The Real Deal: Day 32
An
anguished cry rocketed out of the back bedroom interrupting a baseball game.
“What was that?!” John exclaimed.
“Oh, that’s
Christy and there’s only one reason a woman makes that kind of sound. She’s
giving birth,” I barked over my shoulder as I headed down the hall, “Take
Christopher and I’ll call you when it’s over.” I’d heard Christy cry out like
that when giving birth to our first-born, Christopher. John took Christopher
over to visit another friend as I dialed 911; soon after Candace made her entry
into this world. Childbirth involves blood, sweat, and tears; really, blood,
sweat and tears. I’ve witnessed the birth of two of my children and found each
experience unsettling. They call it labor for a reason. Christmas cards and paintings
always show a rather sanitized view of birth and stables. Mary and Joseph
always look bright and engaged. The stables look rather homey and fresh. After
the birth of Christopher and Candace, Christy and I were exhausted. I’ve been
in stables on four continents and they were all smelly and unsanitary…places I
would not choose as a delivery room; though I would sleep in one.
No matter how
you describe it, the birth of Jesus, God’s son, was a wrenching, tearing,
emotionally draining experience. Childbirth normally involves great pain,
especially during the first go-round. I remember the German doctor asking
Christy if she minded an episiotomy late in the process of Christopher’s birth.
By this time, both Christy and I just wanted it to be done and did not care.
I’ve never forgotten the sound. I’ve never forgotten thinking, “Dear God, what
have I done?” Yet, I love my children and would not trade them for the world.
Gripped by the drama of the moment, I felt great anguish. Yet, when the doctor
turned to me extending the gleaming surgical scissors, gravely asking, “Do you
want to cut the cord?” I did not hesitate. Despite the trauma of the journey,
the destination and attendant rewards justified it all. It was the same for
Mary and Joseph.
The birth of
Jesus rent the seemingly insoluble barrier between the spiritual and the
physical and the labor and trauma are every bit as real. The prophet warned
Mary, “…and a sword will pierce your soul also…” Luke 2:35. While the son of
God brings peace and healing, acceptance often comes at great personal price.
Any commitment to a higher cause includes a rejection of lessor, baser things;
and that frequently generates conflict and stress. While Advent is truly “the
blessed” event, any birth involves labor and generates blood, sweat, and tears.
Separation from the sins that so deeply entangle involves tension. Even though
we do not do any of the work, we strain. The tension mounts, and then with a final
push and rush new life arrives. And we sit back and smile, rejoicing that all
is well in the stable.
In
ways gross and sublime, babies totally reorient your world. When I held
Christopher for the first time at a little after six A.M. and we gazed at each
other in the early morning light streaming through the windows, my life
shifted. Why the hospital delivery room in Kusel, Germany had a wall of windows
still escapes me. No part of my life escaped this paradigm shift. Nothing
remained the same. A few years later the world shifted under my feet again when
they handed me Candace in the hospital at Fort Hood, Texas. And yet again, when
Timothy came flying into my life at the orphanage in Svobodny, Far East Russia.
Children bring change with them. They bring chaos. They bring a sack-full of
needs, wants, and desires. They bring total dependency. Jesus did just the
same.
The
infant, carefully laid in a manger, totally changed the world of Mary and
Joseph. Just like my children, He brought total dependency. But unlike
Christopher, Candace, or Timothy, His change spreads out engulfing the world. God
becoming flesh creates a paradigm shift in all who gaze into the manger.
Nothing remains the same for them. The light pouring out of the roughhewn stone
trough reorients how we view God, ourselves, and our fellow man. The world
changes under our feet, the ground shifting. Jesus calls us to a new way of living.
This change, like all changes, brings chaos. It is often messy with unforeseen challenges
and problems. But, as with my own children, this change brought by the babe in
Bethlehem, brings joy and moments of revelation sublime. And when we celebrate
Christmas we celebrate and revel in this change wrought by a new born babe,
lying in a manger.
We
worship power. Our culture adores powerful men and women. We lust after power,
seeking promotion and the displays of power that go with advancement. Leaders
enjoy displaying their power; often treating subordinates with disdain simply
because they can. As a nation our enthrallment with power leads us to apportion
ever larger amounts of our budget to military expenditures. We love sailing our
fleet around the globe, exerting our will through intimidation. We enjoy power
and all the trappings that come with it. Advent shows us how wrong we really
are.
Look
into the manger. There lies the creator of the universe; a blob of drool oozing
out of the corner of his mouth. The power that carved out river channels,
designed cellular biology, and conceived physics now depends upon a teenage
mother and a working-class carpenter. He limited himself, becoming reliant on
others for everything. He did not even come into Rome, the strongest world
power of his age. He came into a minor state, long subjugated and trapped
between stronger, more powerful nations. He set aside His power because He
loved us and wanted to be close to us. We gather as much power as we can. Jesus
gave it all away. We long for the fawning public. Jesus wrapped Himself in swaddling
clothes, later a towel, and ultimately a shroud. The greatest power ever came
to serve. He limited Himself, embracing service. He stood against the norms of
His day and ours. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not
overcome it. John 1:5.
Self-Satisfied: Day 29
I
feel comfortable in my own skin. I arrived at this time and place in good
order. While I’m not the wealthiest man in the world, Christy and I live
comfortably. I pay my taxes. When payments come due, I render the appropriate
amount. I help my children appropriately, at least in my opinion. My children
do well. They work at respectable jobs. They go to school. The too seems well
adjusted and headed in good directions. I enjoy my work. My work as a teacher
adds to society positively. I keep my lawn mown and trash picked up. I’m not
like those other people. You know who I’m talking about; they dress oddly,
smell strangely, speak with peculiar accents, and embrace unusual beliefs.
Their behaviors mark them as the other. And in our current cultural context we
consider the other as in darkness.
