Little Lord Jesus, [No] crying he makes...

A few weeks ago, New York Daily News dropped a bomb on the American public with this cover:

 

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The headline is a response to the social media storm that inevitably follows any act of terror or disaster: it seems obligatory for each of us to type out a status of "praying for victims of [name-that-shooting/disaster]." The headline and corresponding article point the finger at politicians [particularly conservative politicians, even though all politicians have a penchant for posting prayers...], indicating that God isn't answering prayers because politicians aren't taking action.

 

I was watching the Today show, eating my breakfast with my husband, when this headline was plastered across our TV screen. I was filled with multiple emotions, knowing that both sides of the argument would represent God in an ethereal, genie-in-a-bottle type way. I felt dread, knowing the responses would be trite and simplistic. I felt disappointment in the way that the world views our God. I know that I am late to the table on this debate; the explosion of debate and heated arguments flooded the internet for the next several days and fizzled as quickly as it arose. But for those of us who follow an incarnational, intimate God and believe in the power of intercessory prayer, this is not an issue that burns itself out nor is it one we can afford to ignore.

 

I was in third grade when the Oklahoma City bombing occurred. I remember writing some kind of essay about it, and I can remember my teacher expressing sympathy in our class for the victims and their families. I can remember people talking about getting justice and the death penalty. It was scary and sad. It was on the news, and we prayed for victims at church on Sunday morning. My family talked about it because my dad's original birth certificate was destroyed in it.

 

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I was in 7th grade when the shooting at Columbine occurred. This time it felt personal. Our junior high felt insecure and unsafe; a few impish kids tried copycat threats, by bringing small knives or unloaded weapons to school. Groups met in the counselor's office and my Social Studies teacher created a plan in case it should ever happen in our school. I can remember feeling a lot of fear and a lot of sadness. I felt bad for the victims, but I also felt bad for the perpetrators. At the time, we heard they had been bullied, and we were taught to reconsider the way we treated others in our classes. Again, it was all over the news, but I didn't go to church that Sunday. I don't know if churches prayed for the victims, and if I prayed, I prayed for myself and my school and my fear.

 

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I was in 10th grade when terrorists hit the Twin Towers on 9/11. I vividly remember the line down the hall for the pay phones, and I remember one girl clinging to the pay phone sobbing. We learned later that a family member of hers had been killed in the attacks. This was news like nothing we had ever experienced; the TV was entirely immersed in images from the day, and politicians made vows to retaliate, to declare war on terrorism, in short, to do something. It was one of the only Sundays of my time in high school when my family went to church. The pastor asked us to take off our watches because we needed time to be with God after this tragedy. He then proceeded to preach for an hour, during which he placed the blame for the attacks on liberals, sinners, homosexuals, and divorced people alike. I felt angry and hollow. I couldn't understand this God who punishes seemingly at random, who causes terror and violence. If I prayed beyond that, I prayed for my mom, who worked in a skyscraper in Pittsburgh, and again for my fear.

 

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It wasn't until the shooting at Virginia Tech, that I first experienced a social media explosion in response to terror. I was a junior in college. Facebook was 2 years old, and it was primarily a site for college students. The culture of 20-somethings reigned on Facebook. Virginia Tech was scary because I went to a small liberal arts college in New Wilmington, PA with very little security and a hospital that was 30 minutes away. It was scary because girls I had gone to high school with were on the campus when it happened, and it was hard to get in touch with them. It was scary because, as a student I depended on my university for safety and security; there was very little that I could do to prevent an attack, and there was nothing I could do to ease the pain of those suffering. People posted black ribbons for Virgina Tech and said, "Prayers for Virginia Tech."

 

 

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I can remember this burning feeling of being helpless, of wanting to do something. I can remember downloading that ribbon and creating my Facebook post. I can remember feeling like I did something, like I was a part of a larger movement of compassion. Because of social media, I could do something from the comfort and security of my own dorm room; because of Facebook, I could do something without doing anything at all.

 

Of course, it wasn't like I did nothing. My elementary Sunday School teacher, Mrs. Schwartz, would take our prayer requests, and she would ask us to pray for her as she struggled with diabetes, which ultimately would take her life. Mrs. Schwartz would say, "There is nothing more hurtful than telling someone you will pray for them and then neglect to do so. You are making them a promise that you will bring them to God; you are compelled to make good on that promise." Along with many others, I truly did lift the victims in my prayers, this time feeling a deeper sense of compassion than ever before. And I prayed for myself, for my fear and the fear of my fellow students.

 

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Fast forward several years to the Newtown massacre. For me, the harm of a child is as appallingly painful as it gets. I cannot even watch the ending of the Dark Knight because Harvey Dent points a gun in the direction of a small child. The tragedy of Newtown was more than I could emotionally bear. Although the pastor at our church expressed anger, grief, and pain from the pulpit on Sunday morning, it wasn't enough to satiate my grief. Again, the internet was flooded with prayers for the victims, but this time, I did not feel united to others in grief. I felt bitter and cynical; how many of these people actually prayed for these victims? How many of them pray any other time of year? The sentiments, however well-intentioned, felt hollow, routine, and even callous. I must not have been the only one who felt this way because the political response on Facebook was more pronounced than I had seen before. Suddenly, my entire friend-list is an expert on gun-control laws and mental illness; where my 10th grade pastor blamed 9/11 on homosexuals and sinners, my Facebook  feed blamed Newton on every person who owns a gun and untreated schizophrenia. Perhaps worse was the flood of memes which quoted Mr. Rogers:

 

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As though looking at the silver lining could somehow make the tragedy lessen. As though the good being done could somehow outweigh the vastness of the evil.

