Advent Sings: Waiting and Watching

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

I wait for the Lord, my soul waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.
 My soul waits for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Psalm 130: 5-6 from a Song of Ascents

 To wait is a hard sweet paradox in the Christian life.  It is hard not yet having what we know will be coming.  But it is sweet to have certainty it is coming because of what we have already been given.  Like the labor of childbirth, we groan knowing what it will take to get there, and we are full to brimming already.

The waiting won’t be easy; it will often be painful to be patient, staying alert to possibility and hope when we are exhausted, barely able to function.  Others won’t understand why we wait, nor do they comprehend what we could possibly be waiting for.  We must not wait like Herod waits, with dread and suspicion, willing to destroy what he cannot control.

Yet we persevere together, with patience, watching and hoping, like Mary and Joseph, like Elizabeth and Zechariah, like the shepherds, like the Magi of the east, like Simeon and Anna in the temple.

This is the meaning of Advent: we are a community groaning together in sweet expectation of the morning.

For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.
Romans 8:24-25

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

Advent Sings: No Other Rock

photo by Josh Scholten
photo by Josh Scholten

There is no one holy like the Lord;
    there is no one besides you;
    there is no Rock like our God.
1 Samuel 2:2 from The Song of Hannah

In her song of prayer exalting God, Hannah gives over to His care her son for whom she had waited so long.  This is a mother whose unselfishness shames me every time I read her story and her own words. Centuries later, Hannah’s devotion to God inspires a young woman visited by an angel who tells her she will carry the Son of God in her womb.  Mary echoes much of Hannah’s prayer in her own Song, turning over her life, and eventually her own Son, to God’s care.

How could any mother manage to give over her precious child if God were not the Rock upon which she can stand, upon which she will depend for eternal stability, upon which she can fall and He will not break?   There is no other like this Rock.

We are reminded by Hannah’s faith and commitment to God, again by the angel visiting Mary, and in the words of  the host of angels on Christmas–do not be afraid.  The Rock, born that night as a soft and gentle baby, like every man’s beginning, still stands and will stand forevermore.   We can depend on it.  We can depend on Him as there is no other.

Do not tremble, do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago? You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me? No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.
Isaiah 44:8

Advent Sings: Be Like the Sun When It Rises

Mt. Baker at Sunrise
Mt. Baker at Sunrise

So may all your enemies perish, O Lord!
But may they who love you be like the sun
when it rises in its strength.
Judges 5:31 from the Song of Deborah

As Deborah sings in exuberance over her God-led victory, the people of God want to model the strength seen in the rising sun: constancy, resiliency, intensity.  Yet the metaphor of the sun rising is not only about us.  God’s emergence on earth reflects the light of his tender mercies, dispelling the shadows for those living in darkness.  As sung by Zechariah after the birth of his son John who will lead the way for Jesus’ light:

because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
Luke 1: 78-79 from the Song of Zechariah

As Deborah’s and Zechariah’s songs point us to the light brought by Jesus into a dark and dismal world, we see the same powerful metaphor emerging as early as Balaam’s prophecy in Numbers and later in Psalms:

I see him, but not now;
I behold him, but not near.
A star will come out of Jacob;
a scepter will rise out of Israel.
Numbers 24:17

For the LORD God is a sun and shield
Psalm 84:11

Most hopeful of all is the following passage from Malachi.   The “tender mercies” of Zechariah and the “healing rays” of Malachi bring us immense comfort and joy in our anticipation of the birth of Jesus and his return for us on the path of peace.  It has been much too long since we felt like frolicking.  Now is the time.

But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays. And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves.
Malachi 4:2

Buffalo-calf

Advent Sings: Who Is Like You?

miriamssongofpraise

Miriam’s Song by Wilhelm Hensel, gift to Queen Victoria, part of the Royal Collection

Exodus 15:11
Who among the gods
is like you, Lord?
Who is like you—
majestic in holiness,
awesome in glory,
working wonders?

Advent is our opportunity to sing from the heart in expectancy for what is to come.  Songs sung long ago, like Moses’ and Miriam’s Song at the edge of the Red Sea after having been miraculously delivered into freedom from bondage in Egypt, express longing for an intimate relationship with God.  This is centuries before God was born of a woman in an animal shed, raised by humble parents in a small town.  After he walked the roads that still exist today and died at the hands of man, he defeated death to walk among us again.

Then, now and someday to come.

Who can possibly be like you, Lord?
There is no one, not then, not now, not ever.
No God can be more whole and holy, worthy of all glory, wondrous in all ways.

