Advent

The Joy of the Unexpected

/ JJS / 2 Comments

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Readings: Psalms 18:1-20; 147:12-20, Isaiah 60:1-6, Galatians 3:23-4:7, Matthew 1:18-25

Every year at Christmas time we revisit the Nativity story in scripture readings and carols. The words and melodies bring us comfort and joy in part because they are so familiar and meet our expectations. This comfort in the familiar is kind of ironic considering the Nativity story itself is one of upended expectations and surprises.

First we have Mary, the mother of Jesus. Of everyone in the story, she has the most to be surprised about. No one expects a visit from an angel who announces God will create a child in your virgin womb. Then there’s Joseph, Mary’s betrothed. He doesn’t expect Mary to become pregnant, and he doesn’t expect divine intervention in the form of a dream telling him to stay with her. In an important subplot, we have Mary’s relatives Elizabeth and Zechariah. These two are both surprised by Elizabeth’s late-in-life pregnancy. All of these people have a trait in common (though Zechariah took a little while to come around): they all adapt to the unexpected. Every one of them had reasons to be doubtful, frightened, or resentful. Instead they chose to alter their plans to reflect their new circumstances, and thus ushered into life John the Baptist and Jesus the Christ.

The message of the Nativity is this: God enters the world in unexpected ways. If we insist on our own plans rather than God’s, we may never notice opportunities to share in the greater plan unfolding across history.

The unexpected can be frightening, but it is both inevitable and constant. When confronted with the choice to resist or embrace the unexpected, the former limits us, and the latter unlocks our potential. The quick decision to befriend a stranger we might have avoided may be where we both see Christ in action. An invitation to lead or serve in unfamiliar ways may reinvigorate a flagging ministry. An unplanned job termination may result in a meaningful vocation we never considered. It seems God rarely calls the prepared, but prepares the called. Let us joyfully meet Christ where he shows up, instead of missing him because we insist on looking only where planned for him to be.

Comfort: The unexpected is often a blessing waiting to be claimed.

Challenge: Ask yourself which of your plans are in conflict with God’s plans for you.

Prayer: God of mystery and grace, I will seek you wherever you lead. Amen.

Discussion: What unexpected event or encounter has influenced your life?

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Joy of the Ordinary

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Readings: Psalms 50; 147:1-11, Jeremiah 31:10-14, Galatians 3:15-22, Matthew 1:1-17

What does “joy” mean? For many people the word conjures heightened emotions like euphoria or ecstasy. Such emotional intensity is not sustainable for very long. Eventually mundane concerns like bathing and eating will pull us back down to earth. Joy in the Lord, as described in the readings from Psalm 147 or Jeremiah 31, can certainly have its ecstatic moments, but it is more about a state of existence in which the Lord’s justice is a constant presence in our lives.

The world needs extraordinary people: thinkers, creators, and innovators who lead us forward … but it depends on ordinary people. Some would claim wealth, fame, and other worldly successes are the result of favor from the Lord. The psalmist teaches us the Lord does not delight in extraordinary speed or strength (and by extension wealth or power), but in those who fear him and hope in his love. The world claims to admire those who lead lives of humble service, but in practice we rarely aspire to be them, because they resemble what the world calls failure. Jesus tells us the world will be turned upside down, and the last will be first. The world constantly tempts us to measure ourselves against “the first” so that our sense of whether we are happy becomes comparative and competitive. If our joy instead rests in being a delight to the Lord, and that means hoping in his love, then joy is available to everyone regardless of status.

When Jeremiah talks about joy in the Lord, he speaks of gathering the outcasts, healing the brokenhearted, and lifting up the downtrodden. The Lord intends ordinary lives to be joyful. Unfortunately God’s justice  is not the standard of most of the world, so when we hear “ordinary” the implication is often “less than good.” Advent reminds us that, while the world is a fallen place, we look forward to the time when it is restored. When God’s justice finally becomes our standard, ordinary will no longer mean uneventful, boring, or miserable, but full of peace and plenty. You are built for joy; don’t let the world talk you out of it.

Comfort: The joy of the Lord is available to everyone, including you.

Challenge: If something blocks your joy, it usually also stands between you and God. This coming month, identify and work to remove one roadblock between you and God.

Prayer: In you alone, O Lord, will I seek my joy. Amen.

Discussion: Do you think there is a difference between happiness and joy?