 

And so it has continued with every tragedy since: we respond with prayer, trite popular sayings, and assignment of blame. We do all of this because tragedy pushes us into what sociologists call "anome" or a state of being when the traditional rules of our world are turned upside down. All of our lives, we are taught that the good-guys win and we live in a safe, secure country; in tragedy, we learn that the bad-guys sometimes make a larger mark on the world than the good guys, and sense of security is a false one. We respond because doing nothing feels miserable and makes us vulnerable to our fear. Our prayers, our quotations, our blame - all of it is an expression of our overwhelming fear. This my friends, is the exact desired effect of those who terrorize; every time we give in to our fears, we submit to the power of those who terrorize. Perhaps new gun legislation or mental health care would make a difference in our country. Perhaps the helpers are examples of what humans can do when we are faced with deep adversity. Perhaps we say earnest and honest prayers to God for what has happened. None of these, in my estimation, are the answers we seek. None of these, as far as I can tell, would eradicate the fear we feel.

 

So...Jesus...

So all of this brings us back to where we started. Is God really not fixing this? Does God hear the prayers being offered up on social media, by politicians and civilians, by believers and non-believers alike? In Christmas, God gives us his answer: God gives us Jesus, who is Emmanuel, which means God. with. us.

 

"She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins." All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet:

"Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,

and they shall name him,

Emmanuel"

which means, God is with us.

Matthew 1.21-23

 

God became flesh and dwelt among us in the person of Jesus Christ; God continues to be present with us by the power of the Holy Spirit. It is a simple truth, and yet one that we struggle to appreciate or understand. In fact, God is with us, God is on earth right now, working for good in the world and bringing about his Kingdom on earth.

 

And many people have pointed out that in fact these "helpers" described by Mr. Rogers are the Holy Spirit at work right now. Their actions of kindness and compassion are the acts of God in a weary world. Sure. I can buy that. But it's not enough.

 

Many others have pointed out that God has called us into action through the Holy Spirit. That it isn't God who should be fixing this, but we, who can lobby for our political agendas and create legislation to prevent further gun violence. Sure. I can buy that. But it's not enough.

 

We know it's not enough because as painful as it was to read the words, "God isn't fixing this," on a newspaper, we Christians felt extra pain because it felt far too true.

 

God's answer...

I in no way claim to have some special knowledge of how God is fixing this or responding to our prayers. But I do believe in a God who reveals God's self through scripture, and displays for us that God is not in the business of granting wishes like a genie or leaving the people of the world to their own devices for solutions. God is in the business of answering prayer in God's own time and God's own way. When I say that, I don't mean that God has a reason for senseless violence; and I don't mean that God needed another angel because he doesn't; and I don't mean that God is waiting for us to get our act together before God acts. What I mean is two things:

 

God always has a message of hope

 

When the Israelites cried out while they were slaves in Egypt, God was moved by their cries.

 

When Elijah is persecuted and hiding in the wilderness, God comes to him and speaks to him in a still small voice.

 

When the Jews go into exile and cry out to their God, God leaves the temple and comes to them by the rivers of Babylon.

 

When the people cried out for a king to save them from exile, God sent them a messiah in the form of Jesus.

 

When the thief repents of his sin on the cross next to Jesus, Jesus tells him that he will be in paradise.

 

The most common phrase in all of scripture is, "Do not be afraid." It is a message shared by God and angels alike when they meet people for extraordinary conversation. We are a people drenched in fear, suffocated by terror, consumed with anxiety. God has a message of hope for us, that even in our deep fear, God brings us calm and peace, both internally and externally. I don't know what God is doing to fix the violence in our nation, but I can say with certainty that God's message to let go of fear rings as true today as it did in the Old Testament. When we pray, God is not just a star upon whom we make a wish for peace and lack of violence; rather God is a friend, a confidant, a caring parent. We can confess our fear; we can invite the Holy Spirit to overpower the spirit of fear in the world.

 

God rarely does what is expected.

 

I have no doubt that God is at work, but I strongly doubt that God will act in the ways we expect. God is sort of famous for turning the world upside down and doing things in a different way than we expect.

 

When God brings the Israelites out of slavery, he leads them into the desert instead of the promised land.

 

When God selected a king for Israel, he chose the smallest boy in Jesse's family, David, and made an everlasting covenant with him.

 

When there was a plot within the Assyrian government to get rid of the Jews, God sent an attractive young woman named Esther to save the country.

 

When the Jewish people in exile cried out for a new political regime, God sent a messiah, born in a stable.

 

When the Jewish people found the messiah in Jesus Christ, he didn't overthrow the Roman Empire. Instead, he lived in poverty, ate with sinners, ridiculed the religious leaders, and was put to death on a cross.

 

When Jesus died, the disciples thought all was lost, but God surprised them by defeating death through the resurrection.

 

 

Little Lord Jesus, [no] crying he makes...

On Christmas Eve, Dan spoke in his sermon about how we often imagine a baby Jesus who is calm and quiet, with no crying or fussiness. Dan described baby Jesus as being like any other baby, coming into the world with cry of life, and that Jesus to this day cries for our world. I love this image.

