Archives for December 2014

Psalm 126, NRSV

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
    we were like those who dream.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter,
    and our tongue with shouts of joy;
then it was said among the nations,
    “The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us,
    and we rejoiced.

Restore our fortunes, O Lord,
    like the watercourses in the Negeb.

May those who sow in tears
    reap with shouts of joy.

Those who go out weeping,
    bearing the seed for sowing,
shall come home with shouts of joy,
    carrying their sheaves.

This is one of those psalms that sings into my bones. Though there is evidence in these words of lost fortunes and weeping, the melody line is one of thanksgiving, of promise.

Even amidst the necessary lament, the loneliness of waiting and the muted, darker colors of Advent (did you know that Advent colors are dark blue and purple?), there is always a beautiful breath of light and hope. 

And here, in this song, is an image of harvest: seeds and sheaves.

And that picture of the seed, falling into the ground and dying to bring forth glorious new life — that’s one I want to hang onto this Advent.

That’s a picture worth looking at, again and again.

Thank you for this song, Lord. Thank you for the hope it contains, for the picture of small things becoming big and nourishing. Help me to hang onto hope, even when things seem darkest, to trust that even in the hardest times, there are seeds of future goodness. Amen.

Philippians 3:7-11, The Message

The very credentials these people are waving around as something special, I’m tearing up and throwing out with the trash—along with everything else I used to take credit for. And why? Because of Christ. Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God’s righteousness.

I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself. If there was any way to get in on the resurrection from the dead, I wanted to do it.

I want that kind of righteousness, too, Paul. I do. Really, I do.

But I’m not at all sure I want the suffering — and the death! — that goes along with it. I wrestle with that one a lot, you know?

Here’s the truth: rule-following was a lifestyle for me for many, many years. Slowly, with time and study and gentle cues from the Spirit, I began to let go of the list and embrace the freedom that God makes possible through the life, death, resurrection and ascension of Jesus. Can’t say I’m 100% done with the ‘inferior,’ as Paul labels it, but I’m gettin’ there.

And sure enough, getting there has involved some suffering and some very real ‘deaths’ along the way. And every time I find myself facing into that truth, I struggle! 

Fortunately, it seems that God enjoys a good wrestle. And for that, I am eternally grateful. 

God of Jacob, God of the Jabbok riverbank, thank you for letting me push back from time to time. Thank you for loving me enough to welcome my questions, my slowness, my resistance. And thank you for helping me walk through the dark valleys, knowing that I am not alone, even there. Amen.

Luke 1:5-17, The Message

During the rule of Herod, King of Judea, there was a priest assigned service in the regiment of Abijah. His name was Zachariah. His wife was descended from the daughters of Aaron. Her name was Elizabeth. Together they lived honorably before God, careful in keeping to the ways of the commandments and enjoying a clear conscience before God. But they were childless because Elizabeth could never conceive, and now they were quite old.

It so happened that as Zachariah was carrying out his priestly duties before God, working the shift assigned to his regiment, it came his one turn in life to enter the sanctuary of God and burn incense. The congregation was gathered and praying outside the Temple at the hour of the incense offering. Unannounced, an angel of God appeared just to the right of the altar of incense. Zachariah was paralyzed in fear.

But the angel reassured him, “Don’t fear, Zachariah. Your prayer has been heard. Elizabeth, your wife, will bear a son by you. You are to name him John. You’re going to leap like a gazelle for joy, and not only you—many will delight in his birth. He’ll achieve great stature with God.

“He’ll drink neither wine nor beer. He’ll be filled with the Holy Spirit from the moment he leaves his mother’s womb. He will turn many sons and daughters of Israel back to their God. He will herald God’s arrival in the style and strength of Elijah, soften the hearts of parents to children, and kindle devout understanding among hardened skeptics—he’ll get the people ready for God.”

I love Zechariah. Such a godly man, and still, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut when he needed to. I can relate just a little too well to that!

And I love this story of God’s faithfulness over time to this elderly couple. But when I think of all the beautiful promises that are contained in this word from the angel, the one about parents and children is my fave. 

We’ve talked about soft hearts already in this series, but this is a specific application of that whole idea, one that we need lots and lots of today. Parents turning to their kids with softness, with love and openness and encouragement and tenderness and joy. 

In the midst of the day-to-day drudgery that is part and parcel of parenting (let’s tell the truth, okay?), it is good . . . IT IS GOOD . . . to remember that tender hearts are priority numero uno. And right here, the angel of the Lord talks about how John the Baptist will help to begin that tender, turning process. May it continue . . . in us and through us.

Lord, help me to have a tender heart towards the children you place in my life. My own grandchildren, of course. But the other kids in my girls’ schools, the kids at church, and ones I meet at the grocery store and on the road. A tender heart is a very good thing to have . . . and I want one. 

Isaiah 4:2-6, the Message

And that’s when God’s Branch will sprout green and lush. The produce of the country will give Israel’s survivors something to be proud of again. Oh, they’ll hold their heads high! Everyone left behind in Zion, all the discards and rejects in Jerusalem, will be reclassified as “holy”—alive and therefore precious. God will give Zion’s women a good bath. He’ll scrub the bloodstained city of its violence and brutality, purge the place with a firestorm of judgment.

