Diana

Heading Home: Walking with Jesus to the Cross — Day Two

March 2, 2017 By Diana

Jonah 3:1-10

The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, “Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you.” So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days’ walk across. Jonah began to go into the city, going a day’s walk. And he cried out, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth.

When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, removed his robe, covered himself with sackcloth, and sat in ashes. Then he had a proclamation made in Nineveh: “By the decree of the king and his nobles: No human being or animal, no herd or flock, shall taste anything. They shall not feed, nor shall they drink water. Human beings and animals shall be covered with sackcloth, and they shall cry mightily to God. All shall turn from their evil ways and from the violence that is in their hands. Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish.”

When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it.

“When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind.” Don’t you love that little phrase? I imagine that for some folks, the implications of these words are troubling. At one time, they would have troubled me, as well.

No longer.

And there are a couple of reasons for that. One of them is what I’ve learned over the years about genre in the collection of literature we call the Bible. Another is what I’ve learned — and experienced — of God.

Like the first 11 chapters of the book of Genesis, this quirky small book called “Jonah” is not meant to be taken as historical account. Jonah gives us an illustrative story, much like the parables Jesus used so effectively in his years of ministry.

That does not mean that it’s a ‘lie.’ On the contrary, Jonah tell us essential truth, truth writ large and loud and it shimmers with its glorious reflection of the heart of our God. It stands as a counterbalance to so much of the Old Testament narrative, those stories that tell us about the development of a chosen people and their purpose in the world. Those stories of failure, over and over again. Those stories that feature distinction, that tell the stories of one particular people group and the ways in which they interact with the One God.

Not so the story of Jonah. Here we have a beautiful little gem about inclusion. And surprise. And grace. Oh, yes, grace. Divine grace, juxtaposed to human lack of same! Jonah is like so many of us, maybe even all of us, don’t you think? He finds God’s bottomless wellspring of love for the entire world to be both unbelievable and unwelcome. If we are honest, most of us would probably rather that God didn’t love just anybody (and most certainly, not everybody) the way that God loves us.

Enter Jonah.

But guess what? The folks over there in that pagan, godless town called Ninevah actually listen to Jonah’s words. Not only that, but they choose to turn around, to repent and to recognize their need for what God has to offer. They heed Jonah’s word of warning.

And God changed God’s mind.

Wow.

Oh, God of wonder, thank you for changing your mind about us, too. Thank you for wooing us — all of us — for giving us a way out of our own destructiveness and willfulness and pride. Hear our cries of repentance this day, and every day, and give us eyes to see your heart of love. Amen.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, giving, Lent, Lenten Journey

Heading Home: Walking with Jesus to the Cross — A Lenten Journey

March 1, 2017 By Diana

It is Ash Wednesday.

Again.

Thanks be to God.

Oh, I need this season. Each and every year, I need to walk the road that Jesus walked. I need to remember, to choose to let go of a thing or two that gets in the way of my remembering, to pray with added emphasis, to give of my abundance. Alms, fasting, prayer — the holy trinity for this season: giving away, giving up, giving to God. To help myself stay faithful to all that giving, I need reminders. Do you?

So I will provide a few along the way — for myself and for you, starting with now. Why? Because today, we walk into Lent — six weeks of remembering who Jesus really is, why Jesus really came to this earth, and who we are truly called to be.

Will you walk with me? Each occasional reminder will feature a photo, a scripture from the lectionary list for the day, a brief reflection, an even briefer prayer. There will be questions here and there and gentle reminders to stay vigilant and keep on truckin’. We will walk through parts of Holy Week together and then end this series with a proper Easter Sunday Celebration!

We’re heading home again, my friends. I’d say it’s time, wouldn’t you?

Isaiah 58:1-12
Shout out, do not hold back! Lift up your voice like a trumpet! Announce to my people their rebellion, to the house of Jacob their sins. Yet day after day they seek me and delight to know my ways, as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness and did not forsake the ordinance of their God; they ask of me righteous judgments, they delight to draw near to God.

