Archives for November 2017

An Advent Journey: Reflections for Weary Travelers — Day One

Today is the first day of Advent, Year B in the Common Lectionary. Today, we begin again on our annual travels through the 25 days of waiting leading up to Christmas Day. Before diving into today’s scripture and reflection, I wanted to remind us what is is we do during this season and why we do it. Here are words I wrote in 2011 for the Advent Journey section of this blog.

A daily journey through scripture, prayer, photos, exploring the time of waiting that we call Advent.

Waiting for what? For whom?

Waiting for Jesus.

Yes, we wait for the celebration of the incarnation, the birth of the Baby of Bethlehem. But we also wait for Jesus in other ways, at other times.

We wait for him to show himself, small and mild, in the situations of our daily lives.

We wait for him to show himself, wild and magnificent in the beauties of the world he breathed into existence.

We wait for Jesus to come again, to break the sky with glory and grace and to shout, “The strife is o’er, the battle won!”

These twenty-four days are set aside for us to turn asideto pull away a little bit from the over-commercialization and increasing noise of ‘Christmas’ as it’s celebrated in this crazy culture in which we live.

So for each of these Advent days, including Christmas Day, there will be a brief devotional in this space to remind us that waiting can be a good thing, a centering thing, a hopeful thing.

Even so, Lord Jesus, come.

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Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19, NRSV

Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel,
    you who lead Joseph like a flock!
You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth
  before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh.
Stir up your might,
    and come to save us!

Restore us, O God;
    let your face shine, that we may be saved.

O Lord God of hosts,
    how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers?
You have fed them with the bread of tears,
    and given them tears to drink in full measure.
You make us the scorn of our neighbors;
    our enemies laugh among themselves.

Restore us, O God of hosts;
    let your face shine, that we may be saved.

 But let your hand be upon the one at your right hand,
    the one whom you made strong for yourself.
Then we will never turn back from you;
    give us life, and we will call on your name.

Restore us, O Lord God of hosts;
    let your face shine, that we may be saved.

And so, we begin again. Today is the start of a new year on the Christian calendar, did you know that? Advent marks the beginning, every single year. Twenty-five days set aside to reflect on what it means to wait with expectancy and with hope. I think that’s a great place to begin again, don’t you? So you are invited to step into . . . waiting. And as we take that step, the words of the psalmist seem appropriate: “Let your face shine, that we may be saved.”

It is a very good thing to remember that we need saving. We are creatures who struggle, whether we like it or not! Life is rich, wonderful, blessed — but also, difficult, dangerous and exhausting. Finding our way through the thicket is tough work, work that requires a little help along the way, especially when the ‘bread of tears’ is choking us and looking very far into the future feels bleak and overwhelming. 

So, open your heart to the shepherd as we step out into Advent once again. Let the comforting steadiness of God’s presence guide you along the path that leads to Christmas Day. Remember that we have a Savior, and that he is good.

Lord Jesus Christ, our Shepherd, hear us when we pray1 Help us to step in synch with you as we begin this journey again in 2017. For we need saving, we surely do. From circumstances we cannot control, from people who wish us harm, from the most dangerous enemies we know — those voices of condemnation and anxiety that live right inside our heads. Deliver us, O Lord. “Let your face shine, that we may be saved!”

Wretchedly Familiar: When Life Feels Unfair — SheLoves, November 2017

Have you ever had a really bad day, or an even worse week? How about a terrible month? Try multiple months? Yeah. That’s kinda like where I’ve been this year. So I did some reflecting on that over at SheLoves this month. The theme this month? “Return.” Please come on over and join us!

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Wasn’t it just two months ago that I wrote about lament in this space? I checked, friends, and yes, it was. In September. Today, I find myself needing to return to those songs-in-a-minor-key for a while longer. October’s theme opened my sad heart to a season of rejoicing, for remembering all of the gracious things in my life for which I can joyfully and loudly thank God.

But at this moment in time, as I sit down to write for November, I find the syllables of lament are oh-so-necessary. I am returning to the language that lets me enter my own sadness, that gives me permission to fully experience the pain of this moment on the journey that is my life.

One month ago yesterday, an ER doc told me that I had blood clots in both lungs and that one of them had caused an ‘infarct,’ which means tissue death (!!), thus causing the sudden, severe back pain of the previous 30 hours. He sent me home that evening with a new blood thinning medication, to be taken twice a day for the next month. I was also told to visit a long list of specialists, including the hematologist who had been working with me for the last seven years. He would prescribe a new drug at a new dosage to try and prevent this from happening again.

Because, you see, it had already happened once. Which is exactly why this particular ‘returning’ was not on my bucket list. The first event in 2010 put me on the only blood thinner available back then – Coumadin, a drug difficult to manage and which complicated my life for five years. In 2015, I managed to tear a muscle in my abdomen, causing significant internal bleeding and sending me to the hospital for two days. At that point, they reversed the effects of the Coumadin and took me off blood thinning meds, hopefully forever. Hooray!

Now, I am back on them — this time, for good. There are newer versions today, easier to manage, but not without risk. That is sobering. I am seeing a long list of specialists to rule out any other kind of damage to heart or kidneys and must take it easy for another couple of months. And all of it feels so wretchedly familiar. I did not want this to happen again, but . . . it has.

So now, what do I do about this particular ‘return’ in my life? Part of me wants to put on my big-girl pants and suck it up. That’s my go-to, life-long pattern. It feels familiar and even a little comforting. But the reality is, I am now seven years older than I was the last time this happened. And I’m in a season of grief and loss. SEVEN people close to me have died since my mom’s death in April. Two others (three, if I include myself) have received difficult medical news, all involving ongoing treatment, one with a terminal diagnosis, most likely in the next few years.

I feel inundated by sadness, overwhelmed by all the pain in the world at large and in my circle of family and friends in particular. And far more than action, or even re-action, I find that what I need is . . .

Click right here to discover what is helping in this season . . .