Advent: Peace, Love, Joy, Hope (All Saints Church 2015 Advent Devotional Booklet)

Cover art work used with permission from CarolLynn Tice (www.t30gallery.com)

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Welcome to Advent at All Saints Church

The word Advent comes from the Latin word adventus, simply meaning “arrival” or
“coming”. As a liturgical season, Advent spans the four weeks leading up to
Christmas Day. The color for the season is purple, signifying preparation. The prepar-
atory purpose of Advent is two-fold: (1) to spiritually prepare for Christmas as we
remember Christ’s first coming in the Incarnation and (2) to prepare for his promised
return. How does this work? Well, the Church has long understood that as we
encounter and experience our personal longing for Christ’s return today, we can look
back and identify with the longings of the ancient Jews as they awaited their
redemption in the promised coming of the Messiah.

By looking ahead to the future and remembering the past, Advent has a remarkable
way of revealing the reality of the present. If we are honest, we must acknowledge
our very real needs for rescue and redemption now. The exile is not over. The road
through the desert is not paved. War and violence still abound. The devastation of
poverty still plagues our world. Injustice still goes unnoticed. Disease still ravages our
bodies. We long for the Lord to come and make all things new and to wipe away
every tear from our eyes. The Advent cry is, “Come, Lord Jesus, come!”

Therefore, when we arrive at Christmas morning this year, remembering that the
“Word took on flesh and dwelt among us; not only are we filled with all the joy that
comes from knowing God is with us and that in Christ comes our salvation, but we
are also strengthened in the sure hope that he is coming again.

Introduction to this Devotional

This devotional covers all the days of Advent as well as Christmas Day. For each day
there are different Scripture readings and reflections by various members of All
Saints Church. There is also original artwork by some of our members. The goal is not
simply to observe an Advent calendar, sing Advent hymns, or light candles on an
Advent wreath. While these are good and helpful things to do, we must develop
Advent hearts—hearts that are continually watching for God, expectantly antici-
pating his ongoing ministry in our lives through the Holy spirit, and his promise to
return in the future to make all things new.

How to Use this Devotional

Each day when you come to this devotional, slow down and pray the Collect for the
Week (printed on each Sunday). Then read a Psalm. Read the Scriptures for the day.
Then read the personal reflection, notice the images. Be attentive to the presence of
God in your life.

We encourage you to make this guide your own—write on it, underline words, or
phrases that strike a chord, and journal as you go. In this hurried season, this is a
chance to choose to live differently. Take your time. Remember that others are tak-
ing this journey with you. Know that God is indeed Emmanuel, God with us. Pray
before you finish.

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Advent is a time when we ought to be shaken and brought to a realization of
ourselves. The necessary condition for the fulfillment of Advent is the renunciation of
the presumptuous attitudes and alluring dreams in which and by means of which we
always build ourselves imaginary worlds. In this way we force reality to take us to
itself by force—by force, in much pain and suffering.
This shocked awakening is definitely part of experiencing Advent. But at the same
time there is much more that belongs to it. Advent is blessed with God’s promises,
which constitute the hidden happiness of this time These promises kindle the inner
light in our hearts. Being shattered, being awakened—only with these is life made
capable of Advent. In the bitterness of awakening, in the helplessness of “coming
to”, in the wretchedness of realizing our limitations, the golden threads that pass
between heaven and earth in these times reach us. The golden threads give the
world a taste of the abundance it can have in Christ.
As we explore these pages, we will look deeper into the four (4) themes of Advent
(Pease, Love, Hope and Joy) that are crafted into the greater and all-encompassing
Season of Advent.
On behalf of the church staff and the many who have crafted reflections and art for
this year’s edition, it is our prayer that this devotional will bless you and our commu-
nity.

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As a prelude to this time of devotion, take time to meditate on the words of this song
written by Andrew Stillwell and reflect on the enormous gifts of peace, love, hope
and joy that have been lavished on each of us over the past year.

You Have Been Faithful

Where there was sorrow,
where there was sadness,

Now there is dancing,
now there is gladness;
You have been faithful to us, Lord.

Where there was crying,
where there was mourning,

Now there is joy,
a new hope is dawning;
You have been faithful to us, Lord.

You have been faithful,
You have been faithful,
Faithful are you, Lord.

Where there was fear
and great tribulation,
Now there is peace,
and the hope of salvation;
You have been faithful to us, Lord.

Even when death and
darkness surround us,

We can rely on
you to be with us;
You have been faithful to us, Lord.

All of Your promises,
all of your words,
We testify are true;

Your lovingkindness, mercy,
and goodness

We have been witness to.

Where there was silence, Life by Andrew Stillwell
now we are praying,
Now we are singing,
we are proclaiming,

You have been faithful to us, Lord.

You have been faithful, You have been faithful, Faithful are you, Lord.

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Advent Peace

Peace From This Time Forth by Naomi Wagner

Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of
darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of
this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit
us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come
again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the
dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives

and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.
Amen.

Sunday, November 29,2015

Psalm 146 ,147
Amos 1:1-5, 13--2:8, 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11

Luke 21:5-19

-by The Reverend Julie Cate Kelly

Attaining a mindful posture of peace is something after which I earnestly strive. Cha-
os, discord, and stress are part of a list of items I try far too hard to dissipate from my
daily routine. For me, they breed tendrils of anxiety, frustration and imbalance that
invite rather ugly sides of myself to bubble uncontrollably to the surface. I do my
best to eliminate the ugly, chaotic, emotionally war-torn aspects of my life, so that I
can find my inner spiritual chi - my inner quiet space of wholeness, where I assume
my Savior lingers longest.

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My peaceful intentions evoke thoughts of quiet, especially in this Advent season. I
imagine Christmas carols playing in the background, warm cups of tea, a sleeping
child, a picked-up house, an organized week ahead, no lingering emails or phone
calls to return. I picture a crackling fire burning in the fireplace, a cat purring beside
me, my Christmas tree perfectly lit with nostalgic ornaments placed just right. All is
well, all is calm, all is bright.

But, let’s be honest: my reality screams that nothing is right! There is little that is

calm or bright this time of year for me. Ideally, Advent should be such a beautiful

time of personal worship, reflection and yearning. My advent wreath usually wilts

and turns brown before December 15th. (Who has time to water it?!) The thoughtful

readings and candle-lighting that I have every

good intention to do with my daughter each Our hope in a
week become a frenzied afterthought before

her ensuing bedtime routine. I have an ongoing Savior who knew

list of presents to buy, Christmas cards to send,

travel plans to make, and all the while I’m hop- our physical pain,

ing for Jesus to come again as a tiny babe, heartbreak, and
wrapped in a linen swaddle, snug against profound loss—
Mary’s bosom.

Advent for me will forever be pierced with a God who

deep, profound sadness. My late husband, Pat- groaned and wept
rick, was fighting for his life during the Advent

season of 2011. He had been diagnosed with alongside of us—
brain cancer a few months prior, and every- gave me hope.
thing that marks a medically-obvious downhill

turn occurred during the season of waiting. We

waited for better scan results, improved mobility, and prepared for a hopeful future;

yet every medical answer came back with discouraging results, solemn faces, and

apologies of no known cure. I regularly screamed and crudely cussed at the radio

station that year, which loved to remind me that it was supposed to be “the most

wonderful time of the year!” This was not wonderful! Nothing was. Instead, I attend-

ed my dying husband’s bedside, cleaned his bedpans, adjusted his sweaty pillows,

watched the slowing monitors, made end-of-life decisions that no 33 year-old young

wife should have to make for her sweet, handsome, dying husband. Our tree was

rickety, borrowed and fake that year. Our Christmas presents were brought in by

friends and strangers. I missed out on the smells of holly and warm spiced cider; in-

stead, I breathed in odors of latex gloves, uncontrollable vomit, loosened catheters

and pureed hospital food. There was no dangling mistletoe or plucky carol sing. The

only peaceful moments came when the throng of visitors left for the night, the nurs-

es turned down the hallway lights, and I would climb into the slim hospital bed with

my wilting, stiffening, now-absent husband and wept my way to sleep. Our vows of

fidelity in sickness and in health were made real in those sacred moments. Our hope

in a Savior who knew our physical pain, heartbreak, and profound loss—a God who

groaned and wept alongside of us—gave me hope.

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When I look back at that awful Advent, and certifiably dismal Christmas, I struggle to
proclaim peace. I struggle to introduce this devotional section on peace because—if
we’re being truly honest with ourselves—it’s such a hard concept to grasp and reality
to invite. I resonate deeper with the Old Testament prophets who cried out for
“peace, peace, when there is no peace.”

But that is the point of Advent, is it not? We’re not proclaiming some sort of peaceful
perfection. All is not done or bright. Instead, we are waiting for this broken, sick,
tired world to be drawn into God’s perfect glory. We’re preparing, not for the
throngs of holiday guests, or party invites, but the Son of God to return again. We’re
waiting for his birth, and grasping for the ultimate peace that only he can bring.

I pray that this time of Advent, this time of waiting and preparation, in the midst of
whatever broken, bruised, battered and weary state in which you find yourself this
week, you will be encouraged by the peaceful assurance that only Jesus can bring.

Monday, November 30, 2015
Feast of St. Andrew

Psalm 1, 2, 3
Amos 2:6-16, 2 Peter 1:1-11

Matthew 21:1-11

-by Michael Couch

Praise the Lord for he is always good and faithful.

I grew up in Durham and have lived here all my 53 years. I like this area, not because
it’s perfect, but because it is home. Many of my relatives have lived here all of their
lives too.

My extended family on my father’s side have always been church-goers and most
have loved our Lord Jesus deeply. I was raised in the church (Yates Baptist in
Durham).

I went down front of the church at around 12 years of age to be baptized and join
the church. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when I asked Jesus into my heart and life,
but I believe it was around that time. Many months and years passed by before I
believed and felt more confident that this decision and new relationship was real.

Although there were many Christian and positive people and factors in my young life,
there were evil, negative and harmful elements too. My mom, whom I have loved
and spent much time around, had some deep-rooted emotional and psychological
conditions all of her adult life. This reality, combined with the struggles all our family
experienced, contributed to my great lack of security, confidence, hope, positive self-
image and PEACE.

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Our family was dysfunctional and I was a mess emotionally. Real peace seemed un-
reachable and too hard to even imagine. Thankfully our Lord knew better. Had won-
derful plans and was with me as I grew up and started working at the Post Office.

Soon after that I got married to my wife and life-partner, Vickie, and we had three
amazing children. Little by little, step by step, as the Lord led me to pray, read his
word for myself and begin serving in his church; my feelings, thoughts and life began
to change and grow.

