An Advent Journey

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 20

December 21, 2012 By Diana

“One month later God sent the angel Gabriel to the town of Nazareth in Galilee with a message for a virgin named Mary. She was engaged to Joseph from the family of King David. The angel greeted Mary and said, ‘You are truly blessed! The Lord is with you.’

Mary was confused by the angel’s words and wondered what they meant. Then the angel told Mary, ‘Don’t be afraid! God is pleased with you, and you will have a son. His name will be Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of God Most High. The Lord God will make him king, as his ancestor David was. He will rule the people of Israel forever, and his kingdom will never end.’

Mary asked the angel, ‘How can this happen? I am not married!’

The angel answered, ‘The Holy Spirit will come down to you, and God’s power will come over you. So your child will be called the holy Son of God. Your relative Elizabeth is also going to have a son, even though she is old. No one thought she could ever have a baby, but in three months she will have a son. Nothing is impossible for God!’

Mary said, ‘I am the Lord’s servant! Let it happen as you have said.’ And the angel left her.

— Luke 1:26-38, CEV

It was such an ordinary day. Really, it was.

I was helping my mother with the laundry, day-dreaming a little about Joseph, the kind-hearted carpenter from Nazareth I was just getting to know and would soon marry.

It was late afternoon and the sun was sinking slowly into the western sky, drawing long shadows in the dust. I sat in the shade of a tamarind tree and closed my eyes for just a moment.

I felt him first, even before I saw him. He actually radiated a kind of heat. And the light? Oh my, this Gabriel creature was bright. And so gentle with me. He could see that I was frightened. Stunned might be a better word.

Why in the world would such a glorious creature be standing in front of a 14-year-old girl from a backwater town on a warm summer evening?

To bring me a message from God on High, a message of such glory and such promise. . . and such heartache and such pain. Only I did not know that then. I only knew I had been chosen, singled out. I had been given a gift. And a beautiful, unimaginable burden.

And the Spirit came with power upon me. In an instant, my life as I knew it was over. And a new life had begun, growing slowly inside me, then outside me, then away from me.

And now, it is I who live in him — in him alone. My Lord, and my God.

A poem-prayer from St. John of the Cross:

If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the road

pregnant with the holy, and say,

“I need shelter for the night,

please take me inside your heart, my time is close.”

Then, under the roof of your soul,

you will witness the sublime intimacy,

the divine, the Christ, taking birth forever,

as she grasps your hand for help,

for each of us is the midwife of God, each of us.

Yes there, under the dome of your being

does creation come into existence eternally,

through your womb, dear pilgrim — the sacred womb of your soul,

as God grasps our arms for help,

for each of us is his beloved servant, never far.

If you want, the Virgin will come walking down the street

pregnant with Light and sing. . .

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 19

December 20, 2012 By Diana

“When Herod was king of Judea, there was a Jewish priest named Zechariah. He was a member of the priestly order of Abijah, and his wife, Elizabeth, was also from the priestly line of Aaron. Zechariah and Elizabeth were righteous in God’s eyes, careful to obey all of the Lord’s commandments and regulations. They had no children because Elizabeth was unable to conceive, and they were both very old.

One day Zechariah was serving God in the Temple, for his order was on duty that week. As was the custom of the priests, he was chosen by lot to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and burn incense. While the incense was being burned, a great crowd stood outside, praying.

While Zechariah was in the sanctuary, an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing to the right of the incense altar. Zechariah was shaken and overwhelmed with fear when he saw him. But the angel said, ‘Don’t be afraid, Zechariah! God has heard your prayer. Your wife, Elizabeth, will give you a son, and you are to name him John. You will have great joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the eyes of the Lord. He must never touch wine or other alcoholic drinks. He will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before his birth. And he will turn many Israelites to the Lord their God. He will be a man with the spirit and power of Elijah. He will prepare the people for the coming of the Lord. He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and he will cause those who are rebellious to accept the wisdom of the godly.’

Zechariah said to the angel, ‘How can I be sure this will happen? I’m an old man now, and my wife is also well along in years.’

