Archive for December, 2012

Thoughts on Advent: Preparing for The Adventure

When my boys were very little I remember their watching me as I bustled around getting ready for our vacation. They were too young to remember previous vacations, so they could not quite comprehend the meaning of the word. I explained as best I could where we were going, the house in which we were staying, the wide beaches, and what we would be doing. I described it as an adventure. For several days they studied me intently as I vacuumed, cleaned out the refrigerator, and washed the dog. They grew impatient, asking, “Why are you doing all this work—can’t we start the adventure now?” “Not yet,” I replied, “there is work to do before we go.” As time drew closer, I bought some new clothes for the boys and began packing for the trip. They were excited, but one of my sons expressed concern as he watched me fold clothes into suitcases. “What if I don’t like it? Maybe I just want to stay here and sleep in my own bed and wear my old clothes and play with my own toys.” I told him, “Trust me, you will love it, and don’t worry, I will be with you.”

As I light the candles on my Advent wreath and set up more Christmas decorations, I often think back to that time— a time when my boys’ knowledge and experience were in the early stages, and they had to trust me and my description of what was to come.

Advent is a time to prepare our homes and hearts for Christmas, but I also think it is more than the four weeks leading to Christmas. We are in a lifetime season of Advent. We know our eternal salvation is sure if we have accepted the gift Christ offers to each person, but the total manifestation of our redemption awaits.

Even though our “adventure” of eternal life is secure, we are not to sit idle; there is work to be done. Right here. Right now. I have plenty to do today: people to forgive, resentments to relinquish, a prayer to offer, a tangible gift to someone through money or a service, a word of encouragement to be shared, a Bible to read, taking time to listen to God instead of the clamor of this world, believing Jesus is who He says He is, and allowing Him transform me into the person He created me to be. Whatever our talents, time, treasure, we can spread the light of Christ and grow closer to Him—right now.

Regardless of our age, each one of us is on the cusp of our eternal Adventure We know a bit about what is to come, and much of it sounds wonderful. However, most of it seems mysterious and beyond our present experience, and the mysterious can be unsettling. But, if you express your concerns to your Heavenly Father, I imagine He will tell you, “Trust me, you will love it, and don’t worry, I will be with you.”

This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent. John 6:29

He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8

The Imago Dei

Advent. A time to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Holy One. But, instead of a contemplative, quiet time, I find these weeks leading up to Christmas can become a flurry of too many activities, too many parties, too much shopping, too much baking . . . simply too much – and not enough of me. I feel guilty when I don’t check things off my list, but I feel even more guilty when I’m running around like a whirlwind rather than remembering the meaning of Christmas. But this morning, I asked God to help me out of the frenzy, and He reminded of two important words. Imago Dei – which means image of God.

Each one of us is created in the Image of God. Our job is not our to-do list – our job is to remember we are made in His image – that we are His children. This truth seems unbelievable to me, but if we take his hand and walk with him, we can bring bits of Him into this day – and into every task, however small.

Imago Dei – God also has his fingerprints on everything he has created. I think part of living out our Imago Dei is having eyes to see Him everywhere. When we walk with Him, His paths may seem circuitous but that’s okay. I remember the walks I used to take with my younger son when he was a toddler. It was never a straight walk – he constantly was dashing off here or there to find a delight. The crunch of a leaf – the shape of a rock – a small critter playing hide and seek with us – or maybe a footprint in the mud. These walks would seem frustrating until I let go of my plan and entered into his delight – the delight my little boy experienced in the Imago Dei – because even though this tiny child had lived on this earth for only three years, he was quick to recognize God’s fingerprints everywhere. Imago Dei. Once I would let go, I would find great joy watching my little boy discover God’s fingerprints on his creation

Imago Dei – I think God enjoys watching our delight as we discover his finger prints on the seemingly ordinary.  It’s more difficult for adults – we have responsibilities and duty – and we are quick to trivialize our down time.

Imago Dei – it is all around us – this image of God – each one of you has been made in His image, and just by your being alive and present, you reflect His image.

This truth is unbelievable to me, but when I try to live it, I find peace – and I pray this peace for each of you during Advent and always.

