Category: Uncategorized

Just Breathe: A Review of the Breathe Life Bible

Recently, I had the opportunity to review a couple of Bibles through the Thomas Nelson bible review program. One Bible that I chose to peruse is the Breathe Life Bible. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, this Bible is the perfect resource for anyone who is interested in exploring the crossroads where faith and justice meet. Though compiled with those in mind who daily feel the suffocating effects of racial injustice, it is most certainly not limited to one group. As former Ambassador to the United Nations Andrew Young writes in the forward, the Breathe Life Bible is about putting faith into action, taking an active stand against injustice and oppression. Young writes that this Bible “is about making real the Beloved Community where everyone is valued and cared for.”

When my youngest was about six, he and his brother were walking home from school one afternoon with a few other students who also lived nearby. One of the students had pulled out a Little Debbie snack to eat along the way, but before she could dig in, an older boy snatched it from her hand. My little firebrand would not stand for that. He promptly took the snack back and returned it to the girl, telling the older student, “That’s not right!”

This story always makes me chuckle–if you knew my youngest, you’d understand. He’s always had a fire in his belly to stand up to something, and as he’s gotten older, that hasn’t changed. My son feels strongly about justice…more aptly, he feels compelled to take a stand against what he perceives to be injustice. And there’s a lot of it. Walk down any street in your community and I’ll bet you’ll see it. Poverty; lack of access to resources like healthcare, mental healthcare, addiction treatment, quality education, fresh food; systemic violence….the list goes on and on.

Over the years, I have come to believe that our faith is intricately wound with justice. More specifically, I believe that God calls his people to acts of justice.

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I love that the Breathe Life Bible says that the Lord requires his people to DO justly. This call to action encompasses Jesus’ command to love our neighbors as ourselves, and his exhortation to remember that whatever we do for the least of these, we do for him. But God’s message of justice often gets diluted in feel-good messages that only touch the surface of what it means to live a life of faith. As Christians, we have a tendency to become consumers of God, rather than people who act on his word. Author and leader Brian Heasley wrote in a reflection that, “Christianity is not a self-help group.” Though we sympathize with the plight of those suffering injustice, and maybe even empathize at times, how often do we act on their behalf? How often do we stand up and say, “That’s not right!”

The Breathe Life Bible is unique in that it also offers practical insight into how we can cultivate a life of social justice. There are essays by social justice leaders about what it means to put our faith in practice, commentary by Biblical theologians about what it means to act justly, special first-person accounts of Biblical characters that help the reader engage deeply and personally with God’s word, devotions written by pastors and teachers who share how God’s word impacts our lives, and opportunities to simply inhale and exhale God’s spirit.

Here’s a peek at some of those features:

God calls us to DO justice. And the Breathe Life Bible is a good companion for the journey. Regardless of which Bible you use, however, the fact remains that God doesn’t want us sitting on the sidelines of justice. Rather, he calls us to take action–to stand up and, in his name, work to make the world a better place.

God of Justice, open my eyes, stir my heart, and teach me how to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with you today. Amen

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

Don’t Cling

Sometimes, my boys can be clingy. When they were younger, they used to follow me everywhere…and I mean EVERYWHERE. There were no shut doors in our house because they were entirely ineffective. If I went to the bathroom, little feet followed. If I had to take something to the basement, they trailed behind. Sometimes I played a game with myself to see just how long they would follow–walking circles around and around the house until one of them would finally say, “What are you doing?”

Now that they’re teenagers, the clinging is different. They still follow me around, but it’s mostly so they can talk at me about topics they’re interested in. Case in point: The other day, I needed to get somewhere by a certain time, but my fifteen-year-old didn’t get the message. As I went through the motions of trying to get out the door (brushing my hair, grabbing my keys, opening the garage door) he was there every step of the way talking, talking, talking. Every time I tried to interject with, “I really need to go,” he nodded as if he understood, but then just kept talking. Don’t get me wrong, I love it that my kids still want to be around me, even if it’s just to talk at me ad nauseam about random topics I’m not particularly interested in. But sometimes, I need them to let go so I can get things done.

This past Sunday, we read the resurrection account from the Gospel of John–where Mary meets the risen Jesus in the garden, thinks he’s a gardener, but realizes her mistake when Jesus calls her name. And then, this strange conversation takes place:

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Theologians will tell you that there is some supernatural alchemy taking place in Jesus at this moment that’s not quite finished. And while I get that, I think there’s another lesson Jesus is teaching, too. Simply put, Jesus is saying: Don’t be clingy.