Then the angel said, “I am Gabriel! I stand in the very presence of God. It was he who sent me to bring you this good news! but now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.’

Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah to come out of the sanctuary, wondering why he was taking so long. When he finally did come out, he couldn’t speak to them. Then they realized from his gestures and his silence that he must have seen a vision in the sanctuary.

When Zechariah’s week of service in the Temple was over, he returned home. Soon afterward his wife, Elizabeth, became pregnant and went into seclusion for five months. ‘How kind the Lord is!’ she exclaimed. ‘He has taken away my disgrace of having no children.'” — Luke 1:5-25, NLT

Just climbing up all these steps is hard work when you’ve lived as long as I have. Yet even as I creak my way to the top, I am excited right down to my toes tonight. The lot has fallen to me. My once-in-a-lifetime golden opportunity awaits: the Holy of Holies! The inner sanctuary, and I, poor old childless Zechariah — I get to light the incense and speak to God!

But — what is this? What is this brightness, this burning beauty, right before these tired old eyes? Am I having a stroke? A hallucination? It speaks! Oh, my LORD!

Like a dream, the vision vanishes as quickly as it appeared and I am left speechless. Literally. Without a word to say, no story to tell. . . except this one: I have heard from God. And God has heard from me! The prayers of my heart are becoming real. The age of miracles is not past.

I am living, breathing proof of that truth: there is life yet in this ancient frame! My good woman, old as she is, will ripen with fruit that we make together. And this boy, this John? He will be wild and fierce and do the good, hard work of reconciliation. And he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. Like the prophets of old, my boy will reverse my role – I speak to God on behalf of the people. That boy, that JOHN – he will speak to the people on behalf of God Almighty! Glory be.

Thank you for these good, good people in the story; for Zechariah and Elizabeth and John — gifts to the world, gifts to us. Thank you that you tell your story of redemption through ordinary, extraordinary people like them. Like us. We are never too old to see a promise fulfilled. We are never too young to carry the word of grace to the world. Thanks be to God!

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 18

December 19, 2012 By Diana

“By myself I can do nothing; I judge only as I hear, and my judgment is just, for I seek not to please myself but him who sent me.

If I testify about myself, my testimony is not true. There is another who testifies in my favor, and I know that his testimony about me is true.

You have sent to John and he has testified to the truth. Not that I accept human testimony; but I mention it that you may be saved. John was a lamp that burned and gave light and you chose for a time to enjoy his light.

I have testimony weightier than that of John. For the works that the Father has given me to finish — the very works that I am doing — testify that the Father has sent me. And the Father who sent me has himself testified concerning me. You have never heard his voice nor seen his form, nor does his word dwell in you, for you do not believe the one he sent. You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you possess eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life.

I do not accept glory from human beings, but I know you. I know that you do not have the love of God in your hearts. I have come in my Father’s name, and you do not accept me; but if someone else comes in his own name, you will accept him. How can you believe since you accept glory from one another but do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?

But do not think I will accuse you before the Father. Your accuser is Moses, on whom your hopes are set. If you believed in Moses, you would believe me, for he wrote about me. But since you do not believe what he wrote, how are you going to believe what I say?” — John 5:30-47

I love that this passage is in the lectionary rotation for Advent. As we anticipate welcoming that small king on our feast day next Tuesday, here is a fascinating monologue from the lips of that very babe, all grown up and speaking truth to power.

There is a time and a place to do this, isn’t there? To look directly at someone who is not ‘getting it’ and to speak truth back to them. Jesus was not shy; he was not meek in this setting. He identifies the core of the problem — worshipping the gift rather than the giver, the written word rather than the Living Word — and he speaks strongly into it.

This is about as direct as Jesus ever got while walking the dusty roads of 1st century Palestine. “You’re looking in the wrong places, with the wrong eyes. If you had eyes to truly see, you would see THROUGH the words directly to me. Because that’s who I am.”

Strong words, strong voice, strong truth.

