We made a word-change in the Christmas Eve bulletin. I'm not sure anyone noticed it but me, since I changed the copy before the bulletin was printed.
In the midst of the beautiful candle-lighting ceremony that concludes this grand worship, right after proclaiming the opening poem that begins the Gospel of John, a dialogue occurs between the minister and the assembled congregation. The technical name for this exchange of scriptural declaration is: Christmas versicles.
I'm not completely certain about the difference between verses and versicles. Neither am I certain that those who see the word only once each year would be able to distinguish versicles from ventricles, icicles, or even popsicles. What's more interesting to me is the word put in its place.
The word I chose to use instead was "testimony." Not only does that word seem more user-friendly - and only somewhat churchy, the word also more accurately captures the feeling and the action the dialogue intends to get across.
The dialogue’s phrases go like this: The minister says, The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. The people respond, The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.
You can see why these words are more than just the dialogue in a church-sponsored stage play! The language, the setting it’s spoken in, as well as the exchange of emotion between the minister and gathered people, are meant to invigorate the hearts and minds of all within ear-shot.
Speaking boldly, this dialogue intends to commit in those same minds, promise from those same hearts that we will BE and we will DO what we have just said to one another! Maybe, if we say what we mean, and mean what we say (even if you weren't in the room that night to participate actively) we'll never have to fret again over how we might keep Christ in Christmas.
The dialogue’s second phrases speak this: The minister says, Those who dwell in the land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. The people respond, We have beheld Christ's glory, glory as the only Son from the Father. Having promised how we'll walk in our journey together, we now commit to each other where we'll walk.
We say we'll accompany one another into any place. There's no place too lonely, too off-putting, or too frightening which can make us abandon one another because, together, we carry both memory and promise of Emmanuel, God With Us. That's truly Sharin' Plenty Good News!
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christmas. Show all posts
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
Where Somebody Knows Your Name
It happened to me again this past Tuesday. It's happened before, and sometimes I think it's happening more and more often. I was strolling leisurely in Macy’s when it happened. All of a sudden I heard a voice say, "Hi, Jeff. How are you? Nice to see you! What's happening?"
I looked at the face, saw eyes open wide and welcoming, and took in the loveliest grin I'd seen in a long time. For the life of me I couldn't remember who this person was! "Oh. I'm doing great," I said. "How have you been? It's so good to see you." The whole time I prayed two thoughts: please let her say something that helps me remember who she is; and, please, God, don't let my wife come near so that I have to make an introduction that betrays my unknowing.
Well one of those prayers was answered. My wife never came close. I was able to quickly slip away by saying I was in a rush to get through all the stores and see about the sales. Three days later I remembered Terry's name. Several years ago we worked together in state government.
I found the whole experience so embarrassing and so frustrating that I actually put some time into trying to figure out how this happens to me. At first I thought of something organic. Maybe there are some synapses in my brain that don't connect right. Or maybe the connections are OK, but the synapses don't fire right. I can't tell you how many times I walk into a room and forget what I went in there for. More often than not, the only way I can remember what I'm looking for is to go all the way back to where I started and retrace my steps.
Well the thought that I have a brain disorder was too scary, so I took another route. I decided that no matter how closely Terry and I had worked together, I had just never reserved much brain space in which to remember this colleague. Neither had I carved a spot in my heart to welcome and sustain this co-worker. Whatever sort of relationship we had was obviously task oriented, time-limited and quite impersonal. And in fairness to my fuzzy brain and resistant heart, what Terry and I had was not a relationship at all. At best, it was an association. Something with: minimal personal involvement; little emotional investment; and, very limited influence over the journey of my own becoming. In short, there was nothing memorable about what we had shared.
If my retelling this experience has touched a chord with you, we might all sometimes wonder if we can really ever know any other person. And sometimes, we might even wonder if we ever really know God.
This God is not something we can define, like memory. This God is not an object we can possess, like Christmas presents. We come to know God through one man, grown from a baby born in an obscure village. It may seem scandalous to make such a claim. But this is the core of our Christian faith.
When we say, "I believe...;" we're not merely observing an association. Our word of trust declares a personal relationship. It’s a relationship with: maximum personal involvement; intense emotional investment; and, a healing influence over the journey of our own becoming. And like all memorable, unconditional relationships, this one is pure gift: ours without deserving; ours without earning; ours for remembering; and, ours for life.
