An Advent Prayer

“. . . you’ve hidden these things from the wise and intelligent and have shown them to babies. Indeed, Father, this brings you happiness.”   Matthew 11:25-26

Loving God, don’t let me be so wise,

so intelligent, so busy, so practical, that I miss

the miracle before me. Do not let my heart grow numb,

unable to muster awe and wonder and love.

Keep me from the cynics, the complainers,

the rushing-arounders who have no time and

no use for a tree full of joy,

gifts given in love, or the sparkle in a child’s eye.

May I find a silent night, or several,

in which to sit with The Story,

in which to enter it afresh.

Light the Christ candle in my heart today and throughout

this season, that I may be aglow with your love

and presence. May my heart

be a welcoming womb for your Great Gift to us.

O come Emmanuel. Amen.

Listening

1 Samuel 3:1-10

I’m here.

Listening. It’s enough

for me that you know

I’m here.

Listening.

Lenten Prayers

This Lent, I am working through a book entitled Writing to God: 40 Days of Praying With my Pen. Each day, I am given a scripture, and then am invited to write a prayer. I'll be posting many, if not all, of my prayers here as time and internet access permit.

I pray for you a meaningful Lenten journey.

Ash Wednesday

Ezekiel 37:1-3

The valley, bowl of bones

prompts tears. I see

my life scattered there,

chipped, broken, dry.

How did I survive?

Harsh sun beat down

severe, unyielding.

Looking closer I see

ground beneath watered by

unseen Source, soaking,

seeping up, easing the dryness,

cupping the brokenness,

soothing, sustaining, shielding.

Can these bones live? Ah,

already they are coming to life!

Butterfly

Nothing of the old remains.

A life utterly new, not a rebirthing

but birth, a first birth—

like all first births, painful,

bloody, forced upheaval marks

its occurrence.

The caterpillar’s soul longed to fly.

What seemed an impossibility

instead is deep truth.

Advent Words

More than any year I can recall, this year I have resonated deeply with the words of Advent. The lectionary texts have inspired me, particularly those that speak of one who will come and make things right, who will overcome evil and bring rest to the weary, who will upend the world’s values of power and influence and bring a kingdom where gentleness and goodness prevail. The recurring encouragement to not be afraid has been what I needed to hear.

Each week as I’ve reflected on the words accompanying the Advent candle for that week—hope, peace, joy and love—the themes have worked their way into my spirit. Daily I’ve considered what they mean for me, particularly with regard to the unsettledness in my life and in the world this year.

And the words of two Advent hymns have been on almost continuous loop in my head: Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus and People, Look East. The first speaks to my own desire to be freed from the fears that arise in difficult times as well as my longing for Christ. The second hymn, People, Look East has been a recent find for me, and, probably because I like birds so much, the third verse has been a favorite:

                Birds, though you long have ceased to build, guard the nest that must be filled.

                Even the hour when wings are frozen, God for fledging time has chosen.

                People, look east and sing today. Love, the bird, is on the way.

The reminder that God comes in unlikely times and seasons encourages me to remain hopeful and watchful, because God doesn’t work in predictable or even reasonable (as we think of reasonable) ways. After all, it was an unwed young woman that God chose to be the mother of Jesus, and an elderly woman was chosen to be the mother of John the Baptist.

When life is difficult, when we earnestly try to live a faithful life only to be misunderstood, criticized or bullied, we truly cry, “Come, Lord Jesus!” When illness, vocational uncertainty, death or broken relationships weigh heavily on us, we long for the coming of a savior to guide us, heal us and comfort us in our sorrow. And even if things are good for us now, we hear the message of Advent for those who are not in an easy stage of life. Savoring the words of Advent prepares us to celebrate Christmas with deep joy and faith, to know that God’s inbreaking in the world changes everything.

Looking Up

Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they came to the tomb. They were saying to each other, “Who’s going to roll the stone away from the entrance for us?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away. (And it was a very large stone!)     Mark 16:2-3

Three women, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, arrive at the tomb where Jesus’ body was laid. They are busy discussing how to get into the tomb, because when they were last at the tomb, on the Friday of Jesus’ death, they saw the stone put in place and knew it was more than they could move themselves.

I know I am often so busy looking down, limiting my vision to what I know, to what is seen, that I forget to look up, to be open to how God can transcend my limited ways of being and doing. Looking down limits what I can see. When I look up, my vision is expanded greatly.