 

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As we greet Christmas in a world that is broken and grieving, I hope that we do pray. I hope that we lift our fear, our anxiety, our helplessness to our God, who weeps with us, who gives us hope, and who does a new and unexpected thing. In a culture that is accustomed to immediate answers and wishes granted, we do not feel comfortable waiting and we act to assuage our own fears. Let us sit in discomfort and follow the God who acts, perhaps unexpectedly. Above all, may we believe, truly, that God is living and dwelling among us and is at work in the world today.

 

Some other articles you might like

some political stuff

 

more political stuff

 

a sort of decent Christian response

 

 

Longest Night, Brightest Light

Every year at this time, the old annual debate comes out over whether we ought to greet one another with "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays." To the point where these memes come forward:

 

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We Christians want ownership over the winter holiday season; we long for the days gone by when Christmas overwhelmed all of society and brought people together. We believe in our heart of hearts the Jesus came to bring peace on earth, and if folks would accept the Christmas spirit into their lives, this would make for a better more peaceful society. Our intentions are, primarily, good.

 

In truth, the history of Christmas reveals that we did not invent the season. For millennia, not just generations, not just centuries, not even just a thousand years, but for millennia societies have been celebrating a holiday during this the second to last week of December. When Christianity took hold in the Roman Empire, the celebration of Christmas replaced Saturnalia, an entirely pagan holiday.

 

It is entirely on purpose that Christians chose the Winter Solstice to celebrate the birth of the Messiah. The Winter Solstice is the time at which the earth leans furthest away from the sun, and we resultantly receive the shortest amount of daylight and the longest night of the year.

 

As I write this blog, the weather here in Fort Mill could not be cooperating in a better way. It is gloomy, dark, and rainy - a perfect reminder that today in fact we celebrate the Winter Solstice, meaning the longest night of the year occurred last night.

 

We are a people shrouded in the darkness of winter, and it can take its toll. The darkness and the frenzy and the gloom of the weather can contribute to our downtrodden moods, and we are reminded of sour memories, loved ones no longer with us, and ongoing troubles. I am humorously reminded of the Sunday Night Live sketch in which Dana Carvey sings to the tune of Carol of the Bells, "Leave me alone, just go away, I'm doing fine, just go away."

 

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This sketch was so successful because it was a humorous display of sadly accurate truth. The darkness of winter seeps into our bones and builds barriers in our relationships. And in a world full of divorce, debt, war, violence, and illness, we are a people who are familiar with the darkness of winter, with the longest night, with the gloom of despair. People all around the world feel the darkness of our planet; it is an essential truth of this time of year. In a morose way, we are drawn together by our mutual shade.

 

The light in the darkness...

 

This darkness is why Christians 1500 years ago chose to celebrate the birth of Messiah at this time. The gospel of John begins in this way:

 

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

 

The darkness. These words speak to me at this time of year because the Solstice brings with it the gloom of darkness. In Pittsburgh, we have 300 cloudy days per year. Yes, that's right 300 {you can see I flew south...}. This time of year marks the gloomiest time of year for many cities, and today, it marks us in Fort Mill.

 

It seems to me that I have read this passage hundreds of times, but the image of darkness in my mind was always something simple. My childhood friends and I used to play a game called "Darkman" when we would turn the lights off in a room and play tag. The darkness brought thrill and excitement, and there was always the safety of being able to turn on the light.

 

True darkness is another matter. Years ago, I had the opportunity to go spelunking with a group of college students. The leader brought us to one of the larger caverns in the cave and then instructed us to turn off our head lamps. The darkness that followed was different than anything else I had ever experienced. It was thick, inky, and smothering. You couldn't see shadows or shades or even your own hand in front of you. No, the darkness was absolute.

 

This darkness will occasionally spread its shade across our souls. In loss, in anxiety, in disease, in a lack of hope - we are acquainted with this kind of darkness, and we do our best to cast light on it or suppress it.

 

Yet scripture here reminds us that Jesus is the light which shines into that darkness, the light which penetrates the thick darkness, which brings form and substance to the world around us. This absolute darkness may well exist, but the absolute light of Jesus Christ overcomes it. In just a few short days, we will read this scripture at our Christmas Eve services and utilize many symbols to remind us of the light of Christ bursting into the darkness. I can see nothing more appropriate than celebrating the return of light into a dark and weary world as nature itself does the same thing.

 

Individuals all over the world today are celebrating the sunrise after the longest night, knowing that the sun, the light brings hope for a brighter tomorrow, literally. Thousands of people gathered at Stonehenge last night to greet the sun as it rose after the long night. We too will gather on Thursday to greet a different kind of Son, who brings a different kind of light.

 

 

My prayer...

 

 

My prayer for us today is that we would approach this holiday season as people of the light, people who bring light where there is darkness, rather than people who contribute to darkness with cynical thoughts and angry words. I pray that we might care less about what holiday each person is celebrating and care more about the revelation of the light in new and different ways in a broken and weary world. I pray that along with Christians who recognize the light as Jesus and those who acknowledge the light in a different way, we would receive the light into the world with open arms and allow it to illuminate for us the hope, joy, peace, and love that the world so desperately needs.

 

I wish each and every one of you the happiest of Christmas holidays, and I pray that you would indeed experience the light of Christ in this dark winter time.

 

 

 

Here's some info on the Winter Solstice:

 

Everything You Need to Know

 

Some Interesting Science

 

A Methodist Longest Night Worship Service

 

 

 

When Christmas plans aren't perfect....

There's a holiday commercial out right now that strikes me every time:

The commercial has a double message: that virtually everything a person could need for the Christmas holiday can be found at Big Lots, and that the matron of the family is responsible for the success of the Christmas holiday. The mom here has a perfectly decorated house, perfectly selected gifs, a manicured image...all of the things we worry about.

