The End

2013 ends and I carved out an hour to be thoughtful about it and make note of what ends with it. I even made time to imagine what 2014 might bring in. Oddly, I did all of this with pen and paper. I haven't written that way in many moons, and it has been a lovely discipline these last two days, to feel the urgency of the words reflected in my grip of the pen. I forgot that word/body connection that comes with hand-writing.

I have now given myself 15 minutes to share with you, my writing-reading friends, a few selected thoughts. The place of my more public-private writing in my life is a sweet one, and what it has mostly brought is a tiny sliver of not-so-lonely, knowing that these words of mine land in places I do not know, but are carried by a few others for a minute or two. The you of you making space for my words over these last years has been a great gift to me, and I'm deeply thankful for it. By giving you these words too, I invite you into the circle of accountability that is invisible to be sure, but nonetheless powerful for this heart.

The close of 2013 is the close of a few important things: our financial life as we knew it, our formal churching, and my 30s.  Those are big goodbyes in obvious ways, but there is not much in the way of sadness for me in this. Just a relieved gratitude really. In each of those spaces, there was so much goodness for so long, but in their closing there is now space for something new to show up. I am bidding them each adieu with fondness I guess. At least I am today. I was weeping about each of them at some point in the last year...

Tonight, we will end 2013 and if we can make it, start 2014 with our neighbours. We will share a meal and share opinions and share drinks and shares giggles and probably share a few curse words. I like it so much because I am so hopeful that neighbouring will continue to take up more and more space in my life in the year(s) to come.

As I've thought about the rest of what the year to come could bring, I've kept tripping across the word brave. I won't say more about that now, but that's where I'll end. Be Brave. Do it even when fear is lingering nearby. Do it anyway.  The its are yet to be named, although they are sometimes imagined. But they are there waiting to be done.

Stay tuned. And of course, a very Happy New Year.

Advent 22

This afternoon, my beloved forwarded an email from his chaplain. It's true - there are two or three places left in this world that believe spiritual care for the troops is worthwhile. In this case, the chaplain is a guy I really like, formerly a pastor with a story full of hurt and disappointment and faith and do-overs. He works on the floor with all those other people and I don't think he's too chaplain-y most days.

But today he sat down and wrote a letter to his co-workers. A letter that reminded each of them that this season, full though it may be with icky bits, demands a bit of thoughtfulness maybe. He reminded them that the offer this Advent is hope, peace, joy and love. That all the insanity of the season has at its root a shared hunger for those things and a shared desire to somehow provide them: "Advent is the anticipation of these ingredients being totally full in each of our hearts and in all the people we care about." 

I cried a bit.


Mostly because this afternoon, I ran out of hope. I couldn't find peace anywhere and joy seemed long gone. Happily love was lingering in the living room, but that seemed accidental.

For those in the know, it will not be a surprise that SJ's workplace is about this last place any of us should expect The Light to show up, least of all for me. But alas, from that most unexpected place - in the Bethlehem of our family's world - light shone.

I can't say more about this without being maudlin and over-stating things - I'm in that kind of mood. So I will let the chaplain end it for us. May these words bless you as they blessed me:

May Hope fill your thoughts

May Peace form your actions

May Joy be in your conversations and

May Love enrich everything you see

(But seriously! My husband received these words from someone he works with at his [holy-fuck-has-it-been-bad-there] job! I am astounded. This makes me believe God may love me more than just about anything else this week. Or maybe even year. I am floored.)

Advent 13

I think about what it means to be Jesus-y a lot. I talk about it a fair bit too, with all kinds of people. At work, at parties, at playgrounds... I like hearing what other people think it must mean, and I like hearing what I think it must mean as I puzzle it out with them.  I also like wondering about who God is, and what God is up to. They're not the same to me, God and Jesus. Jesus is the bodied expression of who God is, and the person who's Life and Death and Life Again makes knowing God possible and worthwhile. I probably believe that somehow what we call the Spirit is the animated back and forth between me and that Creator God and that Alive Again Jesus. That all three are all sewn up together into a trinity of something Other and Divine.

