Back through the Wardrobe

. . . they departed to their own country by another way (Matthew 2:12)

They no longer recognized the lamppost that had marked their point of entry into Narnia.

In Narnian time, years had passed. The main characters – Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy – had been ruling as Kings and Queens in Narnia. The White Witch and the land’s deep freeze were a distant memory.

So when the four rulers came upon the lamppost it looked to them like a “pillar of iron with a lantern set on the top.” As they investigated the unfamiliar sight they entered the woods where the lamppost stood. Almost immediately they no longer felt the scratching of tree branches, but rather the fabric of coats. Within a few steps they had tumbled out of a wardrobe and back into an empty room.

Back in England, it was the same day as when the Wardrobe had first led them to Narnia. Only minutes had passed. They were no longer Kings and Queens. They were children again.

Trying to explain why some coats were missing from the wardrobe, the children told the Professor (their caretaker and the owner of the wardrobe) about their adventure. He did not scoff or rebuke them, but believed the whole story. And then he spoke these words to them:

“I don’t think it will be any good trying to go back through the wardrobe door to get the coats. You won’t get into Narnia again by that route . . . of course, you will get back to Narnia someday. But don’t go trying to use the same route twice. Indeed, don’t try to get there at all. It’ll happen when you’re not looking for it.”

Don’t miss the treasures of this Christmas Eve by trying to re-create a Christmas from another time. Almost all of us can look back on a Christmas that was just right – or at least it seems that way to us now. Maybe we look back on years when death had not yet touched the family, the children and grandchildren were much smaller, the money was more abundant, the relatives were not too far away.

Things might be different now. By comparison, this Christmas doesn’t measure up.

Perhaps what C. S. Lewis wrote about getting back to Narnia is also true of finding the joy of Christmas. The same route that worked back then will not get you there now. Maybe we observe a true Christmas not by recapturing what was, but by embracing the presence of God with us in the life we have right now. Indeed, the treasures of Christmas may come to us unplanned and unannounced. Like finding Narnia again, it happens when you aren’t looking for it.

There are signs of God’s grace all around you on this Christmas Eve. God is with us. That’s the good news of this season. In the words of C. S. Lewis as spoken by a wise Professor, “Keep your eyes open.”

Prayer:
Gracious God, on this Christmas Eve help us to keep our eyes open for signs of your grace that surround us in the life we have right now. Guard us from finding the joy of Christmas only in our memory. Reveal your presence to us today, and in doing so draw us close to you in a fresh way this Christmas. We ask this in the name of your Son Jesus. Amen.

Exactly What We Needed

“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21).

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his son . . . to redeem those who were under the law (Galatians 4:4-5)

The good news was that the Atlanta Police car turned left from Habersham onto Valley Rd. within minutes after my call. The bad news was that the Atlanta Police car turned left from Habersham onto Valley Rd. within minutes after my call.

I would have preferred not to call at all. But after the fender-bender collision I had at Habersham and Valley it seemed like the right thing to do.

As it turned out the damage was so slight that there was really nothing for the APD to do. Still, I’m thankful for the timely response. And I’m also aware that what comes to us as good news (a timely response from police) often points to something gone wrong (the wreck).

A tumor is benign . . . but it’s there and it needs to come out. You are told you will not be laid off . . . but the company is in trouble and others still have to be let go. To us a savior is born . . . which means we need saving. We are not well. And what isn’t well is beyond our own capacity to make right.

‘Jesus’ is the Greek form of the Hebrew name ‘Joshua’ which means ‘the Lord saves.’ At Christmas time we hear this as a “glad tiding.” The angel’s announcement is good news; it reason for great joy and thanksgiving and glory to God for his favor to us.

But these glad tidings carry with them a quiet implication – a verdict on the condition of the human race. The announcement of a savior being born is only good news to those who need saving.

If I’m sitting in my house watching TV and eating Oreos and an ambulance randomly pulls into my driveway I will not be relieved. I might be confused and alarmed, but not relieved and thankful. But after too many years of watching TV and eating Oreos a day may come when I am not well. Something goes wrong. Maybe, by God’s grace, someone can call 911 and the ambulance will come. And when it does there will be relief and gratitude.

Christmas is not truly good news unless we understand that there’s bad news. Not surprisingly, that message doesn’t get much press in December. But it’s definitely there, plain as day, in the words of the angel. “You are to give him the name ‘Jesus,’ because he will save his people from their sins” (Matt. 1:21).

Jesus came to save us from our sins. We couldn’t save ourselves, so God did it for us in sending his son. And in doing so, God gave us exactly what we needed.

Prayer:
Before the season ends, O God, we need to get honest and make our confession to you. Our world is not well. We are not well. We need a savior. Thank you for sending your son. Thank you for loving the world so much that you sent Jesus to save us – to do what we could not do by our own efforts. May this Christmas bring us news that is truly good, because we have faced the truth about ourselves and turned to your grace through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Shepherds and a Shoeshine

And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field . . . (Luke 2:8)

His commute to work took an hour and a half and involved catching more than one bus.

For more than 30 years Albert Lexie made this journey twice each week, leaving his home in Monessen, Pennsylvania, and making the journey to Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh. Arriving early in the morning he would begin his work for the day. For 30 years Albert has served the Children’s Hospital community by shining shoes.

This week Albert Lexie is retiring at age 71. Having faithfully tended his post for 30 years, he is being celebrated by a grateful hospital staff. In this modest role he has engendered the affections of the people who work at Children’s as well as many patients and their families.