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The Joy of Being Wrong

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Readings: Psalms 33; 146, 2 Samuel 7:18-29, Galatians 3:1-14, Luke 1:57-66

Zechariah was a learned priest who kept God’s commandments. When an angel told him his elderly wife Elizabeth would have a baby, Zechariah was too smart to believe him. Displeased, the angel struck him mute. When the baby was born, Elizabeth named him John. This was a break from tradition, as there were no Johns in the family. The household looked to Zechariah to make the call. The “right” thing to do would have been to pick a family name, but Zechariah was no fool. He wrote down “John” and was once more able to speak. He had learned the pitfalls of having to be right.

Generally speaking, we are not rewarded for being wrong. To the contrary, we usually suffer some penalty, even if it’s just loss of face. Employers, children, friends, and church exert an enormous amount of pressure to be right. Of course “wrong” is never our goal, but being afraid to be wrong prevents us from taking chances – pretty much the opposite of faith.

In science, negative results provide good information, yet there is a bias against publishing them. Valuable lines of communication are cut off when we hide our mistakes. How much richer the world is when, instead of having to be right, we are open to learning! The need to be right – politically, morally, spiritually – closes us off from the insights of others, and those others are children of God with equally valid perspectives. We don’t always have to agree with them; abandoning the need to be right is not the same as always being wrong.

Perhaps the greatest downfall of having to be right is how it limits our vision to only the things we can conceive. Zechariah’s rejection of the unknown relegated him to the sidelines of the most important story in history. His decision to risk being wrong in the eyes of others put him back in the game. How many angels have we rejected? How many traditions have robbed us of faith? Sometimes being wrong is not an occasion for shame, but for joy!

Comfort: Only God is always right; the rest of us are allowed to be human.

Challenge: The next time someone offers an opinion you disagree with, listen to understand, rather than to argue.

Prayer: Loving God, I will seek to lean on your wisdom more than my own understanding.

Discussion: Have you ever been pleased to discover you were wrong about something?

The Joy of Community

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Readings: Psalms 122; 145, 2 Samuel 7:1-17, Titus 2:11-3:8a, Luke 1:39-48a (48b-56)

After the angel Gabriel told Mary she would be mother to the messiah, she visited her relative Elizabeth. Older and childless, Elizabeth was also in the middle of an unexpected pregnancy. When Mary shared her news, Elizabeth’s baby (who would grow up to be John the Baptist) leaped in her womb for Joy (Luke 1:44).

After delivering her news, Mary spoke a prayer we now call the Magnificat. This prayer is an important hymn in the Christian church, particularly among Catholics. In the Magnificat, Mary humbly praises God for the favor he has shown her, and she also praises God for keeping his promises to the nation of Israel. The joy Mary and Elizabeth feel for their own situations is inseparable from the joy they feel for their community.

Throughout the Old Testament we read about how God is invested in the fate of his people as a whole. Individuals are shown favor for the purpose of serving the good of the community, not for individual glory. In the New Testament, the apostle Paul rejoices from his prison because God is blessing the greater church. Paul does acknowledge his personal suffering, but seeing himself as part of something greater allows him to do both simultaneously.

The current culture of the United States teaches us joy is to be found in personal pursuits. When we want to encourage people to act charitably we tell them how good it will make them feel. The faith language of best-selling books focuses on personal salvation and the prosperity gospel. We trade accountability for independence and talk about rights as though they are divorced from responsibilities. We don’t leap for joy if the salvation of the community depletes our wallets or makes demands of us. Mary’s sacrificial  joy  is revolutionary even today.

As our faith grows deeper, our concerns grow broader. If our joy relies only on personal satisfaction, it will be fleeting. We have access to so much more joy when we understand we are part of a community. When the Lord “fill[s] the hungry with good things,” (Luke 39:53) we are filled also.

Comfort: Our joy need not be limited by our personal circumstances.

Challenge: Read the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55) aloud. Read it again with a friend – or better yet, a group.

Prayer: Thank you, oh Great God, for the community of your church. Deliver us from evils within and without. Mold us into an vessel of your love. Amen.

Discussion: Do you feel like part of a larger community? What is that community based on?

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The Joy of Possibility

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Readings: Psalms 24; 150, 1 Samuel 2:1b-10, Titus 2:1-10, Luke 1:26-38

“For nothing is impossible with God.”

