An Advent Journey: Reflections for Weary Travelers — Day Five

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Psalm 79, TLB

O God, your land has been conquered by the heathen nations. Your Temple is defiled, and Jerusalem is a heap of ruins. The bodies of your people lie exposed—food for birds and animals. The enemy has butchered the entire population of Jerusalem; blood has flowed like water. No one is left even to bury them. The nations all around us scoff. They heap contempt on us.

O Jehovah, how long will you be angry with us? Forever? Will your jealousy burn till every hope is gone? Pour out your wrath upon the godless nations—not on us—on kingdoms that refuse to pray, that will not call upon your name! For they have destroyed your people Israel, invading every home. Oh, do not hold us guilty for our former sins! Let your tenderhearted mercies meet our needs, for we are brought low to the dust. Help us, God of our salvation! Help us for the honor of your name. Oh, save us and forgive our sins. Why should the heathen nations be allowed to scoff, “Where is their God?” Publicly avenge this slaughter of your people! Listen to the sighing of the prisoners and those condemned to die. Demonstrate the greatness of your power by saving them. O Lord, take sevenfold vengeance on these nations scorning you.

Then we your people, the sheep of your pasture, will thank you forever and forever, praising your greatness from generation to generation.

These are hard words to read. As I get older and grow deeper in my own knowledge and experience of God’s goodness, I find these kinds of words increasingly difficult to reconcile with my understanding of who God is and how God operates in this world.

And yet . . . I immediately recognize the emotional turmoil behind them. Those strong feelings of betrayal, of loss, of confusion. We all want to think that because we love God, our lives will be . . . easier? Less marked by grief? And yet. . . every single person that I know can personally testify to the powerful presence of loss and grief and pain in their lives.

So . . . maybe these words are really less about God than they are about us? These wailing words somehow give us permission to rail at God once in a while — to take our angst right to the Source of Life. And then . . . to leave those feelings there, safely held by the God who is good, who is loving, who weeps with us when we suffer, the God who gets it.

Thank you, Lord, that you do get it. Thank you that Jesus came to us, lived among us, suffered as we do, died as we do. Thank you that you are the original empathizer . . . that you have been where we so often find ourselves to be. Help us to lean into you when the hard stuff happens — to know that we are safe with you, all of us is safe with you . . . even those strong, negative emotions. Thank  you.

An Advent Journey: Reflections for Weary Travelers — Day Four, First Sunday of Advent

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1 Corinthians 1:3-9, NRSV

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind— just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you— so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

I gotta tell you — finding these lovely words in the middle of a lot of readings from the prophets is like stumbling over a diamond in the desert. Yes, we need the prophetic voice. Indeed, we do. But . . . we also need these kind words of grace. I want to pray these words over my family, over my friends at church, over my neighbors. I want to pray them over my husband and myself — and over you, too. Not one of us is lacking in any spiritual gift as we wait for the coming of the Lord. Not one. It is important, of course, to remember that every good gift comes to us ‘from the Father of Lights,’ as John’s epistle reminds us. But. . . they are given to US. God IS faithful, and we have exactly what we need to get us from one end of Advent to the other. And from one end of life to the other, too.

Oh, Lord, help me to remember this powerful truth. Especially on days when I don’t feel well, or when someone is angry at me about something, or when I’m unsure about what might be the next, best thing for me to do. Remind me that I have enough, that I am enough . . . because of you. Thank you.

An Advent Journey: Reflections for Weary Travelers — Day Three

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Micah 2:1-13, The Message

Doom to those who plot evil,
    who go to bed dreaming up crimes!
As soon as it’s morning,
    they’re off, full of energy, doing what they’ve planned.
They covet fields and grab them,
    find homes and take them.
They bully the neighbor and his family,
    see people only for what they can get out of them.
God has had enough. He says,
    “I have some plans of my own:
Disaster because of this interbreeding evil!
    Your necks are on the line.
You’re not walking away from this.
    It’s doomsday for you.
Mocking ballads will be sung of you,
    and you yourselves will sing the blues:
‘Our lives are ruined,
    our homes and lands auctioned off.
They take everything, leave us nothing!
    All is sold to the highest bidder.’”
And there’ll be no one to stand up for you,
    no one to speak for you before God and his jury.

“Don’t preach,” say the preachers.
    “Don’t preach such stuff.
Nothing bad will happen to us.
    Talk like this to the family of Jacob?
Does God lose his temper?
    Is this the way he acts?
Isn’t he on the side of good people?
    Doesn’t he help those who help themselves?”

“What do you mean, ‘good people’!
    You’re the enemy of my people!
You rob unsuspecting people
    out for an evening stroll.
You take their coats off their backs
    like soldiers who plunder the defenseless.
You drive the women of my people
    out of their ample homes.
You make victims of the children
    and leave them vulnerable to violence and vice.
Get out of here, the lot of you.
    You can’t take it easy here!
You’ve polluted this place,
    and now you’re polluted—ruined!
If someone showed up with a good smile and glib tongue
    and told lies from morning to night—
‘I’ll preach sermons that will tell you
    how you can get anything you want from God:
More money, the best wines . . . you name it’—
    you’d hire him on the spot as your preacher!