May my only desire be to glory in you, my God. To thankfully embrace the Infant King as my King, to recognize him in the words of scripture and in the world around me, and to bow low before him, before you, before the Spirit, One in Three. Amen!

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 17

December 18, 2012 By Diana

“This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.

This is the crisis we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness. They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God. Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure. But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.” – John 3:16-21

God-light. Oh, how we need it!

Here we are, one week before Christmas, that day set aside centuries ago to remember the story, to tell the tale of God come to humankind. I am writing this reflection on December 13th, Santa Lucia day. Lucia was an Italian girl who became a Christian, and in thanks to God for saving her mother from illness, went about the city by candlelight to help the poor. She was martyred for her faith in the year 304, but the story of her candlelight ministry spread to Sweden. And the 13th day of December — the darkest one of the entire year — became Lucia’s festival day. The eldest girl in every house, dressed in white with a red sash and a wreath of candles on her head, brings coffee and pastry to her parents — and the Italian song, “Santa Lucia” is sung. I am part of a denomination that has Swedish roots and almost 35 (!!) years ago, I wrote a 10-minute meditation for the first of what became a 20-year series of annual Lucia breakfasts, served to over 600 people every December, most of them non-church-goers. I was asked to shorten it to 3 minutes and it was read every year for a decade as we remembered this young, early Christian who fed the poor from her own wealth:

What do you think of when you hear the word ‘light?’ The figure of Lucia is one kind of symbol for light – light in the midst of winter darkness, bringing hope for the hungry with her wreath of candles.

But what is light to you? What images come to your mind? Lamplight – to see things better? Firelight – to warm yourself? Lantern light – to show you the way? Perhaps that great ball in the sky that lights up our days – the sun – is the picture that first pops into your mind when you hear the word ‘light.’

But how many of you would think of light in it is original form, far more powerful than any other light we could name this morning? Light that brings more comfort than firelight, reveals more dirt and grime than any fluorescent or incandescent bulb, provides a warmer welcome than any home on this earth, directs our path more clearly than any lantern, pierces the darkness more effectively than a thousand suns. Where can we find such light?

Most appropriately for this season of the year, we can find it in one very special place — that manger stall in Bethlehem, enclosed most wonderfully in the very human flesh of a wee baby. That little life, laid in the straw of a small stable, brought with it the light of God’s love to the world.

When he was grown to young manhood, that same baby had this to say about himself: “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.” Jesus the baby had grown into a man with a mission, a man who knew who he was and steadfastly worked to communicate that knowledge — that light — to the rest of his world. His mission took him along a difficult road. The Light became tired and hungry and angry, much like you and I, but it was never quenched. The Light traveled and taught, healed and preached, told stories and made friends and wept over the darkness he found all around him.

He committed himself to shine, no matter what the circumstances of his life might be, and the radiance of that shining is still being seen today, glowing out of the pages of the New Testament as we read of his adventures and experiences. It shines today in the lives of those who have made the Lord of Light their own.

So, in addition to finding that wonderful, original light in the humble manger stall, we can find it all around us, today — right where we are — in this place, in this time.

The story of Christmas is more, much more, than the story of Lucia. It is more than myth and legend, it is more than beautiful crèche scenes and fragrant trees and glittering lights. It is real, it is simple and it is available to us where we are. God’s great gift of light is here to brighten this – and every – Christmas season.

“Arise! Shine! For your light has come!”

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Lucia

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 16

December 17, 2012 By Diana

“I, Simon Peter, am a servant and apostle of Jesus Christ. I write this to you whose experience with God is as life-changing as ours, all due to our God’s straight dealing and the intervention of our God and Savior, Jesus Christ. Grace and peace to you many times over as you deepen in your experience with God and Jesus, our Master.

Everything that goes into a life of pleasing God has been miraculously given to us by getting to know, personally and intimately, the One who invited us to God. The best invitation we ever received! We were also given absolutely terrific promises to pass on to you — your tickets to participation in the life of God after you turned your back on a world corrupted by lust.

