Leo is our dog. Wendy and I have had dogs in our lives since we were first married. I brought home our first two and we have had them as an important part of our family continually. They have brought joy, love and excitement to our household.
If I’m honest, all of our dogs have loved Wendy. Even the dogs that started out as one of the kid’s dogs or mine eventually became Wendy’s. She just has that touch and they all love her. Most tolerate me, some put up with me only when she is gone. Then we got Leo.
Leo is our second Vizsla. Emma was my running dog who became Wendy’s best buddy. She was our first Vizsla. Leo was a challenge when we first got him. He was all puppy. And, like Emma, he sleeps in the bed with us. Leo was different. Emma would curl up in a ball and sleep at the foot of the bed. Leo has to lay close enough to touch you, always.
I am not really a touchy type of person. This took more adjustment than I care to admit. He really liked to be close and knew no personal space boundaries. I thought for sure he would just end up as Wendy’s dog, especially since he liked to be close. But, it turns out, he loves us both. He may be the most loving dog ever.
Leo has been through more than his share of challenges. He was diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder after being almost completely paralyzed. The prognosis wasn’t great but he powered through. Most recently, he was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a limb removed. Again, he powered through. That’s incredible. But that isn’t all that makes him so special.
What makes Leo so special is his ability to simply love. He climbs up next to me, lays his head in my lap and simply enjoys my presence. He lays as close to us as possible in the bed. He sleeps a lot more now but never misses an opportunity to be right by our side.
Leo has changed me, slowly and with much resistance on my part. He has shown me what unconditional love looks like. He has forced me to crave his presence next to me. He brightens my morning when I come in simply by the excited wagging of his tail. And he never ceases to amaze me. He just loves. And I am grateful. So, I’ll treasure the moments we have left. And his love will always have an impact on me. What a gift from God.
It was an hour before the alarm would go off. My eyes popped open because my brain was in overdrive. There were so many things to do. I went through my day over and over. There was one part I wasn’t sure how it would happen. It needed to happen, but I couldn’t figure it out. And so my brain continued to go through all the scenarios.
This morning isn’t all that unusual. Many mornings I wake up with an agenda and a plan. Sometimes it works out, sometimes not. This particular morning I was more overwhelmed than usual. I felt the weight of it all. I tried to go back to sleep – I still had an hour to go and it would be an early morning as it was. I needed this hour of sleep. But there was no use.
I had told myself the night before that if I woke up early, I would go for a run. I felt confident I wouldn’t wake up early. It was really cold outside and I honestly did not want to face it. I just wanted to stay in my warm bed and sleep until the last moment. But, it didn’t turn out that way. I was awake. I was going to fight it and then I had a glimpse, a momentary vision. It was of a beautiful night sky filled with stars. It was breathtaking. It was as if the vision was speaking to me – this is what awaits. If I’m honest, I still didn’t want to go out in the cold so early. But I got up.
I put on my winter running clothes and headed out the door, very reluctantly. I knew I would feel better if I would just go. So, I did. The run was challenging – I am not in as good of shape as I would like. It was cold and dark. But I headed out anyway.
Here’s what happened – the view was there…the vision was correct. I had forgotten how amazing the night sky was on cold mornings. The moon was bright and the stars sparkled. I was in awe, one more time.
This was my reminder of what an artist the Creator is. The painting poured out before me could not be replicated. Photos would never do it justice. The moment was just that – a moment in time. I would have missed it if I had not gotten up. I would have slept through the magic.
This doesn’t mean I won’t sleep through it in the future. It was a powerful reminder of what awaits if I am simply willing to get moving. Breathe, watch God work, and admire the creation laid before us. What a morning indeed.
Today we transition…we move from ordinary time, when we spent time learning more about Jesus, how God calls us his beloved, and how we are to follow. We move from this ordinary time into the special time of Advent. This is a time of waiting expectedly. There is an anticipation in the air. We are reintroduced to the stories of a Messiah. The songs begin to change, the season changes, there are lights and trees and everything around us begins to look a bit different, at least for a few moments.