“Why do we fast, but you do not see? Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?” Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers. Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight and to strike with a wicked fist. Such fasting as you do today will not make your voice heard on high.

Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself? Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush, and to lie in sackcloth and ashes? Will you call this a fast, a day acceptable to the LORD?

Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

Then your light shall break forth like the dawn, and your healing shall spring up quickly; your vindicator shall go before you, the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard. Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer; you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.

The LORD will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail. Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt; you shall raise up the foundations of many generations; you shall be called the repairer of the breach, the restorer of streets to live in.

These words are read each and every year on this date. These words are ones that I would do well to read each and every OTHER day of the year, as well. Such powerful truth, such a strong reminder of the heart of our God and the heart of our faith. Fasting for the sake of inducing suffering is not what it’s all about. Fasting for the growth of our souls and the good of others — that’s what it’s all about. I love the fact that fasting and almsgiving have been traditionally linked together in this season. Because, as Isaiah reminds us, the truth of it is this: we cannot effectively give up without also giving out.

My own fasting discipline this year will involve technology as well as food, with a step back from Facebook during the week. What about you? From what will you abstain during these weeks, remembering that each of the Sundays in Lent is a break-fast day?

And what will you give to others? My small list includes these occasional reflections. But of course, these are a gift to me, as well.

Oh, Giver of Good Gifts — enlighten and encourage us as we seek to reflect your goodness into our world. May we make wise choices, ones we can stick with, and may you be glorified through the decisions we make.

Filed Under: biblical reflection, Encouragement, Enough, giving, Lent, Lenten Journey

First, the Tomb — SheLoves, February 2017

February 11, 2017 By Diana

The silence at this blog has been rather deafening thus far in 2017. Part of the reason for that is the event described in this essay. I wrote it for SheLoves, that special place on the internet where I am privileged to write once each month. Please start here and then follow the links over there to join in the conversation.

The rain falls steadily, beating against the translucent plastic of the skylight across the hall from where I write. A drumbeat that reminds me that fruitfulness requires dark, wet days. Lots and lots of dark, wet days.

Life continues to teach me that there is no resurrection without the darkness of death, there is no rising without first being down. Sometimes that down-ness is imposed on us — by life, by circumstance, by some kind of struggle, which we did not deserve or earn. Other times, we trip and fall, choosing unwisely or forgetting what we know to be true. No matter what has brought us low, however, the truth of it remains: there is nowhere to go but up.

I am watching closely as my mother winds down for the last time in her long life. We moved her this week — again. Fifteen years ago, we moved her and my dad from their lovely retirement home in Orange County CA to a smaller, 2-bedroom apartment in a senior community nearer to family. Three years later, after my dad’s death, we moved my mother to a 1-bedroom unit in the same facility. Eight years after that, we moved her across the street, into an assisted living studio. One year later, we moved her 120 miles north, to a single room with bath, inside a dementia unit, minutes from our home.

Now, four years further down this journey toward death, she is in a still smaller room, one with a hospital bed and an RN down the hall. We moved mama into skilled nursing last week, sorting through the debris of her life one more time, parsing her existence into smaller and smaller pieces.

I hoped she would be oblivious to this change. So much of her cognition is gone, so many pieces missing from the beautiful puzzle that is my mother. But she knew. And she was frightened and confused, wondering why ‘her family’ wasn’t nearby. Though she couldn’t tell you a single name, she somehow knew the residents and the caregivers in her 16-bed assisted living wing. Now she is part of a much larger space, with many more people, many more wheelchairs, longer distances to travel from bedroom to activity center to dining room. . .

Yes, it’s been a tough few weeks, friends. We’re at the last bend in the road. Please do come on over to SheLoves and read a bit more about this journey.