Sometimes, we can linger a little too long at the spiritual mountaintop party and forget that Jesus gave us work to do–go spread the good news! Jesus tells Mary that she has an important jog. She must go let the disciples know that he’s alive. Later, after Jesus appears to the disciples, he gives them a job to do, too. He tells them to go out and make disciples of others.

If I’m being honest, it’s much easier for me to sit and read my Bible or listen to a feel-good sermon than it is to go out into the mission field. The world is messy. Being in new situations makes me uncomfortable. And sometimes, loving others seems impossible. I prefer the warm fuzzies of security blanket Jesus. You know, the constant reminder that God loves me. God chose me. God fights for me. You see where I’m going with this, right? When I cling too long to the idea of my Jesus, I make faith all about me. But as Jesus shows Mary, it’s really not.

Author Brian Heasley wrote that “Christianity is not a self-help group.” While we do grow through our faith and through our encounters with Jesus, we also have a calling. Time and again, throughout Scripture, God calls his people to act. Do justice, he says through the prophet Micah. Do good. Do what’s right. DO…

This is the same message the disciples receive after Jesus ascends to heaven. They are full of awe and wonder, looking skyward and examining clouds. Some of them might have even sat down, waiting and watching for Jesus to return. How long they would have stayed there is anyone’s guess. They might have built a house and just hung out for the rest of their lives, discussing philosophy and theology and trying to prognosticate Christ’s return–safe, comfortable, warm. But fortunately, God intervened. He sent two angels to ask a rhetorical question:

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In that moment, the disciples remembered–they had work to do!

Like Mary and the disciples, we can’t stay at the empty tomb or keep looking to the skies. We can’t keep holding onto Jesus just to make ourselves feel good. Instead, we need to let go…just a bit…and do the things he has called us to. But in the letting go there is trust–trust that Jesus has equipped us, trust that he has gone before us, trust that he will not abandon us. And above all, there is the gift of the Holy Spirit.

In John, Jesus tells the disciples that he will not leave them as orphans; rather, he will send a helper and comforter to be with them always. So, when we take those first tentative steps away from the garden or down from the mountaintop, we can rest assured that we do not do so alone. God clings to us. That leaves our hands wide open to spread his love. Now that’s news worth sharing!

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

Confession 16: Maundy Thursday

I wrote this post several (okay, almost 20!) years ago, but as I was reflecting, the words God spoke to me then still ring true today. May you have a blessed Holy Week, remembering that you are loved and called to something beautiful.

This week has been so hectic for me, I have to confess that I completely forgot it was holy week until this morning. The sun hadn’t quite come up yet and I was already on my way to work. In lieu of morning radio (too perky dj’s rambling on about I don’t know what) I decided to listen to the silence for a while and spend some time in prayer. As I was praying through the day to come, I suddenly realized that it was Maundy Thursday.

In the past, this has not meant very much to me. I grew up in the Baptist church and we only celebrated Good Friday and Easter. Maundy Thursday was something the Presbyterians did down at the other end of the block. It never made much sense to me, mostly because I couldn’t see going to church Thursday night when you knew you would have to go back Friday and Sunday anyway. There was also the issue of the name, Maundy Thursday. What’s a Maundy? No one seems to know. I have actually heard the definition a couple of times now, and have read it once, but it’s nothing so significant that I actually ever remember it. So, what’s the point? I asked myself that question this morning, and here’s what I came up with.

Maundy Thursday is the calm before the storm. It is the last day of preparation before we walk down the road to the cross. It is the day where we commit ourselves to taking that journey with Jesus once more, even though we know it will be a painful process. More than that, it is an opportunity to come together as people of God to strengthen and sustain each other for the journey. Look at how John 13 begins:

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Jesus knew hard things were coming, and he loved his disciples so much that he wanted to prepare them for the journey. More than that, he wanted some time alone with them to prepare himself, too, with those who had walked so far with him already.