I was talking about who God might be with my friend Laura this week. She wondered about praying for what is impossible when it is sometimes nicer to just pray for what is possible instead. There's less disappointment in hoping for what's possible generally speaking. But as she wondered on about daring to ask the Creator of All for what cannot be if we're in charge, for what can only be if God's in charge, she remembered words from Brene Brown. They were words for us to use when we've heard another's heart - "I don't know what to say, but I'm so glad you told me."  And suddenly Laura and I were quite caught up in the image of a God who sits across the table over coffee and says, I'm so glad you told me.

Whether we have poured out the darkest, bleakest, sinniest thoughts about those whom we thought we'd love, or gone on and on with our list of demands for our friends and beloveds and our own broken selves, or maybe waxed eloquent in overwhelmed gratitude for unexpected goodness, God nods slowly and says, I'm so glad you told me.

That's really the only answer to prayer that I can imagine is worth hearing.

Advent 10

I guess it was different before Jesus showed up. David hadn't seen the fishes and loaves being multiplied. He didn't hear about how the Kingdom of God was for anyone. He didn't know that God's mercy would go nuts like that.

I guess that's why the Psalms are full of David asking God to not let him be like "all those other people who are super bad".  That's not really a quote, by the way. But it's pretty much what he says, over and over and over again.

God, all those other people who aren't like me, who don't think like me, who want to hurt me and who just make me mad and afraid?? Do those people in God, and let me be okay and happy and rich and strong please.

I guess God got tired of it. Who knows why really. We just know that the whole chosen/not chosen thing kind of falls apart eventually and that something about Jesus showing up opens the whole of the Kingdom to the whole of humanity.

Even the people who aren't like me.

Psalm 26

Of David.

¹ Vindicate me, Lord,
    for I have led a blameless life;
I have trusted in the Lord
    and have not faltered.
² Test me, Lord, and try me,
    examine my heart and my mind;
³ for I have always been mindful of your unfailing love
    and have lived in reliance on your faithfulness.

⁴ I do not sit with the deceitful,
    nor do I associate with hypocrites.
⁵ I abhor the assembly of evildoers
    and refuse to sit with the wicked.
⁶ I wash my hands in innocence,
    and go about your altar, Lord,
⁷ proclaiming aloud your praise
    and telling of all your wonderful deeds.

⁸ Lord, I love the house where you live,
    the place where your glory dwells.
⁹ Do not take away my soul along with sinners,
    my life with those who are bloodthirsty,
¹⁰ in whose hands are wicked schemes,
    whose right hands are full of bribes.
¹¹ I lead a blameless life;
    deliver me and be merciful to me.

¹² My feet stand on level ground;
    in the great congregation I will praise the Lord.

Advent 9

We advented with our friends last night. We fed the kids first, and lit a candle with them and wondered a bit about peace. Then we sent the kids downstairs and wondered as grown-ups about peace - if Jesus showed up with peace this Advent, what would we want that to look like?

All the busy-ness is difficult to avoid - I think I trip across a half-dozen "How To Hate Christmas Less" articles a day, all of them counselling that we just say no to a few more things this year. But I think maybe they're missing the point. I mean, yes, we ought to avoid the Too Muchness of the season, and there's very little wrong with simplifying.

But the Jesus story isn't that Jesus showed up and suddenly the world got quieter. The dis-ease and conflict of his time didn't ease up. There weren't fewer weddings or synagogue meetings. The pace didn't relent. What changed was that Jesus was there. In midst of all the silly, there was the Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

This season brings demands that can be too expensive. But the chaos has its place in the story. In the middle of all that we can't afford, we are given the gift of Jesus. The one who brings the hope and the peace and the joy and the love - the currency needed to bear the cost of it all.