The glory of who we are in that relationship shines through every dark recess of our brains and enlightens every dark corner or our hearts. For through this Son, the desire of the One who ordered the planets and stars, the One so mighty, yet still so intimate, that every landing of each sparrow matters; the love of that One, is made known to us.
Our remembering Who it is Who seeks relationship with us in this birth of the Word made flesh comes down to simple but earth-shaking words: death no longer rules. We have been redeemed from hands too strong for us, by someone who’s been remembering our name since before we were born.
As your journey in faith moves from 2006 and into 2007, I hope you are part of a vibrant community, surrounded by other believers whose hearts, whose way of walking and whose ways remembering never let you forget that.
I looked at the face, saw eyes open wide and welcoming, and took in the loveliest grin I'd seen in a long time. For the life of me I couldn't remember who this person was! "Oh. I'm doing great," I said. "How have you been? It's so good to see you." The whole time I prayed two thoughts: please let her say something that helps me remember who she is; and, please, God, don't let my wife come near so that I have to make an introduction that betrays my unknowing.
Well one of those prayers was answered. My wife never came close. I was able to quickly slip away by saying I was in a rush to get through all the stores and see about the sales. Three days later I remembered Terry's name. Several years ago we worked together in state government.
I found the whole experience so embarrassing and so frustrating that I actually put some time into trying to figure out how this happens to me. At first I thought of something organic. Maybe there are some synapses in my brain that don't connect right. Or maybe the connections are OK, but the synapses don't fire right. I can't tell you how many times I walk into a room and forget what I went in there for. More often than not, the only way I can remember what I'm looking for is to go all the way back to where I started and retrace my steps.
Well the thought that I have a brain disorder was too scary, so I took another route. I decided that no matter how closely Terry and I had worked together, I had just never reserved much brain space in which to remember this colleague. Neither had I carved a spot in my heart to welcome and sustain this co-worker. Whatever sort of relationship we had was obviously task oriented, time-limited and quite impersonal. And in fairness to my fuzzy brain and resistant heart, what Terry and I had was not a relationship at all. At best, it was an association. Something with: minimal personal involvement; little emotional investment; and, very limited influence over the journey of my own becoming. In short, there was nothing memorable about what we had shared.
If my retelling this experience has touched a chord with you, we might all sometimes wonder if we can really ever know any other person. And sometimes, we might even wonder if we ever really know God.
This God is not something we can define, like memory. This God is not an object we can possess, like Christmas presents. We come to know God through one man, grown from a baby born in an obscure village. It may seem scandalous to make such a claim. But this is the core of our Christian faith.
When we say, "I believe...;" we're not merely observing an association. Our word of trust declares a personal relationship. It’s a relationship with: maximum personal involvement; intense emotional investment; and, a healing influence over the journey of our own becoming. And like all memorable, unconditional relationships, this one is pure gift: ours without deserving; ours without earning; ours for remembering; and, ours for life.
The glory of who we are in that relationship shines through every dark recess of our brains and enlightens every dark corner or our hearts. For through this Son, the desire of the One who ordered the planets and stars, the One so mighty, yet still so intimate, that every landing of each sparrow matters; the love of that One, is made known to us.
Our remembering Who it is Who seeks relationship with us in this birth of the Word made flesh comes down to simple but earth-shaking words: death no longer rules. We have been redeemed from hands too strong for us, by someone who’s been remembering our name since before we were born.
As your journey in faith moves from 2006 and into 2007, I hope you are part of a vibrant community, surrounded by other believers whose hearts, whose way of walking and whose ways remembering never let you forget that.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Star Travel
Every time we have our first snowfall I remember the words my grandmother said when we telephoned to let her know we were setting off on our annual Christmas trek to Chicago, "Jeffrey, drive safe. Go with God." I always wondered if she were really saying that if I didn't make the trip safely, then God hadn't afforded me the protection she wanted for me. One winter's day I drummed up the courage to ask, "Grandma, if I get into an accident, does that mean God wasn't watching over me?" "No." she said. "Then you'll go with God to the hospital!" Grandma was always wiser than her smart alecky, firstborn grandson.
Grandma knew something about going along life's highways and byways. Like the Wise Men who traveled to see the Christ Child, Grandma knew the difference between traveling and journeying. Traveling gets you from here to there. You can go fast or slow. You can take time to smell the roses, or let the scenery whiz by without a glance. You can find yourself herding along with others, or sauntering in solitaire - doesn't matter. The goal of traveling is to keep movin' on so ya get where you're goin'!