A number of factors might explain his popularity: his long tenure there, the quality of his work, his likeable demeanor that endears him to others. All of those things could be said of Albert Lexie. But what is truly admirable is his generosity. Since 1981 Lexie has given $200,000 of his personal income to the hospital’s Free Care Fund.

For three decades the task of shining shoes has been incidental to Lexie’s true work: Making children well. His job was about shoes. His vocation was about changing lives.

Shining shoes and shepherding are nothing alike, but they share this in common: neither of them are careers to which we aspire. We don’t dream of seeing our kids shine shoes, and when Jesus was born no one thought very highly of shepherding.

At Christmas we tend to romanticize and sentimentalize the shepherds. When Luke tells us that “there were shepherds abiding in the fields at night” we could easily substitute “there was a DOT worker standing in a toll booth during the night shift.” The shepherds were working – and working a very mundane job at that.

Interestingly, once the shepherds had gone to Bethlehem and seen the Christ child we are told that “they returned praising and glorifying God.” Returned to what? They went back to same job, same flock, same fields – but they went back with more than a task. They had a vocation. They had good news to tell.

Some of you, perhaps many of you, are reading this as you get ready for a day of work. You might even be at work. As we reflect on the shepherds at Christmas and a man who shines shoes, this question comes up: What are you working for today? This is different than asking what your job is, or who your boss is. A better and deeper question is what is your work about?

The significance of what you do is not defined by a title you have or a position you hold in the organization. You don’t find a vocation by earning advanced degrees. Albert Lexi shows us that the most ordinary work can make a difference in the lives of people.

As you go back to work, return like the shepherds. Work like Albert Lexi. Even the smallest and most ordinary tasks have meaning when done by people who know they are called.

Prayer:
Be glorified in my work today, O God. And help me to find meaning in your call – more than title or position or income. Work through me to accomplish your work in this world, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

A Way Through

. . . though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel (Micah 5:1-5).

Few things are more painful than hitting a wall – over and over again – in a relationship that we care deeply about. Were it not for our desire to ‘get through’ to someone, we would just stop and walk away.

But walking away isn’t an option. And so our collision with the wall continues.

Maybe you know about this. The wall may stand between you and one of your children; they simply won’t listen to your counsel or believe that what you say you say out of love. Quite often the wall stands between spouses, built brick by brick with years of hurt; now it stands there high and insurmountable. Walls like this are found between managers and employees, teachers and students. What all of these walls share in common is their foundation in this nagging question: What will it take to get through?

We are prone to use direct assault against those walls. We argue, insist, plead, promise. Nothing gives. The direct assault proves useless, leaving us with tears and sleepless nights.

C. S. Lewis, the man behind the Chronicles of Narnia, is known to most of us as an articulate defender of the Christian faith. If he wasn’t defending the faith, he was often explaining it intelligently to its critics. Lewis was skilled and powerful in argument. He gained a reputation at Oxford for being ruthless in debate. The book most closely associated with his name is Mere Christianity, a volume that remains widely used in presenting the faith to sceptics.

Given Lewis’s legacy as an apologist and his gifts for razor sharp reasoning and argumentation, it is somewhat surprising that he openly cautioned others against theological debate and argument. Lewis once wrote, “No doctrine of the Faith seems to me so spectral, so unreal as one that I have just successfully defended in public debate . . . we apologists take our lives in our hands and can be saved only falling back continually . . . from apologetics to Christ himself.”

Thus Lewis, toward the end of his life, set aside the task of writing arguments for the Christian faith and turned to stories. In a 1954 letter Lewis stated that “the imaginative man in me is older.” The poet in Lewis was there long before the books of apologetics. And the poet was never entirely absent from him, even in those works.

Lewis was drawn to a vision of the Christian life, not simply arguments for it.

So what does this have to do with you and your desire to ‘get through’ to someone you love? Maybe Lewis teaches us that whatever it is we want to say or tell to someone must also be lived and shown. Sometimes the way through is indirect, quietly lived rather than shouted, shown rather than explained. It is left-handed power.

What is your vision of how things would look if you could get through to the person you love? How can you begin living that vision today?

Prayer:
Merciful God, grant me grace to show what I’ve tried hard to say; to demonstrate what I’ve sought to explain. Grant to me a vision and help me to live it, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The 'Rat'

. . . though you are small among the clans of Judah, out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel (Micah 5:1-5).

Pat Conroy’s book, My Losing Season, is a memoir built around the story of Conroy’s senior year on the Citadel basketball team.

A minor character who appears throughout the book is the team trainer, Joe Eubanks. Everyone on the team called him the ‘Rat.’ One of the most moving chapters of the book is the story of the Citadel’s game against in VMI in 1967. This grueling contest went into four overtimes before the Citadel secured a victory. When Conroy made it back to the locker room his body was so exhausted that he couldn’t undress himself. The Rat pulled the sweat soaked shirt over Conroy’s head and unlaced his shoes. He pulled off his rancid socks and helped him stand up from the bench to walk to the showers.

Just a few years later, the Rat was killed in Vietnam.

At the end of that chapter Conroy tells of visiting the Vietnam Veterans memorial in Washington. With his finger he traced the names that are etched in the wall, names of boys he knew. With each visit to the memorial the last name he touches is the name of his trainer, Joe Eubanks. At this point in the book Conroy writes:

“It is always here at this name that the Vietnam Veterans Memorial unhinges me and I weep as though I will never be able to stop. My weeping is so public and visceral that I always draw the attention of other visitors, and they put their arms around me and try to console me. Veterans ask if Joe was a member of my unit and I shake my head no. Women ask me if I lost a brother. The sons and daughters of men whose names are on the wall want to know why Joe Eubanks meant so much to me, and they all look disappointed, even dismayed, when I blurt out in a tear- strangled voice, “He gave me towels. The Rat gave me towels.” (p. 302)

The high impact moments of your day are probably not on your calendar. Your mental and emotional energy may be directed to the meeting you need to attend and the holiday tasks that still aren’t done. You may be facing a deadline or packing to catch a flight. All of those things matter – but the high impact moments of this day are moments you haven’t planned because they are small and ordinary.

