[springlist] The Blessing of Helplessness

The clouds softly enclose the sky on this sleepy Saturday morning. For some
reason, I’ve always loved cloudy gray days. They seem a little like my
personality, relaxed and gently ambling along without a driving need to be
anywhere in particular—just happy to be. Today I’m happy to be reclining and
writing, and as I write, my blood enjoys a cleansing through the miracle of
dialysis.

Just above my right breast two small valves or ports connect to two tubes
running to and from the dialysis machine. My blood flows out one tube into
the machine through a series of twist and turns down through a filter and
into another tube that connects back to my chest. In the process,
potentially harmful chemical levels are readjusted and if I have too much
liquid in my system, it is removed.

If I had this same condition less than 100 years ago, I would probably be
dying as the toxins continued to build with no means of adjusting them. God
in His unfathomable goodness choose that I might live at this point in time
and thus enjoy the benefits of a machine.

There are a variety of people sitting in this room with me. Most are at
least 30 years older than me. One man holds his head and softly moans with a
grimace of pain clenching his face. He recently had surgery on both feet as
a result of bone problems associated with kidney disease.

According to one of the patients, this man made a fortune out West. I don’t
know what he did for living but apparently his hard work and ingenuity paid
great dividends, and he enjoyed great wealth. Here’s a man who once could
have anything he wanted, and now someone decides what he can do, where he
sits and even how much he can drink. He cannot even stand up by himself. Two
emergency workers must help him into a wheelchair. I feel sorry him and pray
for him some days because he always seems quite miserable.

As I look around the room, I notice one common thing about each person in
here. We’re all a bit helpless. All of us rely on machines to keep our
bodies working properly. All of us depend on nurses and doctors to take care
of us and in one sense keep us alive.

As the human body ages and when serious physical ailments require medical
assistance, the illusions of independence are stripped away. This state of
helplessness can be just as difficult and maybe more so than the actual
physical problem.

I grew up in a John Wayne world. As tough, self-reliant cowboy, he could
face any difficulty with guts and gusto. His character Rooster Cogburn was
crippled in one leg and had a patch over one eye, yet he was still tough as
nails. The world did not intimidate Rooster and he boldly confronted every
challenge with fierce resolve.

This independent, rough and ready cowboy fed the American myth of the
self-made individual who is unshakeable and can conquer the world through
vim and vigor.

And it is simply not true. All of us stand helpless before the world.
Regardless of wealth, education, and physical prowess, we’re not really that
different. Everyone one of us is completely helpless and every one of us
will die. Helplessness is just more obvious in some people than in others.

In a given day, every one of us relies on probably hundreds, if not
thousands, of other people for survival. When I awake to an alarm clock, I
rely on the engineers who designed that clock, the factory workers who built
that clock, the truck drivers who transported that clock, the sales person
who sold the clock and most likely the electric company who powers the
clock. In reality, this is just of few of the people who helped assure that
clock would wake me up on time for work.

As I take a shower, I rely on the persons who invented indoor plumbing, laid
the water lines, installed the plumbing, and work at the water company. By
the time I reach breakfast, I’ve already depended on a wide range of people
to get my morning started, and as the day progresses, I will rely on a host
more of unseen, unnamed people who will provide my essential needs and make
my life more comfortable.

But what about the hermit in the mountains or the person on the desert
island? They could actually live alone for years with relying on one other
human being, eating directly from the land. Aren’t they self-sufficient?
Think about it, they cannot possibly generate the food or water that will
sustain them. They get water from springs or wells and food from the land.
They are still totally dependent on the land, the sun, the air and the
water.

Whether we acknowledge it or not, all of us are completely dependent. To
survive we depend on other people, on the earth and on God. This dependence,
this helplessness is not a curse at all—it’s a gift. This gift teaches us
that we are not alone and have never been alone.

If we were alone, we could not exist. We are created for relationship. The
varied web of relationships that sustain each of us is far larger than most
of us ever imagined. It circles the world. It extends back in time to
ancient ages. It is bigger and more mysterious than anything we could
observe or chart or fully grasp. And yet it is so easy to fall into the
arrogant illusion of self-sufficiency.

If we but grasped our helplessness, we might fall on our knees in gratitude:
to the sun above and earth below, to the countless people seen and unseen
that meet our continual needs, and most of all to God who sustains all
things and all people (saint and sinner alike) by a love beyond measure.

So as I sit here connected for four hours to a dialysis machine, I can only
respond in thanksgiving for those who’ve made this possible. I invite you
into my helplessness. Not into a sickness or physical malady but into a
realization of our total dependence upon one another. And with that mindset
into a continual stream of thanksgiving for the blessings that overtake us
each moment.

Instead of continually wondering why our lives are not better, we might
cultivate a mindset that wonders why our lives have been so good, so
blessed, and so overwhelmingly wonderful. In so doing, we might begin to
acknowledge the treasures that surround. Instead of complaining for slow
service at restaurant, we might thank the server for their time and effort
in meeting our need. We might thank the clerk in the store, we might thank
the boss who employs us, we might thank the officer who protects us, we
might thank the teachers who instruct us, we might look around with fresh
eyes at the innumerable blessings surrounding us each moment.

And most of all, we might thank God who owes us nothing and yet blesses us
continually whether we are good and evil.

Grace and Peace,

Doug Floyd

http://www.springoflight.org/

"You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find
rest in You."
St. Augustine

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[springlist] Kidney Update

I am so blessed to have friends who have encouraged and prayed for me in the
midst of my kidney challenges. I have not experienced the stress associated
with such a physical condition, but rather I’ve felt the joy and peace of
being surrounded by loving people.

Some of you have asked about updates on my situation, so I thought I might
take a moment to share my current condition. This week is the third week of
dialysis. They put a catheter in my chest to serve as a temporary access
point. Next week I will have surgery on my arm to get a fistula for a more
permanent access.

I go to dialysis three times a week for four hours at a time. While a bit
time consuming, it gives me opportunity to read and write. The first couple
hours are not usually too bad but sometimes the last hour or two can get a
little tiresome. That’s when my blood pressure might drop or I might
experience a bit of cramping. While there are a few physical effects, I
cannot complain. This whole experience has been saturated in grace and
peace.

My doctors are cautious, and that’s why they sent me to ER last week. They
wanted to make sure my catheter was causing any serious problems.