Journeying, on the other hand is always an adventure. The trip is always just as important as the destination. Time isn't measured by distance traveled, but by how much you discover along the way. There's no sense of herding, or being herded. People who grace your path along the way and step in stride with you, briefly or for a longer haul, are always companions - folks to break bread with, share stories with, laugh with, dream dreams with, and make memories with. The goal of journeying is to be aware, all the while, God is takin' ya to where God is gettin' ya!
Travelers have long memories. They work painstakingly to cultivate deep memories of long ago stuff. That, partly, accounts for their lack of real experience along the way. No road looks good when you're travelin' in a rut! But that's OK, cuz travelers are well on their way painfully on their way to gettin' where they're goin'. "Been there done that."
Journey folks remember stuff, too. But mostly they recall gettin' caught up in the wonder of it all. The details kinda blur, but they relish the Wonder -alone and together. "God led us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and outstretched arm; to a land flowing with milk and honey!"
Travelers ask questions in order to maintain control. Folks on a journey ask questions because there's so much room to grow. Travelers follow directions, religiously. Folks on a journey follow God, even in defiance of religion!
Travelers' faith comes right out of the Good Book, "Hey, if God gave me a sign big as a bright shining star I'd know what to do different." Journey faith comes out of the Good Book, too, "Look at all those stars. Some are bright, some twinkle. I better stay alert as I get on with it. Surely God made at least one of 'em just for me!'
Traveler's pray only when they get caught off guard. They're prayer sounds like a monologue - somebody tellin' God what ought to happen, "Tell me. Show me. Gimme my Star!" Then the traveler sulks cuz God hasn't taken up the challenge, won't play the 'I dare ya to dazzle me out o’ my funky disbelief game.'
Those on journey pray whenever they get caught up in the Wonder - the mercy and love of God - which happens often. Their prayer is definitely a dialogue - a conversation with a Companion - a bread sharer, "Wow! Look at that! Can ya believe that? Whadda ya make o' that? Which of those Stars is for me to share today?" Then those on journey stop kickin' dust. They pause to see if the Star is God's gift of a new direction, a new light, a new insight, a new Epiphany of God active in the world, for the world, cunningly disguised like the Christ Child, new hope, a new mission, new life!
Travelers move stealthily. Seems so anyway. They're hard to see, travelin' in the rut like they do. Those on journey nearly miss 'em, until the travelers shriek their blast from the past, "Look out! Don't go there! We've never done it that way before!"
You can spot those on journey. They wonder as they wander, glancin' at the next curve. Can't wait to see what God's doin' up ahead. Their bumps in the road are springboards by which to see more Wonder. They laugh often, especially at themselves. When they cry, even through their tears you can see they got Stars in their eyes. Wisely, they go with God, like grandmas and Wise Men - alone and together.
Grandma knew something about going along life's highways and byways. Like the Wise Men who traveled to see the Christ Child, Grandma knew the difference between traveling and journeying. Traveling gets you from here to there. You can go fast or slow. You can take time to smell the roses, or let the scenery whiz by without a glance. You can find yourself herding along with others, or sauntering in solitaire - doesn't matter. The goal of traveling is to keep movin' on so ya get where you're goin'!
Journeying, on the other hand is always an adventure. The trip is always just as important as the destination. Time isn't measured by distance traveled, but by how much you discover along the way. There's no sense of herding, or being herded. People who grace your path along the way and step in stride with you, briefly or for a longer haul, are always companions - folks to break bread with, share stories with, laugh with, dream dreams with, and make memories with. The goal of journeying is to be aware, all the while, God is takin' ya to where God is gettin' ya!
Travelers have long memories. They work painstakingly to cultivate deep memories of long ago stuff. That, partly, accounts for their lack of real experience along the way. No road looks good when you're travelin' in a rut! But that's OK, cuz travelers are well on their way painfully on their way to gettin' where they're goin'. "Been there done that."
Journey folks remember stuff, too. But mostly they recall gettin' caught up in the wonder of it all. The details kinda blur, but they relish the Wonder -alone and together. "God led us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and outstretched arm; to a land flowing with milk and honey!"
Travelers ask questions in order to maintain control. Folks on a journey ask questions because there's so much room to grow. Travelers follow directions, religiously. Folks on a journey follow God, even in defiance of religion!