Then God will bring back the ancient pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night and mark Mount Zion and everyone in it with his glorious presence, his immense, protective presence, shade from the burning sun and shelter from the driving rain.

It seems the prophet Isaiah likes the idea of ‘glory’ a lot himself! This is a familiar Advent text, so I’m glad I chose to read it in an unfamiliar translation/paraphrase. “God’s branch will sprout green and lush. . . ” 

Yes, indeed! Sprout, it did, in the person and work of Jesus the Messiah. And this passage, in many ways looks forward to the ongoing work of that Messiah in the lives and hearts of people. At some point, we will see the glory of God, live and in person — “his immense, protective presence . . .” as shade and shelter.

Shade and shelter — something I crave whenever the sun is beating down on me. And I love this word picture here — that God, our great and glorious God, is available to us as exactly that: shade and shelter.

Right about now, Lord, I could use a goodly dose of both! So thank you for your promised presence and for your generous gift of what I need, when I need it. 

Psalm 27, NRSV

The Lord is my light and my salvation;
    whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life;
    of whom shall I be afraid?

When evildoers assail me
    to devour my flesh—
my adversaries and foes—
    they shall stumble and fall.

Though an army encamp against me,
    my heart shall not fear;
though war rise up against me,
    yet I will be confident.

 One thing I asked of the Lord,
that will I seek after:
   to live in the house of theLord
all the days of my life,
   to behold the beauty of theLord,
and to inquire in his temple.

For he will hide me in his shelter
    in the day of trouble;
he will conceal me under the cover of his tent;
    he will set me high on a rock.

Now my head is lifted up
    above my enemies all around me,
and I will offer in his tent
    sacrifices with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make melody to the Lord.

Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud,
    be gracious to me and answer me!

“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”
    Your face,Lord, do I seek.

     Do not hide your face from me.

Do not turn your servant away in anger,
    you who have been my help.
Do not cast me off, do not forsake me,
    O God of my salvation!

If my father and mother forsake me,
    the Lord will take me up.

Teach me your way, O Lord,
    and lead me on a level path
    because of my enemies.

Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries,
    for false witnesses have risen against me,
    and they are breathing out violence.

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord
    in the land of the living.

Wait for theLord;
    be strong, and let your heart take courage;
    wait for theLord!

I love this psalm. I could easily have ‘bolded’ the entire song, because every word is precious to me. But when I read it through this year, it was that penultimate line that grabbed my heart.

I do believe I see — and will continue to see — the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. I see it in my husband’s face, in my children’s love for their children, in my grandchildren’s growing understanding of who they are and who they want to become.

I see it in the beauty of this town we call home, in the beauty that still resides inside my aging, dementing mama, in my church community. I see the goodness of the Lord threading its way through my entire life, all the great stuff, and all the hard stuff, too.

And I am grateful, right down to my toes.

Thank  you for your goodness, Lord. For the ways in which you remind us that life is good, even when it doesn’t always feel like it is. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear and a heart to understand where you are and what you’re doing in the people and situations of my life. And help me to show forth your goodness in all my words and actions, during Advent and always.

 Isaiah 40:1-11, NRSV

Comfort, O comfort my people,
    says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
    and cry to her
that she has served her term,
    that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
    double for all her sins.

A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.

Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all people shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

A voice says, “Cry out!”
    And I said, “What shall I cry?”
All people are grass,
    their constancy is like the flower of the field.

The grass withers, the flower fades,
    when the breath of theLord blows upon it;
    surely the people are grass.

The grass withers, the flower fades;
    but the word of our God will stand forever.

Get you up to a high mountain,
    O Zion, herald of good tidings;
lift up your voice with strength,
    O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings,
    lift it up, do not fear;
say to the cities of Judah,
    “Here is your God!”

See, the Lord God comes with might,
    and his arm rules for him;
his reward is with him,
    and his recompense before him.

He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
    he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
    and gently lead the mother sheep.

I cannot read this passage without hearing Handel’s ‘Messiah’ in my head. Just cannot do it. Talk about divine inspiration — that guy Handel had a direct pipeline, I do believe. 

During this Advent season, I’m asking God to show me glory, to give me a peek at who God is in all that radiant beauty. And more often than not, the glory I find is in the sky. Early or late, the autumn/winter sky is just plain glorious here on the central coast of California.

It’s something to do with the position of the planet in relation to the sun, the angle of the light and how it changes with the seasons. And during these months, the sky is magnificent! 

I’d like to make sure my own, personal ‘planet’ is lined up well with the Son as I continue to occupy this autumn season of my long life, moving ever closer to winter, one day at at time. Because if I can stand in the right place, then maybe some of that glory will shine right through me.

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

Thank you for words like ‘glory,’ Lord, and for what they conjure up in our imaginations. Thank you that you are a God of glory and that you invite us right into that radiance. Shine on me, Lord. And shine through me, too.