I remember reading and meditating on the many verses and promises of peace and
more that our Lord wanted to fill me with. The more I prayed for others, served the
Lord’s church and looked to the Lord for his provision, the less negative feelings and
thoughts I entertained.

Many years have passed and much life has happened, but this peace that I have felt,
experienced and enjoyed for many of those years came very slowly at first and with
the help of all that the Lord provided. Some of the things that the Lord provided
include medicines, family, church family, friends, service opportunities, scripture and
prayers—many, many prayers (others and mine). As the Lord continues to draw me
nearer and more dependent on him, my peace and thankfulness expands.

Praise be to our Father God, Lord Jesus and Holy Spirit for their continued mercy,
grace, love and faithfulness for all of time.

Tuesday, December 1, 2015

Psalm 5, 6
Amos 3:1-11, 2 Peter 1:12-21

Matthew 21:12-22

The Twofold Coming of Jesus Christ
from the Catechesis of Cyril of Jerusalem, 315-386 A.D.

We preach not one coming only of Jesus Christ, but a second also, far more glorious
than the first. The first revealed the meaning of his patient endurance; the second
brings with it the crown of the divine kingdom.

Generally speaking, everything that concerns our Lord Jesus Christ is twofold. His
birth is twofold: one, of God before time began; the other, of the Virgin in the full-
ness of time. His descent is twofold: one, unperceived like the dew falling on the
fleece; the other, before the eyes of all, is yet to happen.

In his first coming he was wrapped in swaddling clothes in the manger. In his second
coming he is clothed with light as with a garment. In his first coming he bore the
cross, despising its shame; he will come a second time in glory accompanied by the
hosts of angels.

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It is not enough for us, then, to be content with his first coming; we must wait in
hope of his second coming. What we said at his first coming, ‘Blessed is he who
comes in the name of the Lord”, we shall repeat at his last coming. Running out with
the angels to meet the Master we shall cry out in adoration, ‘Blessed is he who
comes in the name of the Lord’.

The Savior will come not to be judged again but to call to judgment those who called
him to judgment. He who was silent when he was first judged, will indict the male-
factors who dared to perpetrate the outrage of the cross, and say, ‘These things you
did and I was silent’.

He first came in the order of divine providence to teach men by gentle persuasion;
but when he comes again they will, whether they wish it or not, be subjected to his
kingship.

The prophet Malachi has something to say about each of these comings. ‘The Lord

whom you seek will suddenly come to his tem-

ple’. That is the first coming.

It is not Again, of the second coming he says, ‘And the angel

Enough for us, of the covenant whom you seek. Behold, the Lord
then, to be almighty will come: but who can endure the day of
his coming, and who can stand when he ap-

content with pears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fuller’s

soap; he will sit like a refiner and a purifier’. Paul

his first coming; pointed to the two comings when he wrote to

we must wait Titus, ‘The grace of God has appeared for the salva-
in hope of his tion of all men, training us to renounce irreligion
and worldly passions, and to live sober, upright,

second coming. and godly lives in the glory of our great God and
Savior Jesus Christ’. You see how he has spoken of

the first coming, for which he gives thanks, and of

the second to which we look forward.

Hence it is that by the faith we profess, which has just been handed on to you, we
believe in him ‘who ascended into heaven and took his seat at the right hand of the
Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead; and his kingdom
will have no end’.

Our Lord Jesus Christ will, then, come from heaven. He will come in glory at the end
of this world on the last day. Then there will be an end to this world, and this creat-
ed world will be made new.

During Advent we celebrate what are sometimes referred to as the "three comings
of Christ": the coming of Christ in Bethlehem, the coming of Christ in glory at the end
of time, and the coming of Christ today in the sacraments and life of the Church.

The first coming of Christ remains the central event of human history. All time is
dated from the birth of Christ. The centuries leading up to Christ's birth are num-
bered B.C.: before Christ. This year is officially the 2014th year since the birth of Je-

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sus. Even from a purely human point of view, no figure approaches Jesus Christ in
significance. No figure has had such an impact on the whole course of human affairs.

The effects of Christ, and of Christianity in general, upon the world are incalcula-
ble. Without Christ, the world would not be what it is in all its positive aspects. The
world in which we live is by no means perfect, and it will not be so until all things are
finally transfigured and perfected in Christ. But we should never underestimate the
radical alteration of history that came about through the birth of Christ into the
affairs of humankind.

Second, Christ will come in glory at the end of time (the “second coming”). The Ad-
vent scriptures and prayers draw our minds to the coming of Christ in glory. Indeed,
all the way through Advent, the primary liturgical theme is of Christ’s return in glory.
At the end of the ages, Christ will come again and the heavens and the earth will be
united.

It is important that we understand correctly the meaning of the return of Christ in
glory. The end of all things will not be a matter of Christ returning to a world from
which he departed at the ascension, but the appearance of Christ who is hiddenly
present in the world as the latter continues on its journey. What we are awaiting in
Advent is the full blossoming of God’s grace working itself out in human history.
Christ’s return will be, by God's grace, the marriage of heaven and earth.

The third coming of Christ occurs in the present: in the vital, living action of Christ
today in the community of the Church and in the lives of Christian believers. Christ
comes today in the gift of the holy Eucharist in which we are privileged to share, in
the sacraments of Christian life, in the living wisdom of the Christian tradition, in the
vocations consecrated for each of us in baptism, in the magnificent service and chari-
ty of Christian individuals, communities, and institutions across the face of the earth.

Certainly the church and its people have had, and always will have, an ambiguous
and imperfect history. (We need only remind ourselves of the horrendous sexual
abuse crisis that has recently haunted the Church.) But what would the world be like
if there were no more Christian believers, no more sacraments, no more charity in
the name of Christ? What if Christianity were to disappear? What if there were no
more people like Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta? The world would become a very
different place. We should never underestimate the power of Christianity in our own
time.

These three comings of Christ are what we invoke during this holy season. We call
upon Christ's presence that we may know the effects of his historic birth; we await
the saving power of Christ’s return in glory; and we look in faith to his sacramental
presence now.

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Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Psalm 119:1-24
Amos 3:12--4:5, 2 Pet. 3:1-10

Matthew 21:23-32

The House at Four Ellen Place

by Hannah Mitchell

Dania, Molly, Rachel, and I wanted to stick together. “The House at 4 Ellen,” an un-
likely emporium of people, was ready to re-sign for the year when we decided that
since we technically had a fifth bedroom, we might as well reduce rent and find an-
other tenant. Laura, a friend of Dania’s who we all knew, was also at the end of her
lease, so we invited her to join us.

Before we found out that our landlord was selling.

Oops.

So we were all five on the run. That’s when we discovered that thanks to an old anti-
prostitution law still on the books in North Carolina, you can’t have five unrelated
women on the same lease, because that constitutes a brothel. So. There was that.

We guessed we’d have to retract our offer to Laura, which we felt bad about. But
blood is thicker than water. And four signatures already at the bottom of a lease are
thicker than new blood.

Problem was, Laura didn’t see it that way.

She had already participated in our new-housing-options search, and didn’t see why
she should be the one to back down.

We braced ourselves for a showdown.

Dania was my first allegiance, since we had known each other the longest, and had
collected this house-family from the beginning. Wither thou goest...but I knew that
meant Laura would come too.

By that time, Molly and Rachel had begun to resent Laura, so I was caught between a
rock and a hard place. I felt loyalty to them, too. So did I make a pact with the wedge
driving us apart? Did that count as betrayal, even if I couched it as “I always intended
to stick with Dania?”

This was harder than I thought it would be.

After an epic communication train wreck, we scheduled two different move-out days,
in two different trucks. Molly and Rachel drove to one address, Dania, Laura and I
drove to the other, and I shed some frustrated tears.

It was hard to face the music that in any given group of well-intentioned people,
there are simply imbalances of love and priorities.

But there we had been, all in the hot seats together: one Christian, one Buddhist,
one Muslim, one anarchist, and one atheist, trying to balance our imbalances, and

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salvage our friendships, even as we felt like we had ALL just voted each other off the
island.
I know I pray most sincerely when I am in crisis. Maybe someday I will grow beyond
that. But there is a wideness to God’s mercy when his children seek peace in the
thick of situations that spin quickly out of control. He will and does respond to our
blundering SOS messages, our desires to live in peace with the people who see our
morning hair and get annoyed with our rotting potatoes in the vegetable drawer.
He comes and he mends fences in the hearts of even those who do not yet call Him
by name. This always humbles me.
Last November, Dania and Laura got the idea to host a “Friendsgiving” Thanksgiving-
esqe dinner at our house. The only guests we wanted were Rachel and Molly. And
they came. And we ate. And we drank. And we laughed loudly enough to be heard
through the duplex wall. And we felt the bygones-be-bygones peace that is beyond
our ability to conjure or reclaim. It came from outside us, and settled in good time,
right where we longed for it.
Under the same roof.

Peace Like a River by Michael Parsons

Thursday, December 3, 2015

Psalm 18:1-20
Amos 4:6-13, 2 Pet. 3:11-18

Matthew 21:33-46

-by Amanda Windes

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. Let your reasonableness be known
to everyone. The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything
by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to
God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts
and your minds in Christ Jesus.—Philippians 4:4-7 ESV
“There is peace here.” I wrote that in a letter to a friend a couple months ago, as I
was sitting beside a quiet lake spending the weekend with friends. And it was true.

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There was peace there. There was rest. There was contentment. There was trust.
There was joy. There was calm. There was fulfillment. There was freedom. The beau-
tiful thing about God’s peace, however, is that His peace is not something I have to
drive to a lakeside to find. God offers us this gift of peace daily, even hourly, as we
rest knowing his character, knowing him personally, and taking up his offer to tell
him our questions and concerns.

In Luke, Zechariah prophesies, saying that Christ will “give knowledge of salvation to
his people in the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God,
whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in dark-
ness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”

These realities and the perspective of the Christian life do guide us into the way of
peace. Understanding God’s character as a loving, merciful, omniscient, and omnipo-
tent God who brings truth and light to dark places gives us faith in his power and his
care. Knowing that Christ specifically comes to earth as both man and God capable of
restoring our broken relationship to the divine assures us that our relationship with
him is secure. Trusting that he promises us an eternal hope cements that peace.

