. Now there are Christians, and there are Christians. One group follows rules and one group follows Christ. I'm trying to keep this proclaiming short, so let me just say that I know now what it is like to be in a community of those who follow Christ and his commandments: Love God; love others. 

When I ask myself, "Would you ever not believe in God?" I end up asking myself: "What do I do with situations that just can not be explained? One example: I had a dream, a detailed dream. The heart and soul of the dream was about an acquaintance (I didn't even know where he lived anymore) who I later found out was despondent, despairing, desperate, hopeless. God wanted him to know that he was loved by God and that he was not a failure.  I thought this is crazy: I can't contact this person. I don't even know if this email address is correct. Still, what if I wasn't crazy? I wrote out the entire dream (along with "please, please, please don't think I'm insane"). I received a long email back telling me the devastating failure that the young man had faced, a failure in his work that if it had not been caught by another could have led to tragedy. He was at the lowest point ever in his life. I can take no credit for reaching out to this person. Some of my teachers have rightly said that sometimes the only way God can get through to us is through dreams. If I were stronger in my hearing of God, perhaps God could have just flat out told me and I would have known what to do. Nonetheless, this was a situation that I can not explain away, and there have been others like it. 

My belief is also more than something I just proclaim or speak out. I trust Jesus not as my "get out of hell free" card, but as my friend and God whose salvation is for me daily. I was never one to think about a "life verse" but I guess I ended up with one anyway through a rather odd story that I won't tell here. 

"Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ; by whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God" Romans 5:1-2.  

Third Day of Advent: Renewal and Hope in Christ's Name

Renew? Made fresh; the old made new? What sort of photo could I take this day to show "renew"? I didn't know anyone who was renewing their wedding vows today. Then, I glanced over at my Christmas Cactus.

This cactus is seventeen years old. It was given to me by a student when I taught fourth grade. It's a miracle that it is still alive (I'm not the best gardener.) The plant was surviving but not thriving as shown by the inner leaves on the lower left. Then, a cousin posted a picture of her Christmas cactus in full bloom. When I asked her how she encouraged the plant to bloom, she didn't do much to it except place it in a window with morning light. I changed my plant to the other side of the house (as shown in the lower righthand picture) and my plant was renewed!

I realized I have experienced that renewal in relationship with Christ and in relationship with Christ's people. This picture below is where I met with my classmates from Renovaré -- a French form of the word "renew".

I learned anew to place my hope in Christ's name and friendship, of Whom was written:

" But when Jesus knew [that the Pharisees held a council against him, how they might destroy him], he withdrew himself from thence: and great multitudes followed him, and he healed them all; And charged them that they should not make him known: That it might be fulfilled which was spoken by Esaias the prophet, saying,  Behold my servant, whom I have chosen; my beloved, in whom my soul is well pleased: I will put my spirit upon him, and he shall show judgment to the Gentiles. He shall not strive, nor cry; neither shall any man hear his voice in the streets. A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory. And in his name shall the Gentiles trust" (Matthew 12: 14-21). 

During this season of Advent (and indeed every season) I need to place myself in the Light of the One in Whom I trust, hope in His name, and be renewed.

#adventword #renew

2nd Day of Advent: Love and Waiting in Hope

In this four generation picture, love abides. My father has Alzheimer's. He doesn't remember my name but still remembers some of the time that I am family. He gets up in the middle of the night and doesn't know how to get back to his room. He doesn't like to take showers or baths. He is like a little boy, but he is a little boy who still knows what love looks like. 

My dad is "waiting in hope", another phrase for this advent day. 

"Out of the depths have I cried unto thee, O Lord...I wait for the Lord, my soul does wait, and in his word do I hope...My soul waits for for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning...for with the Lord there is mercy, and with him is plenteous redemption..." (from Psalm 130). 

And, when my dad does not remember to wait in hope, we stand in the gap and do the waiting for him. That's what love looks like. Love is a choice. We choose each day to love, to will the good of others. What is the good of others? Can't get much better than really looking at how Jesus treated people: patiently, kindly, courteously, humbly, wisely, gently, lovingly. Nothing can separate us from this love. 