When
God set His face toward Bethlehem, He set himself on a journey that would end
in a startling transformation, He became flesh. Jesus set aside all His powers,
all the things that made Him different. He divested himself in order to shine
light into the darkness of our own making. He willingly took great risk in
order to reach the unlovable. Reaching out to the unlovable, the unwashed, the
other, is inextricably woven into Advent. Frequently we eschew contact with “the
other,” fearing them and treating them as contagion. We incorrectly assume that
they alone sit in darkness. In truth, I sit in darkness as well. I confuse God’s
material blessing with spiritual correctness. Advent helps me keep my bearings,
to clearly understand my own desperate need.
When
I come to the stable, I admit my own needy state. Peeking into the manger, I
view divinity; distilled into a form I can comprehend. That marvelous light
which flashed into my darkness reveals my own spiritual poverty. It also
reveals the way home. If I accept what Advent says, then I must love “the
other.” After all, God came to me when I was the unwashed, wretched other.
I
enjoy reading the gospel accounts of Advent. Starting after Thanksgiving I immerse
myself in the story of the coming. Beginning in Genesis with the fall and
promised salvation I follow the golden trail of God seeking out His lost sheep
until in a breathtaking act of communion He arrives in the Bethlehem stable. I
find John’s spiritual account of the incarnation comforting. He addresses the
astounding facts surrounding creation, incarnation, and salvation. He speaks
words of comfort which reach across centuries; words which carry great weight. He
reminds us of why Jesus came. Moses brought the law, a system which ultimately
reminds and reinforces our sense of failure. Jesus comes bringing grace and
truth.
The
babe in the manger, reverently worshiped by shepherds whose ears still rang
with angelic strains, brought comfort and peace. He comes bringing a salve for
our self-inflicted wounds. We, who sat in darkness, could not find our way out
so He came to us. He set aside all the comfort and privilege His status
afforded to administer grace. Not only did He administer grace, He brought
words of truth and was in fact truth himself. In an age in which many in the
public arena display a casual disregard for truth, holding it in contempt,
Jesus brings a bright light. This light shone first in the manger and as John
put it so well, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not
overcome it.” John 1:5. Jesus did not come bringing a new and improved edition
of the Law of Moses. No, He came bringing comfort, peace, and joy for all who
seek Him. And that’s what advent is truly about.
Dreams,
angels, wise men, portents, shepherds, and signs; all of them shape advent. The
incarnation, one of the greatest enigmas of all times, still confounds rational
explanation. Mystery surrounds Bethlehem. From the shepherds surprise to the
star following wise men God uses the inexplicable to define His most gracious
and loving act. For those of us who are children of the enlightenment age
Bethlehem defies logic. We want to wrap our religion into some sort of easily
explained rationally provable theology and tie it up with a nicely formed three
point bow. Fortunately God does not conform to our tiny box. He calls us to
something entirely different.
Faith,
like a golden thread, weaves its way through the entire unfolding of Advent;
from the promise in the garden, through Abraham’s wandering, to the signaling
star. In every event of Advent God calls His children to faith. The virgin
birth pulled at the very fabric of Joseph and Mary’s community existence. The
wise men took off on an epic trek across Mesopotamia just to see the promised
king. Joseph kept a pregnant teenage wife, enduring societal censure based on a
dream. Shepherds left the safe hillside, searching for a baby in a feeding
trough. Faith colors the tapestry of the incarnation. Every time God extends an
invitation, He asks for a faith response; even today.
No
matter our attempt to make God conform to modern logical sensibilities, He
breaks free, seeking those who would place their faith in Him. He makes the
same announcement to us that He made to the shepherds on the hillside, “Come,
come and see your infant savior.” He issues the same call to us that He issued
to the wise men of the East, “Come, come and worship the new-born king.” Advent
stretches our belief and understanding of God’s desires and the distance He is
willing to travel to meet with, get to know, and ultimately save His children. He
asks to believe, to trust Him and His love for us. He calls us to grasp the
golden strand a faith and be woven into His tapestry, conforming to His plan.
I
regularly face a wall of distraught teenagers with grim faces. This normally
happens immediately after I assign some sort of homework. The length of their
faces and volume of the moaning accurately reflects the difficulty of the
assignment. I rarely find students who accept assignments with joy. The hard
work and drudgery of the task obscures the ultimate benefit of mastering a
subject. As humans we shy away from considering long-term benefits. We fully
embrace our culture and its fast food immediate gratification mindset.
Fortunately for us, God takes a different view of time and work. He takes a
long view, being willing to wait for just the right moment to do things. And,
somehow He enjoys a difficult task.
We
read Isaiah 9 at this time every year. Churches and concert halls resound and
swell with Handle’s Messiah and its rendition of this wonderful passage. Buried
deep within this passage is a short phrase, almost throw away really. But, as with
many such phrases found in Holy Writ, it carries a deep, rich meaning for you
and me. At the end of Isaiah 9:7 we read, “The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will
do this.” Jesus did not come to earth, reluctantly, dragging His feet. He came
with excitement and enthusiasm, eager to complete the task at hand. Despite the
challenges and difficulties He would face, He sought this work with great
anticipation. He faced His great work of salvation with joyous anticipation.
What we might well dread, He embraced. Taking the long view, He readily shed
all the blessings and perks of His divine station and arrived in the manger. As
in many things, careful reflection on Jesus life teaches us many things. In
this case, He shows us the way to sacrificial living with a view toward long-term
realization of lofty goals.
Each
year I spend time meditating on the wise men. They intrigue me. We know very
little about them. They arrive in Jerusalem some time after the birth of Jesus.
They came from the east. They trek to Jerusalem and checked in with Herod
first, precipitating his spasm of paranoia driven murder. Once they find out
that Bethlehem is their true destination, they take their leave of the powerful
intelligentsia and resume their quest. They arrive in Bethlehem and upon
locating Jesus, they worship and give gifts. Soon thereafter, they head home
using a different route to avoid another meeting with Herod.