I'm sure it's wise and good to look for ways to limit the chaos. But I think this year, I'm going to put my energy into collecting the peace that is promised instead. The peace that is big enough for it all.

Advent Six

Today we read several Psalms, all written by David. It is good to read them in batches like this, to remember that David was a big batch of crazypants, while at the same time having to remember that it was apparently super important that the Saviour of the Whole World be one of his descendants. David who in Psalm 16 says "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places" but says in Psalm 22, "I am a worm and not a man, scorned by men and despised by people."

I have said before and will say again, David's Psalms are in the Cannon to remind us that if that guy can be the great hero of the Old Testament, then there is room for ALL of us in the Kingdom of God.

I think that must be what made Jesus so mad so often in all the new testament stories. The religious leaders were so intent on counting people out for all kinds of awful reasons: your body doesn't work right leper; your mind doesn't work right possessed man; you're bleeding ma'am; your alms aren't enough old lady. Had they forgotten David's story? Forgotten how he was too young? then too lusty? then too afraid? then too weepy? Had they forgotten that the great love of G-d's life had been a mess? Good grief. Jesus must have sworn so much...

Jesus comes to remind us that we don't get to choose who isn't "in" - we don't get to count anyone out, not even our own selves.

Psalm 16

A miktam^[a] of David.

¹ Keep me safe, my God,
    for in you I take refuge.

² I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
    apart from you I have no good thing.”
³ I say of the holy people who are in the land,
    “They are the noble ones in whom is all my delight.”
⁴ Those who run after other gods will suffer more and more.
    I will not pour out libations of blood to such gods
    or take up their names on my lips.

⁵ Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup;
    you make my lot secure.
⁶ The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    surely I have a delightful inheritance.
⁷ I will praise the Lord, who counsels me;
    even at night my heart instructs me.
⁸ I keep my eyes always on the Lord.
    With him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

⁹ Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
    my body also will rest secure,
¹⁰ because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead,
    nor will you let your faithful^[b] one see decay.
¹¹ You make known to me the path of life;
    you will fill me with joy in your presence,
    with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Psalm 22^[a]

For the director of music. To the tune of “The Doe of the Morning.” A psalm of David.

¹ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
    Why are you so far from saving me,
    so far from my cries of anguish?
² My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer,
    by night, but I find no rest.^[b]

³ Yet you are enthroned as the Holy One;
    you are the one Israel praises.^[c]
4 In you our ancestors put their trust;
    they trusted and you delivered them.
⁵ To you they cried out and were saved;
    in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

⁶ But I am a worm and not a man,
    scorned by everyone, despised by the people.
⁷ All who see me mock me;
    they hurl insults, shaking their heads.
⁸ “He trusts in the Lord,” they say,
    “let the Lord rescue him.
Let him deliver him,
    since he delights in him.”

⁹ Yet you brought me out of the womb;
    you made me trust in you, even at my mother’s breast.
¹⁰ From birth I was cast on you;
    from my mother’s womb you have been my God.

¹¹ Do not be far from me,
    for trouble is near
    and there is no one to help.

¹² Many bulls surround me;
    strong bulls of Bashan encircle me.
¹³ Roaring lions that tear their prey
    open their mouths wide against me.
¹⁴ I am poured out like water,
    and all my bones are out of joint.
My heart has turned to wax;
    it has melted within me.
¹⁵ My mouth^[d] is dried up like a potsherd,
    and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
    you lay me in the dust of death.

¹⁶ Dogs surround me,
    a pack of villains encircles me;
    they pierce^[e] my hands and my feet.
¹⁷ All my bones are on display;
    people stare and gloat over me.
¹⁸ They divide my clothes among them
    and cast lots for my garment.

¹⁹ But you, Lord, do not be far from me.
    You are my strength; come quickly to help me.
²⁰ Deliver me from the sword,
    my precious life from the power of the dogs.
²¹ Rescue me from the mouth of the lions;
    save me from the horns of the wild oxen.

