Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Ten

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Psalm 21
Isaiah 41:14-20
Romans 15:14-21

Isaiah 41:14-20

Do not fear, you worm Jacob,
you insect Israel!
I will help you, says the Lord;
your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel.
Now, I will make of you a threshing sledge,
sharp, new, and having teeth;
you shall thresh the mountains and crush them,
and you shall make the hills like chaff.
You shall winnow them and the wind shall carry them away,
and the tempest shall scatter them.
Then you shall rejoice in the Lord;
in the Holy One of Israel you shall glory.

When the poor and needy seek water,
and there is none,
and their tongue is parched with thirst,
I the Lord will answer them,
I the God of Israel will not forsake them.
I will open rivers on the bare heights,
and fountains in the midst of the valleys;
I will make the wilderness a pool of water,
and the dry land springs of water.
I will put in the wilderness the cedar,
the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive;
I will set in the desert the cypress,
the plane and the pine together,
so that all may see and know,
all may consider and understand,
that the hand of the Lord has done this,
the Holy One of Israel has created it.

I gotta say, the pickins for today are SLIM. At least at first read-through. But then I read through the prophet one more time and was immediately struck by all the water imagery in the second verse up there. Look at that magnificent word picture, will you?

When the ‘poor and needy’ need water, where must they go to find it? To God alone, that’s where. And though many of us are far from poor economically, we are all poor in spirit, poor in resources, poor in faith, poor in trust. And God promises not to forsake us in our thirstiness. Water will appear in unexpected places — on the ‘bare heights,’ in the ‘midst of valleys,’ in the wilderness, there will be pools, and in the dry land, springs will appear. God alone will put in trees, a wide variety of shade and even fruit bearing green things for our comfort, enjoyment, nourishment. The needs of our senses will be met, as well as our spirits. These trees are even sweet-smelling! 

And God will do this as a sign — a sign to the wider world of God’s activity in that world, of God’s provision for your deepest and most basic needs. A sign of hope.

I could use a little of that just now. What about you?

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Nine

Today’s post is a little bit different. I offered the prayer of consecration and supplication in  yesterday’s worship service and am posting that prayer here. It comes out of the same set of readings we looked at yesterday and seemed an appropriate way to launch into this third week of Advent. We will be back on schedule with our daily readings/reflections tomorrow.

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An Advent Prayer

2nd Sunday, December 4, 2016

Montecito Covenant Church

It’s the Sunday of peace, Lord, and we gather now around your table
to remember how you chose to come to us,
as one of us,
to be our peace.

Yes, it is your death we remember
as we gather round today.
When we come to this table, we remember your sacrifice on our behalf,
and we thank you, with our whole hearts.

But on this particular Sunday of the year,
we also remember your life among us,
as one of us, and we remember it from that very first moment
when your mother heard 
a special word from your Father,
from our Father.
And oh, we thank you for that, too, with our whole hearts.

We also must admit that some of these hearts of ours
feel far from peaceful this morning, Lord.

Some of us are grieving the loss of a person we love very much;
some of us feel utterly exhausted — by school, by life, by illness;
some of us are worried about people we love; some of us are frightened about
something we ourselves are facing into right now.

In this moment of silence, we lift those concerns before you now.

— SILENCE —

And now, as we gaze on this bread,
as we consider this cup,
will you help us to remember
that this ordinary, torn-up loaf
and this common purple liquid
become something more, 
for us and in us, on this day.

We offer these simple things to you now,
and ask you to bless them, to set them apart,
and to make them uniquely beneficial to us, in body and in spirit.
May they become emblems of your love,
and strong, clear symbols of your Peace.

Even as Gabriel spoke to Mary those strange and wonderful words of invitation,
may you speak to us through
this time at the table.
Help us to hear you,
help us to be open to whatever invitation you are extending to us,
both individually and communally,
and help us to say a resounding,
“YES — let it be to us according to your word!”

And then, Lord, as we gather our belongings and turn to head out the back door into the sunlight and the friendly chatter of the patio, will you help us to remember that there are “Elizabeths” all around us today — male, female, young, old — all sorts of folks who have in some way or another experienced the reality that for you, “nothing is impossible.”

Give us eyes to see and ears to hear
the miracle stories that are all around us.
No, not all of those stories have what we might label a ‘happy ending’ —
Mary’s story wasn’t exactly all sweetness and light, was it?

But all of us who have walked with you for a little while or for a lifetime —
all of us know
that your faithfulness can be trusted,
that your goodness is unassailable,
that your peace is ever and always available,
even when the tough stuff happens.