We
know why they came, to worship Jesus; we don’t know how they knew to come. This
is what I find intriguing about them. How did they know to worship God? We
speculate that somehow they came into contact with Jews from the diaspora and
that may be correct. But even though that remains a plausible theory, we just
don’t know. What we do know is that God reached out to them somehow and they
responded with worship. These few tantalizing scraps give us a few hints into
the character of God.
Apparently
God has things going He has not told us about. Evidently He does not see a need
to tell us about everything. Of course this should not surprise us. After all,
God frequently cloaks His actions and motives in mystery. Somehow and through
methods not entirely clear God communicated with these men from an undisclosed
location to the east. The second and, for me, most comforting reason, God loves
all His children. He loved these star gazing wanderers. He communicated with
them in some fashion they understood and they responded appropriately. He
reaches out. He calls. He gathers in. He would leave none of us
lost and alone in the darkness. And this gray-headed wanderer, who ended up in
West Texas, finds the wise men and God’s interaction with them comforting. This
brief story reminds me that God will not leave any of His children out. He will
find a way to them.
It
is tough being poor in America today. Starting in the 1980’s, we’ve steadily reduced
various safety net and other helpful programs. A steady stream of conservative
politicians in Washington and State houses across the nation have passed a
variety of legislative packages that limit access to much needed aid. In conversation
we disparaging and demean the poor and indigent, regarding such abusive speech as
civilized and normal. Marginalized by a
middle and upper class that is increasingly hostile and indifferent, the
impoverished find fewer routes out of poverty. We assume poor individuals have
either done something to deserve their poverty or are so inherently lazy as to
enjoy it. Frankly, we do not seem to care
that many of our fellow citizens remain ensnared by the tentacles of poverty with
no hope of relief. Things have not changed much.
In
first century Palestine no one really cared about the poor. As long as taxes
flowed toward Rome and the populace remained passive, the Romans saw no reason
to lift a finger to help the impoverished and subjugated. The Pharisees and Sadducees
assumed the poor had done something to displease God. In their twisted theology, God was angered by their sin, and withheld His blessing. As in twenty-first century America, society did very
little to help the less fortunate. But God, in setting His face toward
Bethlehem, develops a different plan. He reaches out to the weak. He yearns to
comfort the afflicted. He holds a special place in His heart for the destitute.
His prophets lamented the treatment of the poor, disenfranchised, and
sojourners, speaking of a coming day when the God would upend the status quo.
Mary, in her great song of praise, reminds us where God’s heart is. She uses
such phrases as, “he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts…he
has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted those of humble
estate,” and “he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has
sent empty away.” Luke chapter 1.
God
holds the poor in special esteem. Unlike God, we disparage the poor. God wants
to fill the hungry. We establish rules for means testing, a concept not found
in scripture. Sadly, we look more like the Pharisees. Advent calls us to a
different outlook, a changed behavior, and a new way of viewing our fellow
sojourners. God set His face toward Bethlehem and asks us to do the same. He
calls us to love the poor and desperate, to help the weak and halt. If we wish
to reflect our Lord, claiming His name we must revisit our attitudes toward the
less well-to-do. After all, in the light of the manger, we’re all impoverished.
Sometimes
students have a mind of their own. Every teacher has that student…the one who
is certain you do not know what you’re talking about. They question how you
teach, what you teach, and if given the chance, what you wear. Most of the time,
they don’t get to me. After all, I’m a teacher, I signed up for this and almost
always, I know better. Occasionally I have a particularly determined student
who insists on having their way. That is when I pull out the big guns. I point
to the wall where my diplomas hang and gather dust. I ask them if they have
even one like that; just for grins I’ve included my Commission as a Lieutenant
Colonel in the U.S. Army. No one has ever persisted after that. Of course it
does help that I’m pretty quick to admit when I’m wrong. It happens and I don’t
mind acknowledging a failure graciously.
After all, I expect them to be gracious when I point out their mistakes
on papers and tests. It’s all part of the process and most of the time we get
along just fine. Abraham was like my students.
God
had chosen him for a special purpose. God had made a series of rather
incredible promises to the old guy; promises of land, progeny, and future. Some
of the Lord’s promises seemed rather outlandish, especially when Abram
considered his age and Sara’s hot-flashes. The promise of a son seemed
particularly unbelievable. Understanding this, God periodically shows up to
remind Abram that He has a plan. God looks down the road to a distant
destination and gently calls Abram to continue to walk with Him. In one of
these mysterious conversations Abram reminds God of Ishmael. Perhaps God would
use Him. After all, Abram had contributed to part of Ishmael. No, God reminds
Abram. I like my plan better. We will not be changing the course of events. I
wonder how often we are guilty of doing the same thing. God wants to do
something in our lives; to move us closer to Bethlehem and the manger. We think
some other path is more advantageous. But God gently and patiently works with
us. He has our best interests at heart. He worked hard to bring all things
together at Bethlehem. He does not need our input. He desires our faith and
trust, just like Abraham’s.
Babies
are maintenance intensive. I mean really maintenance intensive. From when they
first arrive into this world, squalling and screaming, they require almost
constant attention. They come out misshapen lumps. My oldest bore a strange
resemblance to Winston Churchill. The middle one looked like a slippery lizard,
a red slippery lizard. Don’t let anyone kid you, even those fed au natural make
smelly diapers and there’s nothing like the vaguely cheesy smell of baby puke.
They spit up and puke a lot. It seemed like they would strategically wait until
I had on a freshly starched set of BDU’s to engage in projectile burping. They
can’t even burp properly. Parents spend hours trying to coax out that little
bit of gas causing discomfort at the unreasonable hour of two A.M. About the
only things they can do for themselves is suck, scream, coo, wriggle, blink,
burp, spit-up, poop, pee, and grimace. They can also smile. And that’s the key.