Filed Under: Aging, Alzheimer's Disease, death, Dementia, Gratitude, Lament, personal journey, Storytelling, Suffering, The Journey with Mom

Growing into Love — A Book Review

January 31, 2017 By Diana

I have this friend. I met her in Texas, of all places. She’s sorta tall, sorta not tall, very willowy and has a lovely, large smile. She is also one of the funniest people I know. And the smartest. She admits to being very type “A,” and I’ll give her that. I get it, really I do. She wants to do All the Things, and to do them over-the-top-to-perfection-and-beyond. Her name is Michelle DeRusha.

Michelle has been on a wonderful journey over the 6-7 years we’ve been acquainted, not all of it easy. She owned her ambition and admitted it might be a bit Too Much. And she earnestly sought to find her way to a place of contentment with less ‘success’ than she had dreamed about. All through that journey, she wrote about it on her blog. She wrote about it exceptionally well.

Michelle writes exceptionally well, period. I did tell you that, right? Well, she does. Boy, does she. She wrote a memoir called, “Spiritual Misfit: a Memoir of Uneasy Faith,” that I absolutely adored — in fact, it is my very favorite of the many, MANY such books I have read over these years. Read and reviewed, for some very talented writers. It didn’t sell all that well and that made me very sad.

It broke her heart.

Then she got a strange ‘assignment’ through her talented and faithful agent — a book about Christian women in history, 50 of them, to be exact. Very different kind of writing from that memoir. Very different. But you know what? She hit it outta the park — right outta that park, she hit it.

Then she got another assignment, sorta like that second one. Now this isn’t the style of writing she hoped she’d be doing. It isn’t her favorite, not by a long shot. And this topic? It pretty much scared the pants off her.

Why? Because one of the two main characters is among the most widely researched and written about in all of Christendom. But the other person? Not so much. And it was that part that hooked her. She’d already done a bit of research about that second person — Katharina Luther – for her 2nd book and she was smitten, very much smitten, by her strong personality and sense of self . . . in the early to mid 16th century, no less!

So with fear and trembling and more than a few tears, she took on this latest assignment: to write about the marriage of Martin and Katharina Luther. She dug in, did her homework (and then some) and today, TODAY, her book launches out into the world.

Friends, you need to read this book. You need to buy it, in multiples, and give it to your friends and family, especially any daughters/sisters/granddaughters/mothers you may be privileged to know. Michelle did an outstanding job, weaving in pieces of history, reflecting on things like family dynamics, faith, the impact and import of the Protestant Reformation, wealth and poverty in the 16th century, cloistered life, married life, childbirth, the plague, loss, grief, and the power of personal fortitude in the face of opposition and false accusation.

Perhaps my favorite thing about this story and the way Michelle has chosen to tell it is this: Martin and Katharina did not love one another when they married — they chose one another out of obedience to God (Martin) and expediency due to societal pressure (Katharina). But over time, especially through the lovely letters that we still have from Martin to Kate, it is clear that they came to care for one another, deep and true. They built a real partnership, a remarkable thing to do, given Luther’s stated ideas about hierarchy and the realities of the time. Growing into love is a delightful thing to see, even 5 centuries in retrospect.

You can find the book at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and your favorite neighborhood bookstore. Don’t miss this opportunity to re-affirm your faith and to learn something new about people you’ve heard about all your life. An added bonus for me was the wellspring of gratitude that spilled over in my spirit simply because I live in the time and place that I do.

Given our current climate of rancor, fear, discord and disappointment, that gratitude is no small thing, friends. It is good to remember that some pretty remarkable forward movement has happened over the last 500 years (yup, this is the 500th Anniversary of those famous 95 Theses of Martin’s). Yes, we still have a long ways to go, a long ways. But think about these things for a minute: women’s rights, the speed of communication, ease of travel, majorly upgraded standards of health care — all of these are exponentially better now than they were then. It was good for me to be reminded of the progress we have made as a culture during this difficult season of serious back-sliding. Very good.