It is the season of the year when there are hundreds of things to worry about and attempt to perfect. We want to make sure that our kids have the perfect Christmas experience, enough gifts to make them happy and filled with gratitude but not so much that they are spoiled. We hope they make it to enough church events to remember the true meaning of Christmas. Our homes need to be decorated and cleaned, especially if guests are coming through, and/or travel plans need to be carefully crafted.

The stress isn't just familial. Being on church staff during the month of December means extra hours, work, and anxiety. December always brings extra visitors, which means this might be our one chance to tell the good news of Jesus Christ. We try to walk this line between the story of Jesus' birth and the celebration of American culture at Christmastime. It is difficult.

As a perfectionist, this is the time of year when I go into crazy-town mode. I want every event to be filled with Christmas joy and perfectly executed. I want each person to leave Unity feeling uplifted and invigorated, knowing that Jesus wasn't just born on Christmas but is alive each day within us. 

Inevitably, in my time working in churches when I have gotten over-controlling or extra perfectionist about particular events, I come down with some illness which knocks me out of commission and ultimately humbles me. Sunday afternoon I came home feeling not great, and by 3:00 I was completely out of commission with a 101 degree fever, body aches, and lungs that felt like the desert. I missed caroling, which I had carefully planned; I spent a couple of days laying on the couch, missing out on the literal tons of work I need to do. While I would never say that God made me sick, I can certainly say that I was reminded this week that whether I put in 10 hours or 100 hours into planning Christmas Eve worship or the Christmas Party or any such event, the event will happen anyway. And chances are people's experience of the event aren't necessarily intertwined with my ability to make it perfect. In fact, some of the things that happen so imperfectly end up being most important. Contrary to the Big Lots commercial, Christmas is very capable of coming without me, and in fact often does a better job at presenting itself when I am not trying to make it Lindsay-mas.

Think about Jesus' birth...

So let's think about the story of Jesus' birth. We have Mary and Joseph who are engaged to be married. They are young and afraid; suddenly Mary ends up being pregnant, something that was not socially acceptable. We note that this is so startling that Joseph even tries to get out of it (Matthew 1). Not exactly how we'd expect the Messiah to enter the world. Not a perfect entrance.

Then we get to the actual birth of Jesus, which happens in Bethlehem, not their home town of Nazareth. They travel to Bethlehem for census. And not only that, but Mary gives birth to Jesus in an unhygienic, uncomfortable stable surrounded by barn animals. I mean, this was messy and painful, and it could have ended really badly, considering the challenges women and children faced in the child-bearing process at the time. When we really think about what the birth of Jesus must have been like, it is not glamorous, not glittery, nothing to sing about. It's not what we would have planned or expected.

And so we see that the birth Jesus did not exactly go how most people expected it to go. Yes, the angels and the wise men show up later and give some glamour to the occasion, but it starts out humble, challenging, and strikingly imperfect.

Joy in the imperfection...

And that is just the sticking point for me: this ridiculously imperfect, humble event, which includes doubt, questions of fidelity within a relationship, a lonely, messy, painful birth process in the outdoors...this is how God chooses to enter the world.

As a helpless baby.
Through risky birth.
Through controversial conception.

If God didn't need the first Christmas to be glamorous or perfect, then our Christmas doesn't need ours to be either. For me, letting go of perfection is a challenge I have not yet figured out exactly how to do, other than to ask for forgiveness every time I cling to perfection when I should not. It is difficult to say to myself that the perfect Christmas gifts, the perfect Christmas decorations, the immaculate Christmas cookies, and the exquisite Christmas feast are all side notes, are all trivial, because I thrive on the challenge of making a perfect day {maybe it's the Clark Griswold in me, who knows}. So as Christmastime closes in, I am trying to focus on letting go of the pressure to get my Christmas shopping done and my special treats baked and packaged. Even if I don't get my act together, Christmas will come, and the memories it makes will be surrounded by love, by the Holy Spirit in our midst, and by the joy of being around friends and family.

So I challenge us as we get into crunch time before Christmas to seek the joy that can only be found when we give up our perfect plans and give into the plans God has for our Christmas and our time with our families. I challenge us to let go of the pressure of perfection and pursue the joy of God's imperfect entrance into the world.

Forced Christmas Joy: a tale of the church's weird aversion to Christmas

A few months ago, Pasty, our organist/choir director, bounced into my office (if you've ever met Patsy, you know she literally bounced in her energetic little way, into my office) and asked if I'd be willing to work on the Christmas Joy Service. This service has the children's choirs and perhaps some youth leadership, and it happens on December 6. "And this is all Christmas," she said, "We don't try to contain them to Advent, it's just Christmas."

 

The more I spoke with other pastors I know about our Christmas Joy Service, the more I began to hear words of "you sold out" and "Isn't it terrible how Advent has been forgotten?" My Facebook feed is flooded with memes like this:

 

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In the Church, we take particular care to telling the story of Jesus' birth and taking Advent seriously. We really want to get it right; we really want the birth of Jesus to be new and exciting and important. I would even go so far as to say that some of us even feel resentful toward the Christmas hullabaloo with the greed associated with Santa Claus and the surveillance of his creepy Elf on the Shelf. Advent/Christmas activities at the church are given the same priority to other Christmas traditions like decorating the family tree, visiting Santa Claus at the mall, and watching Charlie Brown's Christmas: the church isn't more important; the story of Jesus is just one more fairy tale contributing to the special "magic" of Christmas.