Help us to live those truths, those stories, out loud, Lord.
Help us to be encouragers in all our interactions with one another
and within the larger communities
where we live and work.
Help us, dear Lord,

to seek peace and to live it.
For Jesus’ sake.

Amen.

 

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Seven

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Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
Isaiah 40:1-11
John 1:19-28

John 1:19-28

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said,

“I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’”

as the prophet Isaiah said.

Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

 

I gotta say, it’s taken me a while to warm up to old John boy. How about you?

There is something so severe about him, isn’t there? A true ascetic from birth — he was a Nazarite, which meant no alcohol, and sometimes meant no shaving or hair-cutting, either — he was big on self-denial. Now that’s never been a particularly strong suit for me, I must admit. Alcohol has never been a problem — I don’t like the stuff and have a family history of alcoholism, so I’ve steered clear — but I have used food unwisely and too often resort to retail therapy during stressful times! 

But John got some things right. REALLY right. He was obedient to who he was and to who God called him to become. He made his message very, very clear. He spoke truth to power. And he knew what his limits were and didn’t hesitate for a moment to admit them. “Nope,” he said. “I am most definitely not the Messiah. And not Elijah, either. I am ‘the voice.'” That’s it — the voice.

The one who cries out in the wilderness. The one who says, “Get ready!! God is coming.”

And for that, I say a humble and heartfelt ‘thank you’ to John the Baptizer. 

I’m listening, John. And oh! I want to be ready.

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

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Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19
Isaiah 30:19-26
Acts 13:16-25

Isaiah 30:19-26

Truly, O people in Zion, inhabitants of Jerusalem, you shall weep no more. He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry; when he hears it, he will answer you. Though the Lord may give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself any more, but your eyes shall see your Teacher. And when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left, your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.” Then you will defile your silver-covered idols and your gold-plated images. You will scatter them like filthy rags; you will say to them, “Away with you!”

He will give rain for the seed with which you sow the ground, and grain, the produce of the ground, which will be rich and plenteous. On that day your cattle will graze in broad pastures; and the oxen and donkeys that till the ground will eat silage, which has been winnowed with shovel and fork. On every lofty mountain and every high hill there will be brooks running with water—on a day of the great slaughter, when the towers fall. Moreover the light of the moon will be like the light of the sun, and the light of the sun will be sevenfold, like the light of seven days, on the day when the Lord binds up the injuries of his people, and heals the wounds inflicted by his blow.

Oh my, this is hard passage! It is also beautiful, even lyrical, in its own unique way. That Isaiah (however many there may have been!) had a way with words, didn’t he?? It is so hard for me to think of the Lord giving ‘the bread of adversity and the water of affliction,’ even though the imagery is gorgeous.

And that wonderful picture of the voice over the shoulder? Oh, I love it! A ‘word behind me.’ Oh, yes, Lord! A word behind me, please. And in front of me. And beside me. And inside me. I long for that voice, don’t you? And I’m trying to listen for it. Sometimes it’s quite clear. Others, not so much. But the more I listen, the easier it becomes – isn’t that amazing?

Maybe not so amazing after all, though. If you think about it. Listening is at the center of it all, seems to me. Learning to listen — really listen — to another is hard.to.do. I cannot tell you how often I find myself distracted when my husband is talking to me! The dearest man in my world, and  yet . . . sometimes, I simply do not hear him — if I am reading, or if I’m in the middle of thinking about something else (which, let’s face it, happens a LOT of the time). Generally speaking, neither of us is very good at asking, “Are  you in the middle of something? Is now a good time to talk?” We both just sort of forge ahead and assume the other will be all ears, no matter what! Do you do that?

Real talking, real listening, needs to be intentional. It needs to be purposeful. It needs to be generous. So those are things I’m working on during this Advent season — intentions, purposes, generosity. How about you?

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Five

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Psalm 72
Isaiah 4:2-6
Acts 1:12-17

Acts 1:12-17

Then they returned to Jerusalem from the mount called Olivet, which is near Jerusalem, a sabbath day’s journey away. When they had entered the city, they went to the room upstairs where they were staying, Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James. All these were constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well as his brothers.

In those days Peter stood up among the believers (together the crowd numbered about one hundred twenty persons) and said, “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus—for he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.”

Advent is about the coming of God to humankind and there are three Advents that we celebrate during this season. The first is probably the one you count on at this time of the year, when Jesus was born to a dirt-poor couple in a borrowed barn in a back-of-beyond small town. The second ‘coming’ we remember during these days is the one that is yet to be, when Jesus will return as King and the earth will be made new. The third is, I suppose, a bit less dramatic than the other two, but it is the one that we live each and every day. The third coming of God is what you and I experience in the here and now, when the Holy Spirit works in our midst, when the church is being the truest church she can be, when the evidence of the Spirit’s work is seen in our goodness, kindness, gentleness, patience, self-control, faithfulness, peace, joy and love. 

Today’s passage is a good reminder of that third coming, I think. This band of believers has just seen their friend, their risen Lord, rise up to heaven. They are gathering to remember, to pray, to stay close. And Peter reminds them that Judas, too, was one of them. Soon this little band will draw lots for someone to take Judas’s place, doing what they can to be ready for whatever comes next. But right now, they’re trying to listen to God, to remember what Jesus taught them, and to take the next step forward in faith. And that is what we all must do, isn’t it? Listen, remember, move. That’s how we celebrate the coming of God to humankind — quietly, carefully, boldly. 

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 — Day Four

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Psalm 124
Isaiah 54:1-10
Matthew 24:23-25

Psalm 124: A Song of Ascents. Of David.

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side
—let Israel now say—
if it had not been the Lord who was on our side,
when our enemies attacked us,
then they would have swallowed us up alive,
when their anger was kindled against us;
then the flood would have swept us away,
the torrent would have gone over us;
then over us would have gone
the raging waters.

Blessed be the Lord,
who has not given us
as prey to their teeth.
We have escaped like a bird
from the snare of the fowlers;
the snare is broken,
and we have escaped.

Our help is in the name of the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

Have you noticed that the Psalm reading has been this same one for the last three days? Tomorrow it will switch for the last three days of this first Advent week as we move toward the second Sunday. But before we leave it, I wanted to sit with it for a few minutes. I encourage you to do that, too.

That opening line is one of my favorites in all of scripture, one that I’ve found myself saying over and over again as I’ve lived this life of mine. There are definitely days, even seasons, — when it doesn’t feel like the Lord is on my side! And yet, in the long view — especially looking backwards — I know this to be the most steadfast truth of my life. I haven’t had to deal with ‘enemies’ in the sense that the psalmist means, but I have surely felt flooded by life, overwhelmed by circumstances, threatened by illness and I’ve walked through difficult deaths with a moderately long list of friends and family. So I do know the truth of verse 8 as well as verse 1 — my help is in the name of the Lord. And I am grateful.

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey – 2016 — Day Two

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Psalm 124
Genesis 8:1-19
Romans 6:1-11

For a whole lotta years, I collected Noah’s Ark memorabilia. Friends and family gave me a wild variety of artifacts and collectibles: wall hangings, stitcheries, figurines, greeting cards, even an adorable waste basket. And all of it decorated my offices at both of the churches where I served on the pastoral staff.

And then one week, I drew the straw to preach on that text in Genesis — and I was overwhelmed by the terror of it all. All of my cute things no longer seemed quite so cute. Yes, I kept a few, and use them now in my home office. I had too many sentimental attachments for me to divest fully. But these days, I don’t feel the same way about that story at all. This is not really a story for children, is it? It is a story about the horrors of sin and the darkness of evil, when human beings make choice after choice to invite that evil into their hearts and then live out of darkness rather than light. And it’s about God’s exhaustion with all of us, about God’s disappointment with his creatures.

Ouch.

Thankfully, it is also a story of redemption, rebirth, and promises kept. It is also a story about God’s bow in the sky. It is also a precursor for the ultimate story of redemption that our season of Advent marks out for us. It serves as a pointer to Jesus, a reminder from pre-historic times that God seeks us out, that God welcomes us to begin again, that God wishes for us to flourish.

That’s the part we need to tell our children, right?

Longing for Home: An Advent Journey, 2016 – Day One

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Our bodies still groaning from exorbitant amounts of delicious food spread generously across our tables during the biggest holiday of the fall season, today’s move into Advent feels abrupt and vaguely out of focus.

Nevertheless, the time is now.

Now is the time to prepare for his coming.

Now is the time to begin the long wait.

Now is the time to light the candle, to sing the old, sweet songs, to read from the prophets and the gospels, to pick up the subtlest hint of evergreen in the air.

Now is the time to make space for the longing, to seek the ‘desire of the nations,’ to turn our eyes and our hearts toward Bethlehem, towards the truest home we can ever know this side of heaven.

Are you ready?

Welcome to Advent!

An Advent Prayer: Week Four, 2014

We were looking at Mary this morning in worship. A POWERFUL sermon by Pastor Jon Lemmond, and I was asked to lead in community prayer. I am out of practice, that is for sure! But I’m grateful for the opportunity to think through the text and then pray in light of it.

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A Prayer for Advent 4 — 2014
written by Diana R.G. Trautwein
for worship at Montecito Covenant Church
December 21, 2014, 10:00 a.m.

We’re almost there, Lord.
Almost.

We’ve walked through this season of waiting,
this season of songs in a minor key,
and we’re grateful for it.

This year, more than many, feels heavy,
confusing, and terribly sad.
The world around us is rife with tension,
with pain and loss and too many people living with heartache and fear.

And some of those suffering are friends inside this circle,
sisters and brothers of our community.
Some of that heartache and fear are even inside of us.

So these four weeks that we set aside
to wait, to look for your coming,
to remember the story that centers us —
these four weeks are a gift
in the midst of all that is not right,
all that still needs the redeeming work
of a Savior.

But now the end of Advent is in sight,
just a few more days until Christmas
and oh! — we want to be ready this time.
We want to be ready
for that tiny baby,
for that holy family,
for those shepherds and wise men,
for those heavenly singers,
the ones that lit up the night sky
with a song of good news!

So on this day, Lord,
on this fourth Sunday in Advent,
as we wait here together,
in this space that is so lovely,
with these people whom we care about,
will you help us to look for that angelic light?
And to look for it with hope,
and with expectation,
and most of all, with grateful hearts.

Yes, Lord — in the midst of the busyness,
the gift-wrapping and the baking,
the family gatherings and the carol-singing,
in the midst of our own personal struggles and worries,
will you help us to
hang onto hope?
To grab hold of gratitude?

We confess that sometimes we forget.
We forget to say ‘thank you,’
to slow down,
to look up,
to look around
and tell you and one another
that we are grateful.
We are so very grateful for this story of ours.

We are thankful for its life-changing power,
and we are thankful for its grittiness.
For ours is a story that fairly reeks of
real life — life as we know it,
life as we live it,
and as we see it in the world around us:
families living under oppression,
poverty,
homelessness,
the murder of innocent children,
an unexpected, even scandalous pregnancy.

And this is the story that you — our Great God,
Creator of the Universe —
this is the story that you
deliberately chose
to step right into.

You chose to experience this life,
this human life here on planet earth,

in all its crazy mixed up-ness.

And you chose a girl like Mary,
and a man like Joseph to be the ones
who would help to tell the story,
to live the story.

So we thank you for these good people,
these good parents.
And we ask you to open our hearts,
settle our minds,
and learn what they have to teach us.

Today, we want to learn from Mother Mary,
from that wisp of a girl who
was braver than she knew,
that girl who was pleasing to you,
the one who lay on the straw
and pushed a King out into this world
on a  dark and lonely night,
far from her home.

As we learn from her today,
help us to remember that Jesus learned from her, too.
She was his first teacher, after all,
the one who helped him to grow up,
the one who walked this earthly road with him, right to the end.
I think she has a lot to teach us.
Help us to be good learners today.

And help us to walk into Christmas with open hands and open hearts,
to follow Mary’s example,
and to let you be born in us,
again and again.
“Let it be unto us according to your word.”

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Advent Lament: SheLoves — Part Three

This is the third post in a series of four that Kelley Johnson Nikondeha and I have been writing over at SheLoves this Advent season. We wanted to make space for lament during our waiting time this year, so each of us wrote a song of sadness. I began the series here, Kelley responded to that individual lament here. Today, and again next Tuesday, Kelley and I are writing laments. This one was written after I read the beautiful one by Kelley that you’ll see on Tuesday and is my attempt to make space for the sadness and brokenness that resides in our larger culture.  You can read all of it over at SheLoves today.

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Oh, I so don’t want to do this, Lord.
I want to sit in the back,
shut my eyes,
shutter my ears,
close my mouth,
still my voice.

And yet, I cannot.

You compel me, you urge me, you call me out.
You tell me, in no uncertain terms, to stand up.
To stand up and speak.

To stand beside the mothers whose brown boys have been
violently taken from them
To stand beside the Palestinians who come home
to find no home, only a bulldozer.
To stand beside the young ones in Africa,
the boys and the girls,
who are seen as bait or kindling or meat or slaves or
anything other than who they are:
your children, created in your image.

It is hard for me to face the ugliness in this world.
I can barely look at the ugliness in me.
It leaves me feeling
exhausted, frightened, frustrated, confused and angry.

Because here’s the truth, my truth, Lord:
I’ve made it my life’s work to look for the beauty.
I don’t think that’s a bad thing,
not at all.
In fact, I think it’s an act of obedience.

Some things are not beautiful;
they are hideous,
and they demand testimony, too. . .

 

Please click here and head over to SheLoves to finish reading this song. . .