In a couple weeks, Kelly and I will begin training to do home dialysis. To
help prepare, we’ve been overwhelmed with people volunteering to help
convert our basement into a suitable clinic area. Everywhere I turn I have
been blessed and I can only extend thanksgiving to the Lord and to the many
wonderful people he has placed in my life.

Thank again for your thoughts and prayers and may the Lord overwhelm each of
you with His goodness.

Grace and Peace,

Doug Floyd

http://www.springoflight.org/

"You have made us for yourself, and our hearts are restless until they find
rest in You."
St. Augustine

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A Few Updates

Here are few unrelated tidbits.

Jeremy Floyd has some interesting comments on China and the rise of the creative class in America.

I'm reading a new book by NT Wright called Simply Christian. This is sort of a popular synopsis from some of his scholarly works on Jesus and Paul. In one sense it is an apologetic for Christianity much like CS Lewis's Mere Christianity. Wright uses many of the question circulating in our culture today to discuss his faith. He weaves his discussion of faith through four primary topics: Justice, Beauty, Spirituality and Relationships. Along the way, he demonstrates how these interwined longings all disappoint. We fail in our quest to realize perfection in each of these areas. I would hand this book to anyone to introduce my faith. I highly recomend it and encourage Christians and non-Christians alike to read to see how some Christians might articualte their faith in ways that avoid some of the typical categories.

Still on a quest to discover indie Christian aritsts. If anyone has any reocmendations, send them my way. Here is another one I've been checking out:

16 Horsepower - The brainchild of David Eugene Edwards. Folk, appalachian, fiere and brimestone rock. Interesting. Makes me kind of think of the intensity of the Call.

Ark of the Covenant

So much time has passed that some wondered if the ark would ever return. Layers of ancient history clouded its disappearance, some said it disappeared after Solomon, others said it was taken by the Babylonians. The ark of the covenant was gone and only a miracle could bring it back.

The ark served as a continual reminder of God’s presence among his people. Inside this golden chest lay the tablets God gave to Moses, a jar of manna from the wilderness and Aaron’s rod that budded. All served as reminder of the great Exodus when God took His people out an empire and into a covenant.

The tablets contained the “ten,” that is the commands that defined this covenant people. The manna was the wondrous bread that sustained the ancient Hebrews as they crossed the wilderness. And the rod budded as an indication that Aaron was chosen to be high priest on behalf of the people.

These sacred objects stored in this sacred box all pointed to the God that kept covenant with His people. Considered holy, the ark was not to be even touched by human hands. Everywhere they went, the Levites carried the ark before the people on rods.

The ark led them across the wilderness. The ark led them through the Jordan river. The ark even led them in victory against Jericho. The ark always led the way as a continual reminder that the Hebrews were “a people in covenant with God.” The ark rested in the Holiest room of the tabernacle. This room was likened to the third heaven.

Once the Philistines captured the ark, but after one failed attempt, David restored it. He brought it back to Israel in grand procession with singing and dancing. The victorious king vanquished their enemies and restored the ark back to the holy mountain. But not Sinai. David put the ark on Mount Zion and forever established it as God’s holy mountain.

But those days of promise were so long ago. The glory days faded, and all that remained was a dull tarnish of dashed dreams. Israel broke the covenant again and again and again. The nation was divided, attacked captured and eventually led into exile.

Somewhere along the way, the ark vanished. And with it, the sense of God’s presence had left the people. Forced to serve under various oppressors, the Hebrews lived in an endless twilight, awaiting deliverance, awaiting for another David to return. Then their oppression would be cast off, their exile would end and the temple would be fully restored with the ark of God’s presence.

Three times a year, the people made festal processions up the mountain to celebrate God’s delivering hand. Three times a year, they reenacted the ark’s journey across the wilderness and the procession up the Holy Mountain. Three times a year they remembered the covenant God struck with their forefathers. They times a year, they dreamed and hoped of another day.

The time for their Passover procession approached, but this year, another procession was already in motion. The ark had returned and was traveling through the city and up the Holy Mountain. Instead of war stead, this warrior king rode a donkey. But he had come to claim the Davidic promise. He had come to end the exile. He had come to break the rod of the oppressor. He had come to restore the temple. He had come to put the ark back on the Holy Mountain.

But where was the ark? He didn’t lead a band of Levites with the ark on rods. Where was the ark?

He was the ark. Jesus was the ark of the covenant.

Jesus entered the city with shouts of Hosanna and crowds cheering in a festal procession. He was the ark for he himself bore the presence of God in the midst of the people. He himself bore the covenant in his body. He spoke as one having authority for He was the living law of the covenant. He came as sustenance for the soul because He was the living manna. He came bearing Aaron’s rod, for he was the true High Priest of Israel.

But just as David learned, the ark could only be set in place with sacrifice, so Jesus also brought the sacrifice required to restore the ark to its proper position. He became the sacrifice. For He himself was the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. Jesus the great High Priest offered Himself the Lamb of God as sacrifice and then Jesus the living ark of the covenant was restored to Mount Zion.

Only Mount Zion had changed. It was no longer a city in old Jerusalem but a city in the new Jerusalem, the city of the firstborn, the faithful in Christ Jesus, the people called out to worship God—not in a place but in spirit and truth. With ark of God’s presence set among his called out people in Christ Jesus, we are the mountain to which all nations will stream. For out from his people flows the living water that brings healing to the world.

As we proceed through Holy Week, we fix our eyes on the joy before us: the presence of God among His people in Christ Jesus. This is not simply a yearly celebration, but in reality every week we make the festal procession. Each Lord’s Day, we celebrate the ark being restored to Mt Zion with songs of rejoicing, and we encounter the law of the covenant, the heavenly manna and the great High Priest—all embodied in Jesus Christ.

Let us rejoice this Holy Week, for we are traveling to the Holy City to rejoice once more in the joyous presence of God, resting among His people.

Music of Joy

In the desert, we learn the mystery of walking in joy in spite of hunger, thirst and any other perceived lack. For in the desert, we learn the dance of trust. We follow and the Lord leads us in a dance that world has never seen. Though we long to lead, we must learn to follow. He gently guides us through each step of the dance. And in the process, we become the music.

I’ve shared many times over the past year about the various challenges related to my 25-year battle with Chronic Kidney Disease. This next week, I begin a new step in the dance. Tomorrow I will have surgery for a temporary port to begin immediate dialysis. With the plans to eventually transfer that process to my arm.

This could and probably should be a time for concern, and yet even as the doctor made plans this last week, I felt a complete sense of peace. I realized then more than ever that I was being carried by the prayers of God’s people.

