Advent is a time when we think about the coming of Christ and the promise that this arrival brings. But the danger of Advent is resigning to inaction as we wait.
Total independence is a myth. You need an ark to return to from time to time, a community to connect with, a little reliable infrastructure somebody else created.
Isaiah images a used heaven and a used earth. Bins of swords are dug out from behind the old 45s and turned into plows. The tools of war are put to better use at a bargain price.
The start of Advent lays bare the world’s pain, without which there would be no reason for God’s coming. No reason for angels singing. No reason for prophets preaching.
Take a break today – maybe for the entire Advent season – from concepts and lists, from judgments and bickering. Only wonder. Fall to your knees at the wonder of it all.
Who do we want to be in these times? How are we prepared to show up as the church? This time of uncertainty allows a freedom of ideas, hopes and possibilities.
‘Abide’ might just be the saving word for this age of rupture. So much discarded duty. So many abandoned promises. To continue, to hang in, to last, to stick, to abide is rare.
I’ve been reinventing Thanksgiving for almost a decade, celebrating what I can and reframing the rest. I give thanks for this moment, this day, this life.
Given the bitter wrangling of this past election cycle, love for one another is still our most pressing need. That love places our common concerns above all partisan rivalries.
God could have created us like little house cats. We wouldn’t ever get outside but we’d be brushed, babied, and loved. Instead, God put this little cat flap on the garden’s door.
We know Pharaoh’s playbook. And we must see our place in resisting it. It’s time to summon courage in ways we may never have imagined. We must fear God more than Pharaoh.
I know God’s ways are not my ways, but it still throws me for a loop that God is a storm as often as God is a silence. That God is an eruption as often as God is a stillness.
Humans are wired for connection and touch. So what is a human to do when drawing near is both what we most need and, in an age of pandemic, what might end us?
I believe Jesus would say cancel culture has not gone far enough. ‘If any want to become my followers, they must cancel themselves, take up their cross and follow.’
I hope our children remember the hymn’s line: Somos del buen Dios. ‘We belong to God’ or literally, ‘We are of a good God.’