More on The Word Became Flesh . . .

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

To me, these are high words that speak of the truth and beauty and order of God and His cosmos and all it contains. We know the Word refers to Jesus, and it makes me think of the expression of God— about to flow out, burst forth – and reveal its true character. When John speaks of life, the Greek word he uses is zoe which refers not to biological life but spiritual life. I bask in these beautiful verses of perfection and order and goodness.

But then verse 14 slams against this picture of perfection, The Word became flesh . . . I recoil. On first read this phrase appalls me. An atrocity—like a fine painting being marred. How could the essence of truth, goodness, and perfection become lowly flesh? Flesh mingled with the grime and grittiness of a human life. How could the Logos, the Divine, debase Himself to be contained in a fleshly body and enter into the world of greed and filth and scarcity?
Jesus lowered Himself to raise us higher. The Holy One infiltrated the flesh, our grimy world, breathing the Divine into us – making us more than physical body and mind and reminding us that we were created in His image. He took on our crude nature to bring us up into something that could be made glorious – and giving us a spirit to connect with His Spirit.

And what I find truly incomprehensible is this: The Word, whose name is Jesus, did not don our flesh, our human nature, in disgust. Instead, when he walked this earth, he often referred to Himself as Son of Man. As Son of Man, He made Himself one of us, and in doing so gave us dignity. He continues to raise us up and indwell us. Through His eternal gift of the Holy Spirit, He indwells you, He indwells me.

The Word became flesh. Appalling? Yes. Shocking? Yes. Yet, this is love in its purest form.

This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. 1 John 4:10

An Advent Epiphany

Let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven. Matthew 5:16 

There are many days when my light shines dimly—if it even shines at all. I find
myself entangled in the immediate challenges of this world, distracted by worry and doubt—racing from one activity to the next—and making mistakes along the way. I often wonder . . . how can my light shine? How can I do anything good for God through my messy, frenetic life? 

But then I remember: God did not wait until our world was pristine and sinless before coming to us. Instead he chose to plop himself in the center of our human mess. I think about Mary and Joseph and how they must have felt unprepared for what God asked them to do. In what was to be one of the holiest of moments, they found themselves in a stable, on a dirt floor, the air permeated with the smell of livestock. I imagine they felt overwhelmed and afraid. 

But we know the story. The Son of God was birthed in that dismal place—and it was not because Mary and Joseph had it all together. It was because they believed. They believed the words of the angel; they believed the words of the prophets who had gone before them; they believed the words of God. 

To believe required courage—required faith, because it was an outrageous tale, really; but they believed His words, and Jesus was born. And a great light shone from that stable so brightly that it has mystified astronomers for thousands of years.

 At times our hearts might resemble the grim stable, and we wonder how our light can shine. When you think about it, the claims of Christianity sound outlandish. But like Mary and Joseph, we are called to believe this outlandish story. And if are willing to trust His words, His promise will be birthed in our hearts, and His light will shine through us.

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. John 1:4

The Word Became Flesh . . .

“The Word became flesh . . . ” These words from the Gospel of John seem outrageous and even scandalous to me. How could the perfectly Holy and powerful God come down to ordinary and imperfect people – and to ordinary imperfect me? And even more shocking, He didn’t simply come down to us as he had done in the past, in the Old Testament stories, as an unattainable Spirit being. He removed His cloak of brilliance and put on skin that looked like our skin – flesh that looked like our flesh. He made Himself look like us, so we might approach Him. But He came down even lower – not only in human form – but as the tiny baby Jesus. An infant so small that we can hold Him and behold Him. We don’t have to be afraid of Him, because He looks like one of us.

When my babies were first born, I spent much time simply gazing at them. I pray that I will do the same with the Christ Child – that I will take time each day to simply behold Him – and ponder the mysterious workings of a God who loved each one of us with such intensity, that He lowered Himself to become one of us. This is the gift of Christmas; the Christ Child is God’s gift to us. You don’t have to fully understand the mystery – simply take Him in your arms and receive Him – and by doing so, you will receive His gift of eternal life.

For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. John 3:16-17