In this dance of joy that He has called us to, we encourage one another. We build up one another. We bear one another’s burdens. And we share in one another’s joy. The reality of this community of faith stuck deep in my soul, and I felt complete peace.

As one dear brother said, “a page is turning, same author, same book, just a new page.” So I rest in the goodness of God and in the collective prayers of His people. Instead of dread, there is expectancy. Our God is good and greatly to be praised. Thank you for those who prayed for me and I appreciate your continued prayers. God is a most faithful and loving dance partner.

Sitting in a coffee shop recently, I penned the following words. It’s not really poem, but it is something that expresses the wonder of humans moving across this earth.

We move across the face of the deep.
And as we move, music.

Wisps of words swirling and spinning in a gentle dance between lover and beloved.
Monstrous, giant shouting words, pounding hearts and souls like tempered steel.
Cackling, hackling, chuckling words giggling in playful chaos.
Crying, aching, groaning words beyond words leaking through cracked and crushed hearts.
Searching, grasping, longing words hoping that one small sound might echo back to the lonely yearning heart.

Gentle, caressing arms encircling and clasping two bodies as one.
Sure and strong arms holding steady day after day after day.
Throbbing, sweating working arms carrying the weight of this world.
Pounding, shaping, building arms erecting and repairing places and possibilities.

Scraping, clicking and clacking feet play the wooden floors and gravel lots, paved parking lots and mountain trails.
Tap, tap, tapping feet dancing in place to the silent tune that the heart endlessly pumps.
Walking, running, traveling feet heading from here to there and back again.
Stomping, jumping and thumping feet raging on innocent earth.

And Breathing.
Raspy, graspy breathing lusting for air and for life.
Steady breathing.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Oxygen and light filling soul with smiles and sunshine.

We move across the face of the deep.
And as we move, music.

We Were made for Joy

We were made for joy.

for laughter
for songs
for dancing in the rippling streams
for gazing into the wondrous glory of sun-crowned mountains
for hearing earth’s perpetual plainchant, steadily drumming, “Holy, Holy, Holy”
for witnessing the wonder of rushing rivers crashing across ancients stones
for walking through tender spring grass glistening with morning dew
for harmony
for hilarity

We were made for light.

Sung into being by the breath of the Holy Lover, we awakened in an Eden of delightful bliss.

And yet the joystreams of our earthly journey evaporated in the desert’s soul-boring sun.

We still stumble across a wasteland of regrets and unfulfilled expectations looking for something that might give us even a glimpse of goodness and glory.

Desire drives us forward, as we seek to possess that joy, that unfailing happiness, that elusive longing that plagues our heart. We feed the yearning with movies and food and fun and cars and jewelry and sex and anything that can yield but a moment’s flash of possible delight.

Like Adam and Eve grasping for a fruit that was not a gift, our desire will possess anything and everything—including God. If we could actually possess God, we would devour him. Or possibly cage Him and make Him come out and satisfy our cravings. Plato thought we might even kill him. St. Stephen said we did.

There is a love greater than desire. There is a love that conquers desires. There is a love that cannot be possessed and yet cannot be resisted. There is a love that dwells in unapproachable light.

This supreme love, this supreme good is beyond all earthly good. It cannot be moved, drained, controlled or corrupted by human desire. This love entered human history in Jesus. Jesus’ love conquered human desire by yielding to it. He allowed the dark desires of humanity to kill him. But even in dying His love refused to let go.

And thus, we follow Him into death. Our desire, our Eros, our compulsion is crucified. Love wraps around the human heart and draws it to death. And in dying we live, and love. Love breathes freshly into the newborn soul, and we learn to dance again, to sing again, to play again. We grow back to innocence and wonder and, joy. Joy. Joy. Joy unspeakable.

We were made for joy.

River of joy

My hero, Richard Wurmbrand, spent fourteen years of his life in prison being tortured for his faith. He tells the story of being so discouraged for the abuses heaped on him that he could not pray. He could only dance. So he lifted his hands and danced an insane dance of joy before his Creator.

Joy comes from a river much deeper than the fickle streams of momentary situations. We draw water from the wells of salvation from a deep underground river that makes glad the city of God. This river of life is a river of healing, a river of joy, a river of peace, a river of liquid love. It washes our soul in the grace of God’s unending power.

Each of us face situations that will challenge us to draw from this river. The psalmist draws from this river. He meditates upon the Word day and night, and is thus like a tree planted by the river of living water. O that we might learn to eat the Word of God. There is strength for the weary and light for the dark in heart.

As most of you know, I’ve faced gradually increasing kidney problems for over twenty years. During that time, I sometimes struggled with feelings of doubt and fear. Again and again and again, I’ve found comfort in the Word of God.

Over the last year, my kidney function has decreased dramatically. Recently, I enjoyed a series of iron infusions to help combat anemia caused by this kidney problem. In the past year, I’ve registered with a transplant clinic, and now have been presented with the possibility of in-home dialysis. My doctor requested that Kelly and I learn about the various dialysis options, so we might be prepared to make a decision soon.

In the midst of such circumstances, I find my hope and my peace and my faith strengthened through the river of life flowing out from the Word of God. Lately, I’ve been reflecting on a passage in Psalm 92:

12 The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree,
He shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.
13 Those who are planted in the house of the LORD
Shall flourish in the courts of our God.
14 They shall still bear fruit in old age;
They shall be fresh and flourishing,
15 To declare that the LORD is upright;
He is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in Him.
Psalms 92:12-15

Don’t we desire that our life count for something? That we don’t live and die without making an impact? Here is a wonderful promise of God blessing his people and causing their lives to bear much fruit. It strengthens me in my own particular challenges. I may not see how all the details will be worked out day to day but He is at work and I can completely trust in His power and provision and purposes for my life.

And amazingly, in the midst of great challenges, I discover joy. Joy unspeakable. Each of us face challenges in life. It may relate to health issues or money issues or relational issues or other situations, but we are not alone. In the midst of our struggles, we can worry and fret and compare and question. Or we can trust. We can drink deeply from the fountain of life that never runs dry.

During this pilgrimage of Lent, may we all run to the spring of joy, of laughter, of strength, of healing, of unfathomable goodness. May the joy of the Lord truly be our strength.

Joy in the Desert

The hot sun makes cold water taste like heavenly nectar. Lent, like the hot sun, helps to magnify the wonder of God’s blessings in our lives. During this season, I’ve been trying to listen for the undercurrents of joy beneath the waves of Lenten humiliation. Even though Jesus warned the Pharisees about fasting with a long face, the human heart still likes to trumpet our sacrifices before the world.