So concludes the angel Gabriel when he tells Mary she will be the mother of the long-awaited messiah, and that her cousin Elizabeth, thought to be barren, will give birth also.

Do we believe Gabriel’s claim?

It’s easy to doubt. We don’t always get what we pray for, even when those prayers are frequent and fervent. We are witnesses to terrible tragedy. People we love get sick and die. Addictions destroy lives. Anger destroys families.

And yet…

People forgive loved ones for doing terrible things. Submission to a higher power restores sobriety to the hopeless. Terminal diagnoses are defied. Survivors of terrible tragedies make peace with their enemies, rebuild their lives, and inspire others. Each of these things at some point seems like an impossibility, but they all happen. Certainly not every time, or even as often as we would like, but they do happen. And only through God’s grace.

Advent reminds us that in the darkest times, our God creates possibilities. Jerusalem had been under Roman occupation for over 60 years at the time of Christ’s birth. Several self-proclaimed messiahs had already died trying to win the freedom of the Jewish people. Then an angel appeared to a young girl of no significance, and announced the impossible. Even if we aren’t sure about the whole angel-virgin-manger story, the truth of a Messiah who upends expectations and continues to free us until this very moment seems impossible.

The impossible is not just the highly improbable. The impossible is something our minds and spirits can’t even conceive. A messiah who conquers his enemies by being crucified? Not on the radar. A kingdom where the last are first and the first are last? Not something we’d plan for.

Our God is a God of inconceivable possibility. He is with us in the midst of our suffering, which itself is a seeming impossibility. Mary did not wait to rejoice until God’s promise was fulfilled – she began when the possibility was revealed to her. Surely this joy was not without its own terrors for a young girl whose pregnancy would raise questions and even hostility. Even in the face of fear and suffering, let us rejoice because God is creating possibilities beyond our imaginations.

Comfort: Nothing is impossible with God.

Challenge: Watching the news and hearing about world events can be very disheartening. Try to spend as much time looking for news about possibilities as being fed news about tragedy.

Prayer: Hear a just cause, O LORD; attend to my cry; give ear to my prayer from lips free of deceit. From you let my vindication come; let your eyes see the right. (Psalm 17:1-2)

Discussion: Have you ever experienced something you would have thought impossible?

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Peace as Perspective

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Readings: Psalms 90; 149, Zephaniah 3:14-20, Titus 1:1-16, Luke 1:1-25

Pondering the universe generally elicits two responses: awe at its grandeur, and a sense of insignificance. In Madeleine L’Engle’s novel A Wind in the Door, when human characters learn to let go of limited concepts of time and space they can converse with stars. In the scale of the infinite universe – and an infinite God – size and distance are irrelevant so humans and stars are equally important. If that’s not mind-bending enough, they meet within a mitochondrion, thousands of which can exist inside a single human cell, to formulate a plan to save the world. The novel teaches that none of us are insignificant, but none of us are solely responsible for history.

When an angel told Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist, that his elderly wife would conceive a child who would herald the messiah, Zechariah did not believe. As a result, he became mute until after John’s birth. Zechariah teaches us that insisting on our own limited view of things makes us powerless in the face of the future. Fortunately John believed in God’s long term plan, and trusted in something greater than himself until his death.

God plays a very long game. Martin Luther King Jr. may have said it best: “The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice.” Our efforts may seem to make little difference, but from an infinite perspective, a small kindness and a great accomplishment are not very different. It is the accumulation and interaction of these kindnesses and accomplishments that matters. To paraphrase Leo Tolstoy, we add our own light to the sum of all light. On a small scale light moves quickly, but across the galaxy it travels for many thousands of years and the star that generated it may have burned out before we ever see it. So it is with our contributions to the world: they may not be fully understood until long after we have burned out, but our light goes on.

Today’s struggles do not define us. Like mitochondria each of us is a tiny part adding life to the eternal body of Christ. Such perspective adds to the sum of our peace.

Comfort: To an eternal God, stars and humans and grains of sand are equally significant.

Challenge: Read Psalm 90, noting the eternal perspective of the psalmist.

Prayer: Let Your work appear to Your servants
And Your majesty to their children.
Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us;
And confirm for us the work of our hands;
Yes, confirm the work of our hands. (Psalm 90:16-17)

Discussion: Have you ever been involved in a long-term project, perhaps one that continues long after you stopped (or will stop) being part of it? What did that feel like?