"...neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (from Romans 8: 38-39). 

Yesterday's #adventword" "shine" was a struggle when the day was cloudy and "flexibility" was a more important word than "shine." Yet, this morning, the sun broke through! 

The sun doesn't always "come up tomorrow", because life's griefs are great, but I wait in hope knowing that God's love abides.

"And now abides faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." 

The One who shows this perfectly is Jesus. This Advent season, I prepare not for the coming of a baby (wonderful as that advent is), but rather for the coming of Jesus who chooses me and chooses to be in relationship with me, with nothing separating me from His love. While I can not show this love completely, it does not stop me from following like a child after Him: loving God and loving others, waiting in hope. 

Shine

Last night, I carried my husband's computer out of the bedroom and sat it in the kitchen. In the kitchen, it could shine off and on to its megabyte hearts' content. As for me, I need the dark at night so I can sleep well; otherwise, this woman is not going to shine during the day.

Yet, the shine of humanity is seen best, like faraway stars, in the midst of darkness. What kind of darkness? To color a dark night sky, one chooses the deepest blacks and blues. But no crayon can literally illustrate the world where we need to shine. A gifted photographer can capture hate, anger, despair, discourtesy, ungratefulness, greed, malice, loneliness, poverty, injustice, hunger -- but he or she will do so by capturing looks, body positions, the story itself. The colors and use of or absence of light will be a part of that composition, but other clues are needed. Is that dark forest tranquil or menacing? Is this a dark night of my soul or the peaceful rest I need?

The man who grumbled at me in line at the grocery store might be going home to sit in deep depression; the woman smiling as she chatters away might be intensely lonely. Sometimes where I need to shine is easily identifiable and sometimes it is not. Most often I have found out that I have been a shining light in someone's life only after the fact.

Perhaps, if a candle could think, it would actually struggle to shine if it worried about whether it was shining, how far, how often, and how bright. Truly that candle is only shining because something greater than the candle set it aflame. So, too with me, Someone greater than I, sets me aflame. However, I'm not a candle and I do have control over my wick. I don't have time to let the man go ahead of me in line. (It is the Christmas season, after all, and I have so much to do!) That woman is fine: don't worry about listening or being present to her. After all, I'm only a little candle. Let the big candles do the shining.

I experimented with candle shine and I tried to research whether a big candle lights up a room more than a small candle. It didn't seem a discernible difference to me, but before I could track down all the research, life happened. I planned out some lovely "shine" pictures as I contemplated the word shine and embark on an Advent Adventure with #adventword : morning sunrise and a first day of Advent candle lit by my youngest grandson and his great grandfather. None of that happened. We woke up to rain; I could only find a dried up wreath in the Christmas storage and then I lost the special Advent prayer we were going to pray. Isn't that what life often is like? I seek the Hallmark moments (or now the Pinterest experience) and instead we are called to shine or look for shine in the midst of rain, during days of watching a father fall further into his Alzheimer's world, with dried up wreaths and lost plans.

It's dawning on me that the shine of God, like the sun (but greater than), can be seen even in the day unless clouds (of doubt?) hide it, and the Almighty I AM shines on believer and non-believer. I also see the shine of God in the midst of community. Today is not only the first day of Advent but also my birthday. My little church prayed a blessing specifically over me during service and while I have no picture of this special time, it will be a moment that shines out in my memories. The lack of traditional ways to represent "shine" also caused me to look for other ways to show shine.

I imagine that humanity looks to many sources for shine and even though I know this is a bit humorous using a pot of coffee to show shine, basically I was looking all over the house for reflected shine. Maybe it will remind me to not fall into the ways of worldliness (consumerism, materialism, egoism) to look for shine, but to look for how God shines in places and people where and who I think might not represent shine. And, often our everyday blessings do shine if we only look for them.