Yet, Philippians reminds us of our part - submitting every fear, worry, and anxiety to
our creator; then, God sets his peace as a guard on our hearts and minds. Though
anger, hurt, discontent, anxiety, loneliness, or fear may be battering us and trying to
get in, Christ gives us his peace to bar the door, to turn them away, and to preserve
us. This peace is not a denial of sorrow, of pain, or of sadness; this peace is a denial
of letting those things grip and control us. He offers his peace as an exchange for the
anxieties we are invited to lay on him.

Christ calls us to live our lives resting in these realities, resting in his peace. As we
prepare to celebrate his coming, we can rest daily and hourly in the guard his peace
sets on our hearts and minds and be free to live life more abundantly. In submitting
to him and trusting him, we find rest, we find assurance, we find contentment, we
find joy, we find calm, we find fulfillment, we find life.

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.
(Isaiah 26:3 ESV)

Friday, December 4, 2015

Psalm 16, 17
Amos 5:1-17, Jude 1-16

Matthew 22:1-14

-by Robbin Bixler

I don’t do peace well. I value peace. I seek to be a peace maker but it’s a struggle for
me to experience peace. Of that, I wish to repent.

One of the things I love about the liturgical calendar are those seasons of the year

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like Advent and Lent, where we are called to repent, prepare and be challenged.
This Advent it is good for me to be reminded about the great gift of peace and the
discipline required to live in God’s peace.

Peace with God is a gift beyond all value, it is the spiritual harmony brought about
by our restoration with God. The psalmist in Psalm 85:8, after seeking intercession
for the afflicted but penitent nation of Israel, listens for what the Lord will speak. It
is with joy that he announces that the Lord will speak peace to his people, they will
again be blessed as a community, a gift to the faithful whose lives are centered in
relationship with God.
It is at Advent, where the angels are announcing “peace to man on earth” that God
seals his promise to give us this inestimable gift by restoring our relationship to him
through Jesus. “But God demonstrated His own love toward us in that while we were
yet sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Because of Christ’s sacrifice, we are
restored to a relationship of peace with God. He truly is the “Prince of Peace”.

The New Testament describes two kinds of peace: the objective peace that has to
do with our relationship to God and the subjective peace which has to do with our
experience in life. When we accept and receive the gospel of Christ, we cease being
enemies with God. Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God
(Romans 5:1). It has nothing to do with how we feel; it has been accomplished.

The peace that Jesus speaks of in John 14:27, goes beyond the objective peace to
a personal, subjective, experiential peace. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give
you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and
do not be afraid”. This is the peace that enables believers to remain calm in the
midst of the worst circumstances, in pain and trials, in loss and suffering. It is the
peace we see Paul living out as he is hounded, beaten and jailed throughout his min-
istry. It is the peace that the martyrs demonstrated as they went to their death and
the peace that the dear saints around us live out as they journey through life’s
troubles.

That’s the peace I don’t do well. Too often I let my heart be troubled. Have we saved
enough money for retirement? Are our kids in a good place? Have I done anything
worthwhile in my life? Will I get Alzheimer’s someday and have to be taken care of?
Will I die well and bravely?

In this Advent season, I will pray for the experience of supernatural peace. I will chal-
lenge myself to have the personal discipline to pursue peace. When I pass the peace
to you this Advent season, I will also be praying for you to experience the peace that
the Holy Spirit wants to provide you. My prayer for you and for me is, in the words of
Horatio Spafford:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billow roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

It is well, it is well with my soul.

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Saturday, December 5, 2015

Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14)
Amos 5:18-27, Jude 17-25

Matthew 22:15-22

Alongside World

-by Katie Anderson

From time to time I step into the swing,
Allow my legs to pulse and feel the sun;
And in these moments I can hear You sing
As ropes and wood resound a quiet hum.
Beneath the gentle flutter of Your wings
The wind’s lips whisper, come Lord Jesus, come.

So into this alongside world I come
Into a new reality I swing;

Where crickets buzz and flap their leather wings
To soothe me with caressing rays of sun.
In this broad place I hear creation hum
The song deep within silence that it sings.

So seldom do I heed the voice that sings
Beside my anxious thoughts and bids me come

And rest awhile, turn from the hurried hum
Of deadlines, moving cars, and time that swings

Without regard for rain or tears or sun
Or newborn birds that ache with nascent wings.

Yet when I slow my senses, give them wings
Minutiae all around me start to sing

Along with flaming rhythms of the Son,
Proclaiming technicolor kingdom come.

Sitting in rapt attention on this swing
I am suspended in Your holy hum.

And as I rock my heart calms to a hum
Stilling under shadow of Your wings;
I concede to the swaying of the swing,
List’ning for lullabies that mothers’ sing.
A child in need of weaning, I do come
Before You asking for hope in the Son.

My gaze turns upward to the burning sun
As I fly higher, louder is the hum

Of fledgling insides longing yet to come
Into Your open skies, to spread my wings;

Colliding with eternity that sings
To me Your invitation on this swing:

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Come to Me now and I will grow your wings;
I’ll hum to you and teach you how to sing,
Receive My peace and swing beside my Son.

Advent Love

Merciful God, who sent your messengers the prophets to
preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation:
Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins,
that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our

Redeemer; who lives and reigns with you and the
Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.
Amen.

by Mina Samei

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Sunday, December 6, 2015

Psalm 148, 149, 150
Amos 6:1-14, 2 Thessalonians 1:5-12

Luke 1:57-67

Seeing and Truth: a few words on love

-by John Zambenini

Some things you know when you see. Some things are spoken of incessantly but per-
haps not so commonly beheld. Love, for one, is a word used interchangeably with
‘strongly prefer’, ‘deeply desire,’ ‘care for,’ ‘have an affinity for,’ or ‘feel amorous
toward.’ The synecdoche streamlines our speech, but obscures what we ought to
know and believe: love is not a feeling, love isn’t a sine qua non for romance, and
love is not what makes a Subaru a Subaru. Yet the word ‘love’ invades all manner of
speech, especially when money, sex, or power are the potential rewards of artful
rhetoric. And how often is the wool pulled over our eyes, obscuring the truth of what
we really behold?

Falsehood is everywhere: in advertising; in modern sensibilities that teach us to fulfill

every desire; and in the contrived pressures and de-

When the real mands of which our world is chocked full. But when I
have witnessed something that seemed real in the
gravity of love, face of such falsehood, when I have had the sense I

in such was seeing the truth with my own eyes, I have been
astonished to find myself agape at love itself. You

gritty glory, know it when you see it. And when you see it, so
often it looks unromantic, devoid of flash or fla-
is beheld, grance, even gruesome: someone changing the dia-

it is not always per of a relative; a man asking for alms in downtown
Durham, sharing his bounty moments later with a
easily received. friend who has even less; the care of loved ones for

the dying; welcoming an inconvenient child, as did

Mary, who said, “LORD, let it be unto me according to thy word.”

In Mary’s heart was welcome, in her womb a God longing for his people; hope and
anticipation met with the very love of God. And one of love’s deep ironies is that its
manifestation in truth and beauty so often is cloaked in death. The Magi bring the
Christ child gifts fitting a burial, foreshadowing true love’s un-ironic posture: arms
open wide on the hard wood of the cross.

When the real gravity of love, in such gritty glory, is beheld, it is not always easily
received. When Jesus goes a little too far teaching the scriptures in his hometown
synagogue, he is driven out. When he says that to look upon him is to look upon the
love of God the Father, there is a plot against his life. When he does not object to
Pontius Pilate’s questioning, he suffers.

You know it when you see it. “Behold thy son,” Jesus gasps to Mary as she looks up-

on the love of the child she welcomed in love. Perhaps, the Scriptures tell us, for a
good person someone might actually dare to die. “But God proves his love for us in

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that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.” Love itself is known in the em-
brace of a crucifixion. Therein, truth, goodness, and beauty are manifest. Against the
blandishments of a world that is a feast for the eyes but a famine for the soul, Christ
on the cross shows the truest thing that ever was. “Behold thy son,” he says. May in
the grace of the Holy Spirit it be unto us according to God’s word, receiving love we
know when we see.

Monday, December 7, 2015

Psalm 25
Amos 7:1-9, Revelation 1:1-8

Matthew 22:23-33

Love Made Flesh

-by Reverend Michael R. Boone

It is easy for us to think about love in abstract terms. We describe it as an intense
feeling or an attitude, or just deep affection for another person, place, or thing. Our
love is fickle and flimsy, subject to change. As Christians we are called to think of love
in more concrete terms, especially during the season of Advent. In Christ the love of
God has taken a physical and tangible form. The choice of God to enter the story of
human life and relationships in midsentence shows the world that love requires
more than just words.

In Christ, God loves the world in defiance of the odds that this love will change any-
thing at all. Over and over in Scripture God's love is rejected and distance is created
between God and the world. In our own lives, those we love are often those we hurt
the most. We take them for granted, but God loves in a way that we cannot match.
God loves without expectation. The love of God does not assume positive outcomes
or a warm welcome, but it persists and continues even past the point of reasonable-
ness. God takes the measure of the sin and darkness of the world and still chooses
to commit himself physically to beginning the restoration all things through the
incarnation of Jesus. This is a mission of divine mercy, stepping into history in bodily
form. In the Incarnation God was willing to risk suffering, pain, and death for the sake
of the world. The Incarnation is a testimony to just how deeply God loves us, because
this love is ready, willing, and able to bear the weight of humiliation that comes from
condescending into human history. God did this because the distance that sin creates
between God and humanity can only be bridged by love. Jesus, the son of God, is
sent into the hostile territory of a world where love is usually about feeling and not
action, and shows that embodied love can overcome the world. The arrival of the
embodied Christ is an act of extravagance, the sign of God's unwillingness to meas-
ure out love in the same small measures that we use. God is not too proud to give
self-sacrificially in order to make that love evident.

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God comes close to us in order to redeem us. Jesus was willing to cross the chasm
that separates us from God to make the Lord of eternity present in temporality. He
was born, and lived, and died. In Jesus God knows us at an intimate level, and press-
es forward in love with us not out of any obligation but by recognizing our inability to
live in accordance with God's will and to still choosing to redeem us. God will not
allow our unfaithfulness and rejection to define the terms of our relationship. Like a
persistent suitor, God courts humanity and will not be ignored. God shows us that
love requires more than just feelings or words, it calls for action. This Advent love
comes down among us again to call us to new life. Thanks be to God for the gift of
Jesus, love made flesh.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Psalm 26, 28
Amos 7:10-17, Revelation 1:9-16

Matthew 22:34-46

-by Vickie Couch

Paul wrote Philippians during his second journey to Philippi. He found an invaluable
environment of love and support in Philippi in comparison to the other places he is
known to have traveled within Scripture. Many of Paul’s letters were filled with chas-
tisement and instructions. However, his letter to the church of Philippi is filled with
thanksgiving and gratitude. Philippi was clearly a place of comfort, joy and stability
for Paul. This is similar to how I feel about the familial community of All Saints
Church.