As we face the darkness of the soul, and we recognize our desperate need for redemption, we might discover a laugh beneath the tears. Can joy and sorrow co-exist? Or should they ever be separated?

Sorrow without joy is the absence of hope, the loss of vision, the desperate spiral into darkness. Jesus went to the cross before the joy set before. So this season, I’ve been trying to spend time reflecting on the wonder and gift of joy. That’s why I’ve been a bit slow getting these meditations out. Hopefully, I can send a few more in the weeks ahead.

I’ve invited our little church along this journey, and I invite you to join the pilgrimage as well. Paul says that the kingdom of heaven is righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. How many of us live in the glorious wonder of the kingdom? And how many of us sink in the sands of discouragement, crying for deliverance from our promised lands?

Joy is gift that shines even brighter in the midst of suffering. Let us learn to uncover this hidden treasure buried beneath the deserts of this world.

Lenten Journey

Driven with zeal and passion to protect the Israel of God, Paul meets the God of Israel and is literally knocked off his horse. When the strength of God is revealed, the weakness of man is exposed. As a blind and helpless reformer, Paul stumbles into Damascus and awaits God’s healing grace in Ananias.

Paul’s whole life is characterized by God’s call from strength to weakness. From the womb of Israel’s power he is called into the prison of the powerless. Beaten, stoned, left for dead, this man of faith is stripped of all the illusions of power and success. Naked and humiliated by the love of God, Paul comes to know a love that cannot be shaken, cannot be stolen, cannot be measured, cannot be escaped.

In the place of death, Paul discovers a life that conquers death. He enters into the joy that is content whether he is hungry or well fed. He learns to drink of the living water that cannot run dry even in the middle of wilderness.

The challenge of the Lenten journey is drink from the fountain that never runs dry. Only the water of life can sustain in the heat of desert living. Thus the desert teaches us to settle for nothing less than the living water that springs from the rock. We cannot imitate this water, we cannot manufacture this water, we cannot market this water. We can only receive this water as gift and drink and rejoice and be thankful.

The desert teaches us gratitude. Like Paul, we stumble into our Damascus, awaiting healing grace from another Ananias who is faithful to the call to pour out living water to those in need. And like Ananias we pour out the living water, so graciously given to us.

And in the midst of a wilderness, we plant a vineyard.

Lenten Meditations

I am posting my lenten meditations thus far.

Blessed is the man whose strength is in You,
Whose heart is set on pilgrimage.
As they pass through the Valley of Weeping,
They make it a spring;
The rain also covers it with pools.
They go from strength to strength;
Each one appears before God in Zion.
Psalms 84:5-7

Every year, Lent reminds us that life is but a pilgrimage across a vast wilderness and into the light of God’s encircling love. The desert sun seems merciless as it penetrates the skin and exposes the soul. And yet, this fiery baptism is but another expression of love’s unending flow.

As we begin this Lenten journey, we being in weakness, in weariness, in thirst, in hunger, and yet in hope. During the days and weeks ahead, I hope to over a few reflections on our desert pilgrimage. I’m not trying to convince anyone that desert is real; when we’re honest, most of know firsthand the blinding reality of the wilderness.

Isaiah reminds us that even the young men will grow weary. The old grow weary because of age, but the young, who should know the fullness of vitality and courage, also grow weary in the midst of desert travel.

So I write to a few fellow travelers crossing the backside of a wilderness that seems to stretch on forever. During this Lenten season, may we learn with the Psalmist the delight of finding springs in the wilderness. And may we know the wonder and joy of going from strength to strength until each one appears before God in

New blog iffy

I put up the new blog on www.springoflight.org but I created it in iWeb and am not happy with the control. The rss doesn't link to the right xml (and I can't edit it). PLus a few other challenges. So for now, I'll keep the blog here until i come up with something else.

New Music, New Blog Coming

I'm in the process of updating my www.springoflight.org site. Should be sometimes in the next week or two. Then I'll move floydville over there, and will try to start using it more.

I discovered to new bands today that some people might like. The Danielson Famile. Delightful, quirky, and full of faith. Some these strange little tunes touchly me deeply.

Also, Page France. Great stuff. Check it out.

Another cool music tool is Pandora. They can help you discover some new tunes that are similar to your current tastes. Give them a whirl.

December 23 – O Emmanuel

December 23 – O Emmanuel

O Emmanuel: “O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver, desire of the nations, Savior of all people, come and set us free, Lord our God.”

The Lord reigns in holiness.

Isaiah sees the Lord. He is summoned into the courts of heaven to stand before the holy, holy, holy Lord of hosts. He does not fall in fear but screams in terror, “Woe is me!”
He is coming undone.

The great and terrible Lord of hosts dwells in unapproachable light. No human can behold Him and live. He is greater than power for He precedes power. There is no power than operates independent of His life. He alone holds all things together.

He is greater the all knowledge for He precedes knowledge. There is no thought beyond Him, for He anticipates every thought and is over and above all thinking.

There is no reference to describe the Holy Creator of all things. So how can we describe this Lord of Lords, the power, this person, this pure life that precedes all things? He chooses to give us language and ideas and images that help us to grasp Him, and yet our words and our imaginations simply cannot fully contain Him. He is always greater than.

And Isaiah knows firsthand the terror of failing into the hands of the living God.

This High and Lofty One who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy, dwells in the high and holy place, chooses also to “dwell with him who has a contrite and humble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to revive the heart of the contrite ones.”

In the mystery beyond mysteries, the Sovereign Lord, Creator of Heaven and Earth, chooses to dwell among humans and comes to be born in and from the virgin Mary. As the baby appears, He is both God and infant. Fully God, fully man. Who can grasp it?

O come let us adore Him.

This baby reveals the Creator in ways no one could have anticipated. He is a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Greeks. How can God be born?

Beholding the Son of Mary, we see the Son of God. Worshipping the Son of God, we behold the Father. And our eyes see and heart believes because the Holy Spirit who proceeds from the Father allows us. Emmanuel, God with us, reveals one God and three persons. We cannot contain the mystery, we cannot solve the mystery, but we can bow down and worship before the mystery. Our God is a loving community: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

O come let us adore Him.