I am encouraged when I read one Advent printout that lists this first day of Advent as representing "unseen hope". To the one who is searching for the shine of this day, this season, this year, I pray for you glances of shine that remind you of hope that is not fully seen yet. Just in case you can see my husband's knee, he has had surgery and full recovery is not seen yet, but we have hope, and we have this precious shiny face in our lives as well as other people and moments for which I am so thankful (and can not possibly write of without making this blog yet longer).
#adventword #shine

The Parable of the Shattered Baking Dish

This is all I have left of my baking dish -- one small shard that I found a week after I broke it. Actually, I shattered it into thousands of tiny pieces. Originally, it looked a lot like the baking dish pictured below. 

If I had a photographer's mind, I would have taken a picture of the aftermath of the dish's destruction: glass all across the stove, the counters, the floor. However, I was barely able to control my dismay let alone the dog who wanted to see what the explosion was all about. Instead I have a teacher's mind, and I thought: God, there must be a lesson in this. 

Of course, there was an obvious scientific lesson: Don't pour water into a hot dish. I actually knew that lesson, but I had poured a little bit of water and nothing disastrous happened. I had finished baking some squash, taken it out of the pan, and wanted the remains to come up easily. I poured a little water in and all was well. I poured a little more. Everything was lovely. Until it was not. I poured one smidgen of water too much and the dish exploded. I've broken dishes before. This was not just a broken dish. Teeny shards of glass flew everywhere. 

A second obvious lesson was the one where I got away with a little something I knew was wrong so I kept doing it until that awful moment when it caught up with me. However, that wasn't the life changing lesson. 

As I looked at the thousands of broken pieces, I realized no artist no matter how gifted could put my dish together. 

The caption for this artwork reads: "the art of repairing pottery with gold or silver lacquer and understanding that the piece is more beautiful for having been broken." 

There are times in my life when this caption fits and it's a beautiful reminder. Yet, my heart went to thoughts of time and people where their "dish", their lives, seemed shattered beyond all repair. It made me weep until a series of "random" occurrences caused me to think about how God transforms. He is able to gather thousands upon thousands of broken pieces and make us new. We are still us. If I had gathered up all those pieces and instead of throwing them in the trash, I had melted them all together, all the particles of that dish would still be there. In like fashion, each of our unique DNA is still there. My pieces of shard still had some squash juice on them, and I wonder "Does God clean up every little shard?" That's a lovely thought. Or, does some of that become a part of us so that we in turn can love, comfort, and help others who are broken? 

These latter lessons carry me past weeping into hope. 

This song also came to mind, and I close with "Broken Vessels" by Hillsong.

The Expectant Hope of Mary

When I look at most Christmas card pictures (or Christmas stamps) of Mary, I would say this is a woman who has it all together. All her hopes while growing up in Mom and Dad's household have been fulfilled.

Christmas cards tend to be scenes of perfection: perfect balance, composition, color, emotion (happy, joyful, peaceful or all three). To be sure, I wouldn't be excited to put a card up on my fireplace mantle that shows Joseph and Mary scroungy: shabby, dirty, sweaty, and unkempt from traveling to Bethlehem. Let's add in the way most of us women look after we have given birth. Like everyone else, I want beauty. I want wholeness, happiness, joy, peace, and I want it now.

This picture of The Annunciation by Henry Ossawa Tanner blesses me. Mary, a teenager, gets the shock of her life. Rather than have a greeting card wedding followed by, at an appropriate time, a Pinterest worthy baby shower and a birthing scene filled with the help of close women relatives, Mary's life has been turned upside down. Mary questions, yet she still decides: "I am the Lord's servant. May it be to me as you have said" (Luke 1:38).

Mary has expectant hope. The words "expectant" and "hope" are a lovely combination of words. To be expectant is to feel that something is about to happen, and to hope is to want something to happen. The definitions of both words involve "to happen." It, whatever "it" is, has not happened yet. It is in the future. Mary's expectant hope comes from knowing the Lord. This is a young woman who has spent time contemplating God's goodness. With the angel, she simply states: "I am the Lord's servant," but, later, with her cousin Elizabeth she will let her excitement flow in praise of what God is doing and going to do.

Daily life is rarely greeting card worthy, yet it is in the daily life that I get to know the goodness of my Savior and I am prepared to have expectant hope for what lies ahead.

