Our sriptures take us through the season of Advent almost to the
edge of Lent. This journey of weeks is like a treasure hunt, in
which each clue reveals a truth and points us on to the next.
God is the mystery behind the puzzle.
During Advent, we wait for God to reveal God's self in human form,
as one of us. In the weeks that follow, we see God as Spirit,
creator, light, judge, and giver of grace. This is a season of
awe, a time to rest in the amazement of having been created, loved,
and redeemed by a God who defies description, yet chooses to reveal
the mystery to hearts that can receive it.
November 27: Get Ready
Jeremiah 33:14-26; Psalm 25:1-10; 1 Thessalonians 3:9-13;
Luke 21:25-36
The hummingbirds disappeared a month ago. This morning a family
of Canada geese, including six young ones that just a few months
ago were tiny yellow balls of fluff, took off in a flurry of wings
and honks. Goodbye for now. On to a warmer South.
The mountains are erupting in a blaze of color. The wind chimes
dance with increased fervency. Fireflies that lit up the trees
like sparkling magic last summer now flicker diffidently, scattered
over the ground for their dying.
It is time. Time to dust the cobwebs out of the woodstove and
split the pile of logs waiting under the beech tree. Time to replenish
the supply of bird seed and get in hay for the horses, while their
coats turn from shiny to shaggy. Time to prepare.
The signs are everywhere. It's in the air. Change is coming. A
time of portent, disruption, newness. Get ready. Don't be left
behind.
The first tinge of chill in the air always brings a rush of excitement.
Can Christmas be far behind? And yet we wait. And while we wait
to see the face of God, we get ready.
Do the work inside yourself that can't be done outdoors. Prepare
a fallow heart to welcome mystery, water a dormant soul with springs
of joy. Cultivate awe. Plant a seed of hope.
December 4: For What?
Malachi 3:1-4; Philippians 1:3-11; Luke 3:1-6
It's the sort of gospel passage you always hoped not to have to
read aloud in Sunday school. All those hard-to-pronounce names,
like Ituraea and Lysanias. And what does it matter who was tetrarch
of Abilene anyway?
It matters. Especially if you're someone who cares about power
and authority and having things done right. Let's try it again.
In the second year of the reign of Clinton, Jesse Helms being
senator from North Carolina, Dan Quayle getting ready for 1996,
and Pope John Paul II sitting on the throne in Rome, the Word
of God appeared in a tenement in inner-city Chicago. Or a slum
in Port-au-Prince. Or something like that.
You get the picture. It was a scandal. This Word overlooked the
ruling powers, both secular and religious, and went straight to
the edges of acceptability-to the wilderness. The lesson was,
if you want to understand the reign of God, look in unexpected
places. Go to the margins.
And watch out for this Word. It has the power to level the hills
and fill in the valleys. It is like "a refiner's fire"
and "a fuller's soap," according to Malachi. It will
purify by the torch and rub you clean until it hurts.
You were expecting maybe just an innocent baby?
December 11: Take a Seat
Zephaniah 3:14-20; Isaiah 12:2-6; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke
3:7-18
Joy, joy, JOY! Our Zephaniah, Isaiah, and Philippians passages
are brimming with invitations to rejoice in the God who brings
justice.
On the last day of September 1981, I was walking on Capitol Hill
in Washington, D.C. All the cafes were adorned with banners entreating
patrons to "Ring in the New Year Here!" New Year? In
September? Is our Congress three months ahead of the rest of us,
I wondered, or miserably behind the times?-well, let's not go
into that. The mystery became clear when I saw a banner that had
added the word "Fiscal" in front of "New Year."
The next day, October 1, 1981, was the first day of the Reagan
budget. I happened to be sitting in a cell in the D.C. jail as
a result of a political protest. I will never forget the conversation
with the other women there.
Most of them already felt pushed by desperation and despair into
prostitution or selling illegal drugs. They spoke openly about
the changes they feared were coming: severe cutbacks in education
and job-training opportunities, in Food Stamps and drug rehabilitation
programs. Whether or not fiscal year 1981 was something to celebrate
had everything to do with whether you were sitting in a Capitol
Hill cafe or the D.C. jail.
Perspective. That's what these passages are really about. So we
have the ironic juxtaposition in Luke of axes being laid to the
roots of trees, a winnowing hook clearing the threshing floor,
and chaff being burned with unquenchable fire-followed by "So,
with many other exhortations, John preached good news to
the people." Good news indeed! Cause for joy and celebration.