Do not despise the small things: Getting your kids to school, conversation in the kitchen, interactions with co-workers, a compliment or affirmation, holding hands, a kiss on the forehead. Christmas reminds us that sacred things come in small ways.

Pay attention to small things today. What you do without a thought may last a long time in someone else’s memory.

Prayer:
Gracious and loving God, throughout this day grant to me the gift of your Spirit that I might embrace the small things, the unapplauded tasks, the people on the margins. Work through me to refresh the heart of someone else, in the name and strength of Jesus our Lord. Amen.

A Shadow over Bethlehem

And a sword will pierce your own soul too (Luke 2:35).

Simeon had been dead for decades – but what he had spoken to Mary had lived on.

Mary had heard and seen many things about her son that she treasured in her heart, silently pondering and praying over them through the years. Time and time again the words of Simeon had echoed in her mind.

“This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too.” (Luke 2:34-35)

On this day, Simeon long dead, Mary remembered him. She saw again his wrinkled hands reaching for her son. She saw again his weathered face raised to heaven in gratitude. She remembered his peculiar and ominous words. “And a sword will piece your own soul too.”

On this day, standing on a hill not far from that Jerusalem temple, watching the agony of her child, she felt the sword pierce deep.

At this season of the year we love stories of the Christ child: Mangers and livestock, shepherds with their flocks and magi with their gifts, angelic hosts announcing the birth in David’s city. This is the story we love. This is what we gather to celebrate.

Simeon, however, reminds us where all of this is going. This child is the dividing line of history. Some will rise to new life because of him. Others will stumble and fall. He will be adored and spoken against, believed or rejected. Over the manger and the child the cross looms large. We cannot separate the incarnation from the crucifixion.

But we try. We much prefer a cross-less Christmas. We had rather not have that shadow lingering over our happy holidays. Nevertheless, all who are invited to adore the Christ child will also be invited to follow Jesus of Nazareth. And to follow Jesus is to take up a cross.

The same Isaiah who said that a child was born unto us also spoke of a man acquainted with sorrow, one by whose stripes we are healed.

This week, we’ve pondered the darker side of the Christmas story. If you’ve ever been inclined to think of Simeon as a sweet old man, benign and harmless, think again. Simeon speaks to us about a sword and stumbling and our hearts being exposed. Simeon readies us for the cross.

Like Mary, we would do well to treasure these things in our hearts.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we often celebrate your birth without the soul piercing reality of the cross. Remind us today of why you came, and give us power in this season of the year to be people who love sacrificially. Teach us what it means to take up a cross and follow you at Christmas time. And as we follow, make us truly joyful people, we pray. Amen.

For all who 'Struggle' During Christmas

Now war arose in heaven . . . (Revelation 12:7).

In The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe there is a scene in which Father Christmas makes an appearance, bringing gifts to the main characters of the story: Peter, Susan, and Lucy. As we saw earlier this week, younger brother Edmund has become cozy with the white Witch – only to become her captive.

The gifts were not what we typically think of as Christmas presents: For Peter, a sword and shield; for Susan, a bow and arrows; for Lucy, a healing potion and a dagger. These gifts are designed for warfare. As Father Christmas begins to present them to the children he cautions them, “These are tools, not toys.”

When most of us think of the Christmas story we hear in our minds the words of Luke’s gospel. Whether we are consciously aware of it or not, these phrases capture the drama of Christmas: Shepherds abiding in the fields, no room in the inn, a babe in swaddling clothes.

There is, however, another and very different nativity story at the end of the Bible. In Revelation 12 there is a story of a woman who gives birth to a baby. A great red dragon awaits the birth of the child, intending to devour it. When the child is born he is taken up to heaven. His birth instigates warfare between the dragon and his angels, and the Angel Michael with his angel army.

The dragon is thrown down to earth. He is defeated but not finished. Knowing that he will not overcome the child who is born to rule all nations, the dragon wages a war against humankind. The scene is bizarre to us, but it is not hard to understand. In his book, Reversed Thunder, Eugene Peterson adds this helpful comment.

It is St. John’s genius to take Jesus in the manger, attended by shepherds and wisemen, and put him in the cosmos attacked by a dragon. The consequence for our faith is that we are fortified against intimidation. Our response to the Nativity cannot be reduced to shutting the door against a wintry world, drinking hot chocolate, and singing carols. Rather we are ready to walk out the door with, a one Psalmist put it, high praises of Gods in our throats and two-edged swords in our hands (Ps. 149:6).

Revelation 12 is without question the most overlooked Christmas story in scripture. There is nothing cuddly in John’s nativity scene. This Christmas story tells us that in the birth of Jesus the devil is defeated. He is defeated, but not done. He thrashes about even now wreaking havoc among humankind – and we are in a fight.

We can hardly be surprised the John’s visions are ignored in December. We don’t like talk of warfare. But all of us know people who “struggle” at Christmas. You may be one of those people. The ‘dragon’ takes the form of loneliness, illness, alienation, depression. The struggle may be silent, but it is real.

In Jesus, however, you are equipped. By the Spirit we receive what we need for the fight, “tools not toys,” as Lewis wrote. God gives what you need for this time, this season.