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Peace as Mourning

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Readings: Psalms 102; 148, Genesis 3:8-15, Revelation 12:1-10, Reading John 3:16-21

Jewish mourning rituals are structured and lengthy. For up to a year later, depending on who has died, life is conducted differently. Loved ones help create space for the grieving process by being quietly present for it, rather than trying to make things better.  Anyone who has been in the receiving line at a funeral can tell you most words meant as comfort are anything but. Yet most modern Christian mourners get a funeral and a few days off work, after which our culture tells us to push through it as quickly as possible. We don’t grieve well.

Mourning is not simply being sad. It is not depression. It is the processing of our emotions. When we put on a brave face, the effects of grief will be miserably prolonged. If we choose suppression over healthy mourning, grief remains trapped below the surface only to emerge unexpectedly in endless drips or powerful gushers we are rarely equipped to handle. Mourning permits us to experience the full depth of our loss so we may eventually be at peace with it. The end of a Jewish mourning period signals a new beginning, a reconciliation with our changed reality.

Death is not the only loss we need to mourn. A sense of identity shredded when we lose a job; disillusionment in institutions we once respected; relationships broken beyond repair; a sense of security crushed by world events; younger, healthier bodies; hopes and dreams beyond our ability to realize: mourning helps us let go of these things. The weight of carrying them slows us down until we lag far behind the peace and joy in the life still available to us.

When the psalmist says:

My heart is stricken and withered like grass;
I am too wasted to eat my bread.
Because of my loud groaning
my bones cling to my skin. (Psalm 102:4-5)

he knows he must fully engage with his grief or be forever burdened with it. Advent is a time for recognizing how God mourns a lost humanity, and anticipating the new beginning he sends us in the person of Jesus Christ.

Comfort: Mourning is the mill that grinds grief into peace.

Challenge: Whatever you currently need to mourn, give yourself space to feel your grief while you read Psalm 102.

Prayer: As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God. (Psalm 40:7)

Discussion: When you experience grief, do you allow it to wash over you or do you put up defenses against it? Why?

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Peace as Action

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Readings: Psalms 24; 150, Amos 9:11-15, 2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, 13-17, John 5:30-47

In the musical Rent the character of Mark sings: “The opposite of war isn’t peace; it’s creation.” The narrow definition of peace as merely the absence of destruction is turned on its head in a story about art and artists, but it has more universal application.  True peace is not something we passively experience; it is something we do.

After World War II, the United States initiated the Marshall Plan to help a devastated Europe recover economically. This aid included former enemies Italy and Germany, as well as neutral countries like Iceland. At the same time the U.S. oversaw the reconstruction of Japan, including a security arrangement that still exists today. These decisions were not altruistic on the part of the U.S. Leaders understood simple withdrawal from conflict was not the same as peace, which requires an ongoing effort. They understood peace as doing justice.

If we want to have peace – personal, interpersonal, or international – in our own lives, we can’t rely on outside forces to retreat from conflict and leave us alone to our apathy. Acts of creation and generosity can transform enemies into allies, battlefields into sources of shared harvest. To have peace, we must do peace.

For all his message of doom, the prophet Amos does paint a picture of what the peaceful Kingdom will look like:

they shall rebuild the ruined cities and inhabit them;
they shall plant vineyards and drink their wine,
and they shall make gardens and eat their fruit. (Amos 9:14)

It is not that these activities are possible because we live in some conflict-free vacuum we label peace, but that these activities are peace and create the conditions for its survival.

We all have conflicts. What cities of friendship have we left in ruin? What vineyards of opportunity have we trampled? What refugees of family have we driven away? We can choose to simply retreat from these battles, but let’s not mistake indifference for peace. Rather, let’s regroup and prayerfully consider how we might do peace. When we do peace rather than wait for it, the harvest will be abundant.

Comfort: We are not helpless in the face of conflict. We can rely on God to show us how to live peace.

Challenge: Explore organizations in your local community which work toward peace. Look for ways you might contribute.

Prayer: Relieve the troubles of my heart, and bring me out of my distress. Consider my affliction and my trouble, and forgive all my sins. (Psalm 25:17-18)

Discussion: Where have you settled for indifference instead of peace? What can you do about it?

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Love Dangerously

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Readings: Psalms 90; 149, Haggai 2:1-9, Revelation 3:1-6, Matthew 24:1-14

Love hurts.