For some, that is. It depended on where you were sitting.
December 18: Vacant Thrones
Micah 5:2-5a; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55
A throne would not be a particularly good choice of seat. Mary
knew that. She knew, before anyone else, about the radical social
upheaval that was about to be ushered in by the fruit of her womb.
It had already begun.
You couldn't get much lower in those days than to be a woman in
a patriarchal society, a Jew under Roman occupation, and a peasant
in a land of plenty. A poor, Jewish woman in occupied Palestine
was bearing the gift for which the world longed.
Mary was chosen to be the bearer of God's incarnation. God's promises
had already become truth in her flesh. The poor were already being
exalted. No end to the ironies.
At the news, she went "with haste" to see her cousin
Elizabeth. It was a natural response. When afraid, go see a friend
who will listen and make it all feel a little less lonely and
overwhelming.
The account of their greeting is one of my favorite passages in
all of scripture. What a blessed moment for womanhood when Mary,
still trembling with the news of what was to be fulfilled in her,
ran to the elderly Elizabeth and embraced her. At Mary's greeting,
Elizabeth's womb came to life, and the child "leaped for
joy" within her!
The Magnificat, Mary's song of praise and hope, flowed forth in
this setting. And two miraculously pregnant women basked in the
secret of the quiet revolution that was to be accomplished through
them. Two women incarnated the truth that, with God, nothing is
impossible.
I like to imagine what their days together were like. They must
have been filled with shared secrets, laughter, a few tears, and
dreams of a future unlike any they had conceived before. They
watched their wombs swell, felt their sons growing within, probably
rubbed each other's aching backs and sore feet at the end of the
day.
Elizabeth, in her experience and wisdom, had much to share with
her younger cousin. She understood the requirements of faith and
the challenges of marriage. She knew that some would point with
scorn at Mary, pregnant before her wedding, just as some had spoken
of her own barrenness with reproach. She knew how to live proudly
despite the whispers behind her back, and how to be grateful to
God no matter what the circumstances. She understood what it meant
to be a vessel of God's will.
Hearing of Mary's pregnancy, Joseph wanted at first to "dismiss
her quietly." Zechariah was struck dumb for the duration
of Elizabeth's pregnancy because of his doubt. Shepherds quaked,
Herod raged. In the birth narratives, Mary and Elizabeth carried
the faith-as well as the future.
Together they nurtured a revolution. The tables began turning.
The thrones began crumbling. What joy! What HOPE!
December 25: Be a Light
Isaiah 52:7-10; Psalm 98; Hebrews 1:1-12; John 1:1-14
An 11-year-old boy with cancer lost all his hair as a result of
chemotherapy treatments. When it came time for him to return to
school, he and his parents experimented with hats, wigs, and bandanas
to try to conceal his baldness. They finally settled on a baseball
cap, but the boy still feared the taunts he would receive for
looking "different." Mustering up his courage, he went
to school wearing his cap-and discovered that all of his friends
had shaved their heads.
You can't hide the pain of the world. You can't cover it up. You
can only share it. Make someone else's journey a little easier.
Be willing to go to great lengths to help someone else carry their
pain.
God did. God left whatever throne people had put him on in their
imaginations and came to earth. And God made the absurd choice
to arrive as a baby, vulnerable and dependent, subject to all
the pains and fears and frustrations that plague the rest of us
humans. A choice for incarnation.
John reminds us that we have all been given power to be the children
of God. To be lights to the world. "The true light...enlightens
everyone."
Whatever darkness may envelop the globe, whatever gloom may hang
in our own lives-it isn't strong enough to suffocate the light.
The smallest match will light up a room. The smallest gesture
of kindness, act of compassion, or work of mercy will light up
the globe. "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness
did not overcome it." Be a Christmas light today.
January 1: A New Earth
Ecclesiastes 3:1-13; Psalm 8; Revelation 21: 1-6a; Matthew
25: 31-46
I was once part of a writing group that met every month. Most
of us were writers of prose and gave easy affirmation or advice
about one another's essays and short stories. But there was one
among us who was a poet. And whenever she read her contributions,
we were speechless. "Nice imagery" was about all we
could muster to say, after some awkward silence. And pretty soon
it became a bit of a joke, this repetition of the compliment "Nice
imagery." It was the response of people inspired and in awe
of the beauty of poetic creation.