This act of God becoming flesh, appearing as the baby Jesus, shakes human knowledge and delights the soul. The mystery and the beauty of the Triune God enraptures the heart and lets us a see just a glimpse of the dance of love that creates and sustains all things.

We could not storm the heavens. We could not approach the Holy One. We could not grasp the fullness of His beauty. All our paths of spirituality led and still lead around a winding mountain that never takes flight. We cannot go where He has not summoned. But He comes to us and reveals Himself to us in the baby Jesus. As St. Bonaventure says, in Jesus, He revealed “all He was, all He had, all He could.” Our as Saint Paul says, “He is the image of the invisible God.”

O come let us adore Him.

Through Jesus, God reveals Himself in the weakness of little baby, in trials of a desert sojourner, in the preaching of an impassioned prophet, in the power of a healer, in the crucifying of the King, and in the resurrected Son.

Let us be cautious for asking for more than Jesus. When we desire our own revelations, it may be a sign that we’ve never really beheld Him. He has given us the most personal, most powerful, most beautiful revelation of Himself by coming as Emmanuel. May we learn to gaze upon the glory of the Son.

He chose to reveal Himself in a particular person at particular place and a particular time. How can I grasp or even explain the glory of such a wondrous action, of such a miraculous birth?

O come let us adore Him.

There is a realization in most human hearts that the Creator is greater than our ideas. This often leads to an understanding that seeks to move beyond particularity to universality. We seek to transcend the limitations of this earth. We seek the break the illusion of the material world. So in one sense, it is easier to seek and discuss the abstract idea about God, because we realize no one thing can contain the limitlessness of God.

And yet, He choose reveal Himself in a particular person, at a particular time and in a particular place. In other words, He chooses to enter history. In so doing, He transforms history, He defines history. By His act, He reveals the value He places upon particularity. Every person, every moment and every place is significant and created according to His purpose. Nothing is by chance.

If I could but live in the reality of this one thought, it would change not only my Christmas but my every waking moment until death. Every moment is significant and according to His purpose. Every place is significant and created according to His purpose. Every person is significant and created according to His purpose.

Everywhere I turn, I am overwhelmed by His glory for His purpose is shining through all things. When I pass people in the stores, each person is significant. Every person passing by is created according to His purpose. Thus He is free to reveal His glory and beauty and love through every person I pass. O that I would learn to treasure particularity. Every time I meet someone, I should look into their eyes, behold them; stand in wonder of God’s marvelous workmanship. Behold this person created in the image of God.

O come let us adore Him.

God in His unsearchable wisdom chose not to destroy a wayward creation but to redeem it, to embrace it, to enter into it in a particular way. So that now by His grace alone, His glory shines freely in and through everything, and His image is revealed in every person. Evil is still here and sin still corrupts, but His love and His glory and His redeeming power cannot be stopped. All things will consummate in Him.

No words can contain or convey this grand vision. All that is left is worship.

So the O Antiphons have led us to the end of the Advent journey. According to Professor Robert Greenberg of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, if we can go backwards and consider each of the titles from the past seven days, we have Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapientia. The first letter from each name forms the acrostic “ero cras,” meaning, “Tomorrow, I will come.”

Let us hasten to Bethlehem and behold the birth of God. As we bow in worship, we proclaim to the waiting world:

“O come let us adore Him.”

December 22 – O Rex Gentium

December 22 – O Rex Gentium
O Rex Gentium: “O King of all the nations, the only joy of every human heart; O Keystone of the mighty arch of man, come and save the creature you fashioned from the dust.”

The earliest ornament I remember seeing is a small, brown plastic triangle-shaped nativity with sparkles on the roof and a little scene inside the stable. They came in all shapes and sizes, and we had every variation in virtually every room.

Today a large porcelain nativity greets us in our foyer complete with shepherds, wise men, animals, hay, a well, Joseph, Mary and the baby. Our imagination places all these characters together even though the gospel stories do not. This tradition of creating a composite nativity dates at least back to the eleventh century and maybe earlier.

While most of our contemporary nativities focus on the main characters, Italian village nativities may include a host of other characters. They recreate a miniature Italian village humming with activity. There are hundreds of figurines including craftsman, village people, and more. It is as though Jesus is born in the midst of the busy activity of life.

These nativities may not accurately represent the way the story unfolds, but they do reveal a truth deep within the gospel story. The baby Jesus holds the scene together, and in Him the kings and shepherds, rich and poor, the Jew and Gentile are joined together.

This newborn King, attended by great and small alike, fulfills the very idea of king. Up until his birth, all kings were simply imperfect types. When he appears, the archetype appears and kingship is fulfilled completely in Jesus. The baby in the manger wields the power of heaven and earth. Wise men recognize this one having authority and bow down, offering homage to the source of their rule.

By claiming His throne through the cross, this king claims every throne. This king will claim all power and all rule and all wisdom and all grace and all might. In so doing, He will remove the walls of separation. We celebrate, and rightly so, the wall of separation he removed between humans and God. In Him alone, do we enjoy the mystery of the communion of love revealed in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Even as he removed the wall separating God and humans, he removed the wall between one human and another. A clear and definite wall existed between the Jews and the Gentiles, forbidding the Jews to have relationship with the Gentiles. Jesus removes that wall and literally forms one new man of Jew and Gentile alike.

At the same time, he removes the wall between all humans. Ultimately, sin isolates every person from every other person and true communion is impossible. The existentialists saw and felt this separation more deeply than most. In spite talking nonstop, we cannot penetrate the wall between us. We can sit in the same room and sleep in the same bed and still are separated by an uncrossable divide.

How could we ever hope to have peace between nations when we cannot even maintain peace between two human beings? We seem hopelessly separated by islands of thought. We use the same words but experience completely different worlds.

In the mystery of His rule, King Jesus enters into the breach between one soul and another. By the power of His Spirit, he binds us together. Our words do not simply drop into a void but the wind of the Spirit blows through our words and we enliven one another.

And now we speak of a mystery. The binding of two souls in one relationship points to the mystery of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit in perfect, delightful communion.

Some feeling the weight of separation and dualism in this world, embrace the idea that we are all part of the same substance: it is only illusion that separates. I believe it is sin the separates us not only from God but also from one another.

Evil must be overcome. And King Jesus breaks the power of evil through His own life, death and resurrection. He invites us to sup with Him and with one another. By His grace alone, we are transformed to living by the flow of love. By His grace alone, can we enjoy true communion with God and one another.

From time to time, we experience but a glimpse of this perfect harmony of love in our worship and in our conversations, in our art, and in our relationships. These glimpses stir us to strain forward toward the day of His appearing when love will be made complete.