Expectant Hope

Yesterday marked the first day of Advent 2015, a day when some light the first candle of five set within a wreath of green.

This first candle, usually purple as befitting the prophecy of a king to come, symbolizes expectant hope. 

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6). 

I often forget a major reality: Expectancy isn't filled with soft, comfortable days of waiting.

Consider the opening of Jesus' story: an angel comes to Mary, and even after greeting her and letting her know that she's highly favored and the Lord is with her, Mary is greatly troubled. Angel Gabriel has to say: "Don't be afraid." 

No wonder! We've made angels into cute little beings, or, like Henry Payne's section of painting* above, of equal stature. Bernini did a better job of capturing the immensity of angels. 

I like what is comfortable and familiar. Prophecies and hopes are exciting as long as I can wrap them up in a box with pretty wrappings and bows. But, when they don't fit inside of my small comfortable expectations, or when I have to wait, confused and unsure, then I need a reminder that the Lord also says to me as He had Gabriel say to Mary: The Lord is with you. Don't be afraid." 

"Let your conversation be without covetousness; and be content with such things as you have: for He has said, 'I will never leave you, nor forsake you' so that we may boldly say, 'The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do to me'" (Hebrews 13:5,6). 

"The Lord has not given us the spirit of fear, but of strength, and of love, and of a sound mind" (2 Timothy 1:7). 

"Nothing...shall separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (Romans 8:39). 

* "Annunciation" detail from Peace and Goodwill 1921-1922 by Henry Payne, stained and painted glass, leaded in the Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery.

I Begin Yet Again for the 3rd? 4th? Time

I've used this title before "I Begin Again." It's an appropriate title for continuing to write after close to two years of silence. It's also an appropriate title for explaining the work of Christ-centered spiritual formation. Each morning (not just for the third or fourth time, but again and again and again), I begin again.

And, God meets me, right where I am. Today, as I was struggling to begin again, forgetting much of what I had learned about how to set up a blog and working with a computer that needs to be updated fully, I had given up being able to find and upload an image of "His mercies are new every morning." I had decided to skip the image (and leave off writing) but to check out the blogs I recommend on my page. There on Learning Along the Way Coaching's post from yesterday -- "Finish Well"-- was this image. God used Lisa Lewis's finishing well on her 31 days of blogging to encourage me as I strive to begin yet again.

You might have had a bad day yesterday, this past week...month...year...you might be in the midst of a struggle this minute. Begin again...and again...and again. As I begin writing again, I hope to explore what Christ-centered spiritual formation looks like -- on the slow track. And, I hope to keep it short (yes, I know, you'll believe it when you see it).

Contemplating Epiphany and Hope

I imagine I heard the word "Epiphany" while attending church when I was young; however, the word did not have any meaning for me until I took literature classes in college. In literature, epiphanies break forth in a character's life (or in the reader's mind) with the brilliance of a bright light in a dark room. A character is suddenly aware of knowledge about which he or she was previously in the dark. In chapter thirty-six of Pride and Prejudice, Jane Bingley says, "Till this moment I never knew myself." Often an epiphany causes us to realize as Jane did that we have been "blind, partial, prejudiced, absurd." 

It is difficult to have an epiphany when we move through our lives at such a rapid pace. Contemplation, to stay still long enough and quiet enough to give some thought attention, to meditate on it, enables me to change. I want change; I want to grow into a more loving, kind, thoughtful person. I need time with God to change. Yesterday, it did not take a lot of time for me to contemplate Epiphany. I spent five to ten minutes and then the thoughts just kept coming throughout the day. Yet, contemplation does take a beginning, a willingness to be quiet and thought-filled.  

In Brave New World by Aldous Huxley, the main character, John (the Savage) insists, "…it is natural to believe in God when you're alone -- quite alone, in the night, thinking about death…" 

Mustapha Mond, Controller of this brave new world, responds, "But people are never alone now. We make them hate solitude; and we arrange their lives so that it's almost impossible for them ever to have it." In the final chapter, John pays the ultimate price in a society where "nothing costs enough" -- the people don't have to deny themselves in any way to get the things they want, and they don't want anything they've not been conditioned to want. 