Travelers' faith comes right out of the Good Book, "Hey, if God gave me a sign big as a bright shining star I'd know what to do different." Journey faith comes out of the Good Book, too, "Look at all those stars. Some are bright, some twinkle. I better stay alert as I get on with it. Surely God made at least one of 'em just for me!'
Traveler's pray only when they get caught off guard. They're prayer sounds like a monologue - somebody tellin' God what ought to happen, "Tell me. Show me. Gimme my Star!" Then the traveler sulks cuz God hasn't taken up the challenge, won't play the 'I dare ya to dazzle me out o’ my funky disbelief game.'
Those on journey pray whenever they get caught up in the Wonder - the mercy and love of God - which happens often. Their prayer is definitely a dialogue - a conversation with a Companion - a bread sharer, "Wow! Look at that! Can ya believe that? Whadda ya make o' that? Which of those Stars is for me to share today?" Then those on journey stop kickin' dust. They pause to see if the Star is God's gift of a new direction, a new light, a new insight, a new Epiphany of God active in the world, for the world, cunningly disguised like the Christ Child, new hope, a new mission, new life!
Travelers move stealthily. Seems so anyway. They're hard to see, travelin' in the rut like they do. Those on journey nearly miss 'em, until the travelers shriek their blast from the past, "Look out! Don't go there! We've never done it that way before!"
You can spot those on journey. They wonder as they wander, glancin' at the next curve. Can't wait to see what God's doin' up ahead. Their bumps in the road are springboards by which to see more Wonder. They laugh often, especially at themselves. When they cry, even through their tears you can see they got Stars in their eyes. Wisely, they go with God, like grandmas and Wise Men - alone and together.
Monday, December 25, 2006
Christmas Abrasions
Sometimes, driving home in the evening, I tune the radio to a religious talk show. I know, I need to get a bit more of a life. Maybe I’ll subscribe to Cirrius radio so I have more options. What I like about the show is that it’s one of those call-in varieties.
Judging either the quality of the questions or the motives of those asking them is not on my agenda. I’m impressed that there are people still seeking understanding, to deepen their faith.
I don’t judge the questions, but I can be very critical of the answers. It’s not so much that I disagree with this or that interpretation of scripture, or find myself disappointed by one or another explanation of doctrine. What saddens me is that the so-called experts offering the answers keep their responses way too shallow. They reply with quick and easy comebacks. Maybe they’re more interested in taking lots of calls than they are in launching deeper thinking.
Here’s an example. A young man called to say he’d been stumped by a charge made by a non-believing friend. The friend said he didn’t believe in God because if there were a God who cared enough about us to send his own son to live and become among us, in flesh and blood, this God would have sent that son at a more appropriate time in history. Why, the friend went on, would a powerful God, show up to such backward people, so long ago? Wouldn’t an intelligent God come at a time like ours, when bright people like us would recognize and appreciate God’s effort more than those unsophisticated folks back when? In sum, he asked, how could he argue his unbelieving friend’s premise?
Not bad. I’ve heard simpler questions. Here’s the answer the caller received. “It’s not our place to question the wisdom of God. If you believe God is for us, then you must also trust that God thought all that through, and we’ll just have to live with God’s good intentions.” It’s answers like that which prompt a friend of mine to pray, sometimes, this way, “Hey, God, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”
Let me offer a different answer, an answer we can see as clearly as a picture. You’ve seen Christmas cards displaying a nativity scene, right. There’s often a cave, or maybe a barn at the edge of town. Perhaps even a close-up of too many animals camped too near, too many guests, huddled around a couple, usually Caucasian, peering at a very chipper, pink, healthy-looking newborn lying in a feedbox. You get it.
We know in our heads and in our hearts that we’re not looking at a real-time snapshot. What we’re invited to see is a portrait that invites us inside, beckons us to find a place for ourselves within not only the frame, but also to experience ourselves, and each other, as included in this birth’s immense meaning.
But I want to offer even more than that. Think about what Luke says in chapter 1:2-14. There was a moment in time when a large, self-aggrandizing country, led by a self-absorbed leader. He capitalized on this people’s arrogance about their culture, their values, and their religion, the set a big, powerful army to most places in the known world, to subjugate the peoples in those other lands.
Moreover, these foreign invaders kept their death-dealing machine operating by enlisting the support of local goons, who got along by going along, and assisted in the ongoing, deepening oppression of their own brothers and sisters. They described the result as pax (peace).
