Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw a child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
— Matthew 2:7-11
Today I read that an estimated 250 children are born every minute, about four per second. Four distinct, beautiful lives arriving in the width of a breath. In the time it takes to blink, staggering potential is released—again and again and again. Right now. In this second. As you read these words, birth is taking place. Light is breaking in. Possibility is being born.
You don’t need to fully embrace Christian orthodoxy or even be a particularly religious person to embrace the dawn in every second, in the ways the planet is always being made new, and in the reality that we get to participate in it all while we’re here. Every day we open our eyes and greet the sun, we are gifted a Christmas miracle. You wake in and walk into this glorious new day—into the delivery room of the present. You have this entirely new, never to be repeated opportunity to bring peace and compassion into a space that so needs it. Hope is being born again with the light arriving. Today is a birth day. This is the greatest of good news. Continue reading “Dwell In Possibility (Christmas Meditation) …”
Light shimmers through the Gospel reading for Christmas Day: the stunning Prologue to the Gospel of John. Tonight, revisiting my luminous Book of Common Prayer, I read John’s words—which the book renders in the King James Version, of course. In this passage that I love and have read approximately a zillion times, what struck me tonight, in this version, were these words:
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. The same came for a witness, to bear witness of the Light, that all . . . through him might believe. He was not that Light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light.
— John 1:6-8
Most times when I read this passage, I’m focused on John the Evangelist’s elegant and moving description of how Christ came as the Word: the Word that was with God, the Word that was God, the Word that was in the beginning with God, the Word that came as life and light. As a woman with a passion for the Word, and words, and the connections between them, I never cease to be stunned by the power of this poetic passage and what—and how—it tells us of the One who entwined himself with us as life and flesh and light. Yet tonight, amidst the luminous words about the Word, my eye keeps going back to John—the one whom we call the Baptist, the one who prepared the way—and how, as the King James Version puts it, he came “to bear witness of that light.”
Even as Advent calls us to honor the gifts of the dark, this season bids us recognize our ancient longing for illumination, and to celebrate the One who came to us as light. Amidst the shadows—some necessary, some horrendous—God beckons us to look deeper, to look more closely, that we may find the presence of the Christ who shimmers there. And, finding that presence, to bear witness. Continue reading “Witness To The Light (Christmas Day Meditation) …”
How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
“Your God reigns!”
Listen! Your watchmen lift up their voices;
together they shout for joy.
When the Lord returns to Zion,
they will see it with their own eyes.
Burst into songs of joy together,
you ruins of Jerusalem,
for the Lord has comforted his people,
he has redeemed Jerusalem.
The Lord will lay bare his holy arm
in the sight of all the nations,
and all the ends of the earth will see
the salvation of our God.
— Isaiah 52:7-10
A movie director would surely begin where Isaiah begins: by concentrating on the feet. Feet, running along a mountain path. Accustomed to such terrain they are practiced, swift, and deft. They are also dirty, dusty, calloused, perhaps even bleeding. What makes them beautiful is the message we hear when the focus widens to the runner’s mouth: good tidings, peace, and good news that God reigns! The message itself, shouted aloud and borne on the mountain air, arrives before the messenger. Continue reading “Believe There Is Good In The World (Christmas Meditation) …”
Time is too slow for those who wait,
too swift for those who fear,
too long for those who grieve,
too short for those who rejoice,
but for those who love, time is eternity.
— Henry Van Dyke from Music and Other Poems
The LIFE WITH GOD posture is predicated on the view that relationship is at the core of the cosmos: God the Father with God the Son with God the Holy Spirit. And so we should not be surprised to discover that when God desired to restore his broken relationship with people, he sent his Son to dwell with us. Continue reading “Eternal Now (Christmas Meditation) …”
Album: God He Reigns (Hillsong Worship)
A Prayer for Christmas
God, give us eyes this Christmas
to see the Christmas star,
And give us ears to hear the song
of angels from afar …
And with our eyes and ears attuned
for a message from above,
Let Christmas angels speak to us
of hope and faith and love —
Hope to light our pathway
when the way ahead is dark,
Hope to sing through stormy days
with the sweetness of a lark,
Faith to trust in things unseen
and know beyond all seeing
That it is in our Father’s love
we live and have our being,
And love to break down barriers
of color, race, and creed,
Love to see and understand
and help all those in need.
— Helen Steiner Rice from The Poems and Prayers of Helen Steiner Rice
A Blessing for Christmas
Perhaps it does not begin.
Perhaps it is always.
Perhaps it takes
to open our eyes,
to learn to see
what has forever
shimmered in front of us— Continue reading “Advent Day 29: Christmas Day – Where the Light Begins …”