I received an advanced reader’s PDF of this book in exchange for writing a review. Something I am OVERJOYED to be able to do.

Filed Under: Book Review

Opening to the New Year — SheLoves

January 14, 2017 By Diana

One of the great privileges of my life these days is my association with the wonderful people at SheLovesMagazine. Today is my monthly day to write for them. You can begin that essay here and follow the link at the end to finish it over there. Please do join the conversation!!

Stepping into Epiphany is always a mixed bag for me. January 6^th means that Christmastide is finished for another year. Now we are headed for Ash Wednesday, which comes quite late in 2017. In some ways, this shift in seasons is a relief — all the red around my house comes down and is packed away for another year. The ornaments are gathered off the tree, the candles are stored in a cool place, the nativity sets are stacked into a plastic bin, each baby Jesus safely secured in a corner somewhere.

Although I don’t relish the work of lugging Christmas bins from house to garage, I do enjoy seeing the cleaner edges of my usual living space emerging from the red, green, silver and gold lavishness of the holiday season. I love Christmas, truly, I do. But I’m glad when it’s time to turn away from the celebrating and re-enter a more ordinary season. My capacity for holiday decorating seems to have diminished with time!

This time, however, it feels like something important is missing as I move more fully into this new year. Since my retirement from parish ministry six years ago, I have gladly embraced a more open schedule and relished the monthly visits from an ever-changing list of people seeking spiritual direction, either here in my small study or via Facetime or Skype. I have also appreciated my monthly opportunities to write for two magazines, one online, and one in print. Occasionally, I even try to fill my own blog space with reflections both prosaic and photographic; the introduction of a monthly newsletter has been a welcome addition to my writing life.

But at this turn of the year, with 2017 opening before me, it feels like my capacity for the good work of direction and writing is larger than the demand for either one. People I thought were committed to my one-on-one work chose to drift away, usually without any formal farewell. A possible temporary job situation didn’t pan out. Both the inner drive to write and the outer call for it seem to have fled the scene.

So what I’m left with at this moment in time is a noticeable sense of emptiness. Maybe openness is a better word; I am open for more in my life . . .

Come on over and offer an encouraging word to those of us talking about this at SheLoves today!

Filed Under: Aging, birthdays, church year, community, Confession, SheLoves

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — CHRISTMAS DAY!

December 25, 2016 By Diana

Isaiah 9:2-6
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)

Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. All went to their own towns to be registered. Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

Merry Christmas, lovely friends!

I have no words of wisdom to add to the beautiful ones above. They are well-loved, and deservedly so. They are full of wisdom and simplicity, surprise and drama. The story they tell is magnificent, both in the detail it gives and the detail it withholds. We know so little, yet so very much.

May the light of this story bring joy to your day. Blessings of peace and grace to you. May the year ahead be filled with reminders of the Gift we commemorate during this joyous season!

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

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Twenty-Eight

December 24, 2016 By Diana

Isaiah 9:2-6
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11-14
Luke 2:1-14 (15-20)

Isaiah 9:2-6

The people who walked in darkness
    have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
    on them light has shined.
You have multiplied the nation,
    you have increased its joy;
they rejoice before you
    as with joy at the harvest,
    as people exult when dividing plunder.
For the yoke of their burden,
    and the bar across their shoulders,
    the rod of their oppressor,
    you have broken as on the day of Midian.
For all the boots of the tramping warriors
    and all the garments rolled in blood
    shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us,
    a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
    and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Tonight, we will go to church. We will pick up an unlit candle at the door and sit in the semi-darkness. We will sing carols and we will hear the story. We will pray and we will laugh gently at the funny details with which we are so very familiar. And then we will spread the light, the LIGHT that came into the world in a brand-new way when that tiny baby wailed into the night and the angels sang to a bunch of wild and wooly shepherds out there on the hillside.