Know who, and when, I’m talking about? Oh no you don’t. I could be talking about the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Ottoman Empire, Spain, Great Britain, China, Germany, Japan, certainly can’t forget ancient Rome, the region of Darfur, or the good ol’ USA.
In every time and place, people of every tribe and nation have found a way to deny, frustrate and denigrate God’s good design for creation and God’s loving-kindness for all God’s beloved creatures. And at one time, long ago, in a place not much different than our own here and now, God spoke to refute that evil by sounding a word so loud, so clear, it took flesh in Jesus, Emmanuel.
As, theologian Walter Brueggemann reminds us, God’s word is always a word abrasive to culture. So this word, Emmanuel, God-with-Us, speaks God’s ultimate language of our belonging and our becoming in the person of Jesus, messiah:
• Baby King in the face of killer Kings
• Wonderful Counselor against warrior combatants
• Mighty God in opposition to maniacal goons
• Everlasting Father as rival to evildoers
• Prince of Peace in contrast to every prince of darkness.
God for us all; born at the margins so as to leave none of us at the margins. God saving us all, before we make ourselves right, and prior to the time when we might, finally, make the world fair to all.
God’s life-giving, freedom bringing, home-making, word, to each of us, to all of us, is love. Love spoke then, love is speaking now, and love keeps echoing in our ears and reverberating in the beats of every heart, for all time, for every person, in every tribe and nation.
The picture Luke paints, the one artists never tire of redrawing and God’s people never weary of sending round the world, is nothing less than our own timeless, family portrait. Even when we’re too tired to claim it, too weary to see ourselves within its frame, God saves for each of us, in this new borning Jesus, both a worthy place in the picture, and an honored place in God’s own heart.
Blessed, blessed, Christmas!
Judging either the quality of the questions or the motives of those asking them is not on my agenda. I’m impressed that there are people still seeking understanding, to deepen their faith.
I don’t judge the questions, but I can be very critical of the answers. It’s not so much that I disagree with this or that interpretation of scripture, or find myself disappointed by one or another explanation of doctrine. What saddens me is that the so-called experts offering the answers keep their responses way too shallow. They reply with quick and easy comebacks. Maybe they’re more interested in taking lots of calls than they are in launching deeper thinking.
Here’s an example. A young man called to say he’d been stumped by a charge made by a non-believing friend. The friend said he didn’t believe in God because if there were a God who cared enough about us to send his own son to live and become among us, in flesh and blood, this God would have sent that son at a more appropriate time in history. Why, the friend went on, would a powerful God, show up to such backward people, so long ago? Wouldn’t an intelligent God come at a time like ours, when bright people like us would recognize and appreciate God’s effort more than those unsophisticated folks back when? In sum, he asked, how could he argue his unbelieving friend’s premise?
Not bad. I’ve heard simpler questions. Here’s the answer the caller received. “It’s not our place to question the wisdom of God. If you believe God is for us, then you must also trust that God thought all that through, and we’ll just have to live with God’s good intentions.” It’s answers like that which prompt a friend of mine to pray, sometimes, this way, “Hey, God, why don’t you pick on somebody your own size?”
Let me offer a different answer, an answer we can see as clearly as a picture. You’ve seen Christmas cards displaying a nativity scene, right. There’s often a cave, or maybe a barn at the edge of town. Perhaps even a close-up of too many animals camped too near, too many guests, huddled around a couple, usually Caucasian, peering at a very chipper, pink, healthy-looking newborn lying in a feedbox. You get it.
We know in our heads and in our hearts that we’re not looking at a real-time snapshot. What we’re invited to see is a portrait that invites us inside, beckons us to find a place for ourselves within not only the frame, but also to experience ourselves, and each other, as included in this birth’s immense meaning.
But I want to offer even more than that. Think about what Luke says in chapter 1:2-14. There was a moment in time when a large, self-aggrandizing country, led by a self-absorbed leader. He capitalized on this people’s arrogance about their culture, their values, and their religion, the set a big, powerful army to most places in the known world, to subjugate the peoples in those other lands.
Moreover, these foreign invaders kept their death-dealing machine operating by enlisting the support of local goons, who got along by going along, and assisted in the ongoing, deepening oppression of their own brothers and sisters. They described the result as pax (peace).