When reading Philippians 1:3-11, I am reminded of the many things I wish I could
declare publicly about the indebtedness my husband and I have to this place and
these people. The impact the people of All Saints Church have had on us since our
very first visit over 7 ½ years ago is astonishingly powerful.

Paul’s emphasis on the importance of loving one another with more depth and un-
derstanding than that of yesterday is something that has that has been a reality for
us as a part of this congregation. It reminds me that we should convict ourselves to in
the same sort of way love and support the community we live in outside these walls.
The love we have experienced since coming to All Saints Church is overwhelming.
Yet, at the same time we are heartbroken for those who have not been shown a sim-
ilar model of Christ’s love throughout Durham, Chapel Hill and all over the globe.

I cannot help but question if I, as a global citizen, am helping spread the equal, un-
conditional love that Paul encouraged the church at Philippi to do. If not, how can I
use my gifts to do so? If yes, how can I do more of it?

It is my prayer during this Advent the each of you would be encouraged to go out on
a limb today (and every day) and remind somebody that you support them in a way

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that you have neglected to communicate to them lately. As Paul promises, you will
be “filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ.”

I thank my God in all my remembrance of you,
always in every prayer of mine for you all making
my prayer with joy, because of your partnership in
the gospel from the first day until now. And I am
sure of this, that he who began a good work in you
will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.

It is right for me to feel this way about you all,
because I hold you in my heart, for you are all
partakers with me of grace, both in my imprison-
ment and in the defense and confirmation of the
gospel. For God is my witness, how I yearn for you
all with the affection of Christ Jesus. And it is my
prayer that your love may abound more and more,
with knowledge and all discernment, so that you
may approve what is excellent, and so be pure and
blameless for the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of
righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ,

to the glory and praise of God.

-Philippians 1:3-11, ESV

Wednesday. December 9, 2015

Psalm 38
Amos 8:1-14, Revelation 1:17-2:7

Matthew 23:1-12

Prone to Wander

-by Minda Zambenini

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Each time I sing these lines from the hymn “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” I
feel a tug on my heart. For a while I shrugged it off as having to do with a well-timed
swell in the music, a key-change induced rush of endorphins, but I have come to real-

21

ize that instead I feel those words intensely because they speak right to a deep truth
about me. I am prone to wander, to forget or ignore, to turn away from a God I love
and am loved by. How many times have I needed to turn my heart over again? My
practical self wants to react with frustration–why this endless cycle of forgetting his
goodness and then remembering again, of being reminded of my need and turning
back from apathy toward a God I say deserves my all? But instead of frustration,
when I sing these words I simply feel brokenness; my practical, frustrated self is no-
where to be found, and instead I find my hands open before God confessing that I
need to be redirected every day, every hour, even every minute. That my heart must
be taken because I forget to whom it belongs.

In Psalm 136, the phrase “his steadfast love endures forever” is repeated 26 times.
This is not redundancy for its own sake. Instead it is for those like me who continually
forget: it is not only God’s love that endures forever but his steadfast love. It is
steady; it fastens us in a world that often seems more chaos that order. It fastens us
when we can’t keep focused in worship; it fastens us when we don’t have the words
to pray; it fastens use even when we forget to think about God until halfway through
the day. For all the things that will pass away, we have been promised that love will
remain, that love was present at the founding of the universe, that love was present
when God took on flesh and inhabited our world, that love continues even now, and
is promised to us in full. I often forget this; I often wander, but I, we, are allowed to
confess this and be pulled back to the God we love. The hymn states that his
“goodness like a fetter (will) bind my wandering heart to thee.” We are all in various
states of waiting, and we fill our time with various wanderings and meanderings
through our days, but God’s goodness and love are steadfast and everlasting. Wher-
ever we go and no matter how far we stray, he has made a way for us to be bound to
him, to be fastened to the one who loves better than any other love.

Here’s my heart, Lord take and seal it, Seal it for Thy courts above.

Thursday, December 10, 2015

Psalm 37:1-18
Amos 9:1-10, Revelation 2:8-17

Matthew 23:13-26

God With Us

-by LeAnn Meckley

Romans 12:9-15; Philippians 2:1-7

I put on a coat for the first time this season and felt a bump in the pocket. I reached
in, excited as I anticipated what I might find, of course hoping for a $10 bill. Lo and
behold, in my hand, a Lego piece that I’m fairly certain had been run over by a car
and a twist top to a squeezy packet. A smile crept up and memories flooded, but

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there was also disappointment. Not because I didn’t find money, but as I left the
house, I wondered if my entire identity was simply reduced to: #momofboys. It’s
easy to love my kids. The bond between mother and child is innately strong, but this
affection and fondness for my children is not the same as setting aside myself daily
and showing them compassionate love at every turn, with every mistake, every
mess, every aggression. That’s hard. Yet, this compassionate love is what we’re
called to give; not just to those we’re fond of, but to the destitute and the dejected.
Christ shows us this compassionate love through the incarnation as he empties him-
self. He sets aside his identity as creator and sustainer, gives up his throne, and hum-
bling himself becomes a helpless babe. In doing so, he elevates each of us through
his posture of obedience and humility.
Christ’s incarnation begins as a baby and we can’t understand the full impact of his
life and ministry if we overlook the silent years of his childhood. Imagine 15 plus
years where, after the fanfare at his birth, Christ spent time just being with––and
being cared for by––the people he would one day serve, teach and of course, save.
He was just a baby, just a toddler, just a child – learning to walk before he could per-
form miracles, learning to talk before he could utter prophesy, and living along-side
and learning from sinners before he would go to the cross. These years are a period
of silence where God stands vigil with humanity. Christ went on to perform miracles
through the touch of his hand and extend compassion to others physically. Later, he
revealed himself and the purpose of his ministry through words. But first, he’s simply
Emmanuel, God with us.
For a society so obsessed with love, we’re pretty terrible at loving. We are doers,
fixers, sayers – we click buttons for affirmation and send emojis as expressions of

Photo by Esther Meeks

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kindness. We tuck our kids in with sweet words of affection, but we are shallow. We
are dismissive even with our spouses and best friends, and we do a poor job of
standing vigil--listening and feeling with others. Each of us can recall a funeral, a mis-
carriage, or a time of overwhelming stress where we reached out to someone for
compassion only to receive a trite response – “God is good.” “He’s in a better place.”
“At least you can try again.” How much better to have someone who will sit by our
side, drop the assumption that they can solve our problem, and simply offer compan-
ionship and listen to our sobs. Place a hand upon our own in quiet demonstration
that they are with us. This is how Christ spoke to the depths of our hearts, by becom-
ing human and offering himself and his presence before offering a solution. He saw
the example of Mary and Joseph who set aside their wills for the will of the Lord,
listened to and answered his cries as a hungry baby, and stood at the foot of the
cross in his suffering.

Friday, December 11, 2015

Psalm 31
Haggai 1:1-15, Revelation 2:18-29

Matthew 23:27-39

-by Evan Bassler

Every once in awhile, particularly in the Fall and Winter months when the cold drives
folks around bonfires and warm hearths (if you are lucky enough to have a fireplace),
I get to reflecting on my life and how God has been present through the variety of
times, both good and bad. Psalm 136 reminds us of this reflective and hopeful activi-
ty, “Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good, for his steadfast love endures forever.”
Looking back, I could name numerous times when I saw God working directly in my
life, through the joys of friendships and meals and various celebrations when God
laughs His love with a joyous song. I can also recall times of loss and hurt when His
word has brought a message of comfort and hope or a friend or stranger appears
with a comforting presence, reminding me of God’s continual attendance. But when
my life does not go as I had planned, I sometimes wonder how God was loving me.

At numerous times in my life, I have had my plans for the next 10-15 years figured
out. Needless to say, this is not how things have worked out. But I have often asked,
“Why not?” I have never had any career aspirations that were particularly harmful to
myself or others and my plans were not excessively risky or irresponsible. As long as I
did not add to the suffering of the world, why would God not honor me with the sim-
ple life I requested?

You may have noticed at this point that I have been talking about myself a lot: my
live, my plans, my visions of comfort. But Advent offers a particularly challenging
vision of what It means to live a life that is honoring to God: Mary. It can be easy to
cast aside Mary’s “Yes” a unique request for the incredible moment at hand, giving

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up her life for the greater good of humanity Give thanks to the
that luckily has no implications for how we

live, and mostly impacts how we die and Lord, for he is good,

thereafter. But perhaps in Mary’s “Yes” to for his steadfast love
God we actually see more fully what it looks endures forever.
like to truly live, to not be possessed by our

plans or visions of comfort and success but Give thanks to the

to be guided by giving oneself fully to God. God of gods,
In dispossessing herself and every aspect of for his steadfast love
her life to God, Mary actually truly possesses

her life, bringing it into its best end in its endures forever.

proper relationship with God.

It is a strange thought, that giving ourselves Give thanks to the
fully over to God is how we truly possess the Lord of lords,

gift of love God has given us in life. And yet, for his steadfast love
in Mary’s life, we see that this is not a con- endures forever.
traction but one of the beautiful paradoxes

of the Christian faith, that to save our lives Psalm 136:1-3
we must lose them. And yet, as we begin to

realize that God’s love is not contingent up-

on our plans but actually upon our “Yes”, we are able to experience God’s love with-

out the restraints of our worldly definitions but in the fullness of His bounteous crea-

tivity.

Saturday, December 12, 2015

Psalm 30, 32
Haggai 2:1-9, Revelation 3:1-6

Matthew 24:1-14

by Claire Wagner

Here vigour failed the tow’ring fantasy:
But yet the will roll’d onward, like a wheel

In even motion, by the Love impell’d,
That moves the sun in heav’n and all the stars.