So don’t lose a minute in building on what you’ve been given, complementing your basic faith with good character, spiritual understanding, alert discipline, passionate patience, reverent wonder, warm friendliness, and generous love, each dimension fitting and developing the others. With these qualities active and growing in your lives, no grass will grow under your feet, no day will pass without its reward as you mature in your experience of our Master Jesus. Without these qualities you can’t see what’s right before you, oblivious that your old sinful life has been wiped off the books.

So, friends, confirm God’s invitation to you, his choice of you. Don’t put it off; do it now. Do this, and you’ll have your life on a firm footing, the streets paved and the way wide open into the eternal kingdom of our Master and Savior, Jesus Christ.” — 2 Peter 1:1-11, The Message

Grace and peace. Words of blessing which appear again and again in the letters of the New Testament. Grace and peace. I don’t know about you, but by this time in the month of December — and most especially in this particular December — I am in dire need of an ever-flowing fountain of both.

The peace that comes from some quiet space, tucked somewhere into my day. The grace that is needed to drive in holiday traffic without gripping the wheel in a white-knuckled death-vise with one fist, while shaking the other in the direction of all those crazy drivers let loose on the world.

Grace and peace, gifts that come only from God, attributes that reflect God’s nature back into our day-to-day world. They’re not on Peter’s gift-list in the next-to-the-last paragraph (and that is some list!), but somehow they permeate every line of this beautiful greeting.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Hands open to receive, eyes closed to say thank you. Just a few moments to be quiet — and there they are again — grace and peace.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

When the hurry-scurry of this season overwhelms, stop for a few moments. Close your eyes, concentrate on your breathing and say quietly to yourself this ancient prayer of the church, one phrase with each inhale and each exhale. The Jesus Prayer has been an anxiety-reliever for nearly 2000 years. Try it, you’ll like it.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 15, Third Sunday

December 16, 2012 By Diana

This post was written for this day before the tragedy in Connecticut on Friday morning. I’m going to let it stand, because I still believe this to be the heart of it all, the single most important response to life, No.Matter.What. But, oh! Some days it is so hard to hear or to sing this joyful song. So on those days, I will choose to sing it through tears. But I will sing. I will.

“Sing Daughter Zion;

shout aloud, Israel!

Be glad and rejoice with all your heart,

Daughter Jerusalem!

The LORD has taken away your punishment,

he has turned back your enemy.

The LORD, the King of Israel, is with you;

never again will you fear any harm.

On that day

they will say to Jerusalem,

‘Do not fear, Zion;

do not let your hands hang limp.

The LORD your God is with you,

the Mighty Warrior who saves.

He will take great delight in you;

in his love he will no longer rebuke you,

but will rejoice over you with singing.’

‘I will remove from you

all who mourn over the loss of your appointed festivals,

which is a burden and reproach for you.

At that time I will deal

with all who oppressed you.

I will rescue the lame;

I will gather the exiles.

I will give them praise and honor

in every land where they have suffered shame.

At that time I will gather you;

at that time I will bring you home.

I will give you honor and praise

among all the peoples of the earth

when I restore your fortunes

before your very eyes,’

says the LORD.”

–Zephaniah 3:14-20

Listen! Can you hear it? In the gentle breeze as the sun lights up the flowers of summer? In the rustling grass as the autumn shadows lengthen? Maybe in the rush of birds’ wings over the water, or the distant cries of surfers, one to another as they watch and wait for the wave to crest. You won’t hear it in the pelican’s cry because pelicans have no voice, but I think you can hear it just by watching them lift off majestically or dive deep after dinner. And I know you can hear it as the moon rises behind the clouds. Yes, you can definitely hear it there.

It’s a song of rejoicing, the melody of love. And God sings it over us every minute of every day, in every whispered beauty, in every gift of grace. “The Mighty Warrior who saves” takes delight in us. Did you catch that?

Delight.

Is there a finer word in the English language?

Maybe this one: home.

Which is exactly where we are headed, where we will be gathered in the arms of love and celebrated throughout eternity. Can you picture it?

Try.

Give us eyes to see you loving us, Lord God. And give us ears to hear your song of rejoicing. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 14

December 15, 2012 By Diana

“‘Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift all of you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.’