Huxley wrote twenty years after the book came out that he wished he had provided the Savage a third alternative, in that neither culture in the book was worth living for. Epiphanies without hope lead to deep dark pits -- a possible reason why people, not only in Brave New World, but also in our brave new world avoid contemplation and solitude. 

The Epiphany of over two thousand years ago brought with it Hope. God revealed Himself to Magi, wise men, men from the East. Not Jewish. 

Gentiles. What amazing hope I have in God who esteems, values and respects, women (as well as men, but in those days, the status of women was nil), who esteems shepherds (when no one in that culture would have), who esteems and loves outsiders (God draws them to Himself and guides them).

Yesterday's time of contemplation was not difficult. Perhaps it will be in the future, but tomorrow I write on practices of Wholeness. :D 

The Beauty of Hope -- Day 7 of Advent

On this seventh day of Advent, I want to post pictures of beauty. Most of the time, I try to find photos I have taken myself (thus, the quality may be less than desired :D). However, this picture above (and one other photo of my sister and I running from the ocean waves in the November 22 post "Where Did My Year Go?) was taken by a former student and professional photographer Melissa Johnson. I chose this photo to connect with Frank Laubach's letter from May 24, 1930:

"One thing I have seen this week is that God loves beauty. Everything He makes is lovely. The clouds, 

the tumbling river, the waving lake, the soaring eagle, the slender blade of grass, the whispering of the wind, the fluttering butterfly, this graceful transparent nameless child of the lake which clings to my window for an hour and vanishes for ever. Beautiful craft of God! 

And I know that He makes my thought-life beautiful when I am open all the day to Him." 

As this first week of Advent comes to an end, but our journey continues, I close with this blessing from 2 Thessalonians 2:16  --

"Now may our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and our God and Father, who has loved us and given us everlasting consolation and good hope by grace, comfort your hearts and establish you in every good word and work." 

On the Sixth Day of Advent, My TRUE LOVE Brought to Me

Why a bird on an Advent post? Well, yes, there is the Twelve Days of Christmas song with seven swans a'swimming, but I did not actually think of that until I was uploading (downloading?) this picture. I would have liked to have posted a red cardinal...on a mailbox...surrounded by snow...snow that lasted just long enough for me to take a picture, but would be gone before I had to drive in it.
Sigh. I think I have just revealed that a good part of me would like to live in a Christmas card world.

A Christmas card world is not my world, and I suspect that it is not your world either. A friend was scheduled for surgery today, but the hospital power is frozen. That is the side of snow we don't see in those peaceful Christmas scenes. In my Internet mailbox are some devastating stories which I will not go into for fear that you will stop reading. And, the least of my worries, when I went to, at the very least, take a picture of a blue bird sitting atop of the bird feeder, the bird flew off. It did not just fly off, it flitted around the bushes and branches either hollering at me or warning its friends that a human being was on the premises.

Birds, for the past four or five years, have been used by God in my life to constantly remind me that He is alive and active in my life. This morning, I was more reminded of my own actions. As an old hymn states: Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Still, when I wander, I  do feel it. I noticed when I am wandering and when I am in touch with God. And, those times of being in touch are precious.

For those who have forgotten, or those just now joining in: I have been connecting my Advent posts with a small collection of letters from a missionary Frank Laubach. On May 14, 1930, Laubach wrote:

"Oh, this thing of keeping in constant touch with God, of making Him the object of my thought and the companion of my conversations, is the most amazing thing I ever ran across. It is working. I cannot do it even half of a day -- not yet, but I believe I shall be doing it some day for the entire day. it is a matter of acquiring a new habit of thought. Now I like God's presence so much that when for a half hour or so He slips out of mind -- as He does many times a day -- I feel as though I had deserted Him, and as thought I had lost something very precious in my life." 

He doesn't desert me; I fly away, walk away, wander away, swim away from Him. Therefore, it is good that He brought birds into my life because I see them so often. Right now there is a woodpecker on the pine tree just outside of my window.