 

And this isn't just 21st century crazy Christian angst. The church calendar and traditions center around Advent in its truest sense. Advent comes from the Latin words ad and venio. Venio means "to come" and ad means "to/toward." So Advent is when we celebrate the coming to us of Jesus Christ; it is a season characteristically associated with waiting for the coming birth of Christ. Advent is the first four weeks of the church calendar year; We begin in the Old Testament with the preparation for and prophecy about the coming messiah's birth. Scripture prepares for the birth of Christ, and so should we. With something as big as Jesus coming into the world, we emphasize the waiting and the watching and the preparing.

 

We read the prophets who tell us of Christ's prophecy.

 

We read about John the Baptist and his preparation for the way.

 

We read about Mary's acceptance of God's call and the Holy Conception.

 

We read about Joseph's initial denial and eventual faith.

 

We refrain from Christmas carols, we light one candle at a time, we even talk about how the Christ child hasn't come yet.

 

There's just one minor problem with all of this...

Er, I hate to break it to you, but Jesus DID COME. God became flesh more than 2,000 years ago. And he remains active in the world through the power of the Holy Spirit. In other words, we're asking fully grown adults to suspend their disbelief and contain their Christmas joy until after our extremely solemn Christmas Eve service, and then you can have 24 hours of cheer far away from the Church. Sure, we will occasionally throw a Christmas party or a caroling event, but when it comes to worship during the Christmas season, we are like a Jack-in-the-Box winding up, waiting to spring into joyful action at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Eve.

 

Sure, I understand: this is all a part of how we celebrate the same event over and over again each year. I understand that we need to have some preparations in our hearts for the magnanimous event of Christ's birth. Certainly, I understand that we are a people of ritual, who need to be reminded every year of the influence of Jesus Christ and the transformation of our lives.

 

But I have a few challenges. First, because we focus on the story of Jesus' birth as though it were a mythical story, like the Night Before Christmas, we cast ourselves into the same light as Santa, Elf on the Shelf, and Rudolf: as simple children's stories that teach us to be good and buy gifts for other people because it will make us feel better. When we treat the story of Jesus' birth as something that happens in the past, we've made it irrelevant to the world today.

 

Second, because Jesus is already alive, the story becomes old news faster than the birth of Kanye and Kim Kardashian's second child {Saint West...I ask you...}. Rather than take on the solemnity of Advent and the devotional practice of waiting, many of us simply check out of Advent. It seems more and more like the church is out of touch with reality.

 

Finally, why can't our waiting be joyful? For some reason, it feels as though the church is attempting to dictate our emotions: OK, on this Sunday, you should feel a sense of reverent peace. Throughout Lent, you should be absolutely miserable and self-loathing. But on Christmas Day and Easter morning, you should be filled to the gills with joy.

 

And for me personally, that is the most difficult part of Christmas: I can't feel anything when I'm being told to feel a particular way. The Christmas season in the world perpetually tells us to be joyful, to be grateful, to be anxious, to be charitable. Meanwhile, the winter season reminds me of many loved ones I've lost over the years, and I feel sad for them. This will be my first Christmas away from family, and I am sad for that, but also excited. I find joy in baking Christmas cookies and listening to carols and decorating our tree, but it is fleeting, quickly replaced by anxiety or a belly-ache.

 

I propose that Advent brings about a renewed sense of quest: a quest for joy that can only come through Jesus Christ, not from eggnog, presents, or decorations. If Christ is present in the world by the power of the Holy Spirit, why can't we celebrate his birth every day? Why can't we be filled with joy each and every time we see God at work in the world around us? Instead of our endless to-do list in the Christmas season, why can't we pursue an Advent quest of discovering Christ's new life within us and our lives each day?

 

If we are seeking Christ in the holiday season, if we are submitting ourselves to discipleship to Christ, if we are discovering Christ's presence in our midst, then we are discovering true joy. True joy that is not replaced quickly by a belly ache or by credit card bills or by loneliness; a joy that fills us from bottom to top, that changes our lifestyles and uproots us from our monotonous lives. The birth of the messiah, the Word become flesh, the incarnation of God: this is worth celebrating, it's worth getting joyful and excited over because it keeps happening. It happens again when we see people serving one another; it happens again when we sacrifice our own benefits for the benefits of others; it happens when we lay aside our anxiety at the foot of the cross so that we can bravely follow God into a new place.

 

On Sunday, those of us who were there experienced truly the joy of Christ in our midst as we sang together, prayed together, and celebrated new life. It was a perfectly joyful affair, and it inspired me to be a more committed servant of Christ.

 

This week, I challenge us to lay aside our burdens of anxiety and grief and our fake joy found in Santa and cookies. I challenge us to give those things the time of day they deserve and move on to the all-consuming quest for Jesus Christ in our midst. I challenge us to be grateful for the exciting task of finding the Holy Spirit at work and to embrace the quest with joy and excitement.

 

Here's some resources

 

This is an awesome blog post about turning our fear to hope

 

25 Things I Want My Kids To Know About Christmas

 

A quck blog about celebrating advent

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Wallflowers of Christmas: the year Christmas changed for me

I was in 7th or 8th grade. It was a couple of years after I learned the truth about Santa Claus, but a couple of years before I got a job and people started expecting adult-type things from me. The Christmas season flooded in with a gust of cold wind and snow, as it always seems to do in the north. On the other side of Thanksgiving, the advent season had long been full of making wish-lists, snowball fights, singing carols, and eating as many candy canes as I could handle. The month of December was marked day-by-day by sweet treats and the countdown for that mound of presents on Christmas morning. Even once I learned that it was my sneaky parents who stacked those gifts, I still found joy in helping my younger brother set out milk and cookies and weaving the tale of Christmas adventure.