—Dante, Paradiso

I.
No trace is left but ash when firewood burns;
A candle-flame, once quenched, leaves only smoke;
All things shall wither while creation mourns
And tries to piece together what we broke.
The universe in endless longing yearns

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To see the promise given to our folk;
Our hope is in the Word the Father spoke.
Yet Lord, still we are ignorant of hope,
Numb and unknowing in a world of loss;
Through gathering gloom and deepest night we grope
And find a manger and an empty cross
And Love Incarnate walking on the earth
And this frail globe in silence wheels and turns,
Revolving in His hands from death to birth.
II.
In You we see the love that lights the sun,
That guides the wheeling planets on their race
And kindles starfire in the depths of space,
Through which the heavens in their courses run,
By which the rings of asteroids are spun,
That swings the constellations in their place;
And in that selfsame love and selfsame grace
The whole of vast creation was begun.
We live and have our being in that love,
And by that grace we take our every breath;
The love that makes the countless stars to burn
Makes also every living thing to move,
And came to earth and bought our lives by death,
The root of joy that makes the heavens turn.
III.
All hail, O Morning Star, O brilliant Light
Who of Yourself illuminates the year,
Who dawned upon us where in endless night
We waited on Your holy advent here:
You have sustained us since the world began,
Your grace grants life and vigor day by day,
O Love Incarnate come to earth as man
To rescue us when we had gone astray.
O God who makes the stars and planets turn,
How earnestly we seek Your radiant face!
Grant, loving Lord, that we may all discern
How we should live and speak and act in grace;
And grant, as we are loved, that we may love
And share the joy in which the heavens move.

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Advent Hope

Hope by Andrew Stillwell

Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come
among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins,
let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver
us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and

the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever.
Amen.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Psalm 63:1-8(9-11), 98
Amos 9:11-15, 2 Thessalonians 2:1-3, 13-17

John 5:30-47
Hope in Section A

-by The Right Reverend Steve Breedlove

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Hope. A much-needed word these days. Maybe it’s age – my age, the age? Maybe
it’s wisdom – or cynicism? Maybe it’s because we started reading the New York
Times a few months ago: Section A serves up a daily dose of brutal reality. Maybe it’s
because I’m thinking more and more about the world our grandkids will inherit.
(“Can you forgive us, child?”)

We had a conversation this past week with friends: “Do you think it’s really worse
than it used to be, or are we just getting old and grumpy?” I told them a story I had
read that morning in Section A about the role of social media in the outbreak of vio-
lence in Israel. Our world has gone viral with specific, detailed instructions on target-
ed, as-painful-as-you-can-make-it bloodletting. We actually are supercharging evil.

I don’t want to pile it on: I doubt I need to. My goal is not “gloom and doom.” Never-
theless, cut to the chase: my “hoper” is taking a beating these days.

Ultimate Hope Thank you, Lord Jesus, especially this year for
is more sure the gift of Advent!

than the dawn, I need a set-aside time to be reminded that you
more fixed are gloriously alive, seated on the throne of the
universe. I need to remember that history is in
than the stars, the hands of the same merciful and good Fa-
more beautiful ther you taught us to pray to – “ask, seek,
than springtime. knock.” He has established the times and
It is your promise. boundaries for the nations. He has declared a
time for “Gentile ascendancy,” the free-reign of
unbelief and defiance. (Look – and weep – at
what we are doing with this freedom. Then
remember! He has established its date-sure
ending.)

I need to read again that “all things will be placed in subjection under your feet,” and
that you will return in glory. Death, darkness, injustice, hatred, violence, all pain and
suffering, will be swallowed up in infinite goodness and beauty. A New Heaven and
Earth are coming. (Oh, to see the stars in an inky-black cloudless sky, to hear the ca-
cophony of birds in verdant unending rain forests, to see monarchs in full migration
again, to scuba dive in unthreatened coral reefs teeming with life!)

I need to remember that, though it can feel like you are up for a vote and the polls
are not trending well, it is actually not true. I am not clinging to naïve faith. With
greater finality than the rebuke of unfettered evil at the empty tomb, absolute evil
will be swallowed up and wiped out of existence at your return. Satan is really good
at destruction, but that’s all he’s good at. You are absolutely GREAT at resurrection,
redemption, reconciliation, and return. You bring life out of death. You are absolute-
ly good! You are Lord! All things will be made well!

This is not “hinted-at” hope: it shouts from Scripture and reverberates in triumph as
we read the story of your people over the millennia (Revelation 12:10-11). Ultimate
Hope is more sure than the dawn, more fixed than the stars, more beautiful than

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springtime. It is your promise.

So now back to Section A. How do I read about “brutal reality”? Advent teaches us
that our eternal hope (the focus of the first half of Advent) is meant to bleed back
into our daily lives, our waiting time (the focus of the second half of Advent). Advent
One declares and celebrates our sure hope – the return of King Jesus. Advent Two
underscores our present hope – the presence of Emmanuel, here and now.

Now we live in this waiting time, something like faithful Israel awaiting the Advent of
the Messiah. But there is a difference even in our waiting. We have much more than
hints of coming deliverance and misapplied stories of military conquest. We wait
with the words of eyewitnesses ringing in our ears, “We heard the voice from heav-
en, we saw his coming in majesty and power.” We have an already-given foretaste of
the unveiled glory of Jesus on our soil (2 Peter 1:16-19, Matthew 17:1-8). We read
his friends’ words, tumbling over themselves to make it clear: “”We have seen with
our eyes, we have touched with our hands, that which we proclaim” (1 John 1:1-4).
We hold the prophetic word made even more sure. We are not following cleverly
devised myths when we sing, “Joy to the World, the Lord HAS COME.”

It’s not only Ultimate Hope, believed but deferred: we have been given Emmanuel:
God with us. Now! Here! Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, among us! At home in our
praises, alongside us at all times, in all places, in all ways (Psalms 23 and 139). Among
us at all times through his own first and best gift, his Spirit.

Sing it, Church. Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come to us, O Israel! Emmanuel is
now with us! Emmanuel will come again! Emmanuel will never leave us! Emmanuel
will never forsake us. Even in Section A.

Monday, December 14, 2015

Psalm 41,52
Zechariah 1:7-17, Revelation 3:7-13

Matthew 24:15-31

-by Nate Warn

As an expectant father, I find it remarkable that the Christian year begins in a state of
‘unrealized’ hope and with a powerful sense of longing. This definitely describes both
the process and event we call pregnancy. As you can imagine, I’ve been spending a
lot of time with it recently. Deep in the fabric of my being and memory, I hope for my
daughter—that in this world she will join her love to the love that surrounds her. My
wife and I wait for our daughter; we wait and pray, and then we pray and wait. This
week in Advent is marked by the story of Israel’s hope. While Advent draws us into
the reality of the Incarnation, God’s coming into the world involved the Son at a par-
ticular time and place in history.

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But why start the church calendar with this reminder to hope? Don’t Christians have
what we hope for? How can hope still have such a prominent role if it’s all been real-
ized by God’s work in Jesus Christ? We need to be reminded that the church’s story
emerges from and is dependent upon Israel’s history with God. We can’t really know
the depth and extent of what was revealed in Jesus Christ without also acknowledg-
ing the long road God took to shape a people for himself and ultimately place himself
in their midst.

Luke’s Gospel offers us this long road perspective. In response to hope fulfilled, we
hear in Mary’s song: “He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his offspring forever.” (Luke 1:54-55)
And from Zechariah: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and re-
deemed his people and has raised up a horn of salvation for us…as he spoke by the
mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we should be saved…” (Luke 1:68-71).
This hope reaches its fulfillment in the coming of Jesus, yet not before a long struggle
against forgetfulness and even despair. As the church, we return to this state of hope
as a call to wait and watch for his final coming, to “take courage, all you who wait for
the Lord.”

We did not always have these words:
ways to be like him and unlike the world
ways to find him and ourselves
ways to become ourselves in the world.

God was not always here with us.
Long stretches of centuries,
filled by the strivings of ignorant, contented living,
changeless, endless centuries
projected like corridors without beginning and end
all through which we traveled and travailed;
until disrupted by a host of great acts
uprooting the world's foundations
and our foundations in the world.

We were now faced with such an offer:
God's claim to be with us and over us
created out of the sterile ruins of wilderness,
the possibility of abundant life:
life-after-desert.

We were strangers to this hope.
Strangers to:

covenant dealings
divine showings
but we were never strangers to
human longings
facing uncounted weary
days and nights

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that is, before now—until now.

Teach us to count the days,
to number in our memories

in the stories we tell our children
to re-mark with our telling,
be re-made in our hearing

the dusk of your nearing
the nights of our waiting
the dawn of our hoping
the days of your appearing.

Remind us to recount your words,
to memorialize in our minds
and mark with our bodies

the deep through which you've brought us
—pain and joy a thousand years overwhelming—
the height to which you'll bring us
and the promise to be filled out that
all strangers to hope will find home with you.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Psalm 45
Zechariah 2:1-13, Revelation 3:14-22

Matthew 24:32-44

-by Brian Maiers

“Even though the weeks leading up to Christmas are known as being a time of
excess, Advent is a penitential season like lent,” a friend of mine who is a Methodist
minister reminded me one day. To combat this “ignorance” of our culture we com-
mitted to fasting every Friday during the season of Advent. To be honest, I am not
very good at being disciplined even during the Lenten season. It did not initially occur
to me how difficult following this agreement would be in the Holidays. November
and December are my favorite months of the year for food and drink. The most
difficult part was the fact that it was my job at the time to promote my company’s
product at various high end grocery stores pretty much every Friday and Saturday
afternoon during this time.

So, how do we connect the practice of fasting with the hope of Advent? Fasting for
fastings’ sake has always seemed to me to be a bad idea. God has made the good
things of the world for us to enjoy and share. I think, however, the thoughts of
Thomas Merton in his famous book No Man is an Island help us to link this spiritual
practice with the hope of Advent. Fasting helps us from being possessed by the good
things to which we become attached. Merton says that in freeing ourselves of these

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things we are no longer dependent on them and, “we are able to see their goodness
and purpose.” By not depending on the material things of the world we are able to
enjoy them for what they are, and put our dependence and hope in God. “For when
our hope is pure, it trusts no longer exclusively in human and visible means, nor rests
in any visible end. He who hopes, trusts God, whom he never sees to bring him to
the possession of things that are beyond the imagination.” This person according to
Merton is “truly free.” Checking our dependence on the visible things of this world:
food, money, our achievements, and our social connections is an important practice
because we seek to be people of hope for a world in which, for many, the visible
circumstances are not always hopeful. I don’t know that fasting is necessary for
everyone during Advent, but I pray during this Advent season we take the time to
reflect on our true hope of Jesus’ second coming through the remembrance of his
first coming.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Ember Day

Psalm 119:49-72
Zechariah 3:1-10, Revelation 4:1-8

Matthew 24:45-51

-by Becky Korman

If I could bottle up one fragrance to surround myself with, it would be the fragrance
of Hope.

David was in huge trouble. Men were trying to kill him; but this man of God knew
where to go. He went to God. In confidence and trust, he prayed expecting God to
respond.