Ezekiel 36:24-28, NRSV

I will take you from the nations, and gather you from all the countries, and bring you into your own land. I will sprinkle clean water upon you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh. I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. Then you shall live in the land that I gave to your ancestors; and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.

I kind of look for hearts. Yeah, it’s a weird little thing of mine. I love them. And on our recent vacation, I was watching some birds as they took baths in a small birdbath nearby and right next to me was this vine. And lo and behold, if I didn’t spy a small heart-shaped hole, left there by some local insect. Can you find it in the picture?

When I add a heart-shaped rock to my collection, or use a stick to make a heart in the sand, or cut a heart out of colored paper to give to one of my grandgirls, I think of this verse.

A new heart. And not a heavenly heart, either. A heart of flesh. A soft heart, a real heart, a love-filled heart. That’s the business God is in, friends. Making us as beautifully human as possible. TRULY human. Looking more and more like Jesus.

Thank you for this promise, O Lord. For the beauty of your transforming work in us and through us. Remind us that our hearts are designed to be soft and tender, not hard and impregnable. As we move closer to that stable, help us to open our hearts, to take a risk here or there, a risk on love.

Acts 11:19-26, NLT 

Meanwhile, the believers who fled from Jerusalem during the persecution after Stephen’s death traveled as far as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch, scattering the Good News, but only to Jews. However, some of the believers who went to Antioch from Cyprus and Cyrene also gave their message about the Lord Jesus to some Greeks. And the Lord honored this effort so that large numbers of these Gentiles became believers.

When the church at Jerusalem heard what had happened, they sent Barnabas to Antioch to help the new converts. When he arrived and saw the wonderful things God was doing, he was filled with excitement and joy, and encouraged the believers to stay close to the Lord, whatever the cost. Barnabas was a kindly person, full of the Holy Spirit and strong in faith. As a result, large numbers of people were added to the Lord.

Then Barnabas went on to Tarsus to hunt for Paul. When he found him, he brought him back to Antioch; and both of them stayed there for a full year teaching the many new converts. (It was there at Antioch that the believers were first called “Christians.”)

This is the story of how we became Christ-followers. Without that visit to Antioch, without the story-telling to the Greeks there, the church as we know it would not exist. 

It just came out, you know? These excited new Jewish followers carried the tale back home after all the festival hubbub in Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And they could.not.keep.quiet.

“And the Lord honored their efforts. . . ” How? Maybe by sending them Barnabas. Barnabas the encourager, who got so jazzed by what he found that he rejoiced the news all the way back to the head honchos in the big J. But you know something? Jerusalem is NOT where he went: he went to Tarsus.

Tarsus? Why??

To find a guy named Paul. A former persecutor of the infant church named Saul was now the number one convert, with a brand-spankin’ new name. And together, Paul and Barnabas went back to Antioch to bring kindness, encouragement and instruction.

It’s probably not the most politically correct thing to admit, but I’ve never had a great desire to resemble Paul. But Barnabas? Oh, yeah. I’d L O V E to look a lot like him.

Lord, we give you thanks for the enthusiasm of the early church! For their heartfelt zeal for you and for their faithfulness in telling the story to everyone they met. And we thank you for both Barnabas and Paul, who took those new converts to the next step in their own discipleship. What a great gift to the church then — and now. Thank you!

Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13, The Message

 God, you smiled on your good earth!
    You brought good times back to Jacob!
You lifted the cloud of guilt from your people,
    you put their sins far out of sight.
You took back your sin-provoked threats,
    you cooled your hot, righteous anger.

I can’t wait to hear what he’ll say.
    God’s about to pronounce his people well,
The holy people he loves so much,
    so they’ll never again live like fools.
See how close his salvation is to those who fear him?
    Our country is home base for Glory!

Love and Truth meet in the street,
    Right Living and Whole Living embrace and kiss!
Truth sprouts green from the ground,
    Right Living pours down from the skies!
Oh yes! God gives Goodness and Beauty;
    our land responds with Bounty and Blessing.
Right Living strides out before him,
    and clears a path for his passage.

Isn’t this passage a lovely breath of fresh air after the last several days of lament? Another reason I love the Word — it’s rich with texture and variety, with words that meet us wherever we happen to be at any given moment.

The more traditional translations of this passage usually say something like, “Righteousness and peace kiss each other,” words which I love. But I was struck by Peterson’s paraphrase of this entire selection from the psalms. He chooses the word ‘truth’ over the word ‘faithfulness,’ in the section right after the kissing bit. ‘Faithfulness’ is the English word used in many other versions of this psalm.

I like that choice. In fact, I think the two words are more synonymous than we might realize. 

Think about it. We are called to be who we are in Jesus — our truest selves. And when we are our truest, best selves, we will look more and more like Jesus, who is truth, and who is faithful.

And I love the picture of that faithful truth growing like a wild, green thing, straight out of the dust from which we came! 

Thank you, Jesus, for showing us truth, for being truth. And thank you for modeling the faithfulness of our God and inviting us to live a life that looks like yours, rich with love and laughter and self-giving.