Archives for December 2014

2 Samuel 6:12-19, NRSV

Then King David was told, “The Lord has blessed the household of Obed-edom and all that belongs to him, because of the ark of God.” So David went and brought up the ark of God from the house of Obed-edom to the city of David with rejoicing; and when those who bore the ark of the Lord had gone six paces, he sacrificed an ox and a fatling. David danced before the Lord with all his might; David was girded with a linen ephod. So David and all the house of Israel brought up the ark of the Lord with shouting, and with the sound of the trumpet.

As the ark of the Lord came into the city of David, Michal daughter of Saul looked out of the window, and saw King David leaping and dancing before theLord; and she despised him in her heart.

They brought in the ark of the Lord, and set it in its place, inside the tent that David had pitched for it; and David offered burnt offerings and offerings of well-being before the Lord.When David had finished offering the burnt offerings and the offerings of well-being, he blessed the people in the name of the Lord of hosts, and distributed food among all the people, the whole multitude of Israel, both men and women, to each a cake of bread, a portion of meat, and a cake of raisins. Then all the people went back to their homes.

This is a fascinating selection for Advent, don’t you think? A time of great celebration in David’s reign — the return of the ark to the people of God. And in these short verses, we see two distinctly different responses to that great event:

David danced with all his might. . .

and

Michal despised David in her heart because of it.

I so want to be a mighty dancer. I do! But too often, I think I’m actually more like Michal, holding judgment in my heart and too much disapproval.

I wonder if Michal knew how she was shutting off her heart. Because that’s what judgment and disapproval do — they shut off our hearts. David offered what he had — his own body and his deep sense of joy and fulfillment. So what if it wasn’t ‘seemly?’ So what?

We fuss around an awful lot sometimes. About really dumb things. Maybe this Advent, I can let go of some of that fussiness and take a few tentative dance steps just because God is good.

Oh, Lord. Forgive my foolishness. Because that interior frown, that sideways glance of disdain — those are foolish. Truly. Help me to embrace all of who I am, and all of who others are, no matter how they dance. And then help me to spin out of that embrace for the sheer joy of it, and to dance with all my might because of how good you are. 

Hebrews 1:1-4, NRSV

Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. When he had made purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high,having become as much superior to angels as the name he has inherited is more excellent than theirs.

Again today, this passage is a particular favorite of mine. “In these last days. . . ” God speaks to the world through a son. A son who is heir to all, through whom creation happened.

And who shows us who God is. Exactly who God is. A mirror image, a complete reflection of who God is, what God is like, ‘the exact imprint of God’s very being.’

This is amazing. THIS IS AMAZING. This is what we say we believe, it’s central to our understanding of who we are as followers of Jesus . . . and yet . . . And here, that ‘yet’ has a much more melancholy feel to it, doesn’t it?

I don’t think we live out what we say we believe. At least, not fully. If Jesus is the true image-bearer, then what we see in him cannot contradict what we say we see in God. And I guess that means that God is on the look-out for the lost, the least, the littlest, the last. Because that’s what Jesus did, that’s who Jesus was.

God is not interested in our power structures, our organizational skills, our decisions about who’s out and who’s in because Jesus wasn’t.  

And, friends. . . that is earth-shaking. Truly.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, Yahweh. Oh, Spirit. Sometimes I think I play you off against one another in my head. And yet, your word tells me that Jesus is the real deal, the whole enchilada, the perfect picture of GOD. Help me to reach for the hem of your garment, Lord, every single day. Because I need to remind myself that you walked these dusty roads with us and that you broke every stereotype, every preconception, every human understanding of who God is and what God is about. Hallelujah!

Mark 9:9-13, The Message

Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. “Don’t tell a soul what you saw. After the Son of Man rises from the dead, you’re free to talk.” They puzzled over that, wondering what on earth “rising from the dead” meant.

Meanwhile they were asking, “Why do the religion scholars say that Elijah has to come first?”

Jesus replied, “Elijah does come first and get everything ready for the coming of the Son of Man. They treated this Elijah like dirt, much like they will treat the Son of Man, who will, according to Scripture, suffer terribly and be kicked around contemptibly.”

This little snippet of a passage comes at the tail end of one of my favorite gospel narratives: the transfiguration. I love that story for lots of reasons — Jesus glows (!!), three of the disciples are chosen for some extra revelation (and they don’t get it, at all), and most of all? Because Jesus has a very rich, personal encounter with God the Father, who encourages him on the cusp of his coming suffering, who tells his closest followers that Jesus is the one to listen to, the one worth following.

And then, Jesus says the words that I’ve highlighted here: don’t tell anybody! 

Don’t tell anybody? Are you serious? We’ve just had the experience of a lifetime and we cannot talk about it?

But apparently, that isn’t what troubles the disciples here. Oh, no, they’re kind of caught up in the details — the gnarly, religious details. Why do the scholars say . . .

Oh, Lord, deliver me from religious nit-picking!! Help me to stand in awe of who you are, to be blown away by why you came, to stand gap-jawed at your glory. 