All things have been made in Him and all things will be gathered together in him. In the end, our nativities that bring together shepherd and wise men and craftsman and villagers will become reality and all will behold a cosmic nativity before the King of the past, present and future. The King who is all in all: over all, in all, exceeding all, sustaining all, filling all, ruling all.

O come let us adore Him.

December 21 – O Oriens

O Oriens: “O Radiant Dawn, splendor of eternal light, sun of justice: come, shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.”

In the deep dark of human depravity, the Son dawns. Light bursts up and out from the tiny babe and radiates the warmth of uncreated love. The Son has come and nothing will ever be the same.

Every tiny detail of His life illuminates the human heart with a love supreme. From His miraculous birth to His hidden childhood, from His impassioned preaching and healing ministry to His death, burial and resurrection, the Son reveals the beauty of the Lord.

This light shining and overcoming darkness is the standard of all that is beautiful. Without light, no beauty. Without light, nothing. Without light, formlessness and void. Light reveals shape, color, harmony, as well as the lack of shape, color and harmony.

Light exposes and defines all things. Thus light creates and reveals the distinction of each particular thing but it also integrates all particular things into a harmonious whole. Thus moving away from the light, the soul dis-integrates, stumbling into nothingness and chaos.

We were created for the light of His glory and in the deepest recesses of our hearts we long to behold His beauty. Like the psalmist we cry, “Whom have I in heaven but you O Lord, and to be near you, I desire nothing on earth.”

His beauty satisfies a hunger that cannot be fed outside Him. “One thing I have asked of the Lord, “One thing I have desired of the LORD, that will I seek: That I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in His temple.” (Psalms 27:4)

The longing to behold the babe in the manger reveals the ever-longing heart’s desire to catch a glimpse of the beauty of the Lord. It is the beauty of the Lord that converts the soul: not morality lessons. It is the beauty of the Lord that transforms the mind: not rational discourse. It is the beauty of the Lord that calls us and strengthens us to love and be loved in return.

We may build a tower of words that give us some sense of mastery and control in this world, but deep inside we long for more: we long for the beauty of the Lord. Beauty converted the great saints of old. Augustine beheld a love beyond love and his soul found a rest beyond rests, so that he could utter, “My heart is restless until it rests in Thee.”

Thomas Aquinas spent a lifetime defending the faith. With brilliant erudition, He argued line upon line for the canons of the church. His voluminous writings established a way and thinking and responding to all the world. And yet, this genius of a man beheld just a glimpse of the glory of God, and he was speechless.

He uttered, “I’ve seen the Lord, and all that I’ve written is but dust.” So enraptured by the beauty of the Lord, this gentle giant quit writing and could only stare into the stunning wonder God’s love until he left this earth.

Jonathan Edwards, the great American philosopher, says the beauty of the Lord led him to repentance. It was the beauty of the Lord that captured His heart and broke his heart at the same time. In the majesty and splendor of Jesus’ love, we become aware of how desperately disintegrated and damaged we are by the ugliness of evil.

When Luther cries that he is a mere bag of bones, it simply because he has seen a glory that exceeds any beauty the heart could imagine and he is left to acknowledge his own deep deficiencies.

When we are blind, we simply have no grasp of the reality and repercussions of our deeds. But in the light of His love, we begin to realize the damage we have done and continue to do. Like ripples in a pond, our actions set in motion a chain of actions.

We honk at another person on the highway who happens to be having stressful day already. The honk irritates them and further worsens their mood, so that they are impatient and unkind to the clerk at the drive-in window. She has been having a bad day because of the impatient anger of every customer, combined with the problems of her own life. In her tears, she argues with the manager and then goes home early. And on and on the rippling effects of small offenses continue tear at the very heart of this world.

In a world that perpetuates pain, we long for healing and wholeness. We long to behold the beauty of the Lord. The beauty of His holiness binds up the broken-hearted and the broken world. The beauty of His holiness transforms us, creating ripples of love and harmony.

In the dark before Christmas, may we stretch toward the light, crying out for a vision of the Beautiful One. This is not simply an apparition or some earthly vision of the Lord, but rather it is the inward light of Jesus’ glory revealed by the grace of the Holy Spirit. As his beauty and glory shines into our hearts, our eye is filled with light and all we see is light. Then the wonder of this world returns, and everywhere we turn, we catch but a glimpse of His unfolding glory all around us.

And in joyous we wonder we sing, “O come let us adore Him.”

Advent - December 19 and 20

December 19, 2005 –
O Radix Jesse
“O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.”

December 20, 2005
O Clavis David
“O Key of David, O royal Power of Israel controlling at your will the gate of Heaven: Come, break down the prison walls of death for those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death; and lead your captive people into freedom.”

Note: I combined Dec 19th and 20th.
The child in me is awash in wonder. Each room in our house radiates with magical decorations that stay hid most of the year. An army of snowman stands atop our bookshelves. Santas of every shape, size and even race line our mantle. Pine branches, cotton snow, and red baubles surround our Santas as small lights encircle this scene in an enchanted, hazy glow.

There’s a sleigh with a gingerbread couple traveling to their gingerbread house. Two giant nutcrackers guard the fireplace, and tiny little French horns appear ready to announce marvelous news.

Each room of the house welcomes Christmas characters. There are snowmen, Santas, reindeers, nutcrackers, stars, bears, angels, and even penguins.

This year we even hung bellows of pine garland from the ceiling of our dining room complete with lights and ribbons and baubles. If time and money allowed, I might just turn every square inch of our home into a dreamy wonderland. In the foyer, giving energy to all the other decorations stands a large nativity.

Outside, the leaves have fallen, the grass is brown, and the intense colors of last year’s spring have faded into a brownish, greenish mix. Winter is coming and the world is dying. When the world reminds us of death, we respond with symbols of life, filling our homes with evergreens and childlike images of endless youth.

This is one way we resist the inevitable march of death. Humans, unlike other creatures, do not automatically yield to the natural progression of things. Like Dylan Thomas, we will “not go gentle into that good night.” We fight with stories, with medicine, with art and most of all with children. Every time humans give birth we are resisting the power of death.

The child is not merely another creature that must fend for itself. The child carries our stories, our hopes, our dreams, and our lineage into the future. Death’s power cannot withstand the mystery of generations. If one story can pass through the generations, death is challenged.