The pastor will light his candle from the Christ candle and then it will spread all across the room, going from person to person to person. We will sing “Silent Night,” and we will lift those little candles high on the last verse. That one who is called, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” — that One is worthy of our song.

Hopefully, somewhere in there we will remember to pray for those who are far from home this night, those who have been forcibly ejected from home, those who suffer disease and heartbreak, those who long to sing and cannot. Hopefully after we’ve blown out our small candles, we will still feel their warmth, we will still carry their light with us as we go home to our comforts and our traditions.

After all, the story is about a baby on the run, under the thumb of a foreign oppressor, and soon to become a refugee. May the beauty of this night spur us to acts of love and compassion in the name of the Light whom we worship.

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

Longing for Home, An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Twenty-Seven

December 23, 2016 By Diana

1 Samuel 2:1-10
2 Samuel 7:18, 23-29
Galatians 3:6-14

Galatians 3:6-14

Just as Abraham “believed God, and it was reckoned to him as righteousness,” so, you see, those who believe are the descendants of Abraham. And the scripture, foreseeing that God would justify the Gentiles by faith, declared the gospel beforehand to Abraham, saying, “All the Gentiles shall be blessed in you.” For this reason, those who believe are blessed with Abraham who believed.

For all who rely on the works of the law are under a curse; for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who does not observe and obey all the things written in the book of the law.” Now it is evident that no one is justified before God by the law; for “The one who is righteous will live by faith.” But the law does not rest on faith; on the contrary, “Whoever does the works of the law will live by them.” Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, “Cursed is everyone who hangs on a tree”— in order that in Christ Jesus the blessing of Abraham might come to the Gentiles, so that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.

This short passage offers us a window through which we can see Paul’s brain working overtime! His argument is thoughtful, clear and compelling: we cannot find what we’re looking for by following the law. Even if we follow it to the letter. In fact, when we try too hard to be ‘perfect’ according to that law, we discover how very far short we fall. The law becomes a curse to us.

Jesus was willing to become that curse in our place, to take upon himself all our trying and failing, all our peccadilloes and frailties, all our broken and bent pieces. I don’t know about you, but by this time in the pre-Christmas frenzy, I begin to feel like that little old dilapidated angel in this picture! And that’s when I have to sit down, close my eyes, breathe deeply and remember.

Remember that I don’t have to try so hard! I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t have to do it alone. There is One who sees me, exactly as I am, and loves me anyhow. One who calls me to my best self without making me feel ‘less than’ when the call comes. And that’s a fine line to manage isn’t it? Yet that is the promise. “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law. . .” Think about that for a few minutes.

Then say thank you.

And then step into whatever lies at your hand to do this day with renewed energy and true joy.

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

The Truest Advent

December 22, 2016 By Diana

I sit and watch the light play across the beautiful angles of her face. Even at 95, those cheekbones are breathtaking. She is tired today, battling a mild infection, with little to no appetite and even less energy. The sharp angle of the winter sun is unexpectedly flattering as it gently flickers through the window, and I draw a sharp breath as those too-familiar tears begin to form behind my eyelids.

“Oh, Mama! I love you so. Please, Lord, let her go to sleep and wake up in the New Creation. Enough, okay? Enough.”

But who really knows how much is enough? I don’t have any special insights, only my own bedraggled emotions and growing fatigue. To me, it feels like it is time. Time to be released from this ‘body of dust,’ time to rest from the struggle, time to breathe in and never breathe out again.

We did not go out to lunch today; we barely made it from the dining room to her own sweet space, with its lounge chair in the corner, by the window. “My arms!” she cried softly as we walked. “They ache.”

Truth be told, everything aches. Every cell in her body.

As she slept in that chair, I moved my hand slightly, the one that she was clasping with both of hers. She roused a bit, turning to look in my direction.

“Oh, Mama! Thank you for being such a good, good mother,” I cried.