Know who, and when, I’m talking about? Oh no you don’t. I could be talking about the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Ottoman Empire, Spain, Great Britain, China, Germany, Japan, certainly can’t forget ancient Rome, the region of Darfur, or the good ol’ USA.
In every time and place, people of every tribe and nation have found a way to deny, frustrate and denigrate God’s good design for creation and God’s loving-kindness for all God’s beloved creatures. And at one time, long ago, in a place not much different than our own here and now, God spoke to refute that evil by sounding a word so loud, so clear, it took flesh in Jesus, Emmanuel.
As, theologian Walter Brueggemann reminds us, God’s word is always a word abrasive to culture. So this word, Emmanuel, God-with-Us, speaks God’s ultimate language of our belonging and our becoming in the person of Jesus, messiah:
• Baby King in the face of killer Kings
• Wonderful Counselor against warrior combatants
• Mighty God in opposition to maniacal goons
• Everlasting Father as rival to evildoers
• Prince of Peace in contrast to every prince of darkness.
God for us all; born at the margins so as to leave none of us at the margins. God saving us all, before we make ourselves right, and prior to the time when we might, finally, make the world fair to all.
God’s life-giving, freedom bringing, home-making, word, to each of us, to all of us, is love. Love spoke then, love is speaking now, and love keeps echoing in our ears and reverberating in the beats of every heart, for all time, for every person, in every tribe and nation.
The picture Luke paints, the one artists never tire of redrawing and God’s people never weary of sending round the world, is nothing less than our own timeless, family portrait. Even when we’re too tired to claim it, too weary to see ourselves within its frame, God saves for each of us, in this new borning Jesus, both a worthy place in the picture, and an honored place in God’s own heart.
Blessed, blessed, Christmas!
Sunday, December 24, 2006
The Darkness Endures But the Light Prevails
Tomorrow morning somewhere, a single mother of three will be awakened by squealing children celebrating Christmas. With only a few gifts under the tree and a pot of beans for lunch, that family will share a moment of faith. Darkness endures but light prevails.
At Methodist hospital tomorrow morning, an elderly woman I used to work with will gather her children around her comatose husband, their father, to celebrate one last Christmas together. Laughter will be heard. Tears will flow. Darkness endures but the light prevails.
An old man will get out of bed tomorrow morning - there's no one to share breakfast with him. He'll read from Scripture about the Savior born in Bethlehem. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
A couple I know will struggle to keep peace with each other tomorrow. Counseling is going well but it is difficult. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
Here on this blessed night, a group of folks with bills to pay, health problems and job difficulties gathers together to hear a story, to light candles, to break bread, to share a cup, to lift hearts and voices in praise of our Savior. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
We're not called to pretend we see what we do not see. We have been given the gift of light, an illuminating light, a light by which we see and make our way - alone and together. We who the Spirit of God has gathered here this night are called to retell the memories other people cannot remember. We are called to renew our trust in the promises other people cannot dream true. We are called to reclaim an identity and a vocation others do not know about or take seriously. This is the invitation this story, this history of God for us and God with us, extends to us this holy night. The story of this God is our story.
When we introduce ourselves to someone new, when we describe to someone what we do, when we recount how we've lived, when we share with someone our dreams and hopes for the future, that telling is incomplete unless it also relates how we have experienced this God with us and for us. Why do we find sharing that piece of our own self’s being and becoming so daunting a task? The reality is we do it all the time, especially at this season.
If I said to you, close your eyes and put yourself inside this story. “'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…” – you could do it in a flash. But it's not so easy to write ourselves into the history of ancient people from a time long ago.
Ours is a culture that sees and hears and follows only what we can prove. To do anything else requires a new kind of light. A light that offers not just a new insight, but a kind of vitality that enables a believing community to recognize possibility and promise, to receive newness and healing where other folks only measure and count and analyze.
To claim this history, with all its possibility and promise, does not require us to blind ourselves to our reality. This is not the best of all possible worlds. We can admit that because it's consistent with the history of those who have known God with them and for them down through the ages.
Those histories, those memories, are not dull and closed. They are not some boring rendition from days long gone. Passed on from generation to generation, they press into our present with power to shape and inform what we see, how we feel, and what we do.
From the vantage point of his present day, the evangelist we call John looks back on three thousand years of his people's memories and stories. Borrowing the poetic style and images of those who passed to him their experience of this God, he pushes back his own timeline to when he orients the story’s start: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. John 1: 1-5.