One people who understood the power of generations to overcome death were the ancient Hebrews. Unwilling to accept stories of endless cycles, they told their story in linear progression. They saw continuity from one generation to another. It was as though they were moving forward on a journey through time to a specific future. Some suggest they invented history.

In so doing, they changed the ancient habit of allowing the past to dictate the present. For the ancient Hebrews, the future creates the present. So instead of always speaking about tribal forefathers, they spoke of generations, toledot.

David ruled Israel as the poet warrior. He was loved by the people, and it was believed his toledot would always sit on the throne. The image of David came to embody the image of the people. The throne of David would give Israel continuity between the generations.

David sprang like a giant oak from the roots of his father Jesse. These roots and this tree were seen as an image of eternal hope. The tree of David grew high and strong, sheltering the nations. A ruler from David’s line would always occupy the throne. The power of generations wielded the power to conquer death and transform the world.

But eventually, David’s tree toppled: his line fell. One bad king followed another bad king. They forgot who they were. They forgot their dependence upon previous generations. They lost a vision of conquering death through future generations. Thus they lived, like we often do, with no awareness or responsibility to the generations.

This means death wins. The old stories are forgotten. The future is abandoned. By refusing to listen to the past and sacrifice for the future, they became a people doomed to vanish from the earth. I fear we are a people quickly vanishing from the earth.

When David’s tree toppled, Israel was taken captive. Eventually they returned to their land, but a line of new kings took to the throne. They were not true Hebrews, and they reinterpreted the story of ancient Israel (rejecting the line of David). The new glorious kingdom developed outside the generations. And it was eventually subservient to another kingdom: Rome.

Some dreamed that one day the line of David would be restored. The rightful heir to the throne would appear, claim the throne, defeat their enemies, cleanse the temple and restore the ancient glory to Israel.

The prophets suggested that this king would be a fresh shoot on the root of Jesse. The toppled tree of David would come back to life, the proper kingship would be restored, and the Hebrews would conquer death through generations.

They watched and waited.

Then the strangest thing happened. The king finally appeared in a most unkingly way. Born in less than glorious circumstances, a babe appeared in Bethlehem, attended not by the powerful and great but by animals and lowly shepherds.

This unkingly king didn’t even calls himself king. And yet, some people knew. Even a few wise kings bowed before while he was still a child. As the unkingly king grew, he lived a poor man’s life—embracing the woodcraft of his family.

He was hid from view for most of his life, so that when he finally did start acting like a king, he seemed to come from nowhere. This most unkingly king, said the most unkingly things in the most kingly way. He spoke as one having authority.

As king, he reinterpreted the law suggesting that ceremonial and external obedience is not good enough. It’s not only wrong to murder, it’s wrong to hate. The reason we do what we do is just as important as what we do. Love should drive our actions—not ambition, anger or anything else.

As king, he challenges our understanding of authority. Power is realized in serving not in being served. Kings are not great for the number attendants that serve them, but for the friends that sup with them. Serving to the king is expressed in service to the lowest among us—not the highest.

Jesus, the unkingly king, defined and established the Davidic kingship forever. By his actions and words, he set in motion the law of love that undergirds this kingdom that extends beyond the land of Israel to embrace every tribe and nation. Instead of demanding tribute from his subjects, this king became the tribute. His sacrifice sustained and keeps sustaining the future. His sacrifice conquers death—in more ways than one.

His rule extends between generations connecting father to son and son to father. Thus death is not simply defeated in space by his resurrection from the dead, but it is defeated in time by connecting the beginning with the end.

The subjects of his kingdom speak different languages, come from different cultures, and don’t even always agree, but they are united in love. Jesus says the mark of his followers will be their love one for another. This love brings a visible demonstration of continuity between the ages. We are connected across space and time through our confession of faith and our demonstration of love.

This love takes many forms in multiple circumstances but it always calls us to follow Jesus and become the sacrifice for others. By His power, we lay down our lives so that others might be blessed. This self-giving love is but a reflection of the unending love that Jesus reveals in the triune community of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

This Christmas, we return once again to our roots. We return to the stable of Bethlehem to honor the birth of a king, the King. When the world is dying, we celebrate the birth. GK. Chesterton says that "Any one thinking of the Holy Child as born in December would mean by it exactly what we mean by it; that Christ is not merely a summer sun of the prosperous but a winter fire for the unfortunate."

So we fill our houses with lights, evergreen, Santas and snowmen. We laugh and sing songs of rejoicing. But we never forget the root of Jesse, the king of Israel, the Lord of Love. In all our festivities, the nativity burns unceasingly as a celebration of the life that conquered and conquers death.

Advent - December 18

December 18 – O Adonai
O Adonai: “O sacred Lord of ancient Israel, who showed yourself to Moses in the burning bush, who gave him the holy law on Sinai mountain: come, stretch out your mighty hand to set us free.”

There is a certain giddiness hanging in the air. Like sweet snowflakes magically transforming our barren lawn, a gentle hopefulness drifts to earth revealing the possibilities of love.

Inside, the house glows in gentle warmth of Christmas lights. They play around the tree, bouncing rays from branches to baubles. The room seems to giggle in delight. Gazing into the glory of this momentary spectacle, we see another tree, another bush that blazed with the light of His glory. Out from the flames of that bush came the Word of freedom for His people.

Wandering no where, the deliverer from no place, meets the God with no name. “I Am that I Am” blazes out from the bush, inviting Moses into the fire of Holy Fear.

The Lord speaks and His Word does not fail. Tyrants falter; empires crumble, and the weak walk free to the place of promise.

Freedom comes like fire from heaven, burning up the chains that enslave, encircling the soul in a divine dance of love.

Like the Hebrews slaves we know the crippling impact of taskmasters who beat and crush and oppress us. We falter and founder under the weight of unforgiveness, bitterness, envy, jealousy, lust, anger, and pride.

Gazing back through the star lighting our tree, we see another star blazing with the light from the infant below. Baby Jesus burns with the holy fire of the Spirit’s love. The Word of freedom made flesh brings the blazing love of heaven to burn up the chains of bondage and breathe light and life to the person.

A certain giddiness hangs in the air. We know a secret. Bethlehem is but the beginning a glorious journey that leads us higher and higher into freedom. Freedom to love. Freedom to give. Freedom to rejoice. Freedom to dance. Freedom to sing. Freedom to gaze upon and worship the Lord of glory.

Advent - December 17

December 17 - O Sapientia
“O Wisdom, O holy Word of God, you govern all creation with your strong yet tender care. Come and show your people the way to salvation.”