As a child, I couldn’t wait for this time because the Advent calendar came out. Door by door, new things would appear until we reached the pinnacle of Christmas. There was apprehension and excitement. We tend to lose that as we grow older. We see sparks of it in our children and grandchildren. We see glimpses in the lives of others. But we can lose the excitement. We have responsibilities and bills, we have things to decorate or bake, we have people to care for and things in life which just don’t go well. We tend to lose the spark because, well…life.
But Advent is a reminder that spark is still there, waiting to be ignited. We are reminded the joy bubbles underneath the surface, not because of the things which bubbled up as kids, and not because of anything which happens during this season in particular. The joy, the spark is brought on because of what we light a candle for today. The spark is brought on by HOPE.
You see, we wait expectedly today for a restoration of hope, even when our world is crumbling. We wait for a reinvigoration of hope, even when we feel more stuck in ordinary time. We wait for a jolt of hope which ignites something deep within us waiting to be awoken. And when we get to this place, we may have a glimpse into the lives of those on that first Advent.
The people were itching for something more. They had tried to follow the rules. They had tried to live by the commandments. They had searched for hope. They had tried to buy, bribe, and take it. But here’s the deal. The hope they were searching would not come as they expected. And even though we know the story, this hope doesn’t come as we expect either.
This brings us to our first Scripture reading – Matthew 1:18-25.
This begins the birth of HOPE. This is the story of the birth of the Messiah, which means it is the beginning of so much more. This is what they were waiting for. This is what we are waiting for. This is what we all wait for. This is the spark. This is the glimpse. This is the truth we couldn’t wait to hear, experience, and live.
But it doesn’t happen as we would have guessed. A woman is pregnant, it isn’t her future husband’s baby. He is trying to help her keep her dignity, the baby, and maybe her life. He is probably trying to help himself in the process too. She goes away, problem goes away, life goes on. But this isn’t a problem, this is a solution.
The solution…Joseph is to married an unwed mother. He is to raise this baby as his own. This baby has a purpose which is too big for any of them to understand…and if we are honest, we know the story and it is too big for any of us to understand as well. Joseph does as he is asked to do.
And here is how hope is introduced…here is how hope is brought to you and me as well…here is the evidence of hope…this is HOPE – Emmanuel. Did you catch what it means? Emmanuel means God with us.
We transition from ordinary time to Advent with a spark of hope, not because of anything we have done or can do. It wasn’t because of anything Joseph could do except be obedient. It wasn’t because of anything the people did, except make a place. It wasn’t because of anything even Mary did, except be willing. And it isn’t anything we do except to open our arms…a baby is coming and he is Christ the Lord.
Here’s my fear, though. My fear is that I become so caught up in ordinary time that I miss the extraordinary hope. My fear is that I become the opposite of Joseph, unwilling to make a change, unwilling to move or so caught in the ordinary parts of my day that I simply skip it. My fear is the world has so clouded my vision that the spark doesn’t ignite for me.
Hope is right there in front of us but we can easily miss it. Think of all the people who were craving this hope and it was right there in front of them, just packaged a bit differently than they wanted. Think of all the people who were so stuck in the way they wanted to do religion that they wouldn’t have given a second look at an unwed mother, much less consider she was carrying the ultimate hope. Think of all the people who had their own ideas of how God would work and completely allowed Jesus to grow up unrecognized and unacknowledged.
Hope was right there in front of them. And so many missed him. Hope is right here in front of us…Emmanuel, God with us. And yet, so many of us miss him. It’s easier to go about our lives just as we are. But if we are going to seriously welcome in Advent, if we want to see and experience hope, if we want to be changed from ordinary into something new…we have to be willing to wait expectedly.
God is with us…what more hope could we possibly need?
I woke up this morning with a hymn on my mind. Music often speaks to my soul and guides my day. Sometimes the music I hear when I awake is something I had been listening to the day before. Sometimes it is from a past church service and resonates with me. And there are the times when the song which plays is seemingly random and just appears in my mind. The latter was the case today.
It is an old hymn which I can’t remember the last time I actually sung it, though I know it really well. And I don’t know that the song has been especially important to my life in the way many of the hymns have. Some hymns stick with me and helped to shape and form my spiritual journey. Some I wonder how they got in the hymnbook and have found them less than helpful. But this one doesn’t fit in either category.