"Nice imagery" fits our passages this week. What a way
to start the year! We begin with the poetic affirmation that there
is a time for all things-a time for planting and harvesting, weeping
and laughing, speaking and keeping quiet; a time for birthing
and dying. Life goes on, seasons change, God is lovingly in charge.
Time to rest, renew, and rejoice.
Psalm 8 puts us in our place-crowned with glory and honor, not
God but made in God's image. Trusted with care of the earth and
all that lives on it. Sheep and oxen, sparrows and trout, daisies
and oak trees-all living under sun and moon and stars, according
to God's plan. Good work, God. Nice imagery. How majestic is your
name! Thank you.
God is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega, creator
of a new heaven and a new earth. And in this new world there will
be no more death. God will reach down and, with a mother's care,
wipe away every tear.
But we are not there yet. There are still many of us who are hungry
and thirsty, naked and cold, alone and afraid, sick and dying.
The old earth still groans and makes its claim: feed, clothe,
visit, heal. There is much to be done.
And Jesus, the Word Made Flesh, reminds us that we will find him
there, among the lonely and suffering ones. More than just a metaphor
or creative poetic image. He is there. And-make no mistake
about it-our salvation is at stake in how we treat him and his
sisters and brothers.
January 8: Surprised by God
Isaiah 43:1-7; Psalm 29; Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Just when we think we have a grip on God, God surprises us. Loving
creator, yes. Merciful redeemer, yes. The natural world and Jesus
reveal parts of God's nature. But there is more.
We are familiar with the God of the still, small voice. But what
of this God of Psalms whose voice thunders over mighty waters,
breaking cedars and causing oaks to whirl, flashing forth flames
of fire? If we have learned anything, we should have learned by
now that God cannot be nicely wrapped up and contained by our
limited views and finite minds.
God is Spirit, and Spirit rushes where it will-around and over
and up, beyond our control. Beyond our hopes. For how could we
have known that we needed this sustainer? This comforter?
Baptism by fire, by water, by Spirit. For each one of us, the
heavens open, a dove descends, and God says, "You are my
beloved, my precious one. I have called you by name. I have taken
you by the hand. Do not be afraid."
A God so cosmic we cannot contain or comprehend the vast truth.
A God so intimate we are never alone. What a revelation. Epiphany!
January 15: An Abundance of Gifts
Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John
2:1-11
God continues the revelation. God's love is precious and steadfast,
a treasure. The psalmist declares to God that all may "take
refuge in the shadow of your wings," "feast on the abundance
of your house," and "drink from the river of your delights.
For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light."
Again, what poetry!
The love of God reaches to the clouds; it has no bounds.
And the Spirit has no end of gifts to bestow. Wisdom, knowledge,
faith. Healing and prophecy. Many gifts, one Spirit.
And the key: "To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit
for the common good." For the common good. Not for
show. Not to lord it over someone else. But for the building up
of the body of Christ, the creation of community.
Each of us has our gift to offer. Each of us is obligated by faith
to offer it. No slackers in the house of God. Remember: Without
you, the body of Christ is incomplete.
January 22: Anointed by the Spirit
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10; Psalm 19; 1 Corinthians
12:12-31a; Luke 4:14-21
This Spirit is disturbing. Its gifts are for the upbuilding of
the church, to be sure. But that is not enough. Jesus knew.
Luke 4 recounts his first public appearance in the synagogue in
Nazareth. He was handed a scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and he
knew just where to turn in it. The Spirit had anointed him for
a mission: to bring good news to the poor, to heal the blind,
to free the prisoners and the oppressed.
He came "to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor"-the
year of Jubilee, in which debts were erased and slaves were freed.
Every 50 years, everybody started over again with a clean slate.
All were forgiven and received into the community of faith on
equal footing.
With the words "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in
your hearing," Jesus concluded his reading and launched his
mission. It was a shrewd and stunning announcement of his purpose.
The message had become political.
January 29: Called to Truth
Jeremiah 1:4-10: Psalm 71:1-6; I Corinthians 13:1-13; Luke
4:21-30
The crowd loved it. What gracious words. From one of their own,
Joseph's son. It was amazing, something to be proud of in the
old home town.