He doesn't only use birds; He also uses comments from friends. Yesterday a friend shared how she thought about being with God in the midst of lost papers and company coming and a thousand things to do. Later in the day when I could not find an important paper with addresses, my first thought...wait for it...no, it was not of being with God. Sigh. My first thought was, "I am so frustrated with myself! I am going to get on Facebook and tell my friends that I am so frustrated with myself." The NEXT thought was of her comment about being with God and this thought: "Why not tell Jesus you are so frustrated with yourself." So, I did. In that moment I felt so close to God. I felt loved.

I am a slow learner; however, later that night when the cold weather killed my old battery just as I was supposed to be taking the grandchildren home, I gave it over to God. After my husband temporarily revived the car, long enough to drive it with lights flickering, I again turned to the Lord as I prayed: "Immanuel, God with me" all the way home.

Psalm 42:5 -- "Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me? 
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God. 

On this sixth day of Advent, I praise Him: my Hope, my Help, my God.

The Empty Stable -- Day 5 of Advent

This is my empty stable sitting atop of my fireplace mantle. The sight is rather jarring, is it not? I am accustomed to seeing a full stable, particularly at Christmas time. Also, if you have read my previous post "Where Are You Christmas?" on Monday, December 2, then you will know that I see a full stable every day of the year in a back bedroom. An empty stable is such a strange sight that it causes me constantly to reflect on Jesus, and I like that.

On April 22, 1930, Frank Laubach wrote: "The 'experiment' is interesting, although I am not very successful, thus far. The idea of God slips out of my sight for I suppose two-thirds of every day, thus far. This morning I started out fresh, by finding a rich experience of God in the sunrise. Then I tried to let him control my hands while I was shaving and dressing and eating breakfast. Now I am trying to let God control my hands as I pound the typewriter keys. If I could keep this morning up I should have a far higher average today than I have had for some time."

Sunrise, shaving, dressing, eating, typing...isn't interesting that we tend to look for God in only the BIG ways, the miraculous...but then again, each day is a miracle. Each day I can wake up, say "Hello, God!"; check out the patterns of frost outside my window, eat breakfast with Jesus, notice the empty stable. None of these activities took money or time away. (Not that I am disparaging a retreat with God; I will happily take any time away with God that comes along!) But, if the baby woke you up early this morning (or, in my case, the dog), or if your alarm did not go off as planned and you are running around trying to get yourself to school, a job, an appointment in time, we still can have Immanuel -- God with us. Actually, when I am running late, I do a whole lot better with Jesus than without Him.

Psalm 33: 18-22 -- "Behold, the eye of the LORD is on those who fear Him,
On those who hope in His mercy,
To deliver their soul from death,
And to keep them alive in famine.
Our soul waits for the LORD;
He is our help and our shield.
For our heart shall rejoice in Him,
Because we have trusted in His holy name.
Let Your mercy, O LORD, be upon us,
Just as we hope in You.

How do we view God? I did not know this was where I was headed this morning until I sat down with my Bible and read Psalm 33 and Luke 24: 5b -- "'Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen!'" I trust that Jesus is God of the living; His Holy Spirit is with me daily. Jesus not only saves me from death, He also keeps me alive in famine. When many struggle to have power and to take what others have for fear that they themselves will not have enough, I can know I am safe. I have Immanuel, God with me.

My empty stable causes me to ponder: What if Jesus had never been born? Is my God only a baby in a stable? Is my God alive?

He is alive; He is more than a baby in a stable.

My hope is based on nothing less!

The "Heart-melting, Here-ness" of Hope -- Day 4 of Advent

I mentioned in a previous post that my granddaughters carry Mary and Joseph on their journey to Bethlehem (aka the living room) throughout Advent. Yesterday, the youngest granddaughter placed them on the window sill. I'm happy with her choice because windows enable those within to look out and those outside to look in. This post offers a small window view into the difficulties of thinking of God all the time, and yet also a look into the hope God provides for us.