²² I will declare your name to my people;
    in the assembly I will praise you.
²³ You who fear the Lord, praise him!
    All you descendants of Jacob, honor him!
    Revere him, all you descendants of Israel!
²⁴ For he has not despised or scorned
    the suffering of the afflicted one;
he has not hidden his face from him
    but has listened to his cry for help.

²⁵ From you comes the theme of my praise in the great assembly;
    before those who fear you^[f] I will fulfill my vows.
²⁶ The poor will eat and be satisfied;
    those who seek the Lord will praise him—
    may your hearts live forever!

²⁷ All the ends of the earth
    will remember and turn to the Lord,
and all the families of the nations
    will bow down before him,
²⁸ for dominion belongs to the Lord
    and he rules over the nations.

²⁹ All the rich of the earth will feast and worship;
    all who go down to the dust will kneel before him—
    those who cannot keep themselves alive.
³⁰ Posterity will serve him;
    future generations will be told about the Lord.
³¹ They will proclaim his righteousness,
    declaring to a people yet unborn:
    He has done it!

Advent Four

I am finding this Advent more difficult, partly because it is so much easier this year. The last several years of angst-fuelled instrospection and reading and writing has borne good fruit - namely clarity and peace.

To be frank, much was simplified when my beloved's mother died - with her died much of the expectation and obligation that was a poison, and now what lingers is only her generous love of the season. I don't pull out all of her wall-hangings and Santa paintings and trimmings in pissy ill-will anymore, but with the deep pleasure of being able to share and remember the very best parts of their grandmother with her son and our two smalls. It is difficult to face how unwilling I was to accept her very best as her very best until it was too late. It is, and I'll accept the responsibility for it as part of what this season requires: remembering why we need a Saviour in the first place.

Also trickifying things this year is the direction my faith is moving - ever-increasingly away from church and the pillars of what has been my religious practice of the past. I guess almost a wholesale rejection of the religion part, with an equally-increasing peace with the pursuit of Jesus-y-ness being an adequate expression of faith. My community of faith doesn't meet weekly and tithe and sing and do Sunday School but does linger over coffees together sometimes. I do have a sweet homegroup that remains a source of at-home-ness in all seasons and I might despair if that disappeared. My beloved and I really love talking about who Jesus is too, and that is a sweetness. But I am not satisfied with this and still wrestle with the best way to grow in faith without building my own religion, while at the same time letting go of the religiosity that has shown itself to be empty and life-less.

Doing this while feeling the responsibility for giving children the gift of faith is fraught. I want for them fluency in faith so that they can grow up able to explore that land ably and with ease. I want them to know, deep in their hearts, that there is a Creator God who loves them and loves their neighbour and who asks that they in turn love God and love their neighbour and who's presence is a balm and source of peace through this life. I want them to know who Jesus is and agree that Jesus' words are the best reflection of who we believe God to be and the best guides for living a life full of Life and Light. But it seems wise to not take this on by myself - it seems like having a community to share all this work with would be smart. Surely there are other examples for doing this without a Sunday-morning-with-guitars-and-announcements meeting? Anybody?

And so this is an odd Advent. I don't wait for Jesus to make himself known in a new way, but instead I find myself out in the fields, wondering how to respond to the herald angels. I find myself following a star, unsure of what arriving at the destination will require.  There is no hesitation to receive the gift given, but there is equally no clarity about what is to be done with the gift.

In this way, I am not much different from the chief priests and elders in Matthew who keep asking questions of Jesus, hoping for an answer that will let things remain as they are. Tax collectors and prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of us, to be sure - all who are eager for everything to change will. But there are a number of us wanting Jesus' answer to be "Nope, you're finished changing. It's all good. Rest at home now." And for us, things are trickier.