Where do you see someone struggling at this time of year? What gift or ‘blessing’ can you give to them today?

Prayer:
We pray today, O God, for all who struggle in this season of the year. Grant them what they need in the fight, and fill them with confidence in your victory through the child born in the manger. We ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

God on the Offensive

The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil (1 John 3:8).

Though their numbers are shrinking, there are still plenty of people around who remember December 7, 1941.

This past weekend marked 72 years since the attack on Pearl Harbor. The phrase “a day that will live in infamy” is widely known even by those who have no memory of the infamous day. The infamy does indeed remain, rooted in the stunning act of aggression aimed at our nation. Over the weekend we remembered those who lost their lives at Pearl Harbor. Moreover, we remembered how that day, that act, changed our history as a people.

The opening chapters of the Bible tell us about an act of aggression. The biblical story begins with a good God and a good creation. We don’t get very far before an enemy appears to drive a wedge between humankind and the creator who provides all things for their good. Manipulative and cunning, this enemy attacks what God has done, changing the course of human history. The rest of the Bible is the story of God’s restoration project. God has long been at work to mend what the devil wrecked.

At this time of year we are often encouraged to remember the “Reason for the Season.” What we rarely hear is the very specific reason stated in 1 John 3:8. “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil.”

Most of what we see and hear in this season belies that truth. The sights are idyllic: Starlight spilling from a cloudless winter sky, snow fall that never seems to cause traffic problems or power outages. All of this is enhanced with the display of lights.

The vocabulary of love and blessing shapes our language. We speak of God’s love for the world and how we share that love by loving our neighbor. Words like ‘peace’ and ‘joy’ give expression to our deepest Christmas wishes.

All of this is wonderful and I’d be the last person to dismiss any of it. But let’s not forget the combative edge that Christmas represents. The scriptures are clear that we have an enemy who actively seeks to diminish or destroy our faith. Jesus said that this enemy is a liar who will stop at nothing to ruin what is good and beautiful in this life (see John 10:10).

If you want to know the reason for the season, take a moment and look closely and what most of us try to ignore at Christmas. The devil’s work is seen in broken homes, addictions, violence in streets and schools, abuse behind the closed doors in our own neighborhoods, estrangement between races and nations. All of this is why Jesus came. He came to destroy the devil’s work.

Christmas is an act of aggression. It is God on the offensive. Jesus came to destroy the devil’s works, and this is why we must never separate the manger from the cross.

Where are you most aware of the ‘devil’s works?’ Is there anything you can do this Christmas to undo what the enemy is doing?

Prayer:
“Come thou long-expected Jesus, born to set thy people free; From our fears and sins release us, Let us find our rest in thee; Israel’s strength and consolation, hope of all the earth thou art; Dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.” Amen (Charles Wesley, 1744)

Staying Awake at Christmas

 Awake, O sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you (Ephesians 5:11-17).

I still shudder at the words “some assembly required.” But there was a time when they sounded especially onerous to me at Christmas.

One year when my children were very small I nearly renounced the faith over my labors with a ‘Playskool’ kitchenette set for my daughter. While I’m not very adept with tools, it wasn’t so much the actual task of building the kitchenette that caused me to wonder whether God is a benevolent being. What really did it was being up late on Christmas Eve night, after Christmas Eve worship, after the bedtime routine, after waiting for children to fall asleep. As the night wore on the more it seemed like the instructions for assembly required an advanced degree from Georgia Tech.

That stage of life was a time when the preparations for Christmas morning kept you up late on Christmas Eve night when all you wanted to do was go to sleep. And then, almost immediately, the eagerness of young children woke you up early on Christmas morning when you would have loved sleeping in. Being fully “awake” at Christmas in those years was often a challenge.

C. S. Lewis loved the image of being “awake” as way of understanding the life of faith. To be far from God was to be asleep, walking through life unaware, senseless. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, one of the four main characters becomes friendly with the White Witch only to soon discover she isn’t friendly at all. He soon realizes that he is in fact her prisoner, not her friend. As his misery grows he reaches a point where “the only way to comfort himself now was trying to believe that the whole thing was a dream and that he might wake up at any moment.”

Lewis biographer Alan Jacobs quotes Lewis as having written, “We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade the presence of God. The world is crowded with him. He walks everywhere incognito. And the incognito is not always hard to penetrate. The real labor is to remember, to attend. In fact, to come awake. Still more, to remain awake.”

Our struggle to stay awake at Christmas goes far deeper than late nights with gifts that require assembly, or early mornings with children whose excitement cannot be contained one moment longer. We sleep through the season as we go through the motions of ‘the holidays’ dull to the stunning realities of a true Christmas.

As Lewis wrote, the world is crowded with God. To us – especially in malls and in traffic – the world just seems crowded. We make our way through it as best we can. As we do, we may ignore God’s presence, but we cannot evade it. Our task is to pay attention. To wake up and to stay awake. One of the effects of sin in this world is not to make people bad, but to make them groggy.

What will it mean for you to stay awake this Christmas? As you go through this day, where and how will you attend to the incognito presence of God?

Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, that while we may sometimes ignore you, we can never evade you. Wherever we look or go, you are there. Wake us up today to your presence. As we learn to see it, grant us grace to point others to it as well, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The Thaw

For the creation was subjected to futility . . . (Romans 8:18-25)

Almost a year ago, for my son’s 15th birthday, Marnie had planned to make a special meal featuring fried chicken - something she ventures to cook only for the most special of occasions.

