My Word Is Hope

In the waning days of 2015, I have noticed an app on Facebook that chooses a word to represent what is coming for the user in the New Year. Mix that in with the reading and writing I have been doing and a word for me might be hope—hope that my draft will be done to submit by the due date; hope that I will find new clarity; hope that I will finally learn some patience; hope to see moments of unity amidst the diversity; hope that I learn to accept gracefully the moment in which I live… There is no and to indicate the last of a series because my list of hopes goes on.

My prayer is that each of us may hold the time that is given us with a gentle touch of hope, not holding too tightly to keep it from passing, not dropping it as though it doesn’t matter, nor holding it at arm’s length so we will be untouched by its passing, but gently accepting its kiss and allowing it to weave the weft through warp that moves among and between us all.

Romans 8:24-25

For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Visible Reminders

As I sit here looking at our Christmas tree, I see ornaments that remind me of so many different folks over

the years because they were all gifts. As Jeff and I decorated our very first tree--really the top branch of an old artificial tree--we realized that all our ornaments were gifts. We decided to keep our tree that way. The only ornament we would ever buy for ourselves would be the star for the top. It took us fifteen or sixteen years to find the right one. That star is in a less accessible storage box, so last year Max and I chose a new one.

So many of our gift ornaments are also in storage. There are too many anyway for one tree. I see the delicate china angel from Valerie. She is near the top. I see the little china bells given to me by my grandparents when I was younger than nine. There is another angel, only this one is made of plastic. She is also very old. There's the little cherub angel swinging on a snowflake--a gift from our neighbors at our first parsonage. A few are from our sons' first Christmases.  There are snowmen, and crosses, stars, Santas, toys, trees, bells, and more. The musical instruments given to us by my mother over the years have become a koala band this year.

Each of these ornaments is a memory, and together they envelop me in a rich blanket woven of the people who gave them to us. Some who gave them have joined the heavenly choirs. Some have passed out of our lives. Some are newly in our lives. All of them are a part of the fabric that makes this a deep and often bittersweet time of year. And so I give thanks.

Lamentations 3:21-22

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end.

My prayers in this third week of Advent

In this third week of Advent, I pray for

• a world where young black men (and women) do not get stopped for DWB.
• each person to accept responsibility for their own life and not blame others.
• each of us to stop pointing fingers—and especially guns—at those with whom we do not agree.
• the Body of Christ to care more about caring for others than we do about our own rights.
• children who have been hurt by those who were supposed to care for them.
• understanding others, or at least for accepting them even if I do not understand them.
• a world where good nutrition, health care, and education are not dependent upon where one lives, or how much money one has.
• the Body of Christ to truly reflect the powerful love of God that set the entire Creation into motion.
• myself to grow into the very image of Christ, the measure of the full stature of Christ.
• for peace for all no matter what religion or non-religion they profess.

           

Luke 18:1

Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.

Oh, did you know?

Oh, Mary, did you know that you carried within you

a gift that would turn the world upside down?

Oh, Mary, did you know when there was no room

that your son would throw open the doors

and receive those others turned away?

Oh, Joseph, did you know when you heard

the angel speak that you would become a refugee?

Oh, Joseph, did you know that your heart

would pound with fear when you heard

of Herod’s anger?

Oh, Jesus, did you know when you did not

grasp at the privileges of divinity humbling

yourself to be one of us that we would turn you away?

Oh, Jesus, did you know that our hearts would

harden yet again as we turn your people away?

Oh, Mary, help us to bear within us the gift that

will turn the world right side up.

Oh, Joseph, help us to open our hearts

to let the refugees, the homeless, the children in.

Oh, Jesus, help us to humble ourselves,

releasing our hold on what we call ours.

Oh, holy Jesus, come among us now.

Thirteen point seven billion years

I find it absolutely amazing that there are persons who think that believing Creation is as old as it is--13.7 billion years give or take a few--means the same thing as not believing in God, or that God is the Creator. I am willing to allow for differing opinions, but really do not get it. For me, the more we discover about the universe the more my awe and belief in God deepens. 

I look at the timeline of the universe and I stand amazed at the power of our Creator. I see pictures of distant galaxies, nebulae, and starfields made available to us through the Hubble telescope and songs of praise rise up within me.

There is nothing so macrocosmic or so microcosmic that it does not have the touch, the very DNA, as it were, of God within it, and about it. Our God who is Three-in-One is always creating, always, redeeming, and always sustaining. How majestic is God's name in all that is!



Psalm 8:1, 3-4

O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens.
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?