They’re
so gosh-darned cute. And they have pudgy toes. Parents and especially
grandparents dote on these little humans in waiting. They spend hours teasing
out a smile of recognition. I used to love to hold my kids freshly scrubbed
feet up and tickle them with my moustache, brrrting them in the process. And
they loved it to. They would squeal and laugh. Now that my kids are adults they
would never endure such demeaning behavior. But what I wouldn’t give for a few
more brrrts followed by giggles and laughter. Imagine, the Lord and creator of
the universe endured such infantile behavior. He humbled himself to the point
of total dependence. The One who flung galaxies across space, hurled nebula
into being, and squeezed up mountains, found Himself unable to sit up on His
own. He had to lie in His own filth until someone else noticed and cleaned Him.
He spit up, drooled excessively and had gas. But He also had pudgy toes.
Mary
and Joseph found Him endearing. I do not know what they loved about him.
Perhaps it was that unruly lock of hair or the slightly lopsided grin. But love
Him they did. They cared for Him, meeting His every need, and He accepted all
the limitations the incarnation thrust upon Him. In some way, perhaps this was
the most pure worship offered Him; the deep and abiding, sacrificial love of
parents. Or perchance, they just loved Him for what he was, their infant son
who needed love and care. Their God
needed their attention and their duty was to provide it. Or maybe, just maybe,
Jesus had pudgy toes.
Some
students resist the educational process. I’m not speaking about those who find
a particular subject difficult, uninteresting, or boring. Nor am I referring to
those students who have a variety of behavioral issues. I’m speaking of those
students who refuse to submit to authority. Fearing any restriction on their
independence, they resist instruction and the implicit admission to their own
limitations. Pride, often intermingled with fear, is the root of this
resistance. All of us grapple with this issue, some more than others. Sometimes,
especially bright students, intuitively grasping their innate intelligence, find
the submission required for learning difficult. Imagine the jolting
transitional requirement learning placed on Jesus.
Babies
can do very few things on their own. They depend upon others for everything.
Other than the most basic automatic bodily functions, they must learn
everything from someone else. Jesus submitted to this process. Incarnation
carried with it a submission to the learning process. Imagine the jolting
transition from mighty God to gurgling infant. As Jesus lay in the crib a whole
new world of experiences involving submission to authority and instruction
descended upon him. Love led Him to this position. As Mary bent over him,
adjusting swaddling clothes, Jesus experienced limitations and restrictions for
the first time, and not the last. Advent is a learning experience, for all
involved.
That Empty Feeling: Day 20
A
favorite empty chair stood in the corner of the porch. Echoes of laughter in
the evening after work still loitered in the eves, calling softly as the light
slowly slipped away. This was the first Rosh Hashanah without Joseph. Jesus wondered
how Mary would react. As Rosh Hashanah was one of her favorite times of year, Mary
always looked forward to the celebration and all the comings and goings. Now,
Joseph was gone and at times like this the emptiness was awfully solid for a
void. Jesus was not sure how he would help his mother and manage his own
feelings. He missed Joseph sorely, despite his somewhat crotchety nature. Now,
without his father, he had shouldered the burden of managing the family
business and guiding his mother through this time of grief. This upcoming
festival would be the first since Joseph’s death and a reopening of fresh
wounds.
While
the story is obviously fictional, scripture seems to show that Joseph died
before Jesus engaged in his public ministry. We can surmise that Jesus coped
with deep personal loss, that empty chair at important family gatherings. We
all know the pain; the favorite story untold, the delicious dish uncooked, the familiar
step in the hall. When loved ones depart they leave a gap that refuses easy
definition or closure. We all face this bittersweet episode of life as time and
death wrench loved ones from our fellowship. We do not face this alone. Jesus
walked this path before us. When He accepted the manger, He accepted personal
loss. In setting His face toward Bethlehem, he embraced, the reality
of the empty chair. So if this Christmas season you face the empty chair, know
that He faces it with you and knows exactly how you feel. Perhaps this
knowledge might ease the pain of loss.
Come Along With Me: Day 19
The
old man looked up into the sky. The great arc of the Straw Thief spread across
the heavens, resplendent in the dark moonless night. The whisper echoed in his
mind and heart, “Come, journey with me. I will make you great.” Unsure of how
to explain this to his wife, he sighed quietly at the prospect and turned toward
the dim lamplight of home. With quiet steps the shadowy image faded into the night.
Again, in the
midst of a dark starlit night, the whisper comes, “Come, journey with me. I
will make you a great king, the great king.” The young shepherd absently strums
his lyre, considering the quiet voice and the outrageous promise. Me a king,
what would his father think?
Some centuries
later another man stood in the night on the nearly completed wall ruminating
while gazing into the night sky. Resting his hand on the pommel of his sword,
he considered the promise of the voice, “Come, journey with me. I will protect
you.” Silver light cascading out of the night sky bathed the quiet city in a
luminous glow. “Rebuild my city.” The voice promised protection.
All along the
way God whispers, calling to His people, “Come with me on this great journey; this
journey to Bethlehem where we will meet. There I will become one of you, and
you will get to know me. In setting His toward Bethlehem God started out on a
journey of reclamation and restoration; reclaiming His children and restoring relationships.
At the manger we meet. At the manger we find our bother and family is restored.
I
love Christmas. I always have. Growing up in Abilene we rarely enjoyed snow on
Christmas. But that fact never stopped me from hoping. After Thanksgiving I
would start watching the sky, scanning, always scanning for those gray heavy
snow-laden clouds. As soon as I understood the linkage between low temperature
and snow I would pester my parents for the daily report. When the temp dropped
slightly below fifty, I would break out the heavy coats and sweaters…long
before they were actually needed. In fact, I do the same today. Somehow the
thought of snowfall improves the Christmas season. It does not have to snow. I
just enjoy thinking about it, anticipating it, looking out the window hoping
for it. Fortunately for me, my time in the Army included two tours in Germany
and one in Northeast Ohio. All of those times included multiple white Christmases.
Still my heart yearns for the glistening white at this time of year.