Planning ahead, she gathered everything she would need to make this meal. The following day she would get home from the office and go straight to work on her culinary birthday gift. That was the plan. Until I stepped in. She had asked me to take the chicken and put it in the refrigerator we have in the basement. Without thinking things through I simply assumed that chicken belonged in the ‘freezer’ part of what she was calling the ‘refrigerator.’

The following evening Marnie came home ready to cook only to find the center-piece of the much anticipated meal frozen solid. She was forced to come up with a back-up plan (which was still very good). We’ve all heard of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But there’s just no way to go from the freezer to the frying pan.

A true thaw takes time.

In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, C. S. Lewis introduces us to the land of Narnia. It is a land held captive by a tyrannical ruler, the oppression visibly portrayed in a deep freeze that has Narnia in its grip – “always winter but never Christmas,” we’re told.

But we’re also told that Narnia has a true King and this true King has not abdicated his rule. “Aslan is on the move.” As the magisterial Lion Aslan makes his presence known in the drama we see Narnia slowly thawing. Rivers begin to flow full as ice becomes water; green grass penetrates the white shell of ice and snow.

None of this happens quickly. A true thaw takes time, and the land of Narnia has been waiting for a very long time for the day when its lifeless freeze would yield to the warmth of its true King.

There is a line in O Holy Night that says “long lay the world in sin and error pining.” These words capture the deep freeze of Narnia. They describe the world we see around us. They may even say something about the coldness of your own heart during this Advent season.

Aside from the rogue 70 degree day we had last week in Atlanta, December typically arrives with a chill. For many people that chill goes beyond the weather conditions. Our hearts are cold: the pain of grief is exacerbated, money pressures feel intensified, relational fissures can be pushed to the breaking point. By itself, the annual arrival of December does little to mend the broken places of life.

Next week we’ll look more at how the breath of God gives life to what is frozen solid. But for today be encouraged by this. A true thaw takes time. Be patient with what seems cold and lifeless within you. Advent tells us that there is a true King who is on the move.

Where is the deep freeze in your life these days? Pray. Wait. Watch.

Prayer:
“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel and ransom captive Israel; who mourns in lonely exile here, until the Son of God appear.” We ask this in the name of the long awaited one, Jesus our Lord. Amen.

Things are going to Change

In the past he humbled the land . . . but in the future he will honor Galilee . . . (Isaiah 9:1).

At its core, Advent is a restless season.

This restlessness is characteristic of a life that is neither here nor there; it cannot be content with what is, but what will be has yet to fully take shape. This restlessness is stirred in that disconnect between our seasonal vocabulary of peace and joy and good will, and the undeniable absence of those things in our world. Advent restlessness is rooted in the conviction that something has to change, and that someday it will.

To those who had been brought low, Isaiah promised a future exaltation, a coming honor. In their past God had humbled them. Isaiah’s hope-filled message announced that God would not leave them that way. The darkness in which they walked would yield to the gift of God’s light. He spoke his message, however, to a people living between the times, between yesterday’s humiliation and tomorrow’s coming honor.

If this time of year finds you between the times, looking back on something that brought you low and waiting on something that will lift you up – then you’re in the true spirit of the season, whether it feels that way or not.

Maybe the economy has already done its worst to you. The job you loved isn’t there anymore and now you’re wondering about what will come next. Maybe the relationship that seemed to hold so much promise never came to fruition in something that would last. Maybe your suspicions about the persistent fatigue you’ve lived with have been confirmed. Test results have revealed what you’re up against.

Advent is the in-between season. It is a restlessness that refuses to draw conclusions about life too soon, too quickly. Advent people live between the humbling past and the future with honor, confident that things are going to change. That confidence is not mere positive thinking. It is grounded in God’s character. Things are going to change, and the zeal of the Lord will do it.

God is zealous for his glory and for your good. That might sound strange to you, but it’s true. Isaiah makes repeated references to God’s zeal. This is a part of God’s very nature, God’s personhood. God burns with zeal.

We survive the waiting season because God’s determination is far stronger than our own.

The zeal of the Lord will bring about all that the prophet sees: lifted burdens, ended wars, bourgeoning hope. God will do this in his zeal. It is his work to do, not yours. And that zeal is how you can know that things are going to change.

So don’t draw conclusions about your life right now. Wait. Wait on what our zealous God will do. Love between the times . . . and enter the spirit of the season.

Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, to live between the times. Sustain us in that place between being brought low and being lifted up again. We yearn for things to change. We yearn for light, and we look to you to bring it to us. Rise up in your zeal and do for us what we could never do for ourselves, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

One Road, Two Ways to Travel

A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side . . . (Luke 10:31)

If I leave my house to go to Charlotte, NC I’m probably going to end up driving north on I-85. There may be some alternative routes, but around here it is widely understood that the best way to get from Atlanta to Charlotte is on 85. That’s the road for all points north and east.

In the place where Jesus lived the same kind of thinking was at work when it came to making a journey from Jerusalem to Jericho. The primary route, perhaps the only route, was a seventeen mile stretch of road that snaked through a gorge known today as the Wadi Kelt. From Jerusalem it was a downhill journey, taking you from 2500 feet above sea level in Jerusalem to 800 feet below sea level in Jericho. The craggy landscape provided good cover for criminals. It was a risky trip – especially if you were alone.

But if you wanted to get to Jericho, that’s the way you went. It didn’t matter who you were. Very religious people walked this road. Thieves walked this road. Samaritans, despised by Jews, made use of this same road. Business travelers also navigated the Jericho road.

For all of them it was the same road. But in Jesus’s story the Religious types and the Samaritan walked that road in very different ways.

All of them came upon a man who had been beaten, robbed, and left for dead. The Priest and the Levite “passed by on the other side.” That phrase is used in the story twice. Fearing they would be made unclean they kept their distance.