But Jesus knew right away that they had missed the point. The
people nodded and smiled, unwilling to allow the radical truth
of his words to sink in. So he made it plain. Told them that prophets
are always rejected at home, and that sometimes foreigners are
more understanding and faithful than the people of God.
The smiles slowly faded. Pride turned to rage. This favorite son
whom moments before they had praised was now being driven out
of town, to a cliff, where they intended to hurl him off the edge.
A disturbing word indeed. But one that could not be backed away
from-any more than Jeremiah could back away from boldly preaching
against the sins of the people. "But I am only a boy,"
he tried to argue with God. Not good enough. No excuses. Jeremiah
was anointed from the womb to preach truth, and God promised to
be by his side and provide the words.
And so with each of us, called in our own way-in God's way-to
speak truth boldly, whatever the consequences. But (we seem to
need this reminder from 1 Corinthians), always tempered by love.
Not anger, not frustration, not the need to be grand or glorious
that motivates us. It was God's great compassion for those who
suffered that put words in the mouths of the prophets.
"Upon you, O God, I have leaned from my birth; it was you
who took me from my mother's womb....From my youth you have taught
me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age
and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your
might to all the generations to come."
February 5: Transformed by Grace
Isaiah 6:1-13; Psalm 138; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; Luke 5:1-11
For a brief time, it was a solitary mission. Jesus went from Nazareth
to Capernaum and on throughout Judea, casting out demons, healing
the sick, and preaching the Word of God. The crowd pressed so
near on the shore of Lake Gennesaret that he climbed into a boat
and taught the people from there.
Then he told Simon Peter to move the boat into deep water and
let down his nets. Peter protested briefly. He had hauled nets
all night and caught nothing. But he did as Jesus asked.
So great was the haul of fish, the nets began to break with the
weight of them! Peter had to summon the other fishermen. Bring
out another boat. Too many fish to hold in one. And both the boats
began to sink.
Peter's response was immediate. He was down on his knees, overwhelmed.
He knew he was in the presence of an amazing man. Next to Jesus'
greatness, Peter saw his own need and sin. "Go away, for
I am sinful." But what he was really saying was, "Stay,
for I need to be forgiven. I need to be near to this power you
have."
And so nets and boats lay abandoned on the shore. Peter, James,
and John forsook possessions, vocation, and family to follow a
stranger with a power they had never before witnessed. They began
a lifelong venture, the consequences of which they could never
have imagined. They surrendered themselves to be changed completely.
The invitation is there for us as well. Let go and be willing
to be transformed-by love and grace. Join Paul in the affirmation,
"By the grace of God, I am what I am, and God's grace toward
me was not in vain."
February 12: Take Root
Jeremiah 17:5-10; Psalm 1; I Corinthians 15:12-20; Luke
6:17-26
Echoes of his mother's song come to mind. Blessed are the poor,
the hungry, the sad. It's an upside-down world in the eyes of
God. Contrary to the overwhelming evidence, justice is real and
hope is possible.
The only way to persevere is to put down deep roots of faith.
Reach far below the surface of what appears to be truth. Then
when you're buffeted by gales that speak anger, or drought times
bring doubt, the roots will not let go.
Be tenacious in faith. Not like desert shrubs that take flight
as tumbleweeds when the parched season comes, blown by winds of
fear. Plant yourself where you will be fed by streams of faith
and hope.
On the small mountain farm where I live, blackberry bushes ring
the lake. Much to my dismay, the owner of the farm came one day
last spring to tear them out. But within days, small shoots began
to reappear. By late spring the thickets were providing a canopy
of protection for a nesting goose and burrows of baby rabbits.
By mid-summer, a few of the bushes were putting out fruit-enough
for a few days' worth of fresh berries on my cereal and several
blackberry cobblers.
Next year there will be more. Whatever destruction came to the
branches, the underground network of roots held, providing an
anchor for rebirth. Roots that go deep can bear a lot and still
survive.
"Blessed are those who trust in the Lord....They shall be
like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream.
It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green;
in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease
to bear fruit." n
JOYCE HOLLYDAY, a former associate editor and now a contributing
editor for Sojourners, writes, leads retreats, and works
with survivors of domestic abuse in western North Carolina. She
is the author, most recently, of Clothed With the Sun: Biblical
Women, Social Justice, and Us (Westminster/John Knox Press,
1994).
Read other articles by:
Hollyday, Joyce
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