 

But on this particular year, in the midst of my junior high years, something changed. Suddenly, December was the month of the Christmas dance, and all my concerns were wrapped around finding the perfect dress and deciding what boys I might like to dance with. Instead of family gatherings with ham and mashed potatoes, I wanted to go to Starbucks with my friends and drink hot cocoa with peppermint crumbles on it. Instead of toys and games, I hoped for clothes and make up and things that would make me cool. I loathed the idea of holing up with my family for even 24 hours of Christmas. Suddenly my parents and Santa Claus weren't cute bearers of Christmas joy  but were rather deceptive, out-of-touch old people who told the same stupid story every year. The same was suddenly true of my church: the same old Christmas carols were getting boring; the quiet dark Christmas eve service made me sleepy and bored; I couldn't handle anymore versions of O Holy Night, bad or good.

 

 

 

And the stories of Christmas were old and quite frankly full of plot holes. There are millions of small children; it's utterly impossible for Santa to visit all of them in one night, magic or not.  And isn't it creepy that Santa knows what you're up to - doesn't this crack-pot old fool have better things to do with his time than to spy on little children? Even the story of Jesus' birth had lost its luster for me. I felt bad for Mary, being as young and alone as she was. Giving birth to the savior seemed like a lot to ask of one person, especially a young girl. With raging hormones and knowledge of sexually active teens around me, the idea that Mary was really a virgin was suddenly difficult for me to believe.

 

Suddenly, Christmas wasn't my main event the way it once had been. I became a wallflower at Christmas events, at church and at home. I watched the young kids squeal with glee at the snowflakes and the cookies and the elves; I watched the adults sigh contentedly at the repetition of Christmas traditions. But I didn't have a place myself. It was as though I were observing Christmas as it swirled around inside a snow-globe, but I could not get inside, I could not embrace the joy or the magic as I once had.

 

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It came with out ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages, boxes, or bags...and it came in spite of teenage angst...

In spite of the angst I brought to the Advent season, I managed to enjoy some things at Christmas as a teenager. We got our first family computer when I was in 9th grade, and my brother and I created Paint art on it all of Christmas day (until we ran out of ink in the new printer...which at the time was about an hour). I got the professional wooden clarinet I had asked for, which I used for college auditions and honors band and recitals; I cherished that gift. I began baking the Christmas dessert, which was a chance for me to experiment with new recipes in the kitchen. In fact, Christmas came whether I was annoyed about it or not, and it brought with it an undeniable happiness, even when I tried with all my might to dislike it.

 

I wish I could say that my discomfort with Christmas was something I grew out of quickly, but it has taken some time. As I grew older, I began to work in retail during the holiday season, which was exhausting and disheartening. Family began to ask questions about colleges and majors and offering their own opinions about where I should end up, something that made me cringe with anxiety. When I came home for the holidays during my time in college, the questions were all about when I would get married and what job I would have and how much weight I had gained or lost. It can be difficult to be fussed over in that time, when you are transitioning and you don't have answers and people want to advise you on things when they don't know half of what you've gone through.

 

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When I graduated from college and entered true adulthood, I came back to loving Christmas. I find such great joy in our traditions, especially at church. I love to cook and bake and invite people over for gatherings. I get great joy in selecting gifts for people to enjoy, and having a few days off is a delightful respite in this dark time of year.

 

I'm guessing you might have a teenager at home experiencing some Christmas angst. It is very difficult for teenagers to find a place in the holiday season. There comes a point when the stories feel old and the magic feels stale; there comes a point when they feel they've been lied to about Santa Claus and may question the truth of Jesus. They are not yet adults; they haven't yet figured out their personal joy in the holiday season. They might retreat to a place of quiet and distance, becoming a wallflower to Christmas joy and festivity.

 

How to deal with your teenage Grinches...

I think the first thing about teenage grinchy-ness is that we need to acknowledge that it exists and it is normal. All too often I find that we lump teenagers either with the mystic crazy children who are frantically looking for Elf on the Shelf and wake up at 6am to open presents or with adults who give gifts and enjoy "O Holy Night."

 

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It is truly OK for the Christmas season to lose some of its magic so that teenagers can deconstruct their experiences and reconstruct their future love and joy from Christ's birth. It's a bit like the story of Joseph in Matthew. At first we are told the good part of the story: Mary is going to have a baby through the Holy Spirit and that child will be the Son of God and the savior of the world. Then we learn that Joseph was a bit skeptical and had planned to dismiss Mary quietly and move on with his life. Joseph asks the difficult, cynical questions: "How did this happen?" "Why do I have to be involved?" "What's the point?" And only God can and does provide Joseph with the kinds of answers he longed for. Only God can and will provide answers for our youth: "How does this happen?" "Why do I have to feel joy at Christmastime?" "Where do I fit in the Christmas story?" "Why do we do this?"

 

The second thing about teenage grinchy-ness is that it is a front. It's likely that you won't immediately figure out whether your teenager is truly angsty about Christmas or still enjoying certain parts because it is simply not cool to be overly joyous about anything that involves the entire family getting together. Students might say things they don't fully mean or ask challenging questions to test the limits of Christmas and see what it is we believe. When we get angry or bitter toward our teenagers, we aren't helping them to discover a deeper joy for Christmas; rather, we are helping them to discover a deeper grinchy spirit. We perpetuate the confusion for them that they are no longer children but are not yet adults.