When
I read Isaiah 9 I think of how the prophet longed for, hoped for, and anticipated
the arrival of the promised Messiah. As he looked around he ached over the
plight of his people. They suffered under horrible leadership. Burdened by
their own within and beset by powerful enemies without, they labored under the
long lash of oppression. Daily he scanned the skies. Carefully he watched for
the proper signs always hoping that the day had come. He lived by faith, faith
in the promised savior. And just like that little boy in Abilene, he lived in
hope of the next year. Maybe this would be the year. The year of perfect
conditions; conditions which would bring about the long awaited joy and
pleasure. And now, whenever Christmas rolls around I think of the old prophet
who longed for what I see. I’m blessed to live in the light of Bethlehem. The
bright light spilling out of the manger floods my life, bringing joy and peace.
But still, despite the great blessing, I look out the window, scanning the sky,
hoping those clouds are the ones; the ones full of snow.
Personal Responses: Day 17
Shepherds
and royalty, two types of people, each group responds to Advent differently. In
many ways things remain the same today. Shepherds exist on the margins of human
society, spending their days moving sheep from one pasture to another. No one
respected them. They did not invite them to bar-mitzvahs or other do’s.
Shepherds did not go to the nicer schools; their job did not require an
extensive knowledge of the Torah. The nature of their life and station made
them humble. Repeated blows wore them down until they blended into the ancient
Judean hills. Isolated in the dark they received a stunning personal invite to
the Advent. Come, come and see my son. Come and see the light break into the
darkness. Herod and the Jewish elite received different treatment.
Herod
and the Jewish leaders moved in different circles. First-century wana-bees
orbited these luminaries, stroking their egos. Bloated self-images required continual
reinforcement. In Herod, paranoia overwhelmed him until he feared any threat to
the stability of his world. The Sanhedrin worked hard, ingratiating themselves
with Herod and the Roman overseers. Their world of power and luxury was as
distant from the rocky hillsides of the shepherds as an Amazonian Indian village
is from our modern interconnected urban life, almost as far apart as their
hearts. And that was why God did not issue them a special invitation.
God
reaches out for the poor of heart, those who understand their desperate need.
The rich the self-satisfied, assured by their own temporal and temporary
success, block Him out. God loves Herod and the other leaders in Jerusalem in
the same way and just as much as He does the shepherds. Pride and arrogance get
in the way. The well sated and successful see no need for help and assistance. It
remains the same today. Often our own accomplishment blinds us to our desperate
spiritual need. Alone and desperate we remake Jesus in our own image. Despite
this, God still reaches out to us. He still loves us and when we are willing to
sit alone in the dark, in humility, He invites us in, into the wonderful light
of His presence.
Long
ago, down the misty labyrinth of time we took a wrong turn. Now, we sit in
darkness. Lost and fumbling, we yearn for the unity of long ago whispers shared
around fires in the night; whispers of a perfect time and place. Now, we wait
for the arrival of the one, the perfect one who leads us home. God bridges the
gap between the spiritual and the physical, bringing all things together at the
appropriate time and place. In a time and culture when we cherish getting
things when we want them the idea of waiting grates. We demand what we want,
when we want it. But God works on His own time-table. He who crafted time now
bends it to serve his purposes. And in ways difficult for us to fully
comprehend the Lord waited for just the right moment to send Jesus into
history.
God
has a plan. He knows what He’s doing. Sometimes we wonder. Darkness seems
overwhelmingly powerful and pernicious, without and within. In spite of that,
in spite of our seeming powerlessness God has broken in. In the guise of a
newborn infant, God broke into our existence changing everything. In a moment
light broke the darkness. Light resurfaces as a symbolic theme throughout the
Bible. At the right moment, when everything was perfectly aligned, Jesus, the
light, comes to help and to save. John records the Advent as light coming into
the darkness. He makes two key facts regarding the light; the darkness has not
understood it and the darkness has not overcome it. This light, Jesus, continues
to shine, dispelling the darkness. And that is one of the great joys of Advent.
Jesus came so we would no longer have to sit in darkness.
Seeing the Unseen: Day 15
As
a teacher I look for a variety of traits that indicate success. I look for
discipline, enthusiasm, respect, and tenacity; among others. Over the years, in
the Army and now in education I’ve found these traits useful as indicators of
success. As an officer, I worked with subordinates helping them to maximize and
expand their positive traits while minimizing those traits we felt less
desirable. As a teacher I often follow a similar strategy helping students
utilize their strengths. And while this plan normally works well, it does not
always recognize traits students can utilize for success. Indeed, sometimes the
traits that I feel slow a student down; properly channeled or trained, propel them
to greater achievement. In my limited view, I often overlook the very keys to
unlocking success. It seems that God often exploits the things we overlook.
Take
the time to examine His journey to Bethlehem and you will find many examples of
Him using the people the rest of us overlook or even disdain. Few of us would
choose an aged wandering star-gazer as the father of a nation. But God did. Few
of us would consider a conniving cheater as one to carry on the legacy. But God
did. Few of us would choose a convicted rapist as the savior of his family and
his people. But God did. You see God see things we do not. He understands that
those often rejected by the rest of us, develop into tenacious and powerful
leaders. That is why He looks out for those kicked about and rejected by
society. When we come to the manger we find an interesting cast of character, those
excluded by society at large. God sees possibilities when others only see
failure and weakness. He saw that coming as a helpless infant to a powerless
family would best serve His purposes. The next time we mentally discard someone
as either incapable or so failed as to be useless we might remember the ne’er-do-wells
God promoted to heroes of faith. And perhaps, the next time life cuffs you
about, disparaging your abilities and worth, think about all those who God chose
despite their seeming weakness and failure. Remember, God set His face toward
Bethlehem, a small and lowly village on the edge of the Roman empire, knowing
that would be the best place for His son to be born.