“I’m calling a meeting, Jacob.
    I want everyone back—all the survivors of Israel.
I’ll get them together in one place—
    like sheep in a fold, like cattle in a corral—
    a milling throng of homebound people!
Then I, God, will burst all confinements
    and lead them out into the open.
They’ll follow their King.
    I will be out in front leading them.”

Ouch! Micah has little patience for anyone claiming to be a God-person who is not interested in justice for everyone. I like the fact that this reading has been chosen to be a part of our Advent rotation. It’s good for me to remember that not everyone in this world is as materially blessed as I am — and that my own particular set of blessings are not the result of my own ‘good’ behavior, but only of grace and circumstance.

Micah has no patience for prosperity gospel crapola, does he? He refuses to fall into the trap of believing that, “God helps those who help themselves.” No, we are called to help one another. We are called to make space for God to help us — never to ‘go it alone,’ or to ‘pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.’ There is a much-needed call in these words to balance our self-care (which is a good and necessary thing) with other-care. And to remember that our God looks on our hearts, sees our true motives, and wants to help guide us into a life of generosity, sensitivity and gracious giving.

Lord, I need help here. Open my eyes to the spaces around me that need my hands, my eyes, my attention. I don’t want to sing the blues because I have failed to ‘do justice’ in my community. Help me, Lord, to respond well to the needs of others, to resist judging anyone, and to own up to the truth that I have far more than I will ever need. Maybe it’s time to share it a little better?

 

An Advent Journey: Reflections for Weary Travelers — Day Two

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1 Thessalonians 4:1-18 , The Message

One final word, friends. We ask you—urge is more like it—that you keep on doing what we told you to do to please God, not in a dogged religious plod, but in a living, spirited dance. You know the guidelines we laid out for you from the Master Jesus. God wants you to live a pure life.

Keep yourselves from sexual promiscuity.

Learn to appreciate and give dignity to your body, not abusing it, as is so common among those who know nothing of God.

Don’t run roughshod over the concerns of your brothers and sisters. Their concerns are God’s concerns, and he will take care of them. We’ve warned you about this before. God hasn’t invited us into a disorderly, unkempt life but into something holy and beautiful—as beautiful on the inside as the outside.

If you disregard this advice, you’re not offending your neighbors; you’re rejecting God, who is making you a gift of his Holy Spirit.

Regarding life together and getting along with each other, you don’t need me to tell you what to do. You’re God-taught in these matters. Just love one another! You’re already good at it; your friends all over the province of Macedonia are the evidence. Keep it up; get better and better at it.

Stay calm; mind your own business; do your own job. You’ve heard all this from us before, but a reminder never hurts. We want you living in a way that will command the respect of outsiders, not lying around sponging off your friends.

And regarding the question, friends, that has come up about what happens to those already dead and buried, we don’t want you in the dark any longer. First off, you must not carry on over them like people who have nothing to look forward to, as if the grave were the last word. Since Jesus died and broke loose from the grave, God will most certainly bring back to life those who died in Jesus.

And then this: We can tell you with complete confidence—we have the Master’s word on it—that when the Master comes again to get us, those of us who are still alive will not get a jump on the dead and leave them behind. In actual fact, they’ll be ahead of us. The Master himself will give the command. Archangel thunder! God’s trumpet blast! He’ll come down from heaven and the dead in Christ will rise—they’ll go first. Then the rest of us who are still alive at the time will be caught up with them into the clouds to meet the Master. Oh, we’ll be walking on air! And then there will be one huge family reunion with the Master. So reassure one another with these words.

Wow, this is a big chunk! And filled with good advice, wise words, and a direct challenge to live a life that looks markedly different from what many in the world around us would call living. And what I particularly love about this translation is that opening bolded statement: make good choices like a dance partner makes good choices, not like a religious wonk does.

What a lovely way to put it! Choosing to live a ‘pure’ life does not have to be coated with the harsh restrictiveness of the purity culture. At all. Instead, making good choices — taking care of our bodies, honoring the bodies of others, thinking about others before moving into their space, choosing to stay calm, and to keep our noses out of others’ business — all of these choices are the result of living a life of love.

Dancing is an exercise that requires commitment, cooperation, and thoughtfulness. So does living a life in partnership with God and with others. The analogy holds!

Oh, Lord, I am so often a really lousy dance partner, aren’t I? I forget to follow your lead, I step on the toes of others, I get distracted by the crowd rather than focusing on the music. Help me to move in step with you, will you please? Help me to hear you singing the melody of love right into my ear.

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!”

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

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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!

 

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

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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.

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

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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. 

The Truest Advent

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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!”

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

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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.