 

Third, we know that our youth look to us to be examples of how we behave and act. When our students see us give of our time and money for charitable causes and church events at Christmastime, they learn that these activities bring us joy and peace. When our students see us joyfully retelling the story and happily singing Christmas hymns, they know that the old story has meaning. When our students see us mourning family members no longer with us at Christmas, they know that family is an important part of the holiday and is something to be cherished even after death.

 

Contrarily, when our students see us stressed to the point of panic over ribbons and boxes and middle-of-the-night deals, they understand that Christmas requires a loss of sanity and relational value. When they see us spend hours on Christmas cookies but seconds on advent devotionals, they understand that the true meaning of Christmas can be found in material things. When they see us bored and tired with the advent wreath or the Christmas Eve service, they learn that the church's concept of Christmas is boring and tired.

 

And so I challenge us this day to invite Christ to come to us this Advent season in a new way, in a vibrant and vital way, in a way that blows our minds and changes our lives, so that we might witness to Christ's birth throughout the Christmas season and the year.

 

Some helpful links...

Because Mary was a teenager...

 

General advice on teenage angst

 

For all of us who struggle at Christmas

 

The magic of childhood

 

 

 





Spotlight: The heavy yoke, and the humble walk

My husband and I are great movie lovers; we see any and every movie with any buzz at all leading up to Oscars season, and we try to see every movie with a nomination {our predictions then become this big competition...more on that later}. In order to do that, we need to see a movie a week at this time of year, and we normally designate our Friday nights to movie-going. For months, we had been anticipating the widespread release of an independent film called Spotlight. Starring Michael Keaton, Rachel McAdams, Liev Schreiber, and Mark Ruffalo, Spotlight chronicles the tale of the small news team at the Boston Globe who unearthed the deep-rooted scandal and long-time conspiracy of Roman Catholic priests and their molestation of children. Here's a preview:

 

 

As you can imagine, this is not the type of film from which you leave feeling anything but heavy sadness and gut-wrenching disgust. To imagine the sickness of these men's brains and the greed of those covering it up and the scarring of these children, is horrifying enough. But to imagine the spiritual devastation of devout Roman Catholics is heartbreaking, and to consider the impact of this publicity on casual church-goers or those who feel disenchanted with the church already is maddeningly painful for those of us devoted to church work and evangelism. There's a fantastic scene where the truth of it all seems to avalanche onto Mark Ruffalo's character. He admits that he does not attend church now, but as he says, "I always thought I would go back someday, back to my roots. Now, I can't go in there without feeling sick."

 

Abuse of power.

Manipulation of young people.

Misuse of authority.

Perversion of the image of the church.

 

This movie was an interesting {horrible...bizarre...disconcerting...humbling...inspiring} film choice for the same weekend that I was ordained as Teaching Elder (Minister of Word and Sacrament) in the PCUSA. To be taking on the yoke of ministry and considering the weight and abuse of such a ministry by so many at the same time is humbling and challenging.

 

Many years ago, I considered that I might be good at being a pastor. I always loved the Bible; I am a good writer, and I enjoy public speaking. That's all a pastor really does, right? {Ha. Funny.} As a junior in high school, I read the following Scripture:

 

Every high priest is selected from among men and is appointed to represent them in matters related to God...

No one takes this honor upon himself; he must be called by God, just as Aaron was.

Hebrews 5.1a, 4

 

This scripture compelled me to begin a 12 year journey of discernment. In fact, this is what my actual bible from that time looks like:

 

 

 

I've repeated this scripture for many years as I tried to discern God's call in my life, reminding myself that it was not about what I can do, but about what God is doing. As I prayed and reflected on Sunday morning, I of course went to this Scripture. My heart was filled with pain for the millions of people whose faith have been shaken not only by child molesting priests but by pastors who did not take their call to follow Jesus Christ seriously. Pastors who favored the rich and shamed the poor, who misused money and manipulated givers, who preached politics rather than love and glorified themselves instead of Christ. I feel both an overwhelming fear and inspiring hope as I consider the responsibility of being a Minister of Word and Sacrament. On Sunday, I spent a lot of time repeating the same phrase I charged our Confirmation class to repeat: "Yes, Lord; I will follow." Ordination is a surreal cycle of feeling hope and confidence, handing over self to God, and discerning God's work. I hope and pray that I can take this honor seriously and be a follower of Christ in this ministry.

 

Here are some photos from the ordination service:

 

 



 

{The questions}

 

{Presentation of my stole from a previous church by my mentor pastor, Don Ewing}

 

{Centering myself in Christ before benediction}

 

{Red is the color of ordination, but it was Christ the King Sunday. We decided to where our white stoles in honor of Christ the King Sunday, but I had to work in the red somewhere!}

 

 

It was a truly special day, made even more special by the presentation of a stole from my wonderful youth to me. It would seem that the youth placed all of their fingerprints on a hand-made stole for me, creating an invaluable gift that I will cherish always.

 

And so...the moral of the story...

I believe that stories like the one portrayed by Spotlight cast Christianity and the church into a shadow; people have difficulty seeing the truth of Jesus Christ when it is clouded by such a perverted and distorted image. It is heart-breaking to observe the terrible ways that evil distorts the Kingdom of Christ in the world. We can combat this distortion through the image of the church triumphant, through the witness to Christ's Kingdom in the world as we observe it in truth and love.