The image came to mind as I was driving of someone who has been diagnosed with a major illness. Before physical treatments begin, there is a time of mental preparation. Most people meet with those closest to them to discuss the upcoming journey, and to commit themselves to seeing it all the way through, regardless of the end result. This, I believe, is what Jesus was trying to do for his disciples. He was preparing them spiritually, not only for the journey to the cross, but for a life lived in service to the resurrected Lord. In John 14, Jesus says:

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This is a reminder to his disciples of who he is, and who he has called them to be. They are a people not abandoned, but empowered–fueled by the Holy Spirit to continue the work for which Jesus called them.

“Do this in remembrance of me,” Jesus said, as he passed around the bread and the wine. For me, on Maundy Thursday, the message is not to just eat and drink in remembrance of Jesus, but in everything I do to try and remember the love Jesus so willingly gave, and to pass that along to those I meet along the way.

Blessings and Peace,
Sara

Bonus Day

Happy Leap Day 2024, friends! On this special bonus day, I’m offering you some bonus content. Below is an article written by my husband, Chris, which inspired me to look at each day a little differently. I hope it speaks to you as much as it did me. Enjoy this extra day!!

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

I’m writing this on February 28 – typically the last day of the month.  BUT – not this year.  I know, it isn’t exactly news that every fourth year there is an extra day added to the month of February as a way to keep our seasons from getting even further out of whack (you know, like 80 degrees in February).  Tomorrow (likely today by the time you read this) is a bonus day, that special day added to the calendar once every four years to account for the fact that the Earth actually takes 364.25 days to orbit the sun. 

February 29 is one of those oddities of life.  Have you ever known someone born on February 29?  I’ve known at least 4 people with 2/29 birthdays.  I had the joy of celebrating with a church member several years ago his “21st” birthday.  It was fun to be with the 84-year-old man and his family as they playfully celebrated this milestone. 

I’ve always had this draw to February 29 as a “bonus day” or “gift day” because it does only come around once every 4 years.  It is something that doesn’t happen all that often and seems like it should be celebrated.  (Although, this year, I’m pretty sure the calendar doesn’t leave a lot of room to do anything too special.  We’ll see.)

But here’s the thing we forget sometimes: Yes, February 29 is special, but so are all the other days.  I shared a prayer above. This isn’t a new prayer, I didn’t develop it or just discover it.  I remember a professor of mine in seminary starting every class period with this prayer, and that is where it became meaningful to me. I say some form of this prayer most mornings prior to getting out of bed.  It reminds me that every day can be a special day. 

Every day is a “gift day” or “bonus day.”  Every day that my eyes open, that I get to spend with family and friends, that I get to participate in the building of God’s kingdom, every one of those days are bonus days. 

On this “Bonus Day,” I pray that God would stir up in you a desire to serve him, to live peacefully with your neighbors, and to devote EACH day to our Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord.

Blessings,

Chris

On Lent and Justice and Slogging Through Both

This past week marked the season of Lent–a time when many of us Christians give up or pick up habits in an effort to grow closer to becoming that person we believe (fingers crossed) God has called us to be. A few weeks ago, I read a devotion based on Isaiah 1:11-21 that lit a fire within me. If you haven’t read it, take a few moments to do so…I’ll wait.

In Isaiah 1, God has had it with the people of Israel. They’ve made worship a spectacle–kind of like the Super Bowl, but without T-Swift. They show up with their game-day gear, jump around, scream and cheer, get fired up and riled up, then go home feeling really good about themselves, secure in the knowledge that they’re part of team God and they will always bring home the bling. However…God’s not buying it. Look at what he says to the Israelites:

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Yikes! I’m not going to lie, that kind of stings. That’s because I have a feeling, deep down, that Isaiah’s words are as true today as they were thousands of years ago. How often do we make our faith a performance–something we throw on Sunday mornings like a special-occasion dress so we can #church on social media? We tend make worship a bit of a spectacle, too, complete with loud songs, raised hands, and calls of “Amen” and “Praise Jesus!” None of this is wrong, per se, but God tells us that he wants more than the motions. In Isaiah, God’s not angry that the Israelites are worshipping emphatically–he’s furious that their so-called devotion doesn’t extend beyond the walls of the Temple.

While the Israelites are happy to bring sacrifices to God in worship, they most certainly aren’t doing so beyond that. They lie and cheat. They ignore those in need. They don’t defend the widows or help the orphans. And they oppress the immigrants. In fact, Isaiah goes so far as to say that the people of Israel have blood-stained hands. Maybe they haven’t physically hurt someone else, but their actions have perpetuated systems of injustice that have led to people being oppressed and neglected. When children are starving, who is responsible? God seems to say that we all are.