The Samaritan traveled the road by holding his own plans loosely. When he comes upon the beaten and half-dead man he responds with both emotion and action. He feels compassion and draws near.

Passing by on the other side, and drawing near with compassion are two very different ways of traversing the same piece of earth. Which way will you choose today?

“Passing by” is what we do when we refuse to be interrupted. We’re in a hurry. We’ve got so much to get done. Quite often, we accept passing by as the best we can do when it comes to sharing our world with people we don’t understand. Since it is not overtly hostile, passing by can appear to be polite.

But being polite is not the same thing as being merciful. Mercy must respond to the wreckage it sees. There is an inner response of compassion coupled with the outer response of action.

How will you move through your world today? There’s a good chance you share office space or a neighborhood or a grocery store or a school with people you do not understand or do not like. You may find it easiest to steer clear of them; you’ll stay out of their way and they’ll stay out of yours. But there is a better way to live in this world.

See who is broken. Feel compassion. Draw near. Start a conversation. Invite a story and stick around to hear it. In other words, show mercy. Be a neighbor.

Prayer:
Walk with me through this day, O God, and make me ready for interruptions. Help me to grow dissatisfied with keeping a polite distance from those around me – especially those least like me. Fill me with mercy and help me to love my neighbor, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Avoidance Strategy

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?" 26 "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?" 27 He answered: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'" 28 "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live." 29 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"  (Luke 10:25-29)

Sometimes we make things harder than they have to be.

We complicate things that ought to be simple. We delay and procrastinate. We overthink, mentally gnawing on every possibility and every consequence. You could be doing this today with a relationship that hasn’t been right for while or a decision that has serious implications for your career. Maybe at some level, deep within yourself, you know what needs to be done. For now, however, you’re finding ways not to do it.

In most areas of life careful deliberation is wise. Knee-jerk responses are rarely a good way to handle things that matter most to us. But sometimes our careful deliberations are a mask for dragging our feet. Next thing we know, we’re not moving at all. We’re stuck.

An expert Bible scholar sought to engage Jesus in a discussion about ‘eternal life’ and how to get it. He did this by posing a question, the answer to which he already knew. God’s law was fairly straightforward as to the way that leads to life: Love God. Love neighbor.

Love God with all that you are, every aspect of your being: your thoughts, your emotion, your will. Yield yourself entirely to God. and along with that – actually, because of that – you are to love your neighbor with the same kind of love you show to yourself.

End of discussion. Do this and you will live.

But the Bible scholar couldn’t leave it at that. He had a follow-up question. He wanted to split hairs, pressing Jesus for precision on the word ‘neighbor.’ And this set the stage for one of the greatest stories Jesus ever told. A story about mercy.

This week we’ll be thinking about Jesus’s story and what it means to live as people who show mercy to those around us. Let’s not make this harder than it is. Showing mercy doesn’t demand that you make a journey around the globe or get a piece of legislation through congress. The neighbor is close at hand and the needs are there to be seen if we’ll pay attention.

Is there anything in your life today that you’ve complicated to the point of doing nothing at all? Don’t let careful deliberations or thoughtful questions become a strategy for avoidance.

Prayer:
Very often, O God, your word is clear. You guide our steps but we are hesitant to go where you lead. Forgive our tendency to make things hard, to overthink and under act. Grant us grace to live a merciful people in the places you lead us this day, by the power of your Spirit, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Tomorrow's Troubles

Therefore, do not be anxious about tomorrow . . . (Matthew 6:25-34).

Then Moses said to them, “No one is to keep any of it until morning.” (Exodus 16:16-21)

So many of the worries we live with today aren’t about today; they are about days yet to come. Jesus said tomorrow would take care of itself – but it doesn’t hurt to get a jump on things, or so we think.

When God provided manna in the desert he gave his people some clear instruction on how it was to be gathered. They were to collect only what was needed for that day, no more, no less. The manna could not be stored overnight; they could not carefully ration out one day's allotment so as to be sure that there would be breakfast the next morning. The story is thousands of years old, but little has changed. God still does what he said he would do. And we still do what God told us not to do.

As for God, he has forever been and always will be our provider. God knows what you need. God gladly listens to what you want – but he knows perfectly what you need. And what you need will not be withheld. Quite often we express our wants with impatience. We speak of our lack with resentment. Nevertheless, God graciously provides. That’s the way it was in the wilderness. That’s the way it is right now.

And as for us, we cheat. With our worry we scoop up tomorrow’s bread. Gratitude for what we find on the ground today quickly withers in the heat of our anxiety over next week, or next month. We pray on Sunday as Jesus taught us: “Give us this day our daily bread.” But on Monday we break the rules. That’s the way it was in the wilderness. That’s the way it is right now.

God gave these instructions to his people in order to teach them. With every new morning they would learn something about God. Their boldness in his goodness would grow with each sunrise as the dew lifted and the day’s provision lay on the ground. They were learning to trust, to let go.

One can easily imagine that in the darkness of the night, after the day’s manna had been consumed at supper time, after the children were sleeping, some fathers were lying awake and wondering if it would be there again in the morning. Could they depend on what they were learning every day about their God? Could they let go of their anxieties about feeding the family and know that God would provide? Could they sleep?

Surrender is what your soul does in the dark of night that allows you to sleep, at rest in the care of God. We spend a lifetime learning to do this. Every new morning is a chance to learn again or perhaps to learn more.

Next Steps:
Read Exodus 16:16-21. Are any of your worries focused on tomorrow or beyond? What will you learn about the goodness of God today?