But he replied, ‘Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.’

Jesus answered, ‘I tell you, Peter, before the rooster crows today, you will deny three times that you know me.’

Then Jesus asked them, ‘When I sent you without purse, bag or sandals, did you lack anything?’

‘Nothing,’ they answered.

He said to them, ‘But now if you have a purse, take it, and also a bag; and if you don’t have a sword, sell your cloak and buy one. It is written: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors; and I tell you that this must be fulfilled in me. Yes, what is written about me is reaching its fulfillment.’

The disciples said, ‘See, Lord, here are two swords.’

‘That is enough,’ he replied.” — Luke 22:31-38, TNIV

Do you find the juxtaposition of these pictures with this text a little bit jarring? Good. It was meant to be. The pictures were taken in one of my favorite places on the planet, Jacob Maarse Florists in Pasadena CA. Many years ago, I made weekly pilgrimages to this place, to watch the designers at work, to soak in the creative beauty everywhere I looked. I was quiet, I always bought something small, but I was there for a reason — I was looking to learn.

About a year later, our eldest daughter announced her engagement and I started a small floral business, working out of my home for her wedding — and many others that followed over the next seven years. I closed the business after our second daughter got married, just as I was completing my studies in seminary. I worked weddings and parties almost all the way through school.

Still today, any chance I get, I stop by that beautiful warehouse/shop and just drink in the beauty. I have never found another place to match it, and Christmas is the very best time to take a stroll with wide-eyed wonder.

But here before us today on an Advent Saturday, we have this intriguing passage from Luke 22. Right in the middle of all the beauty and sparkle and tiny white lights and soothing music, we find these difficult words.

And here is what stood out and made me pay attention today: I have read the Passion Narrative in all four gospels multiple times. Multiple times. But this is the first time that this particular conversation has jumped out at me. The ‘sifting like wheat’ I remember. The ‘sell your cloak and buy a sword??‘ NO memory of this whatsoever.

It is startling, out of character, even frightening to read these words coming out of the mouth of Jesus. Count your weapons? Build your armory? It doesn’t fit – it is terribly jarring and off-putting.

And I have a hunch that is exactly what Jesus aimed to do with those words, to startle his friends. To shake them up, to rattle their cages and try to help them see what was coming. Because thus far in the story, they have not been particularly tuned in to what Jesus tells them is going to happen. They are denser than wood in so much of the gospel narrative.

And yet. And yet. . . Jesus has a word of encouragement, a personal word of encouragement for Simon Peter up there at the beginning of this dialogue. Even in the midst of warning him about the spectacular nature of Simon’s upcoming failure-to-follow, Jesus says these sweet words: “But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers.”

Insert your own name in those two sentences and maybe substitute ‘sisters’ or ‘friends’ for ‘brothers.’ Now read it aloud, more than once, and listen carefully. Because scripture tells us that Jesus does exactly this — he prays for us, just like he prayed for Simon Peter.

Isn’t that amazing?

Thank you, Jesus, for your prayers on our behalf. Thank you for believing in us when we can’t believe in ourselves or when we believe more of ourselves than is likely to ever be true! Thank you for shaking us up once in a while, for startling us out of our lethargy, for reminding us that this life we lead with you — it’s not easy, nor was it promised to be. It’s rich and rewarding and satisfying — but it’s not easy. Help us to remember that, to have patience with ourselves and with others, and with you, and to trust that you are doing for us what you did for Simon — praying us home. Thank you.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 13

December 14, 2012 By Diana

“Keep me safe, my God,

for in you I take refuge.

I say to the LORD, ‘You are my Lord;

apart from you I have no good thing.’

I say of the godly who are in the land,

‘They are the noble people

in whom is all my delight.’

Those who run after other gods

will suffer more and more.

I will not pour out their libations of blood

or take up their names on my lips.

LORD, you have assigned me my portion and my cup;

you have made my lot secure.

The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance.

I will praise the LORD, who counsels me;

even at night my heart instructs me.