"This conscious, incessant submission to God has proven extremely difficult, and I have surrendered for the past few days. and today and yesterday I saw evidences of the result. In a effort to be witty, I have said biting things which have hurt the feelings of others, and have been short and impatient. I tremble, for I have told at least one of these men of this experiment, and he will think this is the result. It is very dangerous to tell people, and yet, I must tell and I must start over now and succeed. This philosophy that one can begin all over instantly at any moment is proving of great help" (Laubach 19 April 1930).

How this paragraph resonates with me! I have revealed in this blog that I, too, am trying to keep Jesus ever before me in my mind, and often times, I find myself thinking (worrying!) about whether I will have anything to write! But, oh how those words: "one can begin all over instantly at any moment" fill me with hope. I can come again and again in boldness to His throne of grace, not because of anything I have done, but because of Jesus.

I also join Laubach in writing that one must reveal the struggles along with the victories; otherwise, we will paint a false picture.

"If this record of a soul struggle to find God is to be complete, it must not omit the story of difficulty and failure. I have not succeeded very well so far. This week, for example, has not been one of the finest in my life, though it has been above the average. I have to make a greater effort next week. I have undertaken something which, at my age at least, is hard, harder than I had anticipated. But I resolve not to give up the effort. Yet strain does not seem to do any good."[underlining mine]

"At this moment I feel something 'LET GO' inside and lo, GOD is here! It is a HEART-MELTING 'HERE-NESS,' a lovely whispering of father to child, and the reason I did not have it before was because I failed to let go." [underlining and caps mine]

Let go, and let God.

Psalm 31:24 -- "Be strong, and  let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the Lord." Some translations finish with "all you who wait for the Lord." Hoping, waiting, trusting, letting go to God. Our hearts can take courage because our hope for good will be fulfilled by our good and loving God. 

Today's Message Brought To You By Hope -- Advent Day 3

Today's message is brought to you by Hope. Hope is the thread running through each element even though these paragraphs (and photo) will seem like a strange collection at first.

From Frank Laubach, 18 April 1930 -- "Everywhere people are beautiful -- or at least they have a beautiful side. On the boat from Manila last week was a painted woman, alone. I spoke to her because she was lonesome. Three of the ship's officers nearby tittered as thought they thought a scandal was brewing, so I talked loud enough for them to hear. I told her I was looking for God. As naturally as a preacher she replied, 'God is everywhere around us and in us if we only open our eyes. All the world is beautiful if we have eyes to see the beauty, for the world is packed with God.' 'Thank you for that,' I said."

From Matthew 1:18-24 -- "Now the birth of Jesus Christ was as follows: After His mother Mary was betrothed to Joseph, before they came together, she was found with child of the Holy Spirit. Then Joseph her husband, being a just man, and not wanting to make her a public example, was minded to put her away secretly. But while he thought about these thing, behold, and angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream, saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take to you Mary your wife, for that which is conceived in her is of the Holy Spirit. and she will bring forth a Son, and you shall call His name JESUS, for He will save His people from their sins.'

"So this was done that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the Lord through the prophet, saying: 'Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel,' which is translated, 'God with us.'

"Then Joseph, being aroused from sleep, did as the angel of the Lord commanded him and took to him his wife, and did not know her till she had brought forth her firstborn Son. And he called His name JESUS."

From Luke 6:35-36 -- "But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil. Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful." 

I mentioned in my last post that our nativity set stays up year round in a back bedroom. On the first day of Advent, the stable is moved to the fireplace mantle, the shepherds are set up on green grass (a green placemat :D) on the piano, the kings stay where they are until Epiphany, and Mary and Joseph start their journey to Bethlehem (aka out of the bedroom, down the hallway, to the front of the house). The granddaughters move them each time they are over. This year the oldest granddaughter looked for a different first spot: nestled among the books on the shelf. Mary is kneeling, a position we can not change since this little plastic figurine kneels while in the stable with her Son; still, Joseph looks protective. The verse that popped into my mind was the one where God places Moses in the cleft of the rock so that Moses can live when God's glory shines forth. The Lord does pass before Moses and He reveals Himself as "The LORD, the LORD God, merciful, gracious, longsuffering, abounding in goodness and truth, forgiving of iniquity, transgression, and sin..." (Exodus 33:18-34:9).