Most wondrous of all is a God who says to man:
I will become like you to rescue you from yourselves by dwelling among you.
A God, who as man, chooses poverty and the humility of servanthood,
who as man faces overwhelming temptation,
who as man is disparaged and despised by his own townspeople and religious authorities.
A God who breathes his last and bleeds, crying and hurting just like we do.
And a God who then returns, making it possible for us to live.

No one is like you, Lord.
Because you chose to be like us.
And we sing to you in our anticipation of your return.

Exodus 15: 17-21 excerpts from Moses’ and Miriam’s Song
17 You will bring them in and plant them
on the mountain of your inheritance—

the place, Lord, you made for your dwelling,
the sanctuary, Lord, your hands established.
18 The Lord reigns
for ever and ever.
21 Sing to the Lord,
for he is highly exalted.

Miriam's Song by Wilhelm Hensel

Ready to Receive Him

Adoration of the Shepherds by Correggio
Adoration of the Shepherds by Correggio

“…we should not try to escape a sense of awe, almost a sense of fright, at what God has done. Nothing can alter the fact that we live on a visited planet…
God has been here once historically, but he will come again with the same silence and same devastating humility into any human heart ready to receive him.”
J.B. Phillips

I want to be like the shepherds–awed and aghast at the glory they heard and beheld.  Like the shepherds, I am flattened with so much fear that I am told “do not be afraid.”  Like the shepherds, I am never to be the same again, my stubborn self-sufficiency now shot through and leaking dry.

Then my heart will be ready to receive him.  Only then.

The Bridge of Grace

photo by Josh Scholten

The bridge of grace will bear your weight.
Charles Spurgeon

When considering the paradox of a holy infant born in a dingy barn, so weak and helpless, completely dependent on others for His care and safety, it seems impossible that such frailty was meant to hold the weight of a struggling drowning humanity in His hands.  No sin is too great and nothing too heavy a load for Him to bear.

Advent is a time to reflect on such mysteries,  deepening our understanding of the remarkable gift we were given the night God came to earth as one of us, to dwell among us, and now through the person of His Spirit, remains at home in our hearts.

The bridge built that night continues to bear the awful load that we alone could not manage without being lost forever.

A baby becomes our bridge to grace and we have been offered safe passage.

 

Welcoming Heart

Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come–
Chinese Proverb

I need reminding that what I offer from my heart reflects what I will receive there.  If I’m grumbling and breaking like a dying vine instead of a green tree, my discouragement entangled by the cobwebs and mildew of worry, then no singing bird will come.

So much better to nurture the singers of joy and gladness with a heart budding green with gratitude, anticipating and expectant.

The welcome mat is out and waiting.

Any time now…

Longing for Longing

“It was when I was happiest that I longed most…
The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing…
to find the place where all the beauty came from.”

~C.S. Lewis

Like children who long for Christmas,
anticipating for weeks
what that moment will be like
when they see gifts piled high under the tree–

we revel in our longing.

It is the sweetness
of “already but not yet”,
knowing with eager expectancy
there is more to come,
just a bit out of reach
but still intensely seen and felt,
something more wonderful,
a place more beautiful than we can ever imagine…

Doorway Between Two Worlds

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“I am sorry I ran from you. I am still running, running from that knowledge, that eye, that love from which there is no refuge. For you meant only love, and love, and I felt only fear, and pain. So once in Israel love came to us incarnate, stood in the doorway between two worlds, and we were all afraid.”
~Annie Dillard in Teaching a Stone to Talk

Some doors in our lives remain forever closed and locked.  No key, no admittance, no way in, no way out.   There is clarity in a locked door with no choices to be made.  If there is a choice and I’m unsure of what I should decide, I tend to run scared.

The locked door is an invitation with the potential to change everything when the key is handed to me.  I now must make a choice, even if the choice is to do nothing.

Do I lose the key and stay put where things are at least familiar?
Do I  knock and politely wait for the door to be answered?
Do I simply wait for the moment it happens to open, take a peek and decide whether or not to enter?
Or do I boldly put the key in and walk through?

The choice to be made is as plain as the key resting in my trembling hand.
When I approach, drawn to the mystery, the door is already standing open.

Fear not.
For unto us a child is born, a son is given.

He is the threshold between two worlds, the unlocking love that allows us to throw away the key.

The Hush of Advent

photo by Josh Scholten

There is that moment
of silent expectancy
as a choir
lifts their books
together
when the conductor,
readying them
for what is to come,
lifts his hands.

As if
one body,
they take
a first breath
that unites their
tones and words
together.

The audience waits in
suspended sanctuary
of sweet longing,
wanting to be
carried away
on a stream
of voices.

And so too
Advent is the hush
before we break
into jubilant song,
as God
lifts His Hands
to ready us,
looks deep into our eyes,
breathes with us
as if one body,
stepping away from the podium
to sing the Words
alongside us.