So, what does God want from us? Isaiah lays it out pretty clearly:

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We are to be the people of hope–the feet that bring good news to the poor, sight to the blind, and release to the captives. Our acts of worship should fill us up with God’s spirit so that we can leave behind the walls of the church and bring God’s mercy and love to those on the streets…the hungry, addicted, enslaved, abused, grief-stricken, struggling, fearful, lonely people we meet every day.

God’s justice is different from the world’s justice. When the prophets speak of justice, they’re not always talking about retribution. Rather, it’s a reordering of priorities and practices. God’s justice is about freedom–breaking the chains of poverty, racism, sexism, ableism, violence, human trafficking, hunger, climate change so that all people can live into their God-given potential because all people are children of God.

God’s justice makes me want to move, to act, to sing the Good News into the world. Before Lent, I had a plan. I was going to make a justice calendar for myself that I could hang above my desk. There would be a daily act of justice, something small, but meaningful, I could check off each day. But as I considered this justice to-do list, I came to a daunting reality: You can’t schedule justice on a calendar.

The truth is, fighting oppression is a long slog through the bogs of humanity. Though we can give to the hungry, it takes a lot of time, effort, resources, and reordering of our systems of government and finance to ensure that every person can provide for themselves. Case in point, we once served a church that helped build a chicken farm in a community in Haiti. The farm was supposed to bring financial freedom to the people of the community and help their neighbors get sustenance, but these God-inspired goals were hit with the full force of political turmoil and economic oppression. The farm struggled, and though the people of the community are diligently trying to make it work, it’s an uphill battle.

Justice is hard, because it calls for a reordering of society. Justice is about relinquishing power, turning over our resources, making more room at the table for people who might make us uncomfortable. And honestly, I don’t always have the will or desire to do that. However, God is adamant that this is nonnegotiable. Remember when Jesus said: “Whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me?” That’s justice. And it’s so hard.

Fortunately, when it comes to hard things, we’re not alone. We have a God who can do infinitely more that we could ever plan or imagine. He makes things possible, though not necessarily easy. This Lenten season, I feel like I’m at the start of something. There’s a road that God is inviting me to follow, and I know we’re going to wind our way through some steep hills and marshy valleys. I don’t know anymore what this focus on justice will bring, but I know it’s a journey I have to take. Because we are kingdom builders. Even it we have to start with one small pebble at a time.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

Are We Paying Attention?

Have you ever missed the turn onto your street? I’m not talking after recently moving to a new city or neighborhood–I mean a true head in the clouds moment where you blew right past the place you’ve been turning into for at least three years. I would like to tell you that this happened to me once….but the truth is….no one in my house is surprised when I miss an obvious turn. I just get distracted. There’s a great song playing and I’m singing along. Or a fox crossed the road and I’m craning my neck to see where it went. Maybe I’m too focused on the pinks and purples bleeding into the horizon as the sun sets. Whatever the case, I don’t always pay enough attention to where I’m going.

Recently, I was re-reading Moses’ call story. This is, hands down, one of my favorite stories in all of Scripture. I love that Moses is not a superhero. I love that he comes up with excuse after excuse to avoid God’s call. I love that Moses is plagued with self-doubt. I love that he boldly tells God he needs some muscle because he can’t carry this call alone. And, of equal importance, I love that Moses was distracted enough to have an encounter with God in the first place.

As Exodus 3 opens, Moses is tending sheep for his father-in-law. I don’t know a lot about sheep, but I cannot imagine it to be a highly stimulating job, especially for someone whose resume boasts “working royal”. With no smart phone, book, magazine, or radio, Moses had lots of time and space for his mind to wander. And that’s how he came to notice the burning, yet strangely not burning bush.

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In this passage, Moses was aware enough of his surroundings, yet distractible enough from his task at hand, that he noticed something out of the ordinary was taking place. Moses looked up. And when he looked up, he saw something new–something remarkable–and it sparked his interest. When Moses saw the burning, not burning bush, he was curious. And so, (like future shepherds would) he went to see this thing which had come to pass.

Here’s where the story gets really interesting: It wasn’t until Moses actually went to see what was going on that God showed up. Scripture tells us that an angel of the Lord was responsible for the fire. Though God had orchestrated the supernatural event, Moses had to take the first step before God called his name.