Prayer:
Gracious God, you have always been faithful to provide what we need. And yet, we brood over tomorrow as if, for some random and unknown reason, you will forget us. Forgive the fear that keeps us awake at night and the pride that drives us to gather as much as we can each day. Teach us trust you more with every new morning, we ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The Pride of Worry

Therefore, I tell you, do not be anxious about your life . . . (Matt. 6:25-34)

Why do we worry like we do?

Jesus could not have been more direct in his instruction to us about this. His meaning was plain. Do not worry about your life – about what you’re wearing or where your next meal will come from. God clothes acres of wildflowers and lilies. God feeds birds and chipmunks and every wild creature. God will care for you.

But still . . . we worry. We may be fine with our wardrobe and the groceries that fill our pantry – but our hearts are endlessly creative in finding ways to do the very thing that Jesus told us not to do. We worry about our children and our health. Grown children worry about their aging parents and their health. We worry about the economy and whether we’ll survive another downsizing. Jesus told us not to do this. We really don’t want to do it. But we do it anyway.

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus calls us to a life of confident trust in God. And yet, we seem determined not to live that way. Jesus tells that our worrying won’t add a single hour to our life, but we seem to think it will. Perhaps the reason we worry, strangely enough, is that we are proud.

Anxious people don’t look proud. To the extent that anxiety is visible at all, we don’t expect to see the visage of a proud person. What we expect is quite the opposite of that. Anxious people look fearful and fidgety; they seem shrouded in a kind of sadness that shows itself in a preoccupied look or presence. Whereas the proud seem to boast in their strength, the anxious seem burdened in their weakness. But push beneath appearances and what we find is surprising. Consider for a moment the words of 1 Peter 5:6-7.

Humble yourselves therefore under God’s mighty hand so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

Notice first that the simple command of these two verses is that we humble ourselves under God’s hand. Of course, humbling ourselves is the exact opposite of pride. Pride wants to be above everyone and everything.

Notice further that this humbling is done in a very specific way. As we cast our anxieties on God we are humbling ourselves under his mighty hand. Knowing that we are loved by God, we cast our anxieties on him and in doing so we humble ourselves before him. When we insist on clinging to and feeding our anxieties, constantly gnawing on what-ifs and maybes, we are not being fearful as much as we are being proud.

Next Steps:
This week we’ll get honest about our worries as we listen to Jesus words in Matthew 6:25-34. For starters, read the text and identify the specific reasons Jesus gives us for not living anxiously. What specific worry do you need to throw off today, casting it on your loving and powerful God?

Prayer:
Forgive us, O God, for living our days as if the things that truly matter depend upon us. Grant to us the humility that works hard while worrying less, casting our cares on you because we know you care for us. We ask this in the name of your Son Jesus. Amen.

Father Issues

Our Father in heaven . . . (Matt. 6:9)

Craig Barnes opens his fine book, Searching for Home, by telling the story of his father’s funeral.

Barnes shares that he rarely, if ever, heard from his Dad. His father had left the family years ago and they never knew for sure where he was. One day someone called to tell them that the father they didn’t really know had died. He had been living in a small trailer in Florida.

After the funeral, Barnes recalls, he and his brother were asked if they cared to look through the trailer to see if there might have been anything that belonged to their father that they wanted to keep. Barnes recalls finding something that he remembered from childhood: a three-ring leather notebook that held his used-to-be-preacher Dad’s sermon notes and assorted reflections. At the back of the notebook Barnes made a stunning discovery.

Across the top of a fresh page was written “Daily Prayer List.” The first two names on the list belonged to my brother and me. A bit further down he even included the name of our mother, his long-divorced wife. I had assumed that Dad has forgotten us, or that when it came to the mental file marked ‘family’ he had somehow found a way to press ‘delete.’ But we were there in his prayers on his last day. (Barnes, Searching for Home, 9-12)

Barnes’ powerful story reminds us that we need to do some work and clear the ground before we can truly pray the words Jesus gave us – especially those opening words: “Our Father in heaven.” There are some ‘Father issues’ that we need to deal with.

First, we’re reminded that the word Father does not always evoke pleasant and endearing thoughts. Father can be a pain-laden word spoken by pain-laden people. The word gets caught in the throat and becomes a block to prayer rather than a help in drawing us to God. But we don’t define God by our life experience. God defines us and helps us make sense of our life experience, both the blessed and the not so blessed.

Second, there are some who hear “in heaven” and think that God is distant and aloof, unavailable and uninterested in us. This isn’t so. Granted, there will be times when we feel that way, but our feelings are not always reliable in matters of prayer.

When you have no idea where God is in your life, when you can’t remember the last time you heard from God, when your efforts to find him seem to come up empty, you can be sure of this: God knows exactly where you are. God will not abandon his children. Your name is in his book and your life is held firmly in his hand.

The word Father may give rise to gratitude. It may give rise to grief. But in the end we only know the Father by looking at the Son. “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:9).

Prayer:
Gracious God, we thank you for fathers who blessed us. We ask you to fill us with grace toward fathers who didn’t. And we pray that you will teach us what fathers and mothers are meant to be as we look to you and your son. Teach us to pray with our eyes on Jesus, coming to you as our good and faithful Father, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Thinking Well

We must break ourselves of the habit of thinking of the Creator as we think of His creatures. It is probably impossible to think without words, but if we permit ourselves to think with the wrong words, we shall soon be entertaining erroneous thoughts; for words, which are given us for the expression of thought, have a habit of going beyond their proper bounds and determining the content of thought. "As nothing is more easy than to think," says Thomas Traherne, "so nothing is more difficult than to think well." If we ever think well it should be when we think of God.

