I've been grieving the tragedy unfolding in Israel and Gaza. The lives lost, the captives still missing, the terror and grief and hunger and disease.
I've been grieving the accusation and anger in the streets and campuses here in the US. Even good people struggling to say the right thing, to do the right thing, find themselves caught in the middle of an escalating divide.
My friend Jess Campbell was the reader in church this morning. I've known her since she was in 10th grade, in the first small group I led in youth ministry. She's now the youth director at our church after years leading youth ministry and Young Life clubs on Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota, then working with several churches in the mid-west.
"Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem."
Maybe I was teary because hearing Jess read reminded me of so many times of reading scripture with her and her friends in that first small group, with her and the other youth volunteers and interns when she worked with me as a college intern. I'm moved to see her still reading God's word with such conviction and joy. God's word grows in us. Shapes us. Sings across our years and decades.
But maybe I was teary because comfort is so badly needed in Jerusalem. In Gaza. In this whole weary world. And because God's people, all of us, are so in need of a tender voice when so much of what we hear is so strident and hateful.
The reading went on:
"A voice of one calling:
"In the wilderness prepare
the way for the Lord,
make straight in the desert
a highway for our God.
"Every valley shall be raised up,
every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level, the rugged places made plain.'"
Prepare the way.
That's a major Advent theme.
Often the focus of preparation is prayer, silence, reflection, waiting.
I've blogged in the past about each of those.
But this year I'm struck by Luke's record of John the Baptist's message. When John told the crowds following him to prepare the way and produce fruit in keeping with righteousness, they asked him "What should we DO?"
His answer doesn't fit well with the normal Advent message:
“Anyone who has two shirts should share with the one who has none, and anyone who has food should do the same.”
What questions come to mind?
Today is my 68th birthday. I'm sitting by my family room fireplace, considering my new tea cups, my soft new socks. New earrings, new book. A box of Bridge Street chocolates. Some left-over Wegman's cannoli.
In a world where so many are hungry and homeless, what does it mean to hear the words of John?
In a world of anger, war, division, what does comfort look like?
There is a practical piece to repentance and preparation. My guess is that it will be different for every person. John went on to address tax collectors and soldiers. What would he say to the rest of us? Be content. Share what you have. Don't lust after more. Is that enough?
But maybe the seemingly spiritual is in fact most practical. In a time like this, pray for Jerusalem. For Israel. For Gaza. Pray for wisdom. For justice. For peace. For God's grace and mercy to be felt and known and expressed in practical ways. Then produce fruit in keeping with righteousness. Whatever comes to mind.
Maybe.
But also, in a time like this, it's good to return to words of scripture.
That's where the comfort and preparation and next steps of obedience come.
Isaiah 40 is worth reading completely. Here's how the chapter ends:
"Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
29 He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint."