The darkness may endure, but it is light that prevails.
The light prevails because this is such a different sort of God. Despite every generation's efforts to mold this God into the shape of the gods of the nations, despite our own efforts to:
• bargain with this God
• berate this God
• belittle this God
• betray this God
• even to bury this God
the light reveals a God who is with us and a God who is for us.
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. Genesis 1: 1-4.
God made it so we could see what God sees, from that time and forevermore: The Lord said, to Moses, I have observed the misery of my people... I have heard their cry...Indeed, I know their sufferings...I have come down to deliver them...to bring them up. Exodus 3: 7-8.
This is where God's story becomes our story. This is where the fullness of God's revelation begins. The fourfold statement builds. The first two suggest only that God sees their trouble. The third assures that God takes it seriously. But the fourth is decisive. God is actively engaged for the slaves, coming into the crisis on behalf of the helpless ones. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
When Pharaoh's heart hardened eight times, God sent a ninth plague - darkness throughout the land of Egypt, but there was light in the places where the Israelites lived. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
God began, back then, to dwell with the chosen ones, to travel with them – a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night so that they might have light. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
Sometime before the Spirit prompted John to write, the author of the Book of Hebrews said it this way: Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God's glory and the exact imprint of God's very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. Hebrews 1: 1-3
The darkness endures but the light prevails.
He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. John 1:10-13
The Word became flesh. God with us. God for us. Emmanuel. Jesus Christ. Giving us the power to live as we were made, in God's image and likeness - to observe the people's misery, to hear their cries, to know their sufferings, to come down to them and to deliver them, to be with them and to be for them. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
How will the people who walk in the darkness of this day see a great light? To all who received him, who believed in his name, Emmanuel, he gave the power to become children of God, heirs to the light: You are the light of the world…let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. Matthew I 5:14-16
In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can enlighten the memories of the people who cannot remember. In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can illuminate trust in the promises other people cannot dream true. In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can enflesh an identity and a vocation others do not know about or take seriously. The darkness endures, but the light prevails. God with us. God for us.
In that light we see ourselves:
• freed from the denial of who we are
• sprung loose from distrust about whose we are
• liberated from the deceit that we must make our own meaning
• released from the dread that we are alone
• delivered from the defeat that concludes every other story.
Saved from the slavery and helplessness of our sin we bask in the light of a covenant-making and covenant-keeping God.
As the light of the tiniest candle powerfully dispels the darkness, so our trust, renewed this night in a tiny, dependent baby sends us forth to live the rest of our borning days in the power of the promise the grown baby, named Emmanuel, last spoke, All authority on heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples, baptizing, and teaching. And remember, I am with you, always, to the end of the age. Matthew 28: 19-20.
The people - we people - who walked in darkness have seen a great light: those who lived in a land of deep darkness – we who've lived in a land of deep darkness, on them - on us - light has shined. Emmanuel. God with us. Jesus Christ. God for us.
It's a strange name for a baby, an even stranger name for a God. It's a promise for a time to come. It's our assurance for now. Until he comes again, the darkness will endure, and the light will prevail.
At Methodist hospital tomorrow morning, an elderly woman I used to work with will gather her children around her comatose husband, their father, to celebrate one last Christmas together. Laughter will be heard. Tears will flow. Darkness endures but the light prevails.
An old man will get out of bed tomorrow morning - there's no one to share breakfast with him. He'll read from Scripture about the Savior born in Bethlehem. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
A couple I know will struggle to keep peace with each other tomorrow. Counseling is going well but it is difficult. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
Here on this blessed night, a group of folks with bills to pay, health problems and job difficulties gathers together to hear a story, to light candles, to break bread, to share a cup, to lift hearts and voices in praise of our Savior. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
We're not called to pretend we see what we do not see. We have been given the gift of light, an illuminating light, a light by which we see and make our way - alone and together. We who the Spirit of God has gathered here this night are called to retell the memories other people cannot remember. We are called to renew our trust in the promises other people cannot dream true. We are called to reclaim an identity and a vocation others do not know about or take seriously. This is the invitation this story, this history of God for us and God with us, extends to us this holy night. The story of this God is our story.
When we introduce ourselves to someone new, when we describe to someone what we do, when we recount how we've lived, when we share with someone our dreams and hopes for the future, that telling is incomplete unless it also relates how we have experienced this God with us and for us. Why do we find sharing that piece of our own self’s being and becoming so daunting a task? The reality is we do it all the time, especially at this season.