Hope -- Joseph places his hope in God and believes Mary carries Immanuel within her. Laubach has such a hope in his God as Savior that he is able to see the painted woman as a potential carrier of Christ within. No, Mary and the painted woman are not the same, but certainly the townspeople would have been thinking such thoughts about Mary had not Joseph chosen to trust, hope, and believe. Mary literally, physically carried Jesus, but the painted woman is a human being made in the image of God, possibly a future sister-in-Christ which would make her a woman in whom Christ dwells.

Hoping for something in return, hoping for what we want, hoping for fame and fortune, hoping for power and praise -- these hopes are tenuous at best. The only sure hope we have is in Jesus. And, that hope, causes me to walk out the door, into the world, with great joy, ready to see Jesus and beauty all around me.

Where Are You Christmas? Day 2 of Advent

Eleven months out of the year, our nativity set sits on the top of the bookshelf in the back bedroom. It is a constant reminder that the hope of the Messiah was fulfilled. A constant reminder that Christmas is for more than just one day each year. On this second day of Advent, in my hometown, it does not feel like Christmas. Snow does not cover the ground as it does in Christmas cards. In fact, when I took my granddaughter to the park, we threw off our jackets immediately. I google'd the weather in Bethlehem and it is the exact same temperature as where I live! There is one difference -- it is 10 hours later. My 65 degrees came at noon, and their temperature was still that high at 10 in the evening. They are even warmer -- no snow for them. More than likely (as in 100% likely), Jesus' birth did not look like my nativity set nor my Christmas cards. Reading the biblical accounts we realize Jesus was probably born in a month like September, not December. The kings did not come to the stable, and the stable in those days was a cave. Still, this precious nativity, chosen for how much wear and tear it could endure when handled by children, can re-focus my vision on those days when I am running around mindlessly.

On March 23, 1930, Frank Laubach wrote: "You and you and you and I do experience fine fresh contact with God sometimes, and do carry out His will sometimes. One question now to be put to the test is this: Can we have that contact with God all the time? All the time awake, fall asleep in His arms, and awaken in his presence, can we attain that?....Or are there periods when business, and pleasures, and crowding companions must necessarily push God out of our thoughts?"

No, Frank was not out Christmas shopping when he wrote this. :D

He writes the usual answer to this question: "If one thinks of God all the time, he will never get anything else done."  But, he follows with what he learned: "So I thought too, until now, but I am changing my view. We can keep two things in mind at once. Indeed we cannot keep one thing in mind more than half a second. Mind is a flowing something. It oscillates. Concentration is merely the continuous return to the same problem from a million angles. We do not think of one thing. We always think of the relationship of at least two things, and more often of three or more things simultaneously." 

"If our religious premises are correct at all, then this oneness with God is the most normal condition one can have. It is what made Christ, Christ. It is what St. Augustine meant when he said, 'Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our souls are restless until they find their rest in Thee.'"

Frank Laubach called this continual attempt to rest in God, to come back to God minute by minute, an experiment. What better time to start an experiment such as this -- continually looking for Jesus -- than during the Christmas season?

"Can a laboring man successfully attain this continuous surrender to God?"

"Can a merchant do business, can an accountant keep books, ceaselessly surrendered to God? Can a mother wash dishes, care for the babies, continuously talking to God?Can little children be taught to talk and listen to God inwardly all day long, and what is the effect upon them?" 

"Can a politician keep in a state of continuous contact with God, and not lose the following of the crowds?" Yes, Laubach wrote that in 1930. Well, this is the week of Advent where we remember hope. Hope in Jesus. I hope in vain that my Christmas celebrations will always look like a Christmas card. I hope in vain that anything or anyone other than Jesus will fill me with joy. But, my flesh rests in hope when I set the Lord always before me.

"I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel; my heart also instructs me in the night seasons.
I have set the Lord always before me; Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.
Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope....
You will show me the path of life; In Your presence is the fullness of joy;
At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore" Psalm 16:7-9,11.