Sometimes, God needs to get our attention before he can get to work in our lives. And he waits until we’re invested before he speaks. Moses shows us that when God calls, sometimes it requires us to wake up and move!

Too often, I run around with my head so lost in the fog of my thoughts or an electronic device that I can’t hear God call. I’m not focused on where God and how he’s working and what he might be inviting me to take part in. And so, God gets my attention in some surprisingly odd ways. Like a cow…stuck in a fence.

Years ago, as I was going about my business, driving the two-lane highway past farms and fields that was my daily commute, singing along to whatever pop song was on the radio, I happened to spot movement from the corner of my eye. Turning my head, I saw something new–a cow that was entangled in a barbed wire fence. As my brain was attempting to process this strange sight, my cell phone rang. It was my sister, driving down city streets 200 miles away, passing storefronts instead of fences. When I told her about the bizarre bovine encounter, I expected a chuckle, or at best, a snort. But what I got instead was a question that entirely upended my way of thinking. She asked: “What are you going to do about it?” In that moment, my sister reminded me that we are not to be passive bystanders on the road of life. Rather, we are called to enter in, to act, to make a difference. Because if we don’t, then who will?

And so, I called the sheriff’s department and reported a wayward cow. I have no idea what happened next, if the cow was safely removed from the fence or became someone’s dinner, but I know that God used that cow (and my sister) to teach me a lesson that has factored into many of my ensuing moments. But before God could get to the lesson, I first had to notice…and then I had to move.

What do you need to look up from to see God working in the world? Where is he trying to get your attention? And are you willing to go and see what he’s doing?

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

Possibility

I love January. It’s cold and quiet is a welcome respite after the jangling hustle and bustle of the holidays. Sometimes it snows, transforming the grey and boring landscape into something sparkling and wonderful. On those days, everything comes to a full stop. We stay in pajamas and grab our blankets, cups of coffee or cocoa or tea, a good book or movie or board game, and take time to just be. And in the being, we have time to think…to consider…to dream. January, in its quiet possibility, reminds us that we don’t ever just remain what we are–we can grow–we can adopt new habits, set new goals, seek self-improvement. And for people of faith, it is a reminder of God’s graciousness, because the one who knit us together in our mother’s womb is still creating.

God doesn’t ever let us be. He is, as C.S. Lewis wrote, the “great hound of heaven” (or, if you rather Anne LaMott’s description–a stray tom cat yowling at the front door.) As Paul writes in Romans 8, God had a plan for us in the dawn of time. Millions of years before the first person would ever set foot on Earth, centuries before our ancestors began putting down roots, decades before our parents even considered the next generation, God was working in our lives to write his redemptive story.

God sees the possibility in our lives. He knows where we’re going, even if it doesn’t always seem clear to us. He knows the obstacles that will stand in our way, and is ready to hold us when the journey becomes too much. He’s there, every step of the way, teaching us and mentoring us–fashioning us in his image–not the one we see in the mirror–hand held out, inviting us to follow. God offers the gift of possibility. 

So, what possibility is God speaking into your life this year? What dreams is he whispering into your soul? If you’re like me, I bet some of them are pretty daunting. In my experience, God likes a big project–something I could never accomplish on my own. Like writing a book. Or pursuing a degree. Sponsoring a ministry. Even embarking on a new career path. Possibility can seem impossible, until God steps into the room. As Jesus told his disciples:

I don’t know how God will work out the possibilities he’s offering in your life. But I know it will be wondrous and surprising–surpassing all you could dream or imagine. My life at 46 is vastly different from the life I was working toward at 26…yet it is also infinitely better. When I accepted God’s call of possibility, it changed my life for the better, even if it wasn’t anything I had planned.

This January, as you contemplate change, take some time to lean into God’s possibility for your story. When we step into God’s possibility, we see the world (and ourselves) through his eyes, moving beyond who we are into who God calls us to be. Are you ready?

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

New Year, One Word: Compassion

Over Christmas, our family took a trip to NYC–along with half the world’s population! It was beyond crowded at most of the tourist spots. Just for some perspective, here’s a look at our ferry on the way back from Ellis Island:

See those life vests up above? Just decoration…if that sardine can went down, we were all going with it.

If I’m being honest, I am not really at my best among hordes of people. In my better moments, I see crowds as a nuisance–something to get through in order to experience something I want. And at my worst…well…I mostly wish they would just all go away so I can fully enjoy whatever I want to enjoy. It’s selfish and entitled, and I am fully aware of that in the moment. Unfortunately, that awareness doesn’t always precipitate change.