Castaways Day 14
I
see them trudge through the halls of my school; societal castoffs considered
unworthy by their peers. Lacking social skills, they find themselves on the periphery
of the student body. Like comets, they spend the vast majority of their time
alone in cold darkness. Sometimes their behaviors set the apart. They live according
to a different inner rhythm, viewing the world through a different set of
lenses as it were. They dress differently, listen to different music, and most
choose activities that further their isolation. These misfits suffer in their
seclusion. Though they often profess to prefer solitude and privacy, their
haunted and hooded eyes speak loudly of inner pain. For some, this existence of
limited contact and intimacy presages their life. But this is not God’s desire
for them.
God
seeks out these kinds of people. In Isaiah 9 the prophet speaks of a coming day
of light. He, God, will shine a light on those whose world is circumscribed by
darkness and solitude. He wants to break into their cycle of pain. Mary picks
up this theme in her song of praise. God travels to Bethlehem seeking out the lowly
and humble; those rejected by society. He turns away from the proud. Resisting
the arrogant and self-satisfied, He embraces those lonely souls eking out a
meager existence on the fringes of humanity. In setting His face toward
Bethlehem, He sets His face toward the lowest among us.
His
desire for the weak and outcast threatens our comfortable status quo. Those of
us that enjoy personal success, popularity, and material abundance find
ourselves unusually marginalized.
Instead of our accustomed place at the center of things, we stand on the
outside looking in. God announces to the poor shepherds while Herod and the
rest of the Jewish intelligence and powerful elite hear second hand. We like to
equate material and personal success with spiritual success. That attitude
moves us to edge when we most need to be near the center. God comes for the
meek and lowly, not the proud and self-satisfied.
A Collection of Journeys: Day 13
Enigmatic
magi, wise men, dusty and worn from their long trek approach Jerusalem. A
weary, gravid young woman accompanied by her worried husband near Bethlehem
eagerly seeking shelter. Stunned shepherds scurry through dark streets
searching for an announced savior. A royal king comes to His people, discarding
all badges, powers, and perks, arriving in humble guise almost unidentifiable. He
started this journey, this trek, millennia before, seeking to bridge the chasm
gouged by our own intransigence and pride. This great moment, the Advent of God
voyaging to flesh, invites us to voyage as well. And, as Jesus and all the
other members of this drama, we must discard excess baggage.
We
must set aside whatever cumbers drag us down and like the shepherds hustle to
meet the savior promised by the heavenly host. Jesus paves the way for us,
setting the example we need. This truly deep and abiding love compels Him and
calls to us. Join me in this sweet surrender. Come with me on the long journey
home. Leave your excess behind. I have everything you need.
Whispers in the Night: Day 12
We’d
rather worship a Technicolor God; the larger than life all-powerful God, the
God of the burning bush, the awesome God of Isaiah’s temple vision. The
wrathful burning God who thunders through prophets, speaking of doom and
judgement, better suits our fancy in many ways. There is a certain truth in
such a view. God is mighty, powerful, and devoted to justice. However, such a
view places great distance between us a God. We stand back at a safe distance,
lurking in the shadows. Ultimately such a
view leaves us bereft of grace and mercy in a void of our own making. In
setting His face toward Bethlehem, God charts a different course. While often
demonstrating His power and might, God frequently, perhaps more often, whispers
in the night.
He
passes time with Abram gazing at stars and making promises; promises of an
unbelievable future for Abram and his progeny. Looking at the stars, Abram
believes. Centuries later He reaches out to a carpenter and a maiden. He speaks
to them gently through intermediaries and in dreams. He still comes lightly,
often in visions. He calls to us. He draws ever closer, seeking relationship
with His estranged and rebellious children. Whispering gently in the night He
is less threatening, somehow more approachable; His words easier to bear, more
believable. And that’s what Advent is all about, God come near as a baby in a
manger. His hushed low voice gently calls us into relationship. He still
whispers across vast distances. To God, who created time, all moments are real
and all moments are now. He still whispers. He calls gently to you in the
night, “Come. Come to the stable. Kneel by the manger. Look, touch, and know
that I love you. I care for you. I came to save you.”
Doomsday: Day 11
William
looked out over the parapet past the moat and over the rolling green lawn
stretching away toward the darker green forest fence in the distance. He mulled
over troublesome news curriers had brought from the continent. It seemed the
Danes were casting expansive eyes toward his newly secured holdings. Just a few
short years ago he’d rejoiced, standing victorious on the field of battle,
confident in his new position as sovereign. Now threatened from abroad he
needed to raise an army to defend his country. Armies cost money, more than in
his coffers at this time. He considered taxes as a mechanism to generate the
needed funds. He needed to know who and what was in his kingdom in order to determine
his tax base. He commissioned a grand survey, sending out census takers,
producing the grand book we know as the “Doomsday Book.”
In
old English Doomsday was the common term for the Judgement spoken of in
Revelation; perhaps from the fear of a just condemnation. For people caught up
in works driven theology judgement would indeed be doomsday. But, Advent pushes
back against just such a view. Jesus makes the journey from heaven to Bethlehem
to bring us the good news that judgement need not bring doom. He wants to
relieve our fears, to lift our burdens, to calm our nerves. Living in constant
dread of censure and condemnation sucks the joy out of life, rendering our existence
dark and toilsome. Advent scatters the darkness, driving away the fear. The
census, or judgement, commissioned by William the Conqeror in 1085 enabled him
to fight off the Danes, but it also generated dread of evaluation, hence the
name Doomsday. You and I do not live in such dread. Jesus set His face toward
Bethlehem to calm our fears and bring light and joy into our lives.
An Incredible Journey: Day 10
We
like comfortable church. We like to come in hearing our favorite songs to sit
in comfortable chairs in our favorite spot. We like to hear sermons that
challenge us, but not too much. We want a nice easy relationship with the Lord
that does not include great sacrifice. We want to worship with people that are
like us with problems that are not too difficult. We want to fellowship with
people whose questions are easily answered. But the journey to Bethlehem is not
easy.