If I said to you, close your eyes and put yourself inside this story. “'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…” – you could do it in a flash. But it's not so easy to write ourselves into the history of ancient people from a time long ago.
Ours is a culture that sees and hears and follows only what we can prove. To do anything else requires a new kind of light. A light that offers not just a new insight, but a kind of vitality that enables a believing community to recognize possibility and promise, to receive newness and healing where other folks only measure and count and analyze.
To claim this history, with all its possibility and promise, does not require us to blind ourselves to our reality. This is not the best of all possible worlds. We can admit that because it's consistent with the history of those who have known God with them and for them down through the ages.
Those histories, those memories, are not dull and closed. They are not some boring rendition from days long gone. Passed on from generation to generation, they press into our present with power to shape and inform what we see, how we feel, and what we do.
From the vantage point of his present day, the evangelist we call John looks back on three thousand years of his people's memories and stories. Borrowing the poetic style and images of those who passed to him their experience of this God, he pushes back his own timeline to when he orients the story’s start: In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. John 1: 1-5.
The darkness may endure, but it is light that prevails.
The light prevails because this is such a different sort of God. Despite every generation's efforts to mold this God into the shape of the gods of the nations, despite our own efforts to:
• bargain with this God
• berate this God
• belittle this God
• betray this God
• even to bury this God
the light reveals a God who is with us and a God who is for us.
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, "Let there be light"; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. Genesis 1: 1-4.
God made it so we could see what God sees, from that time and forevermore: The Lord said, to Moses, I have observed the misery of my people... I have heard their cry...Indeed, I know their sufferings...I have come down to deliver them...to bring them up. Exodus 3: 7-8.
This is where God's story becomes our story. This is where the fullness of God's revelation begins. The fourfold statement builds. The first two suggest only that God sees their trouble. The third assures that God takes it seriously. But the fourth is decisive. God is actively engaged for the slaves, coming into the crisis on behalf of the helpless ones. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
When Pharaoh's heart hardened eight times, God sent a ninth plague - darkness throughout the land of Egypt, but there was light in the places where the Israelites lived. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
God began, back then, to dwell with the chosen ones, to travel with them – a pillar of cloud by day, and a pillar of fire by night so that they might have light. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
Sometime before the Spirit prompted John to write, the author of the Book of Hebrews said it this way: Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God's glory and the exact imprint of God's very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word. Hebrews 1: 1-3
The darkness endures but the light prevails.
He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. John 1:10-13
The Word became flesh. God with us. God for us. Emmanuel. Jesus Christ. Giving us the power to live as we were made, in God's image and likeness - to observe the people's misery, to hear their cries, to know their sufferings, to come down to them and to deliver them, to be with them and to be for them. The darkness endures but the light prevails.
How will the people who walk in the darkness of this day see a great light? To all who received him, who believed in his name, Emmanuel, he gave the power to become children of God, heirs to the light: You are the light of the world…let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. Matthew I 5:14-16
In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can enlighten the memories of the people who cannot remember. In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can illuminate trust in the promises other people cannot dream true. In the story of the borning Christ, in our story, we can enflesh an identity and a vocation others do not know about or take seriously. The darkness endures, but the light prevails. God with us. God for us.
In that light we see ourselves:
• freed from the denial of who we are
• sprung loose from distrust about whose we are
• liberated from the deceit that we must make our own meaning
• released from the dread that we are alone
• delivered from the defeat that concludes every other story.
Saved from the slavery and helplessness of our sin we bask in the light of a covenant-making and covenant-keeping God.
As the light of the tiniest candle powerfully dispels the darkness, so our trust, renewed this night in a tiny, dependent baby sends us forth to live the rest of our borning days in the power of the promise the grown baby, named Emmanuel, last spoke, All authority on heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples, baptizing, and teaching. And remember, I am with you, always, to the end of the age. Matthew 28: 19-20.
The people - we people - who walked in darkness have seen a great light: those who lived in a land of deep darkness – we who've lived in a land of deep darkness, on them - on us - light has shined. Emmanuel. God with us. Jesus Christ. God for us.
It's a strange name for a baby, an even stranger name for a God. It's a promise for a time to come. It's our assurance for now. Until he comes again, the darkness will endure, and the light will prevail.
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