That’s why I am floored that Jesus’ response to the overflow of people hounding him along his journey isn’t one of exasperation; rather, Matthew tells us (three times!) that Jesus saw the crowds and had compassion.

Compassion is a powerful word. It’s more than just feeling bad for someone. Instead, to have compassion means that you are so deeply concerned about the circumstances of another human being that, according to Merriam Webster, you have “an urgent desire to aid” them. When Jesus saw the crowds around him, his heart was broken open. He saw their sickness, both spiritual and physical, and was compelled by an urgent desire to make them better.

Too often, when I look at others, I don’t see them with compassion. I see the poor choices, the dirty fingernails, the tattered clothes, the coarse language, the cloying neediness, the boisterous braggadocio, the condescending glance, the mental illness, or even the gleaming success….and I walk away full of my own self-righteousness, somehow thinking that Jesus’ compassion is a gift only for me.

In the gospel of Luke, Jesus gives those who will listen a lesson on compassion. Love your enemies, he says. Do good, and lend expecting nothing in return. If you do, you will have a great reward. You will be acting the way children of the Most High act, for–and this is the kicker– he is kind to ungrateful and wicked people.

God is kind to ungrateful and wicked people. And who might those ungrateful and wicked people be, per se? Get a mirror.

God always sees right into the hearts of his children. And when he finds their particular sickness (which we all have), he doesn’t turn away. He is so concerned for them, for us, that he has an urgent desire to act. God brings healing and hope to all those he encounters. And, if we’re willing, he’s offering us the chance to take part in this healing with him by showing others compassion.

We are called to be a people of compassion–a people who are so concerned with the problems facing other human beings that we have an urgent desire to aid them. But so often, we let our own sickness keep us from engaging in this practice. We put ourselves first, and quite honestly, most of us don’t even show compassion there.

This year, my focus word is compassion. I want to look at others with Jesus’ eyes–to see beyond the surface and into the heart, and to allow that knowledge of who, what, and why someone is (fill in the blank) break open my soul and lead me to act rather than pass by. It won’t be easy…I realize that I’m fighting against some deeply ingrained habits of behavior. But if I open the door of my heart to God’s compassion, I think that change will come…

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

To Be Known

The other day, as I was talking to my 15-year-old in the kitchen, I noticed that he was sporting a new watch–a Hello Kitty watch. Where’d you get that?, I asked. And then answered my own question before he could get there. His buddy, _____, of course.

This is the same friend who got my son a copy of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense for his birthday, and who encouraged him to learn the guitar. This is the same friend my son competes with on a daily basis to see who can get first chair in band, score the highest on a math test, bench the most at the gym, and get the fastest mile on their bikes. These two challenge each other, celebrate each other, and just generally get each other.

As a parent, watching your child form meaningful and lasting friendships with people who get them is one of life’s greatest blessings. There’s something wonderful about being known–about being understood. You don’t have to explain your reasoning, justify your thinking, or apologize for your emotions. You can proudly wear a Hello Kitty watch to high school because it’s funny and weird and that is who you are and your friend understands that.

One of my favorite passages of Scripture comes from the Gospel of John. The “beloved”disciple begins his tale as all great tales start–in the beginning.

John establishes an almost symbiotic relationship between God and Jesus, both floating in the amniotic fluid of the universe and nursing new stars into being–each needing the other to bring forth their cosmic masterpiece. In the darkness of deep space light burst forth, and John tells us that the light was life spoken by the Word, and that this life-giving light of God was for all people. God, Jesus, and Spirit were one, and they enfolded humankind into their midst. Talk about a knowledge too great and wonderful for me!!

Often, when it comes to faith, I think we know (or think we know) a lot about God. We read Scripture and learn the stories of faith. We listen to teachers and understand the key points. We can say that God is good, or just, or merciful, or righteous. We can quote our favorite verses, and maybe list all of the books of the Bible. But knowing about someone isn’t the same as knowing them. To know someone goes so much deeper than being aware of the key events in their lives and maybe their favorite colors. We get to know others through relationship–in talking and sharing and laughing and crying and listening and understanding and journeying together. It takes time, and it takes effort, but the result is something so deep and beautiful and lasting that words can’t accurately convey it. It’s love distilled to its purest and simplest form. And it is what Jesus brings into the world.