I keep my eyes always on the LORD.

With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;

my body will rest secure,

because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,

nor will you let your faithful one see decay.

You make known to me the path of life;

you will fill me with joy in your presence,

with eternal pleasures at your right hand.”

– Psalm 16, TNIV

Can I tell you a secret? There are days, as I take my circular walks around our driveway, when I look at what the Lord has given us, at how ‘the boundaries have fallen in pleasant places,’ and I can’t quite believe it — or trust it.

And I think — up to a point — that kind of response is a good one. We are not to trust in the gifts but in the Giver.

But the flip side of that is this: I live a lot of my life waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop — for the rug to be pulled out, for tragedy to strike. Maybe that’s because we’ve been there a few times, we’ve walked (and still walk) the road of loss on multiple levels in our marriage, in our immediate family, in our extended family, in our church community. We are acquainted with grief.

I think there is more to this, however. I’m not sure I can define it accurately, but I believe it stems from a fundamental lack of trust in God’s goodness. Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Goodness and Love are the prevailing forces for life in this universe when I look around at the world in general and the lives of people I love in particular. So.Much.Tragedy.

So when I read a psalm like this one, it brings me up short, stops me in my tracks for a bit. Do I believe that ‘my lot is secure?’ Do I trust that, no matter what happens, God is GOOD and FAITHFUL?

“I believe, Lord. Help thou my unbelief.”

That is the cry of my heart on this Advent Friday, Lord. Help thou my unbelief! Open my heart to the joy of my salvation, allow trust to grow and flourish, deep in my soul. May my ‘heart be glad,’ my tongue ‘rejoice,’ and my very body ‘rest secure’ in who you are. I believe, Lord. Help thou my unbelief.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 12

December 13, 2012 By Diana

“Now the Festival of Unleavened Bread, called the Passover, was approaching, and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were looking for some way to get rid of Jesus, for they were afraid of the people. Then Satan entered Judas, called Iscariot, one of the Twelve. And Judas went to the chief priests and the officers of the temple guard and discussed with them how he might betray Jesus. They were delighted and agreed to give him money. He consented, and watched for an opportunity to hand Jesus over to them when no crowd was present.

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, ‘Go and make preparations for us to eat the Passover.’

‘Where do you want us to prepare for it?’ they asked.

He replied, ‘As you enter the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you. Follow him to the house that he enters, and say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks: Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large room upstairs, all furnished. Make preparations there.’

They left and found things just as Jesus had told them. So they prepared the Passover.”

– Luke 22:1-13

The Jewish leaders were ‘afraid of the people,’ yet somehow, Jesus was not. Like so much else in the gospel story, this seems upside down and backwards. As today’s passage so clearly outlines, Jesus is the one heading into danger. Yet he shows no fear. His cloak-and-dagger description of how to prepare for the feast speaks to his keen insight and his awareness that trouble is brewing, but there isn’t a whiff of fear in any of his words.

Looking back on this whole story from the vantage point of 2000 years, we sometimes lose sight of how terrifying Jesus must have been to those in power. He wanted to turn power structures on their head and he was bold enough to say so. Those who had the power were loath to relinquish it and they saw in Jesus a very real threat to their way of life and their authority. Why?

Because up to this point, the people love what Jesus has to say. They respond to his compassion, they follow him from place to place to find healing and wholeness, they appreciate his upside-down worldview.

Something has to give.

And Judas, listening to the voice of the enemy, is the spark-plug for the entire reversal which is relentlessly coming down on Jesus’ head. Luke’s gospel tells the story in a masterful way, tying threads together beautifully, connecting the sacrifice of Jesus to the offering of the lamb and showing us Judas’ connections to the Jewish authorities. The suspense is building.

An interesting lectionary choice for Advent, I think. To read the end of the story as we wait for the beginning. To be reminded of how the Gift in the manger is ultimately received and discarded, like so much used wrapping paper.

In the end, the betrayal comes from ‘the people.’ From folks like me and like you. And Judas starts the horror-ball rolling. Within days, the adoring crowd will be crying, “Crucify him!” Stunning. And chilling.