Trouble comes. It finds everyone eventually. We need hope. True hope is hard won.
God longs to show us His loving care. He cannot ignore us. Love is power. Love is
courage. Love is compassion. Love never gives up. God is love.

God himself awaits you. This omnipotent, Trion God wants to be near you. Allow
your faith to take you into His presence and be still and know that He is God. He
arises to your cry. Exercise the muscles of your heart. Ask, seek, knock on His door
and it shall be opened. He comes near as you move near Him. Be humbled by this
sovereign God. Be thankful and honor Him. His majesty bows before you and comes
into the most intimate of places, your own heart. Tell Him of your troubles, worries,
burdens, sins, all that has placed you weary or devastated. Leave them with Him, for
His angels and archangels are gathering them. God loves you more than anyone else.
You are with one who knows you and wants you to have the best life has to offer.

Paul says it best. “…we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance,
character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us……” Romans 5:3-5.

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These sufferings produce the ability to keep going. This perseverance produces
character, God’s character. Our life is not based on daily changes but on the stead-
fast eternal truth; HE LOVES US. He spreads His wings over us and covers us with His
softest feathers. He places His angels charge over us. Our needs are being met. This
intimate encounter and personal closeness leaves us with a fragrance of Him. The
fragrance of Hope. The air is filled with His aroma. As He soothes us we change. We
are transformed into truly believing His promises.

A veil of refreshment and excitement encourages us in the darkest of times. Our

God’s presence enters our suffering. Faith

grows, hope surrounds us and the light of Paul says it best.
His presence chases away the darkness.
Surely goodness and mercy will follow us all “…we know that

the days of our lives. suffering produces

Paul teaches us to be thankful for suffering. perseverance;
We can be thankful that through every perseverance,
difficulty and suffering we are able to call
upon our Most Loving God. character;
and character, hope.
Hope allows us to see His good works and
glorify His holy name. God turns our vision

of where we are and gives us the oppor- And hope does not
tunity to hold his hand through the whole disappoint us……”
experience.

Hope is with us in the midst of chaos, fear, Romans 5:3-5

loneliness, despair, heartbreak and more.

Hope moves with us as we move forward through the shadow of death. His hope
reminds us ; Heaven is union with God. All distance between us and love are erased.
All pain, care and imperfections of life fall away. We will be permanently re-united
with our loved ones. Our errors are forgiven.

Until then , true hope makes us Heavenly minded. Hope gives us power to live coura-
geously.

“I will call on you whenever I’m in trouble, and you will answer me.” Ps. 86

Hope is in you Oh Lord my God. May I be so close to you that your fragrance sur-
rounds me .

Thursday, December 17, 2015

Psalm 50
Zechariah 4:1-14, Revelation 4:9-5:5

Matthew 25: 1-13

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-by Martha Vetter

Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God…
- Psalm 42:5a

Like the psalmist, my heart was filled with this same lament last year as I struggled to
experience God’s presence in the midst of my mysterious sickness. Even as I limped
through Advent and anticipated the coming of Christ, I was deeply conflicted with
dark foreboding and hopeful expectation.

Physically, my weight inched lower and lower. Pain tortured my body. Doubts
plagued my soul. Depression and anxiety hovered over me like a curse. Had God
abandoned me? Would my frail, disfigured body slowly waste away completely,
casting me upon the threshold of death? What could I do to improve my lot? What
doctor or integrative specialist could accurately diagnose my illness and bring healing
and hope?

In January, a friend encouraged me to visit my sister in Boone so that she could
fatten me up. I headed there, expecting to eat and hopefully gain weight. When I
arrived, the bitter wind and icy snow whipped around my emaciated body. I should
have recognized that for what it was--a foreshadowing of disaster. Instead, I ate
many delicious foods for several days. But alas, one morning, all the life-giving nutri-
tional sustenance of those foods once again drained out of me. On that day, my
weight was 115 pounds--almost thirty pounds below my normal weight.

Finally, one morning, as I lay in bed crying out to God, I saw something in my mind’s
eye. I wasn’t dreaming but I wasn’t totally awake. I saw a ladder made not from
wood or aluminum, but iron. I felt myself climbing the ladder. Step up left. Step up
right. Step up left. Step up right. I was trying to climb out of a deep pit. I was exhaust-
ed from climbing, but I knew that I had to keep going. I had to get out of that pit.

It didn’t take long for me to realize something distressing. As I climbed up, up, up--
the ladder slid down, down, down. No matter how hard I tried, I was not able to

make any progress climbing up out of the pit. In fact, the more I climbed, the faster
the ladder moved down. I was stuck.

And then, I heard these words within my heart, “Martha, there is not one thing you
can do to climb out of this pit, to heal yourself. All you can do is lean into my grace
and trust that I am with you”.

Immanuel. God with us.

Suddenly, I knew that no manner of eating would heal my body. Only God would.
And if he chose not to, then I would accept the privilege and pain of living and possi-
bly dying in the fellowship of his sufferings.

“Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in
God…” the psalmist wrote. As we make this pilgrimage through Advent, we rejoice
that even as all creation groans around us, we can wait with hopeful expectation.

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Why? Because we know that the baby in the manger who later died on a tree would
absorb the guilt of our sin and cleanse us from all sin, sickness and death. Not only
that, we know that the baby, who now sits as Lord and King on the Throne of Heav-
en, will one day return. We need no ladders to reach him. He will come to us, and we
will see him face to face.
“…Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm
42:5b)

Photo by Michael Johnson

Friday, December 18, 2015
Ember Day

Psalm 40, 54
Zechariah 7:8-8:8; Revelation 5:6-25

Matthew 25:14-30

-by Jamie Krieg

Hope. A four letter word meaning a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain
thing to happen.
What about hope in Christ?
Over the summer I was able to give that hope to someone else.
I spent a week in Cherokee. During this week I learned how to walk in Christ and
share His light with others. I learned how to find myself in Christ. Not only did this
trip afford me the chance to give hope to others, it also helped me to find hope in

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the Lord.

I experienced some remarkable scenery in Cherokee and met remarkable people. In
the mornings, I would wake up and go to the church hall by myself and pray. I found
hope in the small things like the sunrise shining through the glass with
a light leading up to the altar. This light reminded me that my path in Christ will al-
ways be led by one single light. Hope can be found through something small to reveal
something greater.

I had a conversation with a kid named Maliki. He talked to me a lot about his family.
He shared how his dad left them, and he gestured with his small arms that they had
to move from a big house to a little house. He explained how he never went to
church in the past, but that once his dad left they began going to church. He found
his hope through something greater than a light shining through glass. He found
hope through the people he went to church with. They comforted him and he was
able to learn who the Lord is. That is the most important thing. That experience
brought hope in the Lord.

My week in Cherokee this past summer helped me believe that the Lord will make
everything right. That is my hope in Christ.

The disciples -by Amy Curran
were people
of hope who And we had hoped that he was the one to redeem
faced the death Israel. Yes, and besides all this it is now the third
of their hope.
day since this has happened.
We too —Luke 24:21
Are a people
And we had hoped.
of hope.
But sometimes Israel was a people of hope.
our hope dies, Given the promises of God, they waited
and we are left
wandering an expectantly.
unfamiliar road.
“Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel.”

And then he came, or so it seemed.
Luke’s gospel portrays a hopeful people,
daring to believe their hope had been fulfilled
in the unlikely figure of a miraculously conceived

peasant baby.

My soul magnifies the Lord,” Mary sings.
“for he who is mighty has done great things for

me, and holy is his name.
—Luke 1:46, 49

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Zechariah prophesies,
Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
for he has visited and redeemed his people
and has raised up a horn of salvation for us

in the house of his servant David.
—Luke 1:68-69

For the rest of the book, the people’s hope vacillates between belief (truly, you are
the Lord!) and question (can this be the Christ?): the crests and troughs of hope’s
wild waves.

And just when they might expect Jesus to still the storm of doubt and prove finally
that this hope is well founded, they find themselves instead at the foot of the cross,
at the door of the tomb. The hope that had seemed so sure was killed, and wrapped
up, and closed away, and the disciples were left to wander alone along an unfamiliar
path because there was nowhere else to go.

The disciples were people of hope who faced the death of their hope.

We too are a people of hope. But sometimes our hope dies, and we are left wander-
ing an unfamiliar road.

Maybe the relationship we had thought was ‘the one’ didn’t work out.

Maybe the job that provided for our family ended with little notice and no next step.

Maybe the healing we had prayed for so fervently did not occur.

Maybe the child so long desired, or the child so dearly sought, is still not home.

What does it mean to be a people of hope when the waves that had once stirred our
hearts have been parched by the arid climate of tragedy or pain? Can we be a peo-
ple of hope in the face of death?

We had hoped…

The disciples on the Emmaus Road thought their hope was dead. They had watched
him die. They thought they were speaking in the past tense to this stranger-turned-
companion: We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. They did not yet
realize that they were speaking to Jesus himself. They did not yet know that they
were speaking in the past tense of a Hope who remained very present.

Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel!

Emmanuel has come. And our Hope who died is now our Resurrected Hope. May
we have the eyes to see that this Hope remains with us, even on a wandering, desert
road. And even in the face of seeming death, may we be a people who rest in the
presence of our Emmanuel—a people who fully and confidently wade and rejoice in
hope’s waters, knowing that even in the midst of pain and confusion, our Resurrect-
ed Hope remains present with us.

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Saturday, December 19, 2015
Ember Day

Psalm 55
Zechariah 8:9-17; Revelation 6:1-17

Matthew 25:31-46

-by George & Kay Manning

HOPE

Dear God,
As we begin our Advent journey, grant us courage to hope.

Hope for your Presence
Hope for your Peace
Hope for your Promise

In our Advent preparation for the birth of Jesus Christ, who brings hope to this world,
let us remember that only in Him is our hope.

Christian Hope is putting our trust in the promise of God. “We have this hope, a sure
and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the veil.”
Hebrews 6:19

A life in Christ is a life of restfulness. Our hope is in Christ, not in ourselves. Our
weakness is united to His strength. So we are not to look to ourselves, but look to
Christ.

Litany of Hope

You are with us, O God
In darkness and light.

It is only in darkness that we see the splendor of the universe, the blanket of stars,
and the glowing of distant planets. It was the darkness that allowed the Magi to find
the star that guided them to the place where the Christ child lay.

You are with us, O God
In darkness and light.

Sometimes in the solitude of darkness, our fears and concerns, our hope and our
visions rise to the surface. We come face to face with ourselves and with the road
that lies ahead of us. In that same darkness, we find companionship for the journey.