Matthew 21:28-32

New International Version (NIV)

The Parable of the Two Sons

²⁸ “What do you think? There was a man who had two sons. He went to the first and said, ‘Son, go and work today in the vineyard.’
²⁹ “‘I will not,’ he answered, but later he changed his mind and went.
³⁰ “Then the father went to the other son and said the same thing. He answered, ‘I will, sir,’ but he did not go.
³¹ “Which of the two did what his father wanted?”
“The first,” they answered.
Jesus said to them, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. ³² For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.

Advent Two

Who is this?

This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth.

Today's reading from the gospels is the story of Palm Sunday. Usually we're reading it a week before Easter, in anticipation of Life Winning. We read it knowing that the days ahead bring the last supper and Judas selling out and the rigged trial and the desperate bleak gloom of Friday and the long wait through Saturday and the unfathomable mystery of the resurrection on Sunday.

But today we read it just a few weeks before Christmas, in anticipation of Life Showing Up. We read it knowing not only what comes in the last week of this life, but also through the years before then. The small babe we wait for tonight will be a grown man who sends out his friends to steal a donkey and a colt for him, and who enters Jerusalem unarmed and a grave disappointment to many, but somehow still, our Only Hope.

It's an odd juxtaposition, this man who is, and the babe who wasn't quite yet.

Matthew 21:1-11

New International Version (NIV)

Jesus Comes to Jerusalem as King

21 As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, ² saying to them, “Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me. ³ If anyone says anything to you, say that the Lord needs them, and he will send them right away.”

⁴ This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

⁵ “Say to Daughter Zion,
    ‘See, your king comes to you,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
    and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.’”^[a]

⁶ The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. ⁷ They brought the donkey and the colt and placed their cloaks on them for Jesus to sit on. ⁸ A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. ⁹ The crowds that went ahead of him and those that followed shouted,

“Hosanna^[b] to the Son of David!”

“Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”^[c]

“Hosanna^[d] in the highest heaven!”

¹⁰ When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is this?”

¹¹ The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Advent One

I had three different reading lists today.  We have moved to the Advent 2 Readings on our "regular" list here. My Advent cards for the family have us reading John 1: 1 - 5. The readings provided for our kids' Advent with our friends were... unusual. You can go ahead and look up Romans 13: 11 - 14 on your own and decide if you, like me, would have edited a bit. I left it with the part about waiting for the light.

The regular readings were from the parts of the Bible that make me have to squint and wiggle to keep myself in the Christian box. I'm not sure I'm actually in that box in any real way anymore - I've been calling myself Jesusy for years now just because the word "Christian" means too many things I don't mean when I want to describe my faith. But today even Jesus is a bit of let-down in Luke, telling his disciples that the end is nigh - they just have to survive a few wars and earthquakes and then the end will come. As you may know, it hasn't quite worked out that way. I know we've kind of decided to agree that probably the writer misunderstood, or maybe we all misunderstood, but still, it's kind of hard to work with, you know?

Happily, I'm happy to just let it go.

So tonight I rest in those first verses of John.  They are some of my favourites, some of the reasons that despite the odd inconsistent, really-we're-supposed-to-believe-this bit, I feel so at home in the Jesus story: word, Word, light, life, darkness, not understanding.

Of course I love Jesus - Jesus was The Word. I LOVE WORDS! And that Word? that Word was with God and the Word was God. Through him (through... love this) all things were made; without him, nothing was made that has been made - Jesus was in on all of it. All of us were made with him and through him. Not a one of us is not known by him. And in him was life, and that life was the light. Jesus' life brings light, a light that shines in the darkness.  Anything we can see, anywhere we experience life, darkness is losing. And the darkness can't understand it. It makes no sense. So we hang out as close to the light as we can, doing our very best to live Life.

All this Life and Light and Word - this is what we spend the next weeks and days anticipating. Adventing.

Come Lord Jesus. Come Word. Come Light. Come Life.

John 1:1-5

New International Version (NIV)

The Word Became Flesh

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ² He was with God in the beginning. ³ Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. ⁴ In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. ⁵ The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not understood it.