O Tidings of Comfort and Joy

The sky before the storm.

I've got that pre-snow anticipatory mood going on this morning.  It's not supposed to be that much of an accumulation this time, but still.  Enough to make me think through where I might need to be and how I might need to time it out.  And then hunker down and feel just a little bit Christmas-happy, surrounded as I am by all the lights and dangly things and such.  

It's cold out there, for sure, with the sun rising against the mottled layer of clouds all glorious and defiant against the winter.  Or in sync with it.  Either way, it adds to my it's-going-to-be-a-great-day vibe.  

And I say this all from the snug warmth of a new house built with all the latest in heat-preservation technology.  Our insultation is top notch and all the windows brand new and sealed up tight.  All I have to do to catch this shot is step outside for the briefest of moments, then scurry back inside to begin my day all cozy at my desk.  I even have a vanilla candle lit.

Who can possibly survive outside in this?  It's a passing thought, and then.

But people do.

                                                                      CBC News Article

If you live in Kitchener, you know where this is.  And I didn't go down there to take this picture because, well it's cold out, right?  And I'm safe here in my own neighbourhood, right?

But against the red glory of a pre-storm sunrise, I can't help but wonder where Joseph might have had to take Mary if this was Bethlehem instead of Kitchener.  When I drive past the encampment at Vitoria and Weber I think about this.  I don't think there's much difference between being born in a stable and born in an encampment when it comes to the looks of it, the status of it, the scorn of it.

And remarkably, the very thing that makes me want to turn away whenever I drive by, is by the nature of its abject humility, the incarnate truth which brings us all comfort and joy.  That is, that God did this on purpose, was born in a place like this on purpose.   To demonstrate His cosmic plan to upend all that's wrong with the world, turn it on its head, and restore, reclaim and reconcile all He created back to Himself.

"In Bethlehem in Israel this Blessed Babe was born,

and laid within a manger upon this blessed morn,

[To] which his mother Mary did nothing take in scorn,

O tidings of Comfort and Joy

Comfort and Joy

O tiding of Comfort and Joy."

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Words are cheap, and these are only words.  I've challenged myself to a little experiment that I may or may not write about later.  Depends on how it goes.  For now, let's just say that I've been prompted over the past two weeks to move towards more kingdom integrity in this matter.  Curious to see where it takes me.  

Second Sunday of Advent - Peace

 Then peeled the bells more loud and deep

'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Longfellow- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

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.

Jesus - John 14:27

When the power of love

overcomes the love of power

the world will know peace.

Jimi Hendrix

Do not be anxious about anything,

but in every situation,

by prayer and petition,

with thanksgiving,

present your requests to God.

And the peace of God,

which transcends all understanding,

will guard your hearts

and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Paul - Philippians 4:6-7

"There is no trust more sacred than

the one the world holds with children.

There is no duty more important than

ensuring their rights are respected,

that their welfare is protected,

that their lives are free from fear and want,

and that they grow up in peace."

Kofi Annan

You will keep in perfect peace

those whose minds are steadfast,

because they trust in You.

Isaiah 26:3

A Random Thursday Before Christmas

It's cold out here this morning, in the dark before the sunrise.

It helps wake me up a bit to come out here,

because it's Thursday, and I still have lots on my list 

of all the oh-so-important things I have to do

before Christmas.

It's quiet out here this morning, in the dark before the sunrise.

It helps still my soul a bit to come out here,

because it's December and Advent is upon us,

and competes for space between all the

oh-so-important things I have to do

before Christmas.

But right in this moment, here's some space,

to think,

to pray.

There's some light out here, in the dark before the sunrise.

Which is why we want the things that sparkle this time of year.

To remind us.  

The Light has come.

Even when it's winter,

and December,

and a random Thursday

before Christmas.

And what a gift it is

to have a list of things to do before Christmas.

To carry on as normal,

more or less.

I think about this out here in the dark before sunrise.

And pray for those I care about who are right now overwhelmed.

Or afraid.

Or not at all where they want to be.

Or all three.

Maybe like Mary did, with Joseph, 

that night.

I think Christmas falls on a Thursday this year.

 

December

There's something particularly hushed about early December mornings.

Especially when there's been snow.

Crisp air outside.

Soft lights inside.

The quiet stirs up longings, as I believe the season is meant to do.

December is now arrived, all new and full of expectations.

Or not.

Because...life's like that.

If this is the first Christmas without someone.

Or if it's looking like this might be the last.

Or if the year past has just been so brutal

that these last days of it can't be done soon enough.

But early in the mornings, 

December holds a special hush.

And I stand outside just to breathe the air of it.

And I come inside just to wash in the softness of it.

And whatever else it is, we wait.

Let every heart

prepare Him room.

 

First Sunday of Advent - Hope

 "Faith is confidence in what we hope for

and assurance about what we do not see."

Hebrews 11:1

"The world is indeed full of peril, 

and in it there are many dark places;

but still there is much that is fair,

and though in all land love is now mingled with grief,

it grows perhaps the greater."

Tolkien

"A thrill of HOPE,

the weary world rejoices."

From "O Holy Night"

"May the God of hope fill you

with all joy and peace

as you trust in Him,

so that you may overflow with hope

by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Romans 15:13

There are far, far better things ahead

than any we leave behind.

C. S. Lewis

Winterflex

Photo from December 2024, 

my sister-in-law's fancy downspout, 

all frozen and pretty.

Looking out the window this morning and wondering just how much blow and snow we're in for this weekend.  

I know there's a fair bit of cynicism these days towards the forecasters, especially when they start putting out any numbers above 20 cm.  Most of us go on the 'believe it when I see it' track, since there's been lots of times when we thought something big was on the way and it just didn't pan out to be any kind of dealio at all.  [Note: This is especially disappointing to certain of my grandchildren who relish a snow day.]