(A. W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy, 22)

Smoldering Embers

But I say to you that everyone who is angry with his brother will be liable to judgment (Matt. 5:22).

Tragedy and heartache do not recognize holidays; they do not take vacations. Inexplicable pain always seems to make an ill-timed arrival.

So it was on Christmas morning 2011. In Stamford, Connecticut a rambling and impressive home, aged and under renovation, went up in flames in the dark of early morning. On a day when little girls should have been thundering down the stairs to discover what was under the tree, two seven year old twins and their nine year old sister perished in the fire along with their grandparents. Many of us were probably buffered from the grief of the story by the noise and busy-ness of our own celebrations. If we heard of it, we couldn’t dwell on it – not on Christmas day.

We ask but never get an answer as to why such things happen. In the days that followed this event, however, investigators did discover an answer as to how it happened. Smoldering embers from the fireplace had been shoveled out and placed in a container in the mud-room of the house. The fire was dormant, but not extinguished. Eventually what was unseen and smoldering came to life with a flame, and the flame became a conflagration.

The anger we carry within our heart is like smoldering embers. The danger is unseen, no smoke, no obvious threat. But the fire is there nonetheless and if left unattended those smoldering embers will soon become a flame. Our deceptive hearts are capable of masking anger while at the very same time stoking it and feeding it. We smile at the world and perform pleasantries with our neighbors while harboring bitter thoughts and painful memories.

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus connects words spoken in anger with the act of murder. The sharp and abusive tongue has its roots in the same soil as the violent hand. Both come from a heart that carries anger. James 3:5 likens the tongue to a small spark. A careless word can do great damage.

The hot glow of embers will usually go undetected unless we look deep beneath what seems to be harmless in order to discover the fire that is truly there. That’s what Jesus is inviting us to do. We can’t get too comfortable in the knowledge that we will never be prosecuted for the crime of murder. When Jesus takes this well-known commandment and makes us culpable of breaking it with our anger, we are being forced to look deep into our own heart.

Next Steps:
Smoldering embers need to be doused in order to no longer be a threat. Does this work with anger? Along with masking our anger and feeding our anger, we are also capable of simply denying our anger. Which of those are you prone to do? Read Ephesians 4:25-27. How do these verses help you understand the words of Jesus about our anger?

Prayer:
Gracious God, help me to be honest about my anger – and then grant me wisdom to know what to do with it. Help me to discover the smoldering embers in my own heart, and keep me from hiding my anger while feeding it at the same time. Guard me and others from the harm that a divided and angry heart can do, I ask in Jesus’s name. Amen.

The Most Important Thing About You

"What comes to our mind when we think about God is the most important thing about us . . . For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself, and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like. We tend by a secret law of the soul to move toward our mental image of God. This is true not only of the individual Christian, but of the company of Christians that composes the Church. Always the most revealing thing about the Church is her idea of God, just as her most significant message is what she says about Him or leaves unsaid, for her silence is often more eloquent than her speech. She can never escape the self-disclosure of her witness concerning God."

(A. W. Tozer, The Knowledge of the Holy) 

Blessed are You

Blessed are the poor in spirit . . . (Matthew 5:1-12)

I was trying to figure out what to do with my life and I needed some help.

I attended church, but I really didn’t know my pastor. Right about that time Mercer University, where I was a student, had brought on a new Pastor to the University and he seemed to be a very thoughtful and trustworthy man. I made an appointment to talk with him.

Looking back, I don’t remember the details of my conversation with Dr. C. Welton Gaddy. What I remember now is the way he listened, his comfort with my angst and his counsel that didn’t tell me what to do. Years later during my doctoral work I came across a book he had written. That in itself wasn’t such a big deal. He had authored several books by that time. However the title of this one provoked my curiosity: A Soul Under Siege: Surviving Clergy Depression.

A quick glance at the back cover summarized the story. This man whose counsel I had sought and whom I admired for his wisdom and pastoral sensitivity had hit a wall in his personal and professional life. He had admitted himself to a psychiatric hospital to get help with his depression. He tells of a public “pastor” persona that didn’t square with his deeper inner realities.

Thankfully, he was willing to share the story.

Far too many of us spend our energies working hard to keep up the persona. In the Beatitudes we hear Jesus’s invitation to stop living that way. Jesus names things in us that we might be inclined to hide, the things we don’t admire in others, and he names them blessed. Everyone finds a place in God’s Kingdom. It took a hospital, not a seminary, for Welton Gaddy to understand this. He writes:

"Strange. Who would imagine that ‘equality under the law’ lauded by our most basic civil documents and the ‘equality under grace’ commended and commanded by Jesus Christ would be implemented most dramatically among people considered ‘not quite right.’ Yet here in the mental-health unit of a hospital, among people sometimes labeled as aberrations of society, was the realization of one of our society’s most elusive aspirations" (p.114)

Gaddy then makes a direct application to the church. He notes that “no person is a member of the church because of superiority to other persons . . . In any community of God’s people two certainties persist – life can be put right for anybody and something is wrong with everybody.”

When we read the beatitudes let’s stop asking “who is Jesus talking about.” Let’s give up on trying to identify with “them.” The best response is simply gratitude, thankfulness that we too are included in this God–ruled reality because of Jesus and his grace.

Next Steps:
Jesus speaks ‘blessed’ over you. The real you. All of you. Live this day in that confidence and be thankful. And show the gratitude by blessing someone else.

Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for the kindness that includes us in the community of your people. We give you thanks for the freedom that comes with knowing that something is wrong with everybody and that life can be made right for anybody. We thank you for the gift of your blessing, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.