She didn’t understand me, so I said it again, more slowly, more loudly. She smiled slightly and said a simple, “Thank you.” Somehow her half-sleepy state made the usual questioning unnecessary. There were no confused looks, no puzzled frowns. None of this response: “I’m your mother?? Really??”

None today. None at all.

One week ago, that’s all I heard. I came home shaking my head at my husband. “I don’t know how much more of this repetition I can navigate! We spent our entire 90 minutes together today asking and attempting to answer the same 5-6 questions — over and over and over again. Oh, Lord, give me patience!”

He and I were getting ready to leave town the next morning, our annual anniversary getaway to parts north. We both needed it — time and space to savor an ocean view, good food prepared by someone else, and quiet time together — no expectations, no obligations, no schedule. And it was good. Very, very good.

They called me from the dementia unit as we were driving home yesterday. “She has a UTI and a low-grade fever. Is it all right with you if we put her on antibiotics?”

Yes, it was all right with me. UTIs make dementia much worse and increase confusion and disorientation. She doesn’t need any escalation of those symptoms and neither do I. But this time around, the infection plus the added medication led to extreme exhaustion — one more sign of decline, diminishment.

And yet, as painful as it is to watch that happen, this time I will admit that my primary response is relief and gratitude. She is heading in one direction only; and today’s exhaustion underlined that truth for me. My mother is very old. She is very frail. She is extraordinarily confused.

She is also beautiful, grateful, loves people (even when she hasn’t a clue who they are), sings the old songs and hymns with a higher degree of accuracy than her illness might lead you to expect, and generally enjoys her life. It is not up to me when that life will end on this side of the mysterious veil that separates us from the eternal.

There are, however, some decisions that are up to me. When and how to treat illness, for one. I think I know what I will and will not allow — mom and I discussed it all, long before dementia took over — but until illness or accident happens, I suppose it’s all pretty hypothetical.

So, in addition to those prayers for patience, I also pray for wisdom, grace, kindness and insight as my mother moves ever closer to the end of her long and remarkable life. I will miss her presence in my life more than I can adequately put into words, more than language will allow.

Then again, I have been missing her for a very long time.

“Oh for grace to trust him more!”

http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-DdgkvnsHjM

Filed Under: Advent, Aging, Alzheimer's Disease, Beauty, Blessings, Confession, death, Dementia, Encouragement, Enough, family, God's gifts, Grace, Gratitude, grief, Hard Things, Heaven, hope, Lifelong Learning, memoir, Mystery, personal journey, The Journey with Mom

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Twenty-Six

December 22, 2016 By Diana

Luke 1:46-55
Isaiah 33:17-22
Revelation 22:6-7, 18-22

Luke 1:46-55

And Mary said,

“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

What a girl she was! If I really think about it, I can’t quite take it in. She wouldn’t have been much more than 13 or 14, yet she was chosen for a task that would have toppled a woman of ‘child-bearing age’ in today’s culture. An angelic visitation, a strange message, an arranged marriage to a man who was honorable but clueless, traveling late in pregnancy on the back of a donkey, over rough mountain roads, going into labor in a strange place, far from family and friends. How did she say yes? How did she do it?

Her song tells us a lot about the ‘how,’ and also about the ‘why.’ Mary was a girl who paid attention to the teachings of her people. She listened when the family went to synagogue, even if she did have to sit at the back and cover her face. She listened to her parents and her siblings discuss the things of faith. And she somehow managed to develop a relationship with the Great I Am.

She was chosen.

And so am I. So are you. No, not to carry the Christ child within our physical bodies. But yes, to carry the Christ, the Risen Christ, out into the world where we live and work, where we eat and play, where we listen and learn. I want to know enough to sing a song like Mary’s — a song about reversals, about surprises, about God upsetting the usual.

Help me to borrow a little bit of Mary’s courage, Lord. Just a little. Help me be willing to carry the gospel, the ‘good news’ of Jesus the Christ, wherever you lead. May it be so.

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