The hymn has a feeling of majesty and presence. It has grandeur and feels as though it carries importance. The hymn is “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” written by Isaac Watts. I think it needs the boldness of the song to carry lyrics which remind us of God’s help, security, and defense.
It is a reminder of the God who formed the earth is strong enough to conquer the things which overwhelm me. The God who has been a safe haven for the saints who have gone before is the same God who can provide a shelter for me when I am afraid. Time moves on so very fast for all of us, but God is not bound by time. He is the help we need no matter what we may face. And, this is the reminder of where our help comes from.
Psalm 121 is a powerful scripture echoing this same message. Where does our help come from? Our help comes from the Lord, who made the heavens and the earth. He is our keeper, our stronghold. He is our HELP.
O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come – May YOU calm our fears, renew our weary spirits, provide hope for our futures, and guide our steps.
It’s a phrase we often hear, use and repeat. My Dad would often begin worship with the phrase, and the congregation replying, “All the time,” to which he would say, “All the time,” with the congregation replying “God is good.” It’s catchy. It wakes people up. It brings some sort of agreement. Except, what do we do with the times when we suffer or we struggle? What about the times when all seems overwhelming and God seems more distant than ever? What do we do when we cannot see the goodness of God in the land of the living?
For me, I often struggle with the phrase because the term “good” is attached to worldly attachments. God is “good” when we can pay the bills or money comes in unexpectedly. God is “good” when something works that didn’t work before. God is “good” when I feel content and happy and everything is going my way (or at least my perception of my way). God is “good” when I get what I want. But that is a skewed perspective of good.
I have been considering the scripture in Lamentations 3 which reads, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” This speaks to me of God’s goodness. This is a scripture where I can bow my head and dig my heels in to God being good. Why? Because God’s goodness is not dependent on my outcomes, my wealth (or lack thereof), my health, my attitude, or my sense of fulfillment. Instead, God is good because of his steadfast love. He is good because of mercies from him which do not end. God is good because his faithfulness is great. THIS is why God is good.
I’ll be honest, I still struggle with the phrase and you likely won’t hear me say it on a regular basis. I won’t quickly attribute success to God’s goodness. I will strive not to blame my lack of control on his lack of goodness. Instead, there is a far greater chance you will find me, like the writer of Lamentations, with my soul bowed down and simply searching for hope where there seems to be none.
Is God good? My hope is in his steadfast love, his endless mercies and his great faithfulness. So I suppose the answer is a resounding yes, regardless of where I may be this day.
Listening – it’s one of our most difficult tasks. This is especially true when we feel like we know what’s coming. We are a part of a conversation and we know, we just know what the other person is about to say. If it happens to be something we disagree with, we begin preparing ourselves for battle. We can also find ourselves deafened by our anger over what is being said. We don’t actually hear what the other person is saying. We decide they are wrong, we are right, and that is that. So we stop listening.
We can find ourselves shutting out all the voices we don’t agree with. If something comes our way, we quickly assess whether we want to continue to hear what is being said. If it bothers us, we can just walk away. The problem is we never really hear. We don’t listen to the other person or group. We simply label them with any label that will make us feel better about what we are thinking and how wrong they are.
Yet, the Bible teaches us to be quick to listen. Listening is a gift we give to someone else. We are taking our time to simply be present and hear. This means shutting off our own opinions for a moment, and taking ourselves out of the situation to simply pay attention to the other person. It is challenging. And some of us won’t make the effort. But for those who do…what a difference it makes. When we pay attention, we may begin to see the humanity in another person. We may see their fear or their hurt, their pain or their anger. We may see they are not different than us, we simply have a different view. Different views aren’t bad, unless they become how we define ourselves completely. Different views and opinions are beautiful unless we belittle others who do not think like us. We can have different views and different beliefs and still love each other. Jesus did it his entire ministry. But, it takes the extraordinary effort to genuinely listen and to love.
May we find ourselves quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to anger today. And may that spark love in us like never before.