Why, Lord? Why were you not afraid to come to us, this scheming, jealous, fearful race? How could you continue to live your life of love and die your death of love when the ones you came to love rejected you? It’s a miracle, that’s the only word I can find. And so today, as we are one day closer to the celebration of your rude and bloody entry into our midst, I thank you for that miracle, for being willing to make such a rude and bloody exit. . . for our sakes alone. Thank you.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo

An Advent Journey: Stop, Look, Listen – Day 11

December 12, 2012 By Diana

“In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne,

high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple.

Above him were seraphs, each with six wings:

With two wings they covered their faces,

with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying.

And they were calling to one another:

‘Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;

the whole earth is full of his glory.’

At the sound of their voices the doorposts and the thresholds shook

and the temple was filled with smoke.

‘Woe to me!’ I cried. ‘I am ruined!

For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips,

and my eyes have seen the King, the LORD Almighty.’

Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand,

which he had taken with tongs from the altar.

With it he touched my mouth and said,

‘See, this has touched your lips;

your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.’

Then I heard the voice of the LORD saying,

‘Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?

And I said, ‘Here am I. Send me.’

He said, ‘Go and tell this people:

‘Be ever hearing, but never understanding;

be ever seeing, but never perceiving.’

Make the heart of this people calloused;

make their ears dull and close their eyes.

Otherwise they might see with their eyes,

hear with their ears,

and understand with their hearts,

and turn and be healed.’

Then I said, ‘For how long, LORD?’

And he answered:

‘Until the cities lie ruined and without inhabitant,

until the houses are left deserted and the field ruined and ravaged,

until the LORD has sent everyone far away

and the land is utterly forsaken.

And though a tenth remains in the land,

it will again be laid waste.

But as the terebinth and oak leave stumps when they are cut down,

so the holy seed will be the stump in this land.'”

— Isaiah 6:1-13

The first six verses of this passage have been on my own personal ‘top 10’ list for over 35 years. This is the kind of vision I dream about having — a vision of a Holy God and pipsqueak, messed-up me somewhere in the picture, woefully aware of how ‘one of these things is not like the other.’ And then the gift of cleansing, the touch of a hot, smoldering coal to remind me that I have been redeemed. Gotta love it.

And the call and response? “Whom shall I send?” “SEND ME!” Yes! in my heart of hearts, this is how I dream I would respond. There was even a magnificent anthem we used to sing that perfectly matched these picture-painting words.

But the rest of the passage? Well . . . not so much. In fact, the actual commission sort of brings this entire vision thing right back down into the nitty-gritty of everyday life here on our fallen, fractured planet. Because Isaiah has not been granted this vision, given this cleansing, or offered this call to run out there and do something glamorous, building great crowds of followers in the doing. No. He is given the horrendous task of bringing the bad news to folks. The bad news of coming calamity, of what sounds suspiciously like a curse direct from the Hound of Heaven.

Ouch.

In fact, the only note of hope in Isaiah’s message are found in these words at the very end of the passage: ‘The holy seed will be the stump in this land. . .’ The stump that shows up again in Isaiah, and in the readings for this season of the church year. The holy stump from which the leaves of life will burst forth, when the time is exactly right. In the meantime, Isaiah is called to be the bearer of distinctly not good news.

Am I ready and willing to bring the bad, difficult news to the people I live with/work with/counsel/direct/write to? To bring it to me? Thankfully, the focus of the vision has shifted in this age in which we live! And what I see when I close my eyes and actively imagine this throne room scene today, after Christmas, after Easter, after Pentecost, after the Ascension is this: Jesus Christ, seated on the throne, with his arms outstretched to every single person who will choose to walk into them.

Thank you for the Stump of Life, the Living Remnant, Jesus Christ, Lord of the Cosmos and Lord of our lives. Thank you for the work he did on our behalf, the work that lifted the curse, that offers reconciliation — to you and to one another. Help us to live as if this matters. Because it does. Yes, it truly, does!!

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo