An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Eighteen

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Large crowds followed Jesus as he came down the mountainside. Suddenly, a man with leprosy approached him and knelt before him. “Lord,” the man said, “if you are willing, you can heal me and make me clean.”

Jesus reached out and touched him. “I am willing,” he said.“Be healed!” And instantly the leprosy disappeared. Then Jesus said to him,“Don’t tell anyone about this. Instead, go to the priest and let him examine you. Take along the offering required in the law of Moses for those who have been healed of leprosy. This will be a public testimony that you have been cleansed.”

When Jesus returned to Capernaum, a Roman officer came and pleaded with him, “Lord, my young servant lies in bed, paralyzed and in terrible pain.”
Jesus said, “I will come and heal him.”

But the officer said, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come into my home. Just say the word from where you are, and my servant will be healed. I know this because I am under the authority of my superior officers, and I have authority over my soldiers. I only need to say, ‘Go,’ and they go, or ‘Come,’ and they come. And if I say to my slaves, ‘Do this,’ they do it.”

When Jesus heard this, he was amazed. Turning to those who were following him, he said, “I tell you the truth, I haven’t seen faith like this in all Israel! And I tell you this, that many Gentiles will come from all over the world—from east and west—and sit down with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob at the feast in the Kingdom of Heaven. But many Israelites—those for whom the Kingdom was prepared—will be thrown into outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Then Jesus said to the Roman officer, “Go back home. Because you believed, it has happened.” And the young servant was healed that same hour.

When Jesus arrived at Peter’s house, Peter’s mother-in-law was sick in bed with a high fever. But when Jesus touched her hand, the fever left her. Then she got up and prepared a meal for him.

That evening many demon-possessed people were brought to Jesus. He cast out the evil spirits with a simple command, and he healed all the sick. This fulfilled the word of the Lord through the prophet Isaiah, who said,
“He took our sicknesses
and removed our diseases.”

Matthew 8:1-17, 28-34-NLT

Jesus was a very busy boy on this day, wasn’t he?

As I read through this particular series of healing miracles, I picture Jesus at the heart and center of them all, much like the rose window in the photograph above the scripture finds its center in that beautiful 8-sided star.

The center, the thing that holds it together, upon which all the additional beauty builds. Jesus. I can so easily be distracted by the gingerbread – the details of the healings themselves. The leper coming out of nowhere, the soldier with his no-nonsense approach to getting a few more years of work out of his servant, the mother-in-law of his close friend, the crowds that just.kept.coming.

Yeah, I can go there fast.

But I wonder if maybe Matthew, and those who selected this passage for our Advent reading — I wonder if they’re asking us to do something a little simpler: look at Jesus. 

Jesus, the steady center amid the swirling need. Jesus, the one who welcomes all. Jesus, the one who outspokenly applauds the faith of an enemy and warns those who share his faith tradition. Jesus, who lovingly helps an older woman get up and do what she loves to do. Jesus, who makes himself available to any and all who will come.

Oh, Lord. I can get so distracted! As the busyness builds over these days, will you kindly help me to come back to center? To keep my focus on you? 

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Seventeen

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Now he brought me back to the entrance to the Temple. I saw water pouring out from under the Temple porch to the east (the Temple faced east). The water poured from the south side of the Temple, south of the altar. He then took me out through the north gate and led me around the outside to the gate complex on the east. The water was gushing from under the south front of the Temple.

   He walked to the east with a measuring tape and measured off fifteen hundred feet, leading me through water that was ankle-deep. He measured off another fifteen hundred feet, leading me through water that was knee-deep. He measured off another fifteen hundred feet, leading me through water waist-deep. He measured off another fifteen hundred feet. By now it was a river over my head, water to swim in, water no one could possibly walk through.

   He said, “Son of man, have you had a good look?”

Then he took me back to the riverbank. While sitting on the bank, I noticed a lot of trees on both sides of the river.

   He told me, “This water flows east, descends to the Arabah and then into the sea, the sea of stagnant waters. When it empties into those waters, the sea will become fresh. Wherever the river flows, life will flourish—great schools of fish—because the river is turning the salt sea into fresh water. Where the river flows, life abounds. Fishermen will stand shoulder to shoulder along the shore from En-gedi all the way north to En-eglaim, casting their nets. The sea will teem with fish of all kinds, like the fish of the Great Mediterranean.

   “The swamps and marshes won’t become fresh. They’ll stay salty.

   “But the river itself, on both banks, will grow fruit trees of all kinds. Their leaves won’t wither, the fruit won’t fail. Every month they’ll bear fresh fruit because the river from the Sanctuary flows to them. Their fruit will be for food and their leaves for healing.”

Ezekiel 47:1-12-The Message

So. . . why is this strange, small passage included in our texts for Advent? Ezekiel’s visions are wild and strange and quite wonderful, but Advent? 

As I read through this lush and descriptive chunk of scripture, it helps me to remember that Advent speaks to all the ways and all the times in which Jesus comes to us — 2000 years ago in Bethlehem, as a tiny, vulnerable baby; right now, at this minute, as a living force and source within all those who carry his name; and somewhere out there in the unseeable future, when he will come visibly and powerfully, bringing with him the new heaven and the new earth.

Ezekiel is talking about that last time with his words. That time when the River will be vividly visible, when the Water of Life will be the clear source of all that is good and ripe and nourishing. “Where the river flows, life abounds,” the word comes to Ezekiel. And the Word comes to us in the same way.

Yes, we still wait the coming drama, the rending of the skies, the shouts of victory and joy. But even now, if we look for the River, we will find life, abounding. Abounding.

In the midst of death, there is life; in the midst of despair, there is joy; in the midst of darkness, there is light. Yes!

Give us eyes to see you, Lord, our life, our joy, our light. Eyes to see, hearts to rejoice and minds to imagine that great River, spreading its way to the sea, transforming everything in its path into flagrant, glorious LIFE. 

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Sixteen

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As the deer longs for streams of water,
so I long for you, O God.

I thirst for God, the living God.
When can I go and stand before him?
Day and night I have only tears for food,
while my enemies continually taunt me, saying,
“Where is this God of yours?”

My heart is breaking
as I remember how it used to be:
I walked among the crowds of worshipers,
leading a great procession to the house of God,
singing for joy and giving thanks
amid the sound of a great celebration!

Why am I discouraged?
Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
I will praise him again—
my Savior and my God!

Now I am deeply discouraged,
but I will remember you—
even from distant Mount Hermon, the source of the Jordan,
from the land of Mount Mizar.
I hear the tumult of the raging seas
as your waves and surging tides sweep over me.

But each day the Lord pours his unfailing love upon me,
and through each night I sing his songs,
praying to God who gives me life.
“O God my rock,” I cry,
“Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I wander around in grief,
oppressed by my enemies?”

Their taunts break my bones.
They scoff, “Where is this God of yours?”

Why am I discouraged?
Why is my heart so sad?
I will put my hope in God!
I will praise him again—
my Savior and my God!

Psalm 42 – NLT

I love this psalm — the back and forth between lament and praise, the sometimes dizzying roller coaster ride through the peaks and valleys of the life of faith. And threading its way through the entire, beautiful ride, is the glimmering thread of desire.  

What do I want? What do I really want?

I want more of God. I do. There are times when I hunger for God above all things, when I desire to experience God’s grace and love, God’s presence and comfort. And there are times when I experience the ‘goodness of God in the land of the living.’ 

But I also want to be comfortable; people to like me; my children and grandchildren to be whole and healthy; my mom to be more fully the mom I’ve always known; to be a stronger, more disciplined person; my life to be easier. 

And when those things are not happening, I can easily become discouraged. Like the psalmist, I hearken back to days of old, when I felt God’s presence, when everybody was well, when mom was mom, when my body was less creaky, when I had more energy.

So I cry out in those times, cry out to God for relief and for reminders.

And what I’m learning to ask for in the midst of these times of discouragement is the gift of remembrance, the ability to think back on ‘the good times’ without nostalgia. Why? Because I think that nostalgia, at its heart, involves regret. And regret — wishing for things that cannot be — is counter-productive to a life lived in gratitude and praise. Remembrance, which I define as reflection-without-regret, seems to naturally elicit exactly that — gratitude and praise, both of which help to lead me to peaceful memories of what was and joyous acceptance of what is. 

During this season of Advent, and its invitation to the quieter emotions, when I reflect on this favorite psalm, I try to picture the ‘streams of water,’ our source of refreshment and rest. And in my mind’s eye, I try to see the Rock which is underneath it all. The Rock, out of which the only true refreshment I know emerges.  And as that River of Life flows downstream, I pray that it will burble its way right into the likes of me.

Our Rock and our Redeemer, will you help us to desire you above all things? Help us to remember well, to let praise and gratitude flow right out of us as your loving presence flows right into us. Thank you. Thank you.

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Fifteen

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And Mary said,

I’m bursting with God-news;
I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.
God took one good look at me, and look what happened—
I’m the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others.
His mercy flows in wave after wave
on those who are in awe before him.
He bared his arm and showed his strength,
scattered the bluffing braggarts.
He knocked tyrants off their high horses,
pulled victims out of the mud.
The starving poor sat down to a banquet;
the callous rich were left out in the cold.
He embraced his chosen child, Israel;
he remembered and piled on the mercies, piled them high.
It’s exactly what he promised,
beginning with Abraham and right up to now.

Luke 1:56b-35-The Message

Have you ever tried to imagine what it must have been like to be Mary, before she got to the place where she could sing this powerful song? What must it have been like to have your life turned upside down by an angelic visitor, to have to explain to your fiance how you got pregnant, to continue to live in your small town while the whispers got louder and louder?

No wonder the angel told her about Elizabeth. She needed someone to talk to who understood something about miracle pregnancies!

Years ago, I met a friend who was (and is) a talented pianist, singer and songwriter. In fact, Ken Medema is one of the most talented people I’ve ever known in my life. And one of his earliest story-songs was about Mary and Elizabeth. For your reflection today, I’m going to paste in the words to that song and then give you a link to go over and listen to it. I think you’ll be glad you did.

So many things are happening to me that
   I don’t understand – 
Visions and angels and a baby named Jesus – 
   It’s not what I planned.
The plans I have made are like birds’ nests
   blown down in the wind and the rain.
And I’m scattered like straw, and I can’t quite
   tell where to find saneness again.

So, I’ll go tell Elizabeth,

For she’ll understand.
I’ll go tell Elizabeth,
She’ll hold my hand – she’ll understand.

“Go talk to Joseph.” Well I’ve talked to Joseph
and Joseph’s a man;

So many things that a woman can know that 
   a man never can.
Joseph is practical and Joseph is worried with
   things of his own.
And talking to Joseph is sometimes no better 
   than being alone – being alone.

So, I’ll go tell Elizabeth,

‘Cause she’ll understand.
Yes, I’ll go tell Elizabeth,
She’ll hold my hand – she’ll understand.
Sometimes I wish I could wake up and discover it all was a dream;

I ought to be shouting for joy, yet I’m coming apart at the seams.
Mostly I’m quiet – I keep things inside me – It’s how I get by.
When there’s too much to handle, and I need someone
   near me to share a good cry – share a good cry.

So many things are happening to me that she’ll understand.
Now that she’s pregnant her life isn’t going exactly as planned.
The plans we both made are like birds’ nests
   blown down in the wind and the rain.
And we’re scattered like straw, and we can’t quite
   tell where to find saneness again – saneness again.

So, I’m coming Elizabeth.

‘Cause I’ll understand.
I’m coming Elizabeth.
I’ll hold your hand – I’ll understand.
Yes, I’m coming Elizabeth.
For I’ll understand.
I’m coming Elizabeth – I’ll hold your hand – 
I’ll understand.
        copyright, Ken Medema

You can hear Ken sing this wonderful song by clicking on this line, and then hitting the small photo next to the title. An arrow should appear.

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Fourteen

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Then Hannah prayed:

“My heart rejoices in theLord!
The Lord has made me strong.
Now I have an answer for my enemies;
I rejoice because you rescued me.
No one is holy like the Lord!
There is no one besides you;
there is no Rock like our God.

“Stop acting so proud and haughty!

Don’t speak with such arrogance!
For the Lord is a God who knows what you have done;
he will judge your actions.
The bow of the mighty is now broken,
    and those who stumbled are now strong.

Those who were well fed are now starving,
    and those who were starving are now full.
The childless woman now has seven children,
    and the woman with many children wastes away.

The Lord gives both death and life;
he brings some down to the grave but raises others up.
The Lord makes some poor and others rich;
he brings some down and lifts others up.
He lifts the poor from the dust
    and the needy from the garbage dump.
He sets them among princes,
    placing them in seats of honor.
For all the earth is the Lord’s,
    and he has set the world in order.

1 Samuel 2:1-8 -NLT

I am pretty sure I know why this section of Old Testament scripture is included in this series of Advent texts. And that reason will show up in tomorrow’s post: the Magnificat, the song of Mary, the one she sings to her cousin Elizabeth, a song of power and rebellion and a prophetic word about what was to come in the ministry, life and death of the baby she carried while she sang it.

As we’ll see tomorrow, Mary’s song sounds a little bit like Hannah’s; these two women are soul sisters across the centuries that stretch from the time of the judges to 1st century Palestine. 

They know an important truth about God, a truth that we’ve been uncovering in surprising places all along our journey toward the Light this Advent season. And that truth is this: God is in the business of upsetting the apple cart, of confounding expectations, of accomplishing justice/righteousness/salvation/wholeness in ways that often seem upside down and backwards to us.

But Hannah sings right into the heart of it all:

For all the earth is the Lord’s,
    and he has set the world in order.

So as I continue to look for the light, I am asking God to help me let go of preconceptions, of culturally bound ideas of authority and power and wealth. I’m asking to see what Hannah saw, what Mary saw, and to learn to sing a song of my own. A song of praise and thanksgiving to the God of surprises, the God who comes in small things and cares about those who are least in the eyes of the world.

Will you help me to sing with my sisters, Lord God? To honor their faith, and to join them in acknowledging that you, and you alone, are in charge of this earth. That even when it doesn’t look like it to me, you have, indeed, ‘set the world in order.’ 

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Thirteen

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But joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper,
whose hope is in the Lord their God.
He made heaven and earth,
the sea, and everything in them.
He keeps every promise forever.
He gives justice to the oppressed
and food to the hungry.
The Lord frees the prisoners.
The Lord opens the eyes of the blind.
The Lord lifts up those who are weighed down.
The Lord loves the godly.
The Lord protects the foreigners among us.
He cares for the orphans and widows,
but he frustrates the plans of the wicked.
The Lord will reign forever.
He will be your God, O Jerusalem, throughout the generations.

Praise the Lord!

Psalm 145:5-10-NLT

So, Lord. About that “gives justice to the oppressed and food to the hungry” bit? 
Yeah, I’m struggling with that part.

Some days, the headlines point me straight to despair,
make me wonder where you are,
and question some of these grand and beautiful words in the psalms.
I want to shout at you,
poke at you and cry,
“Show yourself, mighty in power.
Step in! Intervene!”

I rant and I rave and I shake my fist in your general direction
(wherever that is), and I sigh a lot.

A lot.

And then, I remember.
I remember that you’re not about the ‘big move,’
the dramatic power play,
the thunder and lightning kind of thing.

You sent a baby, for heaven’s sake.
A baby.

And then that baby grew up and began to preach,
and hang out with the riff-raff,
and look out for the little guy.
And if we looked really carefully,
we could begin to see how it is that
you do this work of justice-giving,
and oppression-relieving,
and hunger-feeding.

You do it in small ways, surprising ways.
And you choose to do it through us —
us crazy, mixed-up, messed-up
human beings.

You invite us to take a look around,
to find the places where oppression
needs to be lifted,

and the hungry fed,
and then you encourage us
and you empower us,
if we are open and willing,
to live out the truth of this psalm in our world.

It’s a bit of a wacky scheme in my book,
and one I imagine I’ll question all my days.
And yet, I’ve seen it play out in remarkable ways,
not always, and not often enough (at least in my book),
but I’ve seen it.

And for what I’ve seen,
and what I’ve read,
I thank you.
And I am choosing to trust you,
to believe that are still at work in our world,
that you are still working through the likes of us,
even the likes of me,
to bring healing and hope to our world.

May it be so, Lord. May it be so.

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Twelve

 

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My Aunt Eileen, me, my mom, circa 1968

Then she [Naomi] started to return with her daughters-in-law from the country of Moab, for she had heard in the country of Moab that the Lord had considered his people and given them food. So she set out from the place where she had been living, she and her two daughters-in-law, and they went on their way to go back to the land of Judah. But Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back each of you to your mother’s house. May the Lord deal kindly with you, as you have dealt with the dead and with me. The Lord grant that you may find security, each of you in the house of your husband.” Then she kissed them, and they wept aloud. They said to her, “No, we will return with you to your people.” But Naomi said, “Turn back, my daughters, why will you go with me? Do I still have sons in my womb that they may become your husbands? Turn back, my daughters, go your way, for I am too old to have a husband. Even if I thought there was hope for me, even if I should have a husband tonight and bear sons, would you then wait until they were grown? Would you then refrain from marrying? No, my daughters, it has been far more bitter for me than for you, because the hand of the Lord has turned against me.” Then they wept aloud again. Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clung to her.

So she said, “See, your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law.” But Ruth said,

“Do not press me to leave you
    or to turn back from following you!
Where you go, I will go;
    where you lodge, I will lodge;
your people shall be my people,
    and your God my God.
Where you die, I will die—
    there will I be buried.
May the Lord do thus and so to me,
    and more as well,
if even death parts me from you!”
When Naomi saw that she was determined to go with her, she said no more to her.

Ruth 1:6-18 – NRSV

Sometimes the ties between women in the same family can be remarkably strong and resilient. The Old Testament book of Ruth tells the story of two such women — tired, old Naomi, beat-up by life and loss, and her faithful, kind-hearted daughter-in-law, Ruth. It’s one of the most beautiful books in all of scripture and the story it tells is rich and layered. Pieces of it even show up in the lineage of Jesus, found in chapter 1 of Matthew’s gospel.

Many writers have told and re-told the stories of the women in that family tree — five of them altogether, each one a surprise. Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba and Mary. One taught a powerful lesson about faithfulness to a patriarch of ancient Israel, one was taken advantage of by a powerful king, one was commissioned to bear the son of God, and three of these women, Ruth included, were not part of Israel at all, yet here they are, on this all-important list, marked out for us to see, highlighted at a time in history when women’s names were seldom included in any genealogy. 

Ruth, the Moabite, became a mother in Israel, great-grandmother to King David, ancestor to Jesus. And all of that happened because Ruth chose to stick with the mother she knew, the mother of her dead husband, the woman who had taken her in and taught her about marriage and life and faith. Ruth commits herself to the older woman, and to her country and most importantly, to her God, the God of Israel. And she does it with some of the most beautiful words ever written in the pages of any book, anywhere. “Entreat me not to leave thee. . . ” goes the KJV, and the words that follow have found their way into more wedding ceremonies than can be counted.

It’s a promise, a pledge, a step into the future. And it’s offered in love and respect and full-throated, open-hearted commitment. The words of Ruth have worked their way into the psyches of much of modern christendom. But sometimes I wonder if we fully appreciate what they mean. Am I willing to leave everything that’s familiar and follow hard after the God of Israel? 

Oh, I hope so.

El Shaddai, Sustainer and Defender, thank you for the story of Ruth and Naomi, for their commitment to one another and to you. Help us, O Lord, to follow where you lead even when it feels scary and uncertain. Even ‘to the ends of the earth,’ O Lord. Even there. 

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Eleven

 

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The words of Jesus:

“If you grow a healthy tree, you’ll pick healthy fruit. If you grow a diseased tree, you’ll pick worm-eaten fruit. The fruit tells you about the tree.

“You have minds like a snake pit! How do you suppose what you say is worth anything when you are so foul-minded? It’s your heart, not the dictionary, that gives meaning to your words. A good person produces good deeds and words season after season. An evil person is a blight on the orchard. Let me tell you something: Every one of these careless words is going to come back to haunt you. There will be a time of Reckoning. Words are powerful; take them seriously. Words can be your salvation. Words can also be your damnation.”

Matthew 12:33-37, The Message

Can you sense the rage in these words? The warning?

“Gentle Jesus, meek and mild” has left the building in this passage. And if you read a few of the verses before these in the 12th chapter of Matthew’s gospel,  you get some idea why he’s feeling a mite bit testy.

They accused him of ‘black magic’ after he healed a demon-possessed man who was blind and deaf. And at their slanderous words, Jesus unloads one of the sharpest speeches recorded in any of the gospels.

And that speech is all about WORDS.

Such powerful things, these small sounds we make, these feeble scratches we write. According to Jesus, words = fruit. What comes out of our mouths, or out of the ends of our fingers, are words that are either rich, ripe and nourishing OR worm-ridden, malodorous and sickening.

Jesus makes it crystal clear that this is a heart matter, the center of who we are is the source of every word that spills out of us. And every single syllable is potentially explosive, hurtful, maybe even dangerous. As followers of this one who comes to us at Christmas, this one who knew the pain and confusion of accusations and lies — can we be especially prayerful and alert, aware of the power we’ve been given?

It was The Word, John says that formed the universe and all that is in it. Are my words creative, careful, directed toward building up rather than tearing down?

It is The Word who indwells and enlivens us as we inhabit this place that is our home. Are we listening, asking for wisdom-filled-words that invite and encourage rather than reject and discourage?

Are we ‘working out our own salvation’ with what we speak and preach and teach and write?

Are we inviting others to a place of warmth and welcome as we walk our way toward Christmas Day? Or are we too frazzled, over-scheduled, sleep-deprived, out-of-sorts to make the extra effort?

Strong and insightful Lord Jesus, we need a nudge or two right now, as we approach the halfway point on our journey. We want to leave enough space in the day for you, Jesus. Enough space in us. That’s the only way I know how to watch my words, you see: I need to watch you. And to do that, I’ve got to step aside for just a few minutes – in the car or in the laundry room or standing at the sink or checking my email – I need to just take those minutes wherever I can grab them and watch you again. And listen, too. Remind me, okay? Call me back to center so that the fruit of my lips will reflect a quiet heart. Thank you.

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Ten

 

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I am fully convinced, my dear brothers and sisters, that you are full of goodness. You know these things so well you can teach each other all about them. Even so, I have been bold enough to write about some of these points, knowing that all you need is this reminder. For by God’s grace, I am a special messenger from Christ Jesus to you Gentiles. I bring you the Good News so that I might present you as an acceptable offering to God, made holy by the Holy Spirit. So I have reason to be enthusiastic about all Christ Jesus has done through me in my service to God. Yet I dare not boast about anything except what Christ has done through me, bringing the Gentiles to God by my message and by the way I worked among them. They were convinced by the power of miraculous signs and wonders and by the power of God’s Spirit. In this way, I have fully presented the Good News of Christ from Jerusalem all the way to Illyricum.

My ambition has always been to preach the Good News where the name of Christ has never been heard, rather than where a church has already been started by someone else. I have been following the plan spoken of in the Scriptures, where it says,

“Those who have never been told about him will see,
and those who have never heard of him will understand.”

Romans 15:14-21 -NLT

“A special messenger to the Gentiles. . . ” It is the apostle Paul who picks up the thread woven into the fabric of the Incarnation by those wise men from the east, who came seeking a new king. I suppose this story is really more of an Epiphany tale than an Advent one, but here we are with this passage on the 10th day of our Advent journey.

Perhaps those who laid out this list of readings wanted to be sure this small, golden thread was right up front, where it would be noticed. Because, you see, we are the recipients of this particular gift of grace. We are the ones who walk in the shadow of those ancient seekers from the east; we are the ones who follow along with Paul as he rounds the Mediterranean Sea, leaving depositories of gospel grace everywhere he goes.

It’s a thread worth noting, an essential slice of the light we are seeking as we turn round one more bend in the road, journeying toward Christmas Day. We, too, are part of this story.

We, too, are marked by the Spirit as ones who are ‘full of goodness,’ simply because we know Jesus.

Humble Savior, will you help us to know you better as we travel this road? Shine your light on us, lead us into truth, help us to see your goodness shining out of our lives, even in the midst of the holiday crazy.

* As an added Advent bonus, I heartily recommend you click on this link and meander over to SheLoves fine post on Random Acts of Advent Kindness. I’m going to try and do this as often as possible and I encourage you all to check it out for yourselves.

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Nine

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      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.

I Thessalonians 4:1-12  -The Message

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The psychological term is mirroring, learning from another by copying them, or saying back to them what you’ve heard, to be sure you’ve heard it right. 

I think that’s what Paul is talking to the Thessalonians about in this note. “Be sure you’re mirroring God in all your actions – how you treat yourself and how you treat others. Reflect back to God what you experience, what you’re seeing, what you’re hearing.”

There is a reason that ballet studios have mirrors on all sides. When  you’re learning a new dance, you need to see if you’re following the teacher, if you’re getting the steps right — yes, of course. But also, you need to know if you’re capturing the spirit of the piece, the joy of it.

Imagine that you’re dancing before the mirror, following after the Savior. Leaning over to help another stand tall, speaking softly to your neighbor, smiling kindly at yourself, when you catch a glimpse of your own face and form every now and again. The Christian journey is a dance, Paul says. Don’t let it solidify into something cold and lifeless, regimented and disciplined to death. 

Simply DANCE!

Lord of the Dance, help us to keep our eyes on  you, to do what you do, to say what you say. In our own unique way, of course, because that’s the truth of this life, isn’t it? When we look harder at you, we discover more about ourselves. Help us to dance well with you.

* As an added Advent bonus, I heartily recommend you click on this link and meander over to SheLoves fine post on Random Acts of Advent Kindness. I’m going to try and do this as often as possible and I encourage you all to check it out for yourselves.