Take
some time and peruse the family tree of Jesus. Read through the Old Testament,
making careful notes. You will find some seriously flawed individuals making grievous
errors. God patiently works with His children, even when those you and I would
describe as abject failures. We tend to avoid individuals who make questionable
choices, who question norms, and who display lapses of faith. We find their
flaws challenging, threatening even. We gravitate towards nice easy
relationships; people who look, feel, and smell like we do. We want nice easy,
well-packaged answers to life’s most difficult questions. Fortunately for us
God willingly embraces such messy situations. He loves us so much He makes the
journey to Bethlehem with us, sometimes dragging us.
In
Advent God fully reaches out to us. Jesus does not hide from the warts of His
humanity. At Bethlehem He seeks to understand us on a most intimate level. Through
Advent Jesus teaches us to reach out to others, no matter how flawed and
troublesome. He loves enough to dirty His hands getting to know us. Advent
calls us to love the unlovable, to bind up, to feed, to comfort, to wash. In
many ways Advent is as much about the journey as the event.
Day 1
The holiday season has rolled ‘round
once again. I relish this time of year, savoring family, friends, food, and
music. Pleasant activities, some traditional others new this year, rapidly fill
the white spaces on my planning calendar. I eagerly anticipate time spent with
family and friends. Despite their importance, these events do not represent the
high point. Each year I focus my devotional time on the advent. I find this
time helps me better understand my indebtedness and the magnitude of God’s
great gift. Normally I trace this journey in brief entries I post on Facebook
and my blog. This year I plan to do the same. The vast time-span involved
staggers me.
Paul
hints at this in Galatians 4:4-7 when speaking of the “fullness of time.” God
knew what He was doing before He invented time. He planned all of this; creation,
salvation, Calvary, and the incarnation all work together to glorify His name.
Ages before He arrived, long before the journey began, prior to the virgin
birth He set His face toward Bethlehem. He knew where He was going, why He was
making the journey, and how it would end. This Advent Season, join me in His
journey as He resolutely sets His face toward Bethlehem.
Setting His Face Toward Bethlehem: Day 2
A
homeless man sits on the corner, all of his possessions crammed into a tattered
backpack. Another man sits ensconced in a wood-paneled study, thumbing through
a favorite collection of poems. While yet another man sits on the edge of a
bunk, staring blankly past the bars into the gallery where the guard walked
past. Three men sitting in strikingly different circumstances, yet, as in
Isaiah they all sit in the same place, darkness. We focus on exterior circumstances
often making spiritual judgments based on erroneous criterion. The Lord knows
better. Understanding the true depth of our depravity, He sent His light into
our darkness. Apart from Jesus, no matter our station in life, we sit in
darkness. His face set toward Bethlehem, Jesus comes to shine His light into
the despair of the darkness where we sit. In many ways Advent is a collection
of journeys. Wise-men travel to see the new-born king. Mary and Joseph make a
census and tax driven trek. We go back in time to see the savior of the world.
And Jesus, He makes the biggest journey of them all, bringing His light into our
darkness.
The Long Lash of Oppression: Day 3
We
sit in darkness. Do not delude yourself, no matter your personal state or
status, apart from Jesus, we sit in darkness. And, it is a darkness of our own
choosing and making. We rail against tyrannical rulers, often rejoicing at
their demise. Once the word that we’d captured Salaam Hussein got out the night
skies above Baghdad lit up with tracers of jubilation. But we rarely focus our
attentions on the interior oppressions that so darken our existence. Pride,
lusts of all varieties, selfishness, and plain old churlishness cloud our minds.
So we sit in abject gloom, despairing our condition. We think the oppressor is
without when he resides within. We lash ourselves with scourges of our own
construction. We quenched the light long ago and suffer for our pride. But hope
comes. The Light shines into our darkness. It illuminates the oppressor,
revealing who he is. We need not remain oppressed in darkness. The Light comes
to reveal and release.
An Obscure Destination: Day 4
Lubbock
sits on the edge of the Great Plains in the Panhandle Region of Texas, going by
the moniker “Hub City.” For a variety of reasons, some geographic others economic,
Lubbock enjoys regional dominance. As agribusiness has changed over the years
many of the small communities in the surrounding counties have suffered reversals,
many losing significant portions of the population and businesses. Opdyke West,
Arnett, Anton, Petit, and Pep struggle to remain viable. Lubbock and other
metropolitan areas draw off many young people as they perceive greater
opportunities in the larger, more vibrant, cities. These small communities hang
on at the edge of civilization, eking out a hardscrabble existence. Bethlehem
was just such a community.
A
small collection of homes an inn or perhaps two made up this small berg.
Probably fewer than a thousand souls called Bethlehem home. Located thirty
miles or south of Jerusalem, Bethlehem offered no draw, no riches, and no prestige.
Despite this lack of reputation, God chose to send Mary and Joseph there for
the birth of His son. Through this tiny community, struggling for purpose,
generating meager agricultural economic activity, divine light breaks into our
dark world. A small benighted window served God’s purpose. It is His way, using
the lowly to upend the status quo. This tiny little hamlet welcomed a squalling
baby boy, the king of kings, unseen and unrecognized into the world; His world,
the world of His creation. The world He came to save.
A Truly Radical Notion:
Day 5
Long
before Bethlehem Isaiah penned some of the most beautiful and comforting words
found in Holy Writ, “…and his name shall be called, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty
God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6b. Each year we listen as
choruses large and small, skilled and homey, grand and humble proclaim these
words as set to soaring music by Handle. One also might add, “turner over of
tables.” But that would not be as comforting.
We
forget the truly radical nature of the journey to Bethlehem. When God set His
face toward Bethlehem, He chose a revolutionary course of action. Bethlehem
changes things profoundly. Radical does not carry enough weight. Jesus,
shedding all the perks and powers of divinity to break into our meager
existence, is so revolutionary as to make Fidel Castro seem a plodding Luddite.
God does not assume a lower form. After all, isn’t being God all about power,
raw unadulterated power. We often think of God as a mighty roaring force
ramping across the banner of time and space casting lightning bolts and
exacting justice. But, in Jesus we see something profoundly different.