“The heavens declare the glory of God and the sky proclaims his handiwork.”
Psalm 19:1

Everywhere the psalmist looks, he beholds the handprints of God. The rocks really do cry out, “Glory!” The world reverberates with the radiating glory of God’s unfailing love.

In spite of such all-encompassing love, we stumble blindly and curse the light as though it was darkness. Our proclamations of peace flow from hearts of violence. We know the rippling effects of chaos that tear through the heart of all things. As Bob Dylan says, “Everything is Broken.” From broken hearts to broken families to broken countries, we are hurt, and we hurt.

Every cruel word gives plants seed of pain that produces the fruit of cruelty. We long for companions and then we hurt those same companions through selfish acts and words. We long from acceptance but fail to accept others. Life seems to be an endless cycle of pain between humans. The heart aches for salvation.

Into this heart of darkness, shines the light of hope. The Word of the Father, sustaining all things, is made flesh and dwells among us in a frail, baby. The way of Salvation is the way weakness, of frailty, of risk, of humiliation. The way of Salvation comes by the way of death.

He becomes weak, so that we might become strong. He becomes sin so that we might become sinless. He is humbled, so that we might be exalted.

He is born as babe in the manger, so that we might be born as a child of the kingdom.

Into the chaos of creation comes the harmony of God. He bears the breach and reverberates healing love into all things. By His Word of Salvation, the Father calls us into the light, filling us with light and revealing the blinding glory of His radiating love in the heavens above and the earth below.

Come let us behold Him. The Word of God, the hope of humanity, the Savior of the world.

Advent - December 16

O Antiphons – December 16
We live in response to the resounding Word of God. His earth-shaping voice
shakes creation with the awful danger of unconquerable life. Our yearning
for the complete revealing of Jesus Christ, is merely a response to His
battering waves of love.

Tomorrow, our advent journey intensifies this call and response to the
Creator's voice. Tomorrow begins seven days of "O Antiphons." Antiphon
literally means "sounding against" and it calls to mind the alternating call
and response of the liturgy. The liturgy is but a formal recognition of our
human calling to take part in the grand call and response between heaven and
earth.

For seven days, we cry out for the coming Messiah.
O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
O Adonai (O Lord)
O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
O Clavis David (O Key of David)
O Oriens (O Rising Sun)
O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)
O Emmanuel (O God with Us)

Each day reveals yet another glorious title of the world's only Savior. Each
day the intensity of longing builds for the appearance of the coming King.
When he finally comes, the world is scandalized. "For unto a child is born,
and unto us a son is given…"

The shocking fleshly, particularity of the Incarnation topples the towers of
the world's wisdom. The Word that created the world now coos in the arms of
the virgin Mary. Only fools can proceed to this stable. Holy fools that is.
The powerful are angry, the wise mock, the worldly turn away in disgust. But
the holy fool walks up to the manger, like a humble servant approaching the
throne.

Come all you holy fools and join this motley throng as we respond to call of
God and worship the baby who is "God with us."

Advent 5 - Dreaming

Advent 5
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

Well, at least my brother is. Every year for as long as I can remember, Jeremy has dreamed of a white Christmas. Most of the time, his dream does not come true.

This year little children all around the world will dream of white Christmases, as well as beautiful baby dolls, magical toys and fun-filled games. Christmas day will come with grand spectacle. They’ll tear through gifts, eat till their stuffed, and play till they pass out. Christmas will come and go in a flash.

In the afterglow, some if not all, will feel a hint of disappointment. In spite of the grand excitement, in spite of the fantastic delights, there will be a hint of emptiness, a yearning for something more. Some parents may even notice this hint of sadness and scold their children for selfishness.

But the children will come by this feeling honestly. They already experience, in their own child-like way, a hint of the angst of the human condition. Nothing fully satisfies. The fruit was sweet for a moment, but the bitter aftertaste poisoned the tongue to any lasting delight.

This feeling is so small in children that it rarely quenches their expectations for tomorrow. Soon they are excited and looking forward to the next big thing. Dreams grow in their hearts like apples on a thriving tree; new buds always replace the fallen fruit.

By the time they grow into teenagers, many children still maintain their capacity to dream. Only now, they have a new energy that comes with puberty and they sense they can do anything. They can conquer the world!

Many translate these dreams into stunning projects from social to personal: and they literally do change the world. But often over time, that angst returns.

Whether they realize their dreams or experience failure, they still feel this sense of disappointment. And gradually, for many, wonder fades, and they forget the zeal of youth. Bitterness, frustration, self-ambition, the tyrannies of the moment, all the pressures of life in the modern world gradually sap these plants of their vitality. And for so many, the hope and dreams of youth forever fades.

The Israelites knew this darkness. Captured and held captive in Babylon, they forgot the old songs and knew only grieving. Their God forsook them, failed them and forever forget them.

But then the unexpected…into their forsaken lives came the voice of God. The promise of God restores youth, offers restoration and opens new possibilities. They learned to dream again.

Advent is the season to dream dreams. During Advent, we watch and wait for the coming of the Lord. The anticipation of His coming taps in the hope the Israelites discovered in captivity. His kingdom will forever eliminate the power of sin in this world and gather together in one all things in Christ. Advent looks with hopeful expectation to the victory of Christ realized in all things. Advent gives us power to see through the disappointments of living to the hopeful future that cannot be stopped.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow experienced disappointments and grief in the darkest hours of the Civil War. His faith hung in the balance:

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

The world wearies our soul and saps our strength. The faith of many grows cold. Yet in the midst of darkness, Longfellow saw a glimpse of hope:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

The bells become a reminder that kingdom of God cannot be thwarted. God’s purposes have prevailed and will ultimately transform the world. The lion really will lay down with the lamb.

This is the hope of Advent waiting. This is the joy of Advent longing.

Our hope is not in the pretty packages of the moment. Each desire we fulfill and each goal we achieve is momentary and passing. Like the children on Christmas morning, we look for something more.

We still yearn for something that earth cannot satisfy. We are searching for a city whose founder and architect is God. So we yearn toward that city where love will prevail. We translate this yearning into simple acts of love and kindness in the present moment. These actions spring from faith that the good really does win.

This Advent, may we learn to dream dreams again.

May we become like little children, ever expectant and hopeful for the goodness of God. And as we reach out toward the coming of the Son, may we transform everything we touch into a glimpse of the love and joy and peace of the kingdom of God.