More than a pop song cliche, it’s a truth which is unpleasant and unavoidable – unless we opt out of love altogether. Whether we cause the pain or feel it, every relationship is eventually tested. Marriages struggle. Children leave home. Children fail to leave home. Friends let us down. The songs are usually about romantic love, but it’s true even of the agape love practiced by followers of Christ.

How many times heard someone say (or said ourselves), “I just don’t want to be hurt … again?”  Maybe they were cheated on. Maybe they were taken advantage of. The reasons for hurt are endless but here’s the thing: we already hurt, because we are already broken people in a broken world. There is no “again;” there is only “still.”

The pain of love is different from the pain of brokenness. The pain of love is like a bone being set, a wound being drained, or the pain of pouring out our secrets to a therapist. It is a productive pain and if we choose to avoid it, healing eludes us.

When Christ asks us to love God and to love one another, he promises us a spiritual comfort but does not promise us a life free of pain or danger. To the contrary, he warns us our choice to follow him into a life of agape love will cause many to scorn us and possibly put us in harm’s way. That harm isn’t always physical. Sometimes it is an injury to the spirit that occurs precisely because we have chosen to help others. Loving leaves us vulnerable.

Like our bodies, our spirits have an instinct to recoil from that which hurts us. As the Great Physician, Jesus tells us the remedy often means taking a greater risk and putting ourselves in danger of more pain – not to become victims or masochists, but to improve our spiritual health. Eventually love mends the breaks and wounds in our spirit, but we must take risks.

Love hurts. Not loving hurts more, because improperly set spiritual bones leave us as hobbled as physical ones.

Comfort: It may take a long time, but loving others heals our own brokenness.

Challenge: For an example of love that valued risk over comfort, read this perspective on Mary, the mother of Jesus.

Prayer: Loving God, give me the courage to love, even when doing so is dangerous. Amen.

Discussion: Different people have different methods of expressing love and recognizing when they are loved. What are yours? (If you’re not sure, maybe take a look at the The 5 Love Languages site of Dr. Gary Chapman).

Join the discussion! If you enjoyed this post, feel free to join an extended discussion as part of the C+C Facebook group. You’ll be notified of new posts through FB, and have the opportunity to share your thoughts with some lovely people. Or feel free to comment here on WordPress, or even re-blog – the more the merrier!

Love Anyway

/ JJS / 4 Comments

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Readings: Psalms 102; 148, Haggai 1:1-15, Revelation 2:18-29, Matthew 23:27-39

Jesus told the Pharisees: “I send you prophets, sages, and scribes, some of whom you will kill and crucify, and some you will flog in your synagogues and pursue from town to town” (Matt 23:34). A little later he added: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (v 37). Through his frustration, the underlying message is: love keeps trying until there is nothing left to do.

This is not so different from the frustration we feel when a child’s battle with substance abuse leads to repeated betrayal. When a friend’s mental illness seems determined to isolate her from others. When a sibling refuses to forgive family disputes.

To a lesser degree we may feel it when we do volunteer work and recipients seem less than grateful. Or when they seem to take advantage of our generosity. Or when sincere but fumbling attempts to support a disadvantaged group are met with suspicion or criticism.

One natural response to perceived rejections is to give up on loving, perhaps telling ourselves to save our love for where it is appreciated. Another response, one much more difficult and requiring sincere humility, is to examine whether we could try to love them differently. God extended all possible chances despite knowing the outcome. Should we do less?

We can’t cure another person’s addiction or illness. We can’t force people to express gratitude in a manner acceptable to us. We can keep reaching out in love to a person drowning in suffering, until he either accepts our hand or is pulled beneath the waves. God knew the Jewish people would not heed his cries until it was too late, but love compelled him to keep trying. If we love someone thinking we can save them, we will inevitably be disappointed. If we love someone with an agenda that serves our ego more than their need, we will burn out. When we love someone without expectation, we become a steady light in the darkness.

Comfort: We are not responsible for how others respond to our love; only to love them anyway.

Challenge: When you feel your love is rejected, consider doing something differently.

Prayer: I keep the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved. (Psalm 16:8)

Discussion: When you feel your love is rejected, redirect it.

Join the discussion! If you enjoyed this post, feel free to join an extended discussion as part of the C+C Facebook group. You’ll be notified of new posts through FB, and have the opportunity to share your thoughts with some lovely people. Or feel free to comment here on WordPress, or even re-blog – the more the merrier!