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| And this was the manner of Christ's birth Eugene Higgins, 1940s, New York |
Wouldn’t we all want leaders who share our values, echo our traditions, invite us into positions of power?
Jesus came to an occupied people: angry, resentful, weary, afraid.
Whatever tyranny American Christians may complain of dims to triviality in the light of Roman oppression.
Surely a deliverer would come with force and fury to overturn the heathen warlords?
Yet instead of the hoped for political leader, God gave his people Jesus, a carpenter’s child. And that child as he grew called his friends to join him in a life of service and sacrificial love.
Not safety. Not wealth. Not privilege, for them or for himself.
Yet instead of the hoped for political leader, God gave his people Jesus, a carpenter’s child. And that child as he grew called his friends to join him in a life of service and sacrificial love.
Not safety. Not wealth. Not privilege, for them or for himself.
Advent derives from the Latin advenire, to come. The second advent candle traditionally represents love. Not just love of family or friends, love of country, love of our own circle or clan, but a love that exploded all notions of love. A love so startling and confrontational it offended even those whose lives were constructed on the idea of love for God and neighbor.
This new love was for enemies too. For opponents, accusers, tyrants. For outcasts, lepers, migrants, beggars, prostitutes, thieves, madmen.
The words are so familiar we sometimes miss their power: God so loved the world that he gave his only son.
This is no casual summer trip. No cheerful visit from one realm to another. The story, if we believe it, is this: heir and creator of the universe chose the indignity of birth, the burden of daily, dusty life, the humiliation of being stripped naked, flogged, ridiculed, then hung on a wooden cross with iron spikes through hands and feet.
Weary of wearing a mask?
This is no casual summer trip. No cheerful visit from one realm to another. The story, if we believe it, is this: heir and creator of the universe chose the indignity of birth, the burden of daily, dusty life, the humiliation of being stripped naked, flogged, ridiculed, then hung on a wooden cross with iron spikes through hands and feet.
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| The poor have the gospel preached to them Eugene Higgins, 1940s, New York |
Tired of offenses large and small?
Angry that things aren't going your way?
Frightened at forces you can't contain?
Jesus talked often of the painful, practical love that would turn the other cheek, carry the burdens of others, forgive again, and again, and again, and again.
He said “Greater love has no one than this: that they give their lives for their friends. You are my friends if you do what I ask. Love one another.”
He said “Greater love has no one than this: that they give their lives for their friends. You are my friends if you do what I ask. Love one another.”
That’s the story we claim as Christians: a love that turns the world upside down, shatters pride, expectation, privilege and self-protection, demands complete sacrifice, no matter how painful, on behalf of others.
In reality, on our own, that kind of love is impossible. We hold onto offense. We protect our own rights. We push back hard when challenged. We simmer with rage and hurt and pride.
Jesus said "By this will everyone know that you're my disciples, if you love one another."
Jesus said "By this will everyone know that you're my disciples, if you love one another."
More than that. He said "You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven."
This week I've been struggling with sadness at the way people I know and once admired scoff at the need to protect each others' health, accuse others of lies, corruption, fraud, duplicity.
I've been grieving at people of faith stirring death threats against their colleagues. Claiming guns are the foundation of our freedom. Insisting lies are true. Attacking faithful civil servants exhausted in their work to protect our health, our election, our democracy itself.
I've been grieving at people of faith stirring death threats against their colleagues. Claiming guns are the foundation of our freedom. Insisting lies are true. Attacking faithful civil servants exhausted in their work to protect our health, our election, our democracy itself.
In prayer each morning I've been asking God what love looks like in this time, in this place. How do I speak back against lies in a loving voice? How do I affirm what is true without sounding angry or abrasive?
I will never get it right. I see through a glass darkly.
Yet in my early morning prayer, in the moments of gray at the start of the day, I've been overwhelmed by the knowledge that God's love is far greater than the sorrows that surround us. God's love is greater than the challenge of the day. If I ask to set aside anger, fear, anxiety, sorrow, if I wait for God to fill me with love, I find it bubbling up inside me,
I will never get it right. I see through a glass darkly.
Yet in my early morning prayer, in the moments of gray at the start of the day, I've been overwhelmed by the knowledge that God's love is far greater than the sorrows that surround us. God's love is greater than the challenge of the day. If I ask to set aside anger, fear, anxiety, sorrow, if I wait for God to fill me with love, I find it bubbling up inside me,
I have long had this prayer from Ephesians taped inside my kitchen cupboard:
And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
I pray that for myself, for my family, for my friends, for you.
I pray it for all God's people, near and far, confused, alone, angry, uncertain.
In this strange advent season, in this time of political disruption, anxiety and grief, I pray we will walk in love: agents of love, recipients of love, healed, held, restored by love.
And I pray we will be known to all who watch us by this joyful, forgiving, implausible love.