 

So there was all of this happening, and somewhere in the midst of the chaos, our youth managed to shop at Walmart for $1300 worth of gifts for the Angel Tree. This, to me, is the beautiful truth of the gospel. Students raising money for those whose Christmases might otherwise be less exciting, and purchasing those gifts with thought and care. It would be easy to buy a lot of really cheap gifts, or generic clothing, boring clearance toys...it would be easy to send our left-overs and unwanted items to those in need. But our youth spent time seeking the perfect gift, purchasing it, and wrapping it carefully. To me, this is the Kingdom of God in our world right now, this day. I see the Kingdom of God at work every time I get to spend time with theses amazing teenagers, and I cannot express my gratitude and humility as I seek to serve Christ alongside of them and all of the families here at Unity.

 

Praise be to Jesus Christ our Lord, who IS, and was and is to come.

 

Cayenne Pepper Kit Kats: learning to love our enemies by swallowing our pride...

Sunday began simply enough: it was a crisp, cool morning, and worship was fresh and sweet. As worshippers left the sanctuary, they were greeted with an array of tasty desserts and sweet, innocent faces selling them...

 

 

{And people said we'd lose money on the cute factor...}

 

From simple brownies and goofball entertainment, we were able to raise $1300 for the Angel Tree. It was a truly beautiful morning, and we were very proud of ourselves.

 

 

Not all that glitters is gold, not all that is chocolate is sweet...

As we gathered back together in the evening, I had the unhappy challenge of shaking that so deserved and earned pride of our youth group students. Their accomplishments were excellent but God's message for us was one of humility.

 

You have heard it said, "You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy." But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes the sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love only those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same. Be perfect, therefore, as your Father in heaven is perfect.

Matthew 5.43-48

 

Together, we competed in some games that pit one against another, including a variation on dodge-ball and a ninja warrior game...

 

...an easy reminder that our enemies need not be our personal rivals but could easily be our friends, our competition, even for just a moment.

 

We then transitioned to an eating challenge. Who will eat a brownie or Kit Kat with crushed red pepper flakes or oregano sprinkled on?

 

 

Because loving our enemies really is like this ridiculous behavior. Sometimes we have to swallow our pride and take a big old bite of humble pie (or Cayenne Kit Kats). Cayenne Kit Kats are gross and they burn your tongue and you get no joy out of eating them, and the same is true of loving our enemies. We love them even though we know they won't love us in return; we love them even though it hurts our pride and requires a sacrifice from us.

 

This is a difficult task, not one that we can easily accomplish.

 

 

 

The non-goofy, perfectly timed truth of this lesson...

Fact is, I picked this scripture and this lesson for this date in August. I had no idea that on November 15, we would be reeling from terrorist attacks in France or arguing about refugee rights. As we picked up this lesson for November 15, I had no idea that our enemies would have a face and that face would instill fear and anxiety deep within our hearts. The topic of Paris only briefly came up among high school students; for the most part our youth group was blissfully concerned with frenemies at school, bullies, and discrimination against those of other races.

 

But I could not help be shaken by God's purposeful selection of this text for this week. As I enjoy my first cup of coffee in the morning, I cannot blissfully watch the Today Show tell me how to refinance my student loans or debate about the health benefits of coffee. Instead, I am barraged with images of suffering children, flaming buildings, and fearful politics. On September 11, 2001, I was reminded that life is fragile and the world is not always safe; we became vigilant and worried. We looked for our enemies in the eyes of all of our neighbors.

 

I wish I could say that that feeling has faded, but something worse has happened. Our safety has been questioned time and time again in school shootings, racially fueled violent disputes, and further terrorist attacks. This has become such daily news that we have become used to the feeling of vigilance, of protectiveness, of mistrust. We no longer trust our neighbors; we emphasize our differences rather than our similarities; we build walls to protect ourselves from violence. Maybe in some twisted way we've been successful, but my heart breaks for the world we now live in. What kind of society are we if we cannot trust anyone, if we only protect our own? Who are we if we can have no compassion on people?

 

On a somewhat unrelated note, Charlie Sheen took center stage on the Today Show this morning to announce that he is HIV positive. Matt Lauer asked pointed questions about his behaviors and continued to paint Charlie in a bad light. Many Twitter accounts blew up to express that the known drug addict and party-boy was getting what he deserved. As I watched this man talk with Matt on the screen, I was moved with pity. This is a man with some real demons: he clearly has a chemical dependency on drugs and alcohol, he's been estranged from all of his relationships, and now he faces a disease which will likely cause his death. Would we really wish that fate on our greatest enemy?

 

It is not the natural response to terror, societal anxiety, and fear, but I believe Jesus has a hard truth for us: love your enemies. Love requires more than immediately jumping to conclusions about refugees or tweeting supposedly funny quips about HIV. Love demands that we wish hope and wholeness on our brother and sister, whether they wish us the same or not. Love means that we abandon our self-righteousness and political agendas for the good of others. Ugh, this is a very difficult task.

 

But I want to challenge us to follow the lead of our youth. Because they are not worried about ISIS or Charlie Sheen or refugees, they are looking at the heart of the issue. One student said, "Maybe my enemy will never change his behavior, but I can change mine and I can change my heart." It takes that simple sentence, that simple application to begin the change on a global level.

 

Some resources...

ways to talk with children and teens about terrorists

 

what scripture tells us about refugees