You are with us, O God
In darkness and light.
We know you are with us O God,
Yet we still await your coming.
In the darkness that contains both our
Hopelessness and our Expectancy,
We watch for a sign of God’s Hope.

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- Litany from Canadian Anglican Church

My Soul waits for you, O God, in your word is my hope.
O Thou in whose presence my soul takes delight,

On whom in affliction I call.
My comfort by day and my song in the night,

My hope, my salvation, my all!

-by Joseph Swain

Advent Joy - by Barbara Barnes

Purify our conscience,
Almighty God,

by your daily visitation,
that your Son Jesus Christ,

at his coming,
may find in us a
mansion prepared for himself;
who lives and reigns with you,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever.

Amen.

Sunday, December 20, 2015

Psalm 24, 29
Genesis 3:8-15; Revelation 12:1-10

John 3:16-21

Joy Comes

-by The Reverend Art Going

We’re used to hearing this kind of
prayer in Advent: Merciful God, who
sent your messengers the prophets
to preach repentance and prepare
the way for our salvation . . .

Calls to repentance, preparing the
way—familiar tones of the season.

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But as the collect for the Second Sunday of Advent continues, we hear the note of
joy sounded:

Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy
the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer . . .

Advent, we’re reminded, is about anticipatory joy—joy in spite of the messes we’re
in, joy amid sorrow, joy anyway!

Why would we be surprised? After all, Jesus, whose promised coming we await, said:

These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may

be full. John 15:11 Come what may, he want-

Advent, ed us to know his joy. Jesus, deeply rooted in
the prayer book of Israel, knew that weeping

we’re reminded, may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the
morning. Psalm 30:5

is about This confident anticipation of the advent of
anticipatory joy— joy has always infused the followers of Jesus.
An ancient prayer of St. Anselm (c. 1033-

1109) makes it the central aspiration. He

joy in spite of the prays that he may love and know God more

messes we’re in, fully, so that joy may grow to fullness in him:
I pray, O God, that I may know you and love

joy amid sorrow, you, so that I may rejoice in you. And if I can-
not do so fully in this life may I progress grad-
joy anyway! ually until it comes to fullness. Let the

knowledge of you grow in me here, and there

be made complete; Let your love grow in me

here and there be made complete, so that here my joy may be great in hope, and

there be complete in reality. Lord, by your Son, you command, or rather, counsel us to

ask and you promise that we shall receive so that our ‘joy may be complete’ John

16:24. I ask, Lord, as you counsel through our admirable Counselor. May I receive

what you promise through your truth so that my ’joy may be complete.’ Until then let

my mind meditate on it, let my tongue speak of it, let my heart love it, let my mouth

preach it. Let my soul hunger for it, let my flesh thirst for it, my whole being desire it,

until I enter into the ‘joy of the Lord’ Matt. 25:21, who is God, Three in

One, ‘blessed forever. Amen.’ - Romans 1:25

What? Not feeling particularly joyful? Focused on every joyless detail of today’s news
or of your tattered dreams? It’s Advent. Pray defiantly! Meditate on joy, speak of it,
love it, preach it, hunger for it, thirst for it, desire it with your whole being. Joy
comes!

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad,
the desert shall rejoice and blossom;

like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly,
and rejoice with joy and singing.

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened,

40

and the ears of the deaf unstopped;
then the lame shall leap like a deer,
and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy.
For waters shall break forth in the wilderness,

and streams in the desert;
And the ransomed of the LORD shall return,

and come to Zion with singing;
everlasting joy shall be upon their heads;

they shall obtain joy and gladness,
and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.

Monday, December 21, 2015
Feast of St. Thomas

Psalm 62, 62
Zephaniah 3:14-20; Titus 1:1-16

Luke 1:1-25

-by Andrea Acosta

Matthew 19:13-14: Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on
them and pray. The disciples rebuked the people, but Jesus said, ‘Let the little children
come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.’

Matthew 18:1-4: At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Who is the greatest
in the kingdom of heaven?’ And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them
and said, ‘Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never
enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest
in the kingdom of heaven.’

Can you imagine the disciples, trying to run interference for Jesus? “Oh, geez, some
silly kids snuck through the crowd again. Hurry, get them before they interrupt Him!
Oh my word, they're climbing all over Him! Where are their parents, get these kids
out of here!”

When others scoff at the unimportance of children, Jesus corrects them. He brings
the children near and reminds the frustrated, distracted adults to be more like these
kids. These kids are to whom the kingdom of heaven belongs! And why?

Children have a beautiful faith, unfettered by the burdens of the world. They come
with open eyes and open hearts, ready to take in whatever their Father has for them.

They are overflowing with joy. Joy unending is found in puddles to splash in, a partic-
ularly delicious cookie, in the song of a bird they've not heard before, in rhymes and
riddles, in the arms of a loved one...children always find joy.

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What if, when we got out of bed in the morning and stumbled towards the coffee
pot, we asked our Father to make us like children that day? What if our eyes were
cast upwards when we walked outside? Looking for squirrels, crunchy leaves, and
adventure? What if we looked for signs of our Creator instead of looking at our shoes
shuffling through the day? We'd focus on Him and others, instead of ourselves. We'd
smile when we feel the sun on our faces, and giggle when a breeze tickles us as it
passes.

We'd see Him everywhere.

There's a reason Jesus tells us to be like children. Let's lift up our eyes to Him as we
open our hearts, ready to be filled with joy.

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Psalm 66, 67
1 Samuel 2:1b-10; Titus 2:1-10

Luke 1:26-38

-by Caleb Wagner

This summer, I had the privilege of spending two and a half months overseas in
Germany. My dad’s job as a professor of New Testament has enabled our family to
visit Europe on four different occasions. The fourth trip was filled with exciting
adventures and surprises—trips to Paris and Berlin were accompanied by reunions
with old friends, and even a visit from a friend in North Carolina. For me, however,
one adventure stood head and shoulders above all the rest: TeenStreet 2015.
TeenStreet is a ministry of Operation Mobilization, an international missions agency
that serves refugees, immigrants, and children in over 100 countries around the
globe. Every year, over 4,000 teenagers and adults from countries all over Europe
come to TeenStreet for a week of worship, prayer, fellowship, sport, art, outreach,
and much more. I first heard about this event after my older brother Nate did a gap
year with OM and served at TeenStreet in the summer of 2013. Since I knew I would
be a mere train ride away from TeenStreet, I eagerly took advantage of the oppor-
tunity.
Since I was too old to participate as a teenager, I served on the sports team, whose
main job was to organize and referee games of basketball, soccer, volleyball, and
ultimate frisbee for the teenagers. Among other things, I participated in a local
outreach designed t o minister to the people of Offenburg, the town where
TeenStreet took place; led a seminar after translating it from English to German; and
encouraged the teenagers as they competed against other teams. Through my
passion for sports and my willingness to serve the teenagers, I found my experience
as a member of the sports team extremely rewarding.

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Probably the most amazing thing about TeenStreet was the national diversity. Just as
an example, the sports team was made of 30 people from 8 different countries.
When we split up to pray in groups of three or four people, many times each person
in the group would pray in a different language. But even if I couldn’t understand
what each person was saying, God understood every word—he knew exactly what
each person was praying for. It doesn’t matter where a person comes from or what
language they pray in. God understands everyone, and he LOVES everyone beyond
what we can begin to comprehend. It was in times like these that I began to under-
stand the meaning of joy—joy that can only come from knowing a loving Father.
But where I began to fully understand the meaning of joy at TeenStreet was in my
own spiritual life. I came to TeenStreet in search of a spiritual renewal. I had been
straying away from spending time with the Lord, and I wanted to use TeenStreet as
an opportunity to recommit myself to Him. And God answered my prayer. Through
worship, teaching, daily devotions, and fellowship with other Christians, God spoke
His truth to me. If there’s one thing I learned from TeenStreet, it’s that God loves me
so much more than I can imagine. He loved me enough to lay down his life for me.
He loved me enough to prepare a place for me in heaven. And he loves me enough
to give me a second chance. If that’s not enough to give a person joy, I don’t know
what is.
So, in the end, joy is not just a vague idea. It is an opportunity—a chance to share
God’s love, experience His presence, and awaken hope.

This photo shows the place where each of the 4,000 people at TeenStreet could worship God through art.
Each individual display of artistry carries a message of joy that is there for everyone to see.

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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Psalm 72
2 Samuel 7:1017; Titus 2:11-3:8a

Luke 1:39-48a(48b-56)

-by Maija Samei

Counting it Joy

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds… James 1:2

Our family recently celebrated the one-year anniversary of my mother’s death. Some

time before her death, my sister-in-law said to me, “It is a gift to be able to take care

of your mother.” I never really appreciated the truth of these words until she was

gone. All those trips to the hospital, clinics, lab, ER, rehab facility, pharmacy, grocery

store. All those requests for me to come downstairs and help her with this or that

small or large task. All those hours spent changing bandages, putting pills into com-

partments, helping her put on clothes. All the inconvenient, messy, embarrassing,

unmentionable things. All these were a gift. They gave me time with a woman who is

now lost to me, whom I can only hope to see again in the hereafter. They gave me

the chance to hear stories that I can no longer ask to hear, involving people I can no

longer ask her questions about. They gave

In advent, me the chance to see a strong woman
we wait, struggle against her own weakness, rise
above her own pain, mellow from a hard-

with hope. headed sometimes overly critical person
into a sweet-spirited, grateful person. I

We wait for the know now that being with her through

coming of the day that process was a gift in these and other
ways, and I feel deeply its preciousness.

when we will see The apostle James writes, “Count it all joy,

how the trials my brothers, when you meet trials of vari-
were a gift, ous kinds…” (James 1:2). I have always
wondered what it should look like to

when we “count it joy” when meeting trials. The
will be able words “count it” imply that this is a choice:
I can chalk this trial up in the “joys” col-

to say with umn, or I can put it in the “sufferings”
column. I can treat it as something to re-

gratitude, yes, joice about or as something to complain

God allowed me to go about. I cannot deny that many times
during the years I cared for my mother, I

through that, found plenty to complain about. My sister-
and he is a in-law’s words to me were not very differ-
ent from James’s: Know that this time,

giver of good gifts. with all its trials and all the ways it is

stretching you, is a gift. It will be seen as a

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gift in the future when you look back on it. You will be grateful for what it meant to
you. Similarly, James says to us, the various trials you encounter are a gift. They will
accomplish the work of God in you, producing steadfastness, perfecting your faith.
You will look back on them and understand. So place them in the “joys” column now,
because that is where they belong.