As I thought about the difference that looking up makes, I recalled an experience I witnessed many years ago. It was about this time of year, a time when cedar waxwings migrate back through Georgia toward their summer home. A holly bush beside the parking lot outside my office window was shaking from the number of waxwings filling its branches and eating the red berries. Even with the distance my window was from the bush, I could hear the faint peeping of the birds. I watched a coworker pull up in his car, parking right in front of the bush. He got out of the car, never looking up, and walked into the building. When I asked him later if he had seen the birds, he had no idea what I was talking about!

During Lent, a friend shared a prayer about looking at others with enough attention to notice the color of their eyes. If we are looking down, we may be unable to see the face of God in the faces of those in front of us, we may miss the wonders of nature that our Creator has placed around us, and we may not see that the stone has been rolled away, as the three women only experienced when they looked up.

The stone is rolled away! God made a way when way was not possible for others to see. God is still rolling stones away for those who can see God’s work in the world. The Kingdom of God is among us and beyond us! Are we looking up to see it?

Cedar Waxwings

In the fall and again in the spring, cedar waxwings migrate through our area. And every fall and spring, I get excited by the prospect of their visit. I walk looking up when I hear their gentle peeping, craning my neck to find them. They are such elegant, sleek birds, made all the more special because they aren’t permanent residents here.

Yesterday, the space outside my office window was aflutter with them. They flew back and forth from tree to tree, feeding on the abundant holly berries in our church courtyard. In our prayer room down the hall the hollies cover the window and I stood watching for almost half an hour as the cedar waxwings flew in and out of the bushes, feasting on the berries. I thought about the passage from Matthew where Jesus uses the birds as his example of how God provides what we need:

Therefore, I say to you, don’t worry about your life, what you’ll eat or what you’ll drink, or about your body, what you’ll wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds in the sky. They don’t sow seed or harvest grain or gather crops into barns. Yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Aren’t you worth much more than they are? (Matthew 6:25-26)

When you really stop and think about cedar waxwings or any bird, it’s hard not to be amazed. They know what they need to survive and thrive, and, if we don’t mess things up for them, they have food and shelter. Many are decked out in incredible colors and patterns, and if that were not enough, their songs are their praise to the One Who provides for them.

May birds remind us all of God’s abundant love for us and for all creation. May we in turn thank God by trusting God and by caring for all that God has made and entrusted to us. And may we rest in God’s provision, taking a cue from cedar waxwings to feast on the life God has given to us.

Cold Turkey

The holidays are here. Beginning with Thanksgiving, the season of setting the bar too high is upon us. What should be a time of joy and wonder often dissolves into frustration and unmet expectations. The season can be a time of peace and anticipation if we choose to approach it with a sense of expectancy rather than expectation. While these two words sound similar, they could not be more different.

Expectancy implies unknowing. We wait with a certain amount of breathless anticipation and wonder for what might happen. Expectation, on the other hand, is a preconceived notion of what will happen. Expectancy lives in mystery. Expectation lives in concreteness. Expectancy welcomes surprise. Expectation hates surprise.

Last week we celebrated Thanksgiving. I had purchased the turkey and was planning a meal that could be easily prepared in an unfamiliar kitchen. We were traveling to my parents’ house in Tennessee, which we have been cleaning up since my dad, who was my last surviving parent, died last year. While I wasn’t looking forward to the work we would be doing, I was glad to have the opportunity to spend time with one of our sons. But because I’ve been facilitating an Advent study, where the Sunday prior to Thanksgiving we had talked about approaching the season with a sense of expectancy rather than expectation, I sought to practice expectancy toward Thanksgiving.

So when I discovered that my son’s plans had changed, I was not disappointed. My husband suggested we do turkey sandwiches, so we could focus our energy on our cleaning project, which was the reason for our trip to Tennessee. On our way to my parents’ house, we stopped at a favorite store in Chattanooga and bought some good bakery bread, deli turkey and a delicious pumpkin pie. Purchasing our dinner was great fun, because the store was offering samples of different pies and we tried all the different ones before deciding which one to buy.

Because we approached the holiday with a sense of expectancy, we enjoyed our meal, we enjoyed being with each other, and we made a good memory in the midst of a different way of celebrating Thanksgiving. Had we had a certain expectation for the celebration, we would surely have been disappointed. Expectancy allowed us to be fully present in the moment, and to savor it with joy!

I invite you to approach the season, and frankly, all of life, with a sense of expectancy, not expectation. Let expectancy become a spiritual practice and allow yourself to encounter God and others with freshness and wonder.