Throughout the Bible, intertwined in church history, pulsing through American history, and boiling over into today, it always seems to be – there are voices of hate who speak opinions in the name of God. It’s as if there is a feel of representation of God, like one of the prophets. Interestingly enough, many of those voices are “prophets” who happily call out anyone who doesn’t believe like them. It’s always a pointing of fingers in a show of how bad “they” are. Maybe it is so they can also feel justified in their anger. Certainly if someone doesn’t believe exactly as we have interpreted the Bible, those are grounds for calling them out, maybe even hating them?
These voices are very loud. They bounce off the walls of our hearts and minds. They fill our sanctuaries, our offices, our shopping places and everywhere in between. They fill our TVs and our phones. They speak loudly. And it seems the voices always scream hatred, or at least some twisted version of the love of God. It can be easy to fall right in line with those voices. They are everywhere. And they can make everyone who believes the same feel empowered. But ultimately, that’s what it’s about, right? It really is all about power (with maybe some greed thrown in). Believe like me…or else…
There are still other voices, though. There are voices of love which often become whispers because the others are drowning them out. The whispers of love let those who have been harmed, removed, beat down, excluded, and shut out know there is still a safe place. There is still love here. It may be whispers, but those whispers are kind. Those whispers speak words of welcome. Those whispers remind the forgotten and the discarded there is love still here. The shouts of hate do not always win. The whispers of love just continue to envelope those who need it.
I know because unknowingly, throughout my life, I have been uninvited to tables. I have heard the phrase… “if anyone believes like that, they better not sit at my table.” The group didn’t know that meant I was no longer invited, though. I have had the slap on the back of the group who are ready to call out the sins of others (that would be the sins of other people, not their own sins). I have heard the snide remarks from those I love so dearly, not knowing I didn’t agree. I have been in rooms where I was not welcome, only the voices didn’t know me. And, understand clearly, all the voices were doing this in the name of Jesus or faith or God or Christianity. The voices weren’t intending to do anything except make sure “those” folks knew how wrong they were and how they were going to hell and they better get their life straight, correct their beliefs and start believing the “right” way. Of course, the right way is the way we read and interpret, right?
My personal saving grace has been found in the whispers of love. It is hard to hear them. They are faint. I’ve almost missed them, but they are there. And they tell me there are still tables I am welcome. Some of those whispers even speak the name of Jesus.
If you feel abandoned, hurt, excluded or generally beaten down, stop and listen. There are still the whispers of love. They will never be completely drowned out by the loudest of voices. They are there…we are there. You are not alone. Welcome to the table, abandoned, forgotten, displaced. Welcome.
We are people who like things our way. When Burger King coined the phrase, “Have it your way”, they were really speaking of the way too many of us want to live. We complain if everything isn’t exactly how we want it to be, when we want it and where we want it. Convenience is an expectation and accommodation a requirement. Everything in life is supposed to be easier, focused on what I want and need. It’s all about me.
And that has seeped into the faith community for as long as there has been a faith community. Church folks aren’t exempt. And so churches are often formed around what that group of people want, how they want it and when they want it. And if we don’t like it, we can leave. Or we can make others leave. It is all about us, anyway, right?
Except these aren’t the teachings of the Bible. If I read correctly, it is actually all about God. My Dad always had the phrase he repeated continuously, “It’s All About Him!” And he tried to live like this. But it’s difficult. We don’t always agree and with the chaos of our world, it pushes us to make sure our own areas are in our control. People around us should be “like us”. It feels more comfortable. It makes for better worship? It enables us to feel justified? And yet, this isn’t Biblical either.
You know what is Biblical? Jesus said there were 2 defining principles which should guide everything. And we can’t talk about these enough. He said we were to love the Lord our God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength (with our EVERYTHING) AND to love our neighbor as ourself. In other words, the guiding principle is love.
Here’s the deal for me – I can’t give love I haven’t received. God gives us the love we then pour into others. The issue comes when we try to give what we have not yet allowed God to pour into us. We end up looking like those who love things, not people. We love wealth not God. We love control, not surrender. We end up trying to get what we want, when we want, and how we want.
But church is no Burger King. It SHOULD be focused on what God wants – and most of the time, that doesn’t look the same as what we want. Just read the scriptures. What Jesus taught was never what the religious folks wanted to hear. And I dare say, it still isn’t.
So maybe we start with the basics one more time…and again and again. Who do we love?