Jesus
voluntarily set all that aside when He turned toward Bethlehem. He exchanged
unlimited power and authority for total dependence and ignorance; grand palaces
for a rough-hewn feeding trough. The master craftsman of the universe exchanged
his voice-activated creative powers for assorted hand-tools which He had to
learn how to use. This voluntary relinquishment of power and authority for
submission and servitude stands all our human norms on their head. Setting His
face toward Bethlehem started a revolution which continues to this day,
invading this world, eradicating darkness with light.
Empty
Away: Day 6
For
most, Christmas generates visions or memories of gifts. Starting shortly after
Halloween, retailers saturate our world with media designed to generate desire
for products. Gifting consumes large portions of the Christmas season. We even wrap
the incarnation into the gifting, portraying Jesus as God’s great gift to us;
which is altogether correct. But in great paean of praise, commonly referred to
as The Magnificat, Mary offers a key insight into the deeper nature of the
Advent.
In
the first chapter of Luke we read, “He has filled the hungry with good things, and
the rich he has sent empty away.” He has sent the rich, empty away. God holds a
special place in His heart for the poor, the indigent, and those in desperate
need. In reality, we all exist in a state of spiritual poverty. We mistakenly
equate material abundance in our lives with spiritual abundance. For those of
us who live lives of plenty, Mary offers words of warning in her eloquent song
of worship. God provides richly for those in want, for those lacking, for those
humble souls who recognize their own failure. For those sated with their own
success, confident in their status, God has nothing. He sends them empty, away.
And lest we relegate this to a rhetorical flourish, when Jesus encounters the “Rich
Young Ruler” the result leaves us uncomfortable. He is sent empty, away. Not
everyone receives gifts at Christmas.
The Grand Sweep: Day 7
When
we consider Advent we tend to focus on Jesus and His stable birth in Bethlehem.
It is the culminating event after all. But the God whispers the Advent throughout
scripture. Take a step back and see God’s hand, His loving hand writing in
letters sublime on the parchment of time and space. We so love to examine
individual events in isolation, seeking to extract meaning from specific
actions and words. And while this is useful, we often miss reading God’s great
narrative story of love for you and I. Look carefully and periodically we see His
love in subtle glowing letters. Jacob’s flight from Esau is one of those
transcendent moments.
He
sleeps out in the open, under the stars, and dreams mightily. At the top of the ladder God speaks to him of
His plan and Jacob’s place in it. He will bless all of mankind through Jacob.
God works through history and individuals seeking to ransom and rescue. All of
his actions and plans culminate in our salvation, the great gathering in of
souls. And while Advent generates great wonder, as it should, it does not stand
alone. So during this season, where we think on the wonder and love of the
incarnation, we should also take the time to read those understated letters
that add depth and color to an already luminous story. Who know, perhaps God may
nudge us along the way, reminding us of His comprehensive love and desire for
our companionship.
A Cast of Miscreants: Day 8
I
hated choosing teams when I was in elementary. I moved to a new school in third
grade and did not handle it too well. I found life on the playground
particularly humiliating; especially when it came time to pick teams. Though I
enjoyed reasonable physical abilities and was not normally the last chosen, I
despised the tension of waiting. I stood there on the dusty playground waiting,
scuffing the toe of my “Chucks” into the red West Texas dirt, hating every
painful moment as the team captains reviewed their choices. Like everyone, I craved acceptance. I wanted
to fit in. I feared being, “that guy;” the one picked last. Perhaps this is why
I always enjoy reading the genealogy of Jesus.
Perusing
the genealogy of Jesus reassures me. In fact, reading through the Bible
reassures me. You see, God does not look for the biggest and strongest to be on
His team. Read through scripture and you find all manner of rejects. Prostitutes,
liars, cheats, murderers, and plain old scoundrels all find a place in God’s
plan. He uses those who stand there aching to be picked, those scuffed up by
life, those who’ve made poor choices along the way. He seems drawn to those
rejected by the cool crowd. He looks down the line of possibilities and picks
the one with downcast eyes, with hands crammed into pockets, hating every
agonizing minute of the wait. It’s the same with His son.
Jesus
was average; a blue collar kid. Nothing about Him stood out. Just an ordinary
guy with callouses on His hands. Born in barn in an unimportant village in the
back corner of the Roman Empire, no one would have expected Him to do anything
important. A working father and a teenage mother with an unlikely story round
out His resume. Christmas encourages all of those who stand and wait on the
edges of life. God reaches out to the humble with the humble. Through Christmas
God loudly proclaims that all of us who stand, waiting on the edges, are
important and He wants us on His team.
Fear Not!: Day 9
Day
to day we go about our tasks, dealing with the mundane. We eat. We work. We
love. We go to school. We shop. We get married. We celebrate birthdays and anniversaries.
We give birth. We live and we die. All mundane. All normal. We rarely give
thought to the spiritual realities swirling around us, living as it were, in darkness.
For many of us, those of us who enjoy the sensibilities of middle-class in
Western Societies, life proceeds with regularity, sometimes mind-numbing
regularity. We live our lives rarely giving serious thought to deeper matters.
Occasionally, though things shake us up; just like the shepherds.
There
they sat on the Judean hillside, dozing in the darkness. Suddenly, without
warning, the fabric of time and space was rent asunder and the Glory of the
Lord shone about them (Luke 2). Sometimes the Lord breaks through into our
mundane existence and like the shepherds we fear. The glory of the Lord reveals
reality. We see our filthy rags. In His stringent light we understand our
abysmal failure. But, God surprises.
He
intervenes to save, not destroy. 10 An the Angel said, “Fear not, for
behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the
Lord.” Luke 2:10-11. God did not set His face toward Bethlehem and travel all
that way to destroy. He came to save. We need not fear. His arrival brings good
news of great joy. Our dreary mundane existence is not our ultimate end. His
Light shines into our darkness, not only revealing our desperate need, but also
the way to Him. He comes bringing joy and peace.
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