John says that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us–we sing about it each December. But Jesus’ birth isn’t a pretty story to tell in the dark and cold of winter, it’s an opportunity to be known by the One who created us deep within our mother’s wombs. Because of Jesus, we can know God–we can walk and talk with him just like Adam and Eve did in Eden. And in Jesus, John tells us that the meaning and purpose of the universe–of life itself–comes into focus. Jesus invites us to know God as one of our closest companions, and it is in that knowing that our lives take shape.

At Christmas, we don’t celebrate the end of a story–rather, we celebrate the beginning of a deep and meaningful relationship. God made himself flesh and dwelt among us to bring us closer to him. How deep the Father’s love for us, indeed!

Merry Christmas!

Sara

The Advent Dilemma

“Slow down!” I called, pulling in with both arms on a leash stretched taut between our big baby of a Great Dane puppy and my hand–her barreling down the trail and me being dragged behind. “You go my pace! I don’t go yours!” I cried as she finally came to a standstill, looking back at me with an expression of annoyance that clearly communicated I needed to do a better job of keeping up.

The problem of ploughing pell-mell through the woods (beyond a dislocated shoulder) is that we miss the wonder and beauty and peace that comes from contemplating all of creation on display around us. There’s not time to pause and ponder the bright yellow leaf that has fallen, absolutely perfectly, into the middle of the path. There’s no time to stop and stare eye-to-eye at the brown-eyed doe tentatively assessing whether it’s safe to cross the path. There’s no time to marvel at the way the crisp, cool air expands your lungs, and the how the earth smells sharp and rich as it seeks to reclaim the leaves and twigs and smashed nut shells of the previous season. There’s just no time…

This is how I often feel during the season of Advent (yes, it’s still a thing; no, it’s not a countdown to Christmas), like I’m being pulled through something marvelous that I really want to stop and enjoy, but there’s just no time. Where Christmas is bright, big, and boisterous, Advent is retracted and reflective, requiring a certain amount of stillness and awareness. These are qualities our society does not endorse. And so we sprint through it to take in as much of the holiday hoopla as we can instead of waiting and watching and listening for the arrival of the holy, like those wise bridesmaids Jesus spoke of in the gospels.

In the above Scripture passage, the prophet Micah is lamenting the path the people of Israel have chosen. They have relegated God to an afterthought, and instead of listening for him, instead of watching and waiting for the deliverance God longs to bring, the people are living as they wish. The people of Israel rush around seeking to make themselves happy in a misguided attempt to close the gaping hole that no amount of money, power, luxury goods, or food seems to fill. There is conflict and animosity, injustice and idolatry in the wreckage of God’s perfect order.

And then there is Micah, who must feel like he’s screaming into the wind, compelling the people of Israel to remember before it’s too late that God only wants these things from them: to be just, to choose love, and to walk in humble obedience with God. But God’s path is a slow one, filled with detours and unexpected pit stops, and the people have no desire for such a seeming waste of time. So Micah sits, pulling his cloak around him, and waits–believing with every fiber of his being that he will see the Lord’s salvation when it comes. Micah stops to watch. He stills himself to listen. He doesn’t check his watch, add to his to-do list, or strategize a shopping plan. He just waits. And hopes. And listens. Do you know what Micah hears in the waiting? He hears the voice of God.

This is the beauty of Advent, if we truly allow ourselves to indulge in it. As we wait, as we watch, as we still ourselves to listen, we, too, can hear the voice of God. Sometimes it comes in wonder, as we gaze at God’s beauty in nature or in the companionship of those we love. Sometimes it comes in song, as we pause to listen to Christmas hymns both new and old. Sometimes it comes in Scripture, as we take time to dive into God’s word and find revelation anew. And sometimes it comes in the quiet of our stilled thoughts…a soft and gentle whisper nudging us in a specific direction or wrapping us up in acceptance and love.

Newbery Award Winning Author Madeline L’Engle puts it this way:

Advent calls us into a holy stillness. While the world whirls in a carousel of frenetic energy, blurring our thoughts and confounding our senses, we are called to hop off the ride and sit, like Micah, on the side of the road…waiting and watching…believing with every fiber of our beings, that we will see the salvation of the Lord. Come, Lord Jesus….

Blessings and Peace,

Sara