Can I accept this word about the areas of my life in which I now find myself being
tried, tested, pressed, stretched? Can I place these things in the joys column? Or will
I complain about them, rail against them inwardly?

In advent, we wait, with hope. We wait for the coming of the day when we will see
how the trials were a gift, when we will be able to say with gratitude, yes, God al-
lowed me to go through that, and he is a giver of good gifts.

Thursday, December 24, 2015
Christmas Eve

Psalm 80
2 Samuel 7:18-19; Galatians 3:1-14

Luke 1:57-66

Running after Joy

- by Lydia Kiefer

I believe God made me for a purpose.
He also made me fast, and when I run, I feel his pleasure.

-Eric Liddell

Ever since I can remember, Eric Liddell, the Scottish Olympic runner and Christian
missionary, has been my personal hero. His perseverance, courage, and enduring
joyfulness have inspired and guided my life in a multitude of ways. Forever immor-
talized in the film, Chariots of Fire, Liddell is remembered for refusing to race on the
Lord ’s Day, and subsequently for winning a 400 meter race later in the Olympics
games. From the very first time I watched the movie, I was fascinated by Liddell’s
joie de vivre. With fervor, I began hunting for and devouring books on Liddell’s real
life. The deeper I dug, the more I saw the joy of the Lord reflected in Liddell’s charac-
ter. Whether or not he really said the above quote, Liddell’s family and friends con-
firmed that he was a man with a deep, enduring joy that could not be quenched.
From his blazing-fast sprinting and passionate preaching for crowds who came to see
him run, to his commitment to writing letters to young fans, Liddell exuded the
Lord’s pleasure and the Lord’s joy. If you have ever seen actual footage of Eric Lid-
dell running a race, his head is thrown back, gazing at the sky, wind skimming across
his face and hair, his arms and legs pumping wildly, furiously. I am reminded of the
phrase in Nehemiah, “The joy of the Lord is my strength.” As Liddell sped around the
race track, exhibiting the strength God gave him, I have no doubt that he and his

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Lord were united in glorious, joyful communion.

What the film does not emphasize is that Liddell cut short his promising running ca-
reer, relocating to China to preach the gospel. As much as running filled Liddell with
pleasure, he believed the promises of scripture; that following the Lord’s voice would
bring about a greater joy for all those who heard the truth and believed (Luke 15:7).
Liddell ministered to the people of China for years, until World War II erupted, forc-
ing him into an internment camp. While a captive, Liddell organized sports teams for
the interned youth, taught Bible and science classes, and worked to keep morale
high. He chose joy amidst fear and struggle. “He was overflowing with good humor
and love for life”, said Langdon Gilkey, a prominent American theologian who en-
dured captivity with Liddell.

Ultimately, Liddell was diagnosed with a brain tumor and died before being released
from the camp. Among his last words to a friend who was at his bedside were, “It’s
complete surrender.” Liddell was not announcing his last breath. Instead, he was
proclaiming how he had lived his life in complete submission to the Lord. Only
through this posture of complete surrender was Liddell able to live a life marked by
the Lord’s pleasure and joy, even amidst suffering.

Like Liddell, there are times in my life when I have felt the Lord’s pleasure, or what I
call joy. I run the race set before me, with my head thrown back, reveling in the glo-
ry and joy of the Lord. Daily obedience, communion with the saints, thankfulness for
redemption – these are the acts that usher joy into my life. In these moments, I hear
the words from Zephaniah 3:17:

The Lord your God is in your midst,
a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness;
he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing.

Eric Liddell’s faithful, joyful life has forever changed me and inspired me to surrender
completely. To be a fountain of joy, no matter the circumstances.

When you’re not feeling the Christmas Cheer

-by The Rev. Thomas Kortus

As Christmas approaches and the frenzy of activity reaches its peak; what happens if
you can’t overcome your suffering or grief or if you are overcome by the darkness of
the world? What if you can’t get into the Christmas Spirit - whatever that means any-
way?

I am sitting, squeezed into a middle seat; elbows close to my sides trying to type as I
fly on an airplane back to Durham from Seattle. I just led a memorial service and a
graveside burial for my younger brother’s good friend Matt. Matt was thirty-three

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years old and died suddenly and unexpectedly of an unknown congenital heart de-
fect. He was mowing his lawn when he collapsed. His pregnant grieving widow and
two year old daughter sat in the front row during the memorial service. Matt’s moth-
er and father, brother, and widow all wept loudly on his coffin the following day as
the rain spit down at the cemetery.

How is this young, grieving, pregnant mother and widow expected to celebrate the
joy of Christmas this year? What do you do in the Christmas season when you cannot
muster up the cheer for one reason or another?

The first thing I want to say is that Jesus is Emmanuel. Christmas was originally called
the Feast of the Incarnation. Incarnation comes from a Latin word meaning:
“enfleshment.” At Christmas we celebrate the fact that: God took on flesh. He
became man; Jesus and he is: Emmanuel. God with us.

As I was preparing to speak at Matt’s memorial service I was struck by the shortest
verse in all of the scriptures: John 11:35. “Jesus Wept.” The God of the universe who
became man wept with Mary and Martha at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. Our God
is weeping with Matt’s widow as she grieves the loss of her husband and the father
of her kids. Jesus weeps because his creation is not what it was meant to be. Death
was never a part of God’s original plan. Death with all the brokenness and darkness
of our world is a result of Adam and Eve’s disobedience and all the consequences
that fallow. Our God weeps at the state of creation, but he sent his son Jesus, who is
Emmanuel, to enter into the mess and make it new!

Our God is with you in whatever pain or struggle or loss you find yourself in this Ad-
vent and Christmas season. Our God knows the fragility of life and he knows the pain
of death and loneliness and sorrow of human existence.

You might not be able to laugh and small talk or tell slightly off-color jokes at the
Christmas party, but know you are not alone. God is with you in the midst of our bro-
ken and violent and suffering world. Our God has joined himself to his corrupted cre-
ation for all eternity by becoming flesh and dwelling among us. You are not alone and
despite what it looks like from the newspaper headlines God has not abandoned his
creation.

The other thing I want to say is that Advent is a time to cultivate hope in the middle
of our loss and suffering. In the midst of our sorrow and pain we are invited to kindle
our longing for Jesus’ return in glory and power. In this season we remember Israel’s
longing and expectation for Messiah to come and reconcile the world to God, but we
also earnestly long for and prepare for Jesus to come again in power and glory to
make all things new. Our Advent presupposes that all is not right and good with our
world and in our lives. We long for the world to be put right and for God to break
into our lives in the midst of our pain and disappointments.

Revelation 21 tells us that when Jesus returns He will create a new heaven and new
earth and he will live with us forever and He will wipe away every tear from our eyes,
and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain
anymore, for the former things have passed away. I long for Jesus’ return. I long for a

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world without cancer, congenital heart defects, abuse, violence, mass shootings,
mental illness, chronic pain, and broken relationships.
If you are feeling blue this Advent season turn your sorrow and numbness into long-
ing, exception, and preparation for Jesus’ return. He is coming again and when he
does we will be reunited with all those who have died in him and who have been
raised with him. And we will be made new - everything will be made new - and our
pain and loss and grief will be no more. Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus.

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The Nativity of Our Lord:
Christmas Day

Friday, December 25, 2015

Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take
our nature upon him, and to be born [this day] of a pure virgin:

Grant that we, who have been born again and made your
children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit;

through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and
the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever.

Amen.

Psalm 98
Isaiah 52:7-10; Hebrews 1:1-12

John 1:1-14

When it comes the to rich and joyous feasts of the Christian life there is no better peo-
ple to celebrate with than the saints of old. I love reading the church fathers as they
bask in and proclaim the glory of God. When I look to their writings I have a difficult
time simply quoting a few sentences - I loose myself in the power and clarity of their

writing and I cannot pick or choose a few sentences…

I offer to you an excerpt from Saint Augustine of Hippo (Sermon 185: PL 38, 997-999)
on the mystery of the incarnation. I pray it would awaken in you a deeper desire to

marvel at God’s generosity made known in Jesus Christ at Christmas!

-Fr. Thomas Kortus

Christmas Morning Reading from St. Augustine of Hippo

Awake, mankind! For your sake God has become man. Awake, you who sleep, rise up
from the dead, and Christ will enlighten you. I tell you again: for your sake, God be-
came man.

You would have suffered eternal death, had he not been born in time. Never would
you have been freed from sinful flesh, had he not taken on himself the likeness of
sinful flesh. You would have suffered everlasting unhappiness, had it not been for
this mercy. You would never have returned to life, had he not shared your death. You
would have been lost if he had not hastened ‘to your aid. You would have perished,
had he not come.

Let us then joyfully celebrate the coming of our salvation and redemption. Let us
celebrate the festive day on which he who is the great and eternal day came from
the great and endless day of eternity into our own short day of time.

He has become our justice, our sanctification, our redemption, so that, as it is
written: Let him who glories glory in the Lord.

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Truth, then, has arisen from the earth: Christ who said, I am the Truth, was born of
the Virgin. And justice looked down from heaven: because believing in this new-born
child, man is justified not by himself but by God.

Truth has arisen from the earth: because the Word was made flesh. And justice
looked down from heaven: because every good gift and every perfect gift is from
above.

Truth has arisen from the earth: flesh from Mary. And justice looked down from

heaven: for man can receive nothing unless it has

Let us then been given him from heaven.

joyfully celebrate Justified by faith, let us be at peace with God: for
justice and peace have embraced one another.
the coming of
Through our Lord Jesus Christ: for Truth has aris-

our salvation en from the earth. Through whom we have ac-
cess to that grace in which we stand, and our
and redemption. boast is in our hope of God’s Glory. He does not

say: “of our glory”, but of God’s Glory: for justice

has not come out of us but has looked down from heaven. Therefore he who glories,

let him glory, not in himself, but in the Lord.

For this reason, when our Lord was born of the Virgin, the message of the angelic
voices was: Glory to God in the highest, and peace to men of good will.

For how could there be peace on earth unless Truth has arisen from the earth, that
is, unless Christ were born of our flesh? And he is our peace who made the two into
one: that we might be men of good will, sweetly linked by the bond of unity.

Let us then rejoice in this grace, so that our glorying may bear witness to our good
conscience by which we glory, not in ourselves, but in the Lord. That is why Scripture
says: He is my glory, the one who lifts up my head. For what greater grace could God
have made to dawn on us than to make his only Son become the son of man, so that
a son of man might in his turn become son of God?

Ask if this were merited; ask for its reason, for its justification, and see whether you
will find any other answer but sheer grace.

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