Still.  There seems to be a high level of confidence that what's upon us now will be a multi-day event.  That, and other factors I can't pretend to understand but the science sounds reasonable, do give me pause here on the threshold of what was supposed to be a rather full weekend.  Perhaps plans are changing.

Now, if all it meant was I just had to stay home, you wouldn't hear any complaints from me.  Hunkering down in bad weather, especially winter's bad weather, is all kinds of cozy in my books.  Add a Christmas tree and other seasonal ambiance, and I'm all good.  I'll stay in, all safe and contented-like.  No problem.

But this particular snow event is coming on a weekend where people I care about have a long drive that will take them smack through the middle of the weather map's darkest colours.  And it involves a new baby celebration.  And it includes a gathering of like-minded folks seeking to encourage and learn from one another.  And it will likely affect Sunday's worship service.  And all the snow contingencies - let's call that winterflexing - and readjustments and rejigging will cost me something, take time, and require the kind of discerning decisions where people often feel differently about things so you jus can't win.  

Most of the time, it's not so simple just to cancel stuff.

I wonder though, if being Canadian and having learned to live and plan and work around the weather, especially in winter, isn't something of an advantage when navigating other kinds of storms.  It seems there could be transferrable skills that might aid in coping with other sorts of course-changing life events that require a similar kind of winterflex.  Times when you thought you have something all nicely laid out on the calendar or in the strategic plan, so to say, but it ended up the highway was closed due to zero visibility.  Times when you had to make all the phone calls, and rebook all the meetings, and rearrange all the expectations.  Times when you just have to unexpectedly hunker down for a bit until the storm runs its course and the way is clear again.

And I also wonder, if the journey of "being formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (M. Robert Mulholland Jr.), and having learned from the repeated experience of how God's plans and purposes prevail, doesn't also provide something of an advantage when faced with the need to winterflex my life.  Doesn't means I don't chafe at it still.  When the plans being adjusted present instead frightening prospects, or painful realities, or deep loss, it's not so simple just to cancel stuff.  I know.

So here's to all who are thinking things through differently right now, not just because of winter's first wallop, but maybe because life just threw you a curve ball.  And maybe we could all just be a good gift to each other by winterflexing together, offering support and practical help, being chill about any changed plans, and just staying home safe and content if that's truly the best we can do.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

“As an ethnic minority, Jesus didn’t simply care about people who were victims of Rome-sanctioned violence, he was a victim of Rome-sanctioned violence. Jesus didn’t simply care about refugees, Jesus was a refugee. Jesus didn’t simply care about the poor, he was poor.”

Christena Cleaveland

I thought I'd be happier to find my long lost Nativity set.  

I was at first.  When I glimpsed the box with the hand-written label, I said it out loud with decided glee.  "There you are!"  Somehow, even before the move, this small but central piece of our Christmas decor had been hidden away for what seemed like a long, long time.  And then, in all the shuffling of storage options between our initial clearing out of the house (starting with the Christmas bins) and now, when it didn't turn up at all, I guess I sort of expected it was gone for good.

But Sunday afternoon I spotted it, not even in all that hidden of a place, pulled it out, and opened it up.  

Yay!---Oh.

Okay.

I immediately realized how differently I have been reflecting on the Holy Family in these latter years of my life because...this particular Nativity?  It's really....white.

In my defense, this is probably 45 years old by now.  I remember purchasing it, piece by piece, as part of a cosmetic company's sales incentive, back when these characters were quite popular.  Especially in Christian circles, appearing on plaques and cutting boards, often alongside inspirational quotes, and also showing up as figurines, for example, in a Nativity set.  

I'll be honest and say that I liked it well enough back then.  And now I'm remembering that, when the children came along, we swapped this out for a kid-friendly play set, to encourage a more hands-on kind of Christmas.  That's probably when this got put away somewhere.  For a long time.

And in the meanwhile, my own Advent reflections have morphed significantly.  Particularly around the realities of Jesus' human ethnicity, and the fact that, for the first years of His life on earth, He lived as a displaced refugee.  

So this 'very sweet' representation of Jesus' birth isn't going to cut it for me any more.  Not because I want to be perfectionistic or pedantic.  But because there's something deeply theological about understanding the cosmic reset brought to light in the details of the Incarnation, and a blonde-white, porcelain Jesus is the farthest thing from it.  

As Cleaveland articulates above, He on purpose put on the skin and status of the ones He came to restore.  He avoided power and prestige, and put on poverty.  Totally counterintuitive.  Completely upside down.  Like a gigantic cosmic reset.

It seems all the more important this Christmas to remember it.  And while I tend to leave media and news and politics alone in my on line reflections, I will say that it has been very difficult this past year, as a follower of Jesus, to see Christianity attached to policy and procedure that is decidedly unlike Jesus.  

I guess it can be glad that it gives us the chance to take another look at what we've once again allowed to become distorted.  Maybe it will force us to get back to some of the gritty details of our faith, and bring out of the storage bins that which we've turned it into instead, dust it off and set it up and see if it still holds true.

I'm leaving this out for now.  But I do intend to visit the Thrift Shops over the holidays to see if I can find something more authentic.  Yes, I know there are lovely, more realistic renditions on line.  But the irony is that my commitment to the real story of simplicity and poverty makes me all the more determined not to spend the money on such things.  

Especially these such things.

And for what it's worth:

Here's a little musical reflection from Steve Bell called Refugee (from his album "Keening for the Dawn") that helps keep me oriented, especially these days.

Advent is upon us.  

Press in.