We are accustomed to be in charge. We often work diligently to put together the best guest list possible. Who can sit at this table, who do we need to separate, who can’t tolerate the others – all decisions we make when we really start deciding who will come and who will not. It happens often, sometimes without us even thinking about it. We purposely don’t invite certain folks and make sure others feel welcome. And it’s okay, it is our table and our event and our money. So it is totally fine. Well, it is except in our faith.
Jesus had this incredibly unusual habit of inviting people to his table who didn’t belong. He touched lepers (the untouchables), he hung out with those who had been forgotten, he healed a woman who had been unclean probably longer than she had been clean, he spent time with folks who were culturally irrelevant, and he listened to those who yelled his name, even though they should have no place even near him. His disciples must have thought he lost his mind when they come back from the market and found him talking to a woman of questionable character from a rival tribe. She was the least of people to even see, much less talk to or hang out with. He must have been trying to ruin his reputation. He certainly couldn’t have seen value in her. She held no value in most people’s eyes. And yet, this is the woman who he reveals who he is. Check it out – he tells HER who he is. He doesn’t do this for any of those who felt they were worthy. SHE was the one (read John 4).
In other words, Jesus begins to open wide his invite list. He even tells stories about inviting the poor and wounded, sick and desperate to the table. He pushes all the cultural norms to sit with those who had never sat this close to a religious person before. And if we are honest, the religious folks were extremely uncomfortable. They had decided already who was in and who was out. They had a list of rules and things people had to do and none of those people had done them. They hadn’t completed any of the things that were required or said the right things or even signed the right agreements. And yet…And yet…and yet…these are the people Jesus offers an invitation.
Jesus’ list is one we are not in charge of (thankfully). We don’t decide who is in and who is out. And we also don’t decide who is worthy based on a list of criteria we have put together. Jesus defies all of this. And if we really take a moment, we should be grateful as well. We might find we didn’t deserve to be at the table even if we did everything we thought was required. We got the invitation because of Jesus’ love, not our worthiness. And it just might be, the people we have decided are “those” people…these are the ones Jesus has a special place of honor at his table. It isn’t our invitation list. It is his. And maybe, we become grateful for simply being invited.
Can you hear it, almost feel what it’s like? Can you smell the air filled with pride? The stones, they hit the dirt with such a force the dust envelops them. Stones can hurt, even kill if put into the hands of the angry. They can be hurled with such force as to cause damage with anything they come in contact. One little stone can wreak havoc. And yet, many of them are thrown around as if they are nothing. But they are something.
The stone throwers, they are everywhere. It seems so easy to identify them. They are the ones with an agenda, looking to take out anyone who may not agree or threaten a sense of being right. Stones are thrown with words or actions. And the force behind them is so intense. It’s easier to throw stones if everyone around throws stones too. It feels therapeutic. It certainly can feel justified. “They” deserve it, right? “They” aren’t doing the right thing or living the right way or saying the right words. Just throw the stones already.
Jesus was faced with this situation. Those around likely held those stones so tightly in their hands they could feel the edges bore down into their skin. They were justified. It was the law, after all. Everyone would agree. This woman deserved it. It was right and it would show others what was right. And yet, Jesus didn’t hold a stone in his hand at all. And when pushed for a response, he simply said to the crowd…you who have no sin cast the first stone. (John 8)
That’s the problem with stone throwing. It’s always directed at someone else without a mirror to reflect our own issues. It’s much easier to point out what we don’t like in other people. We can feel justified when “they” don’t get things “right”. We can quickly forget we don’t have the right to do this. And while we can certainly point out the stone throwers, I would dare say we may feel a stone in our own hand, just waiting for the right opportunity or the right person or the right cause.
But have we forgotten? Have we forgotten we are a sinner? Have we forgotten we don’t have any right to even hold a stone much less throw it? Maybe, just maybe, it helps if we start looking at ourselves, who we are, and how we love, rather than at others. Maybe we start taking a deep dive inwards and checking ourselves according to the standards of Jesus rather than making others meet our standards. Maybe we start to realize we simply need Jesus to forgive us and love us. Maybe that’s where it starts, with a mirror and some time with Jesus.
SEEING THE EXTRAORDINARY 
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