And then, let me tell somebody about it, okay?

How I wish I could have been there for this one, Lord! I love reading about it. But there are days when I could really use a heavenly visitation, you know? Please give me the wisdom to know when to speak and when not to speak. And when it’s time to talk, will you help me find the best words? Thank you!

Acts 3:17—4:4 , NRSV

“And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers.In this way God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, that his Messiah would suffer. Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah appointed for you, that is, Jesus, who must remain in heaven until the time of universal restoration that God announced long ago through his holy prophets. 

Moses said, ‘The Lord your God will raise up for you from your own people a prophet like me. You must listen to whatever he tells you. And it will be that everyone who does not listen to that prophet will be utterly rooted out of the people.’

And all the prophets, as many as have spoken, from Samuel and those after him, also predicted these days. You are the descendants of the prophets and of the covenant that God gave to your ancestors, saying to Abraham, ‘And in your descendants all the families of the earth shall be blessed.’ When God raised up his servant, he sent him first to you, to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways.”

An interesting choice for Advent, this sermon of Peter’s. And the phrase that stands out to me in this reading is one about refreshing.

Refreshing from the presence of the Lord. 

What do you think of when you read that word, ‘refresh?’ Immediately, water comes to my mind. Water to drink, to bathe in, to swim in, to spray into the hot, dry air. Water.

I don’t think it’s an accident that Jesus talks about himself as the water of life. But I’m not sure I think about that image in terms of refreshment very often. And maybe I need to! Because refreshing is what we all need. Regularly.

In the midst of tedium, of children screaming, of too many things to do and not enough time to do them, of tense relationships, of physical suffering, of our own brokenness and sinfulness — we all need to be refreshed.

So I’m glad that Peter chose to use this picture that day, that his famous sermon to all those people gathered there in Jerusalem contained a reference to ‘times of refreshing.’

Because of Jesus.

How blessed we are to be the recipients of your refreshment, O God. Thank you for forgiveness, for the ongoing work of the Spirit in us, the One who transforms us bit by bit into people who look like Jesus. 

Psalm 125, The Message

Those who trust in God   
  are like Zion Mountain:
Nothing can move it, a rock-solid mountain
  you can always depend on.
Mountains encircle Jerusalem,
  and God encircles his people—   
always has and always will.

The fist of the wicked
   will never violate
What is due the righteous,
    provoking wrongful violence.
Be good to your good people, God,
    to those whose hearts are right!
God will round up the backsliders,
    corral them with the incorrigibles.
Peace over Israel!

Ah, I do love the mountains. Almost as much as I love the coastline. And here where we live, we get both. Our home is on the downward slope of a mountain foothill and two miles further down the road, the ocean awaits.

This picture showcases our backyard view – one that I enjoy every day, maybe especially as the sun begins to set, turning the nooks and crannies shades of pink and salmon, even lavender.

Those mountains are steady. They are huge and reassuring and call forth all kinds of good images for me. The one used by the psalmist in today’s text is one that is especially dear to my heart: God encircles his people like the mountains encircle Jerusalem.

Somehow, having actual mountains to look at helps me to remember this truth. When we went ‘college shopping’ with our daughters, our eldest became distinctly uncomfortable when we drove by a UC campus that was located on a plain. “I could never go to school here,” she said. “I would feel untethered.”

Exactly.

Thank you, Lord, for being our tender tether, for encircling us with your love, grace and power. When I begin to gaze out at the world, looking for who-knows-what beyond the peaks, help me to remember that you are the one who encircles me. You are my tether. Thank you.

Habakkuk 3:13-19, NRSV

 You came forth to save your people,
    to save your anointed.
You crushed the head of the wicked house,
    laying it bare from foundation to roof. Selah

You pierced with their own arrows the head of his warriors,
    who came like a whirlwind to scatter us,
    gloating as if ready to devour the poor who were in hiding.

You trampled the sea with your horses,
    churning the mighty waters.

I hear, and I tremble within;
    my lips quiver at the sound.
Rottenness enters into my bones,
    and my steps tremble beneath me.
I wait quietly for the day of calamity
    to come upon the people who attack us.

Though the fig tree does not blossom,
    and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails,
    and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold,
    and there is no herd in the stalls,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
    I will exult in the God of my salvation.

God, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
    and makes me tread upon the heights.

When this passage came up in the daily lectionary, I nearly wept with gratitude. It is one of my favorite favorites. Despite everything that is wrong, hard, painful, grievous — despite everything —

yet I will rejoice in the Lord.

Oh, that I might stand tall and sing with the prophet. That I might raise my hands to heaven and shout these words! YET. Just three letters, but so powerful, poignant, game-changing. 

Yet. . .

Of Lord of the ‘Yet,’ help me to be a person who clings to that ‘yet,’ who believes — soul-deep — that you are good, faithful, present. . . no.matter.what. Thank you for these words, for this declaration of trust and commitment, even in the bleakest of circumstances. Thank you for Habukkuk this Advent.