Deep to Deep

Advent and Christmas, coming in these darkest days of the year, invite contemplation. They make me think--about seasons, about waiting, about where I fit in the grander scheme of things. I feel my vulnerability more acutely when winter storms gather outside and I have to work to stay warm and to guard myself  against harm from the elements. These are times of pause.

That may be why happening upon this image on one of these cold mornings caught me. Eve and Mary. The first in full knowledge of what she's lost. Her head hangs down in defeat. She can't meet anyone's eyes, let alone her companion's. The snake still coils about her feet in apparent victory. The flowers of Eden, now all she has left of the place, still cling to her clothes and ring her head. But she is cast out and knows it only too well.

And then there is Mary, pregnant and understanding completely. She reaches out to Eve in feminine fraternity while at the same time stepping firmly on the head of the snake. Eve may have been temporarily defeated, but she has not lost. Mary is here, bearing more than just hope. She has brought rescue.

And there they are, the female bookends framing the story of mankind. Eve and Mary. Creation and Salvation side by side. They are their own beginning and end, Alpha and Omega. Christ made them both and they have each done what they must. Eve has presented the problem and Mary carries the solution. 

Men will not understand this the same way a woman will. When a woman reaches out to place her hand on a sister's pregnant belly, they share an understanding of what was, what is, and what is coming. The life that belly holds moves and grows and promises a future. And as women, we treasure that promise in our hearts in a special and personal way, just like Mary.

And Eve, in her hopelessness, lets Mary draw her into a secret circle of hope and life. There they embrace, where Deep calls to Deep.

This is advent. 

During these dark days, Mary and Eve feel together the movement of the coming Christ, and know they have been saved. From the moment of His incarnation, while He still adds cell upon cell to His burgeoning humanity, while He still stirs under Mary's heart, while the process is even just beginning, Christ is already saying, "It is finished." 

Drawing above by Sr. Grace Remington, published in Give Us This Day, December 7, 2016

The Prince of Peace, but First, the Sword

The Star of Bethlehem shines over the stable. 
Joy to the World. The Prince of Peace is born.
Hmm...Are you sure?
What did the angel first say to the shepherds before he said anything else?
Be not afraid.
The Savior has come, and He will bring peace but first, He will make you afraid.
Christ was born as a child, but when His time came to speak, His words did not all console:

I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.--Matthew 10:34

Christ's peace is Himself--both the peace and the sword.
We will have peace, but first we will have turmoil, resentment, death, and repentance.
Easy peace is delusion. Ease and comfort is the world's peace, not Christ's.

Christ's peace does not come naturally.
To get at Christ's peace, I have to tear down the delusion of my fallen humanity, and it will hurt.
I have to know the sword before I can sit in the Son.
It's like those nesting dolls...

I must be dismantled all the way down to the center, all the way down to the source of the star that shone so brilliantly they could see it in the daytime. I have to find, in my own center, the brilliance of Christ.
That's where the star of Bethlehem originates. In the heat of a star far hotter than the sun.
In the flame of God.
The flame that purifies.

What Angels Say

pic: pegponderingagain.com

The dark of night in Bethlehem.
He's born.
Mary and Joseph hold their newborn baby in those first hours, counting fingers and toes, watching those first hungry searchings, listening to those first snuffling coos. The first private moments of their parenthood. But not for long.

They have company.

source: jesuschrististhetruth.com

Angels kept them company.
Angels. God's messengers. Whenever they show up, pay attention. God has something to say.

Mary and Joseph's ancient world was a mess just like ours. Herod ran rampant, already issuing orders for the murder of children to eradicate any possibility of a challenge to his authority. Men labored achingly all their lives. Women served them with no governmental or societal equality. Only half of children lived to adulthood. Poverty reigned. Few could read. Kings held whole continents under thrall. Many died young from diseases we easily arrest today. Ignorance and prejudice and greed bred war.

But the angels brought a message from God:
Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion; shout O daughter of Jerusalem; behold, thy King cometh unto thee...--Zechariah 9:9

Imagine them, in a barn--no, less than a barn--a cave, sharing space with animals. It was not a gentle setting. They had hay, and a manger, but no heat source, no convenient water, no facilities whatever. Just each other, the rudeness of animals, and faith in what they'd been promised.

It'd been a long time since the angel's first proclamation to Mary that she would bear a Son and that son would be Emmanuel, God with us.

She'd had nine months to think about this, to bear up under public derision, to witness Joseph's doubt, to watch Elizabeth bear her own miracle, to herself grow big and heavy and weary. To know, but to sometimes wonder.

We do it, too. We do not hear God's promise daily. It comes emphatically sometimes, when we cannot mistake it, but often it only whispers, a sigh we too often miss. But on some blessed mornings, in some dark stables, on some beds of pain and tears, it comes with announcement.

This is the promise, said the angel. This is your salvation. This is not only your son. He is Christ the Lord.

"Joseph--the Baby's Coming"

pic: www.mamamimiskitchen.com

It's been more than forty years and I still remember them.
Those first pains, that squeeze, that urgency.
And I knew.
The baby was coming.
And it always started at night.

It was likely late in the day when Mary and Joseph came to Bethlehem. 
They could find nowhere to sleep and they were desperate.
While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born...there was no room for them at the inn.--Luke 2:6&7
I would have been desperate, too, if I had come to the hospital, and they had turned us away saying there was no room, and sent us back out into those dark nights.

It was no different for them.
Before that night, and for thousands of years, people had walked in darkness. 
All of us. Waiting. 
We knew who and what we were. We knew what we needed. Where was He? When would the savior come?

"Now," Mary said. "Now."
There will be no more gloom for those who were in distress...the people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of darkness, a light has dawned.--Isaiah 9:1,2

And there it was--the star.

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

Source: www.priestsforlife.org

Mary.
She didn't expect to end up sixteen, unmarried, and pregnant.
But she was.

Mary may have been blessed among women, but that blessing did not come with ease or confidence in her circumstances.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, turned out the way she imagined it would. 
She did not end up a common Nazareth housewife.
She did not end up safe all her years in a home that her industrious carpenter husband built for her.
She did not end up safe in her own bed surrounded by her mother and other women when her baby came.
She did not end up with a lap full of frolicking, carefree children who, in their turn, would bring her sweet smelling grandchildren.
Her firstborn son did not outlive her--at least not the way she thought they would.

But what did she have to say about it?
My soul does magnify the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.--Luke 1:46-7
In other words,
Thank you, God, for this confusion.
Thank you for this embarrassment.
Thank you for all the derision and doubt.
Thank you, too, for all the eventual pain.

In other words, Mary knew.
She thanked God for the life He'd ordained for her, whatever it included.
And why? Because in it, she knew she would find Him.
Not just the baby she would someday hold in her arms.
Not just the sweet child.
Not just the man who became her Lord.
But all of it.
God the Father who made and planned for her.
God the Spirit who spoke to her.
God the Son who grew in her, was born from her, and saved her.

Mary rejoiced in God. All the time.
She saw Him in every work, every word.
She didn't have to understand.
She trusted.

That is why we hail her, as did the angel, and acknowledge that she is full of grace.
Grace--where God meets His creation, and where our rejoicing proves we see Him there.

Who Are We Waiting For?

pic: gal.darkervision.com

Ah. The Christ child.
That little baby in the manger.
O come, O come Emmanuel. God with us.
So sweet, so innocent.
Are you sure?

Ancient Jews didn't share that expectation.
They looked for someone quite different--

Who can abide the day of His coming? Who can stand firm when He appears?--Malachi 3:3

In other words--Look out. God is mighty and will come in all of that might. He will test us--
He will be like a refiner's fire--Malachi 3:4
Hot and destructive.

He comes not only with mercy and forgiveness, but He comes as a
Spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord.
He shall strike the ruthless with the rod of His mouth and with the  breath of His lips He will slay the wicked.--Isaiah 11

He is one God, you know. One. 
The Baby. The Healer. The Savior. 
but also The Judge. The Avenger. The Sword-wielder. The Dread Horseman.

Jesus, even as a baby, is not cute or safe.
He says, Follow Me, but if we don't, will eventually sweep us away in a firestorm.
He forgives. He has mercy, but that mercy has bounds. Eventually, He tires of waiting.
He brings us along, but when we try to interfere with what is, after all, His plan, He doesn't hesitate to tell us to "Get thee behind me, Satan."

He came to save and did it--without help, and without hesitation.
Who can, indeed, abide the day of His coming?

For the Glory

source:www.colindye.com

For over all, Your glory is shelter and protection.--Isaiah 4:6

That's it.
That's what I'm looking for.
God's glory.

Glory.
Why we praise God.
Why we gather around His table.
Why we sing.
Why we yearn.
Why we hope.
Why we sink into anywhere we think we might find it.

God's glory is our home and we want to go home.
We will be safe there and nowhere else.

Everywhere God is, we find His glory.
And His glory is the only fellowship He offers.
He is the King of Glory and of nothing else.
Listen and hear Him--

Wait for It...

source: anthonyclavien.wordpress.com

The joy of anticipation. Panting, yearning for what is coming.
Planning a wedding. The months of pregnancy. Studying in anticipation of a career. Saving for a new car.
Who would want to miss the joy of them?

We would, apparently.

What happened to Advent, anyway?
Waiting for Christmas.
Just waiting for it.
I don't know about you, but I can't listen to Christmas carols yet.
Or put up my tree, or decorate my house, or wrap gifts.
Christmas can't come yet. It's not time.
I need to prepare. I need to think, and pray, and remember.

I need to join Mary, who waited nine months for Jesus.
I am the Lord's servant...--Luke 1:38
And Elizabeth, who waited for John.
..the baby leaped in her womb...Luke 1:40
And Zechariah, who waited with her.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us...--Luke 1:69
And Simeon, who waited his whole life.
...you now dismiss your servant in peace, for mine eyes have seen the Savior...Luke 2:29-30
And the Jews, who waited thousands of years.
And He shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace--Isaiah 9:6
And the whole of mankind, who has waited since God's angel barred the gates of paradise with a flaming sword.
I rejoiced because they said to me, We will go up to the house of the Lord--Psalm 122:1

And I can't wait one month?
Really?
Christmas will come. God promised that it will.
But, if I am not careful, I might miss the glory of the wait.
That pause, that inhaled breath, that moment of absolute stillness before the victorious crescendo.
Without it, we diminish the gift.
Stop. Take a breath. Turn off the carols. Turn down the lights.
It has a sound.
Wait for it...

Born by Will

Of all children physically born into this world, of all ages and times, only Jesus Christ chose to do it.
I did not choose to be born.  Neither did you.
I did not choose my time, my place, or my parents.
But He did.

And, by doing so, by inhabiting a physical body, by living and dying, He made it possible for us to do the same.
Now, we can be born by our own choice and the Father's will, just like He was.

To those who received Him, to those who believed in His Name, He gave the right to become children of God--children born not out of natural descent, nor of human decision, or a husband's will, but born of God.--John 1:12-13

By believing we choose, and we are made new.
As Christ was born by His own consent to fulfill His Father's purpose, so can we be.
And when we are, Christmas shines through us all.

What You Said

In a universe yet unspoken, swirled in dark chaos, You ruled, breathless and complete. Before making, before matter, before motion, You knew men not yet shaped, not yet sinned. Simultaneous Creator, King, Emmanuel, Savior. While time waited, You said,

“I am the Word made flesh.”

In a dark rush of hot blood mixed with new life’s water, You burst forth in first breath. Already living man, already Incarnate God. Sacrifice awaiting slaughter, already laid on the altar of the world. Another crimson flow forecast, Holy and Eucharist, Body and Blood, poised beneath the waiting knife, You said,

“I am the Bread of Life.”

In a rude manger whose splinters spoke the thorns’ prophecy, You cried new tears. The spine not yet become a spear, the burr not yet become a scourge, the branch not yet become a crown, from sapling to stump, from cradle to cross, You would too soon carry wood that now carried you. As your pain bloomed, You said,

“I am the Vine.”

In the cold, ignorant night after four hundred silent years, You lit an only star. Halting the great wheel of heaven, leading three staunch kings, confounding one royal fool, this blaze of celestial glory ended in a sad hill’s forsaken dark. Although “My God, My God” consummated the alleluia, and despair shrouded all, You said,

“I am the Light of the World.”

In an unwary stable, serenaded by angelic choir, You dreamed, Victorious King, and heard:

“This is my Son.”

“It is Finished.”

“He is risen.”

You saw sin and hell laid waste, temptation’s dark angel aflame, the fallen fruit of your own imagination returned in tearless triumphant reunion through heaven’s gates flung wide.

All this, and yet a baby. You said,

“I AM.”

Merry Christmas

Wiser than We Thought

Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh. Ask someone about the part played in the Christmas story by the three wise men and you will most likely hear about the gifts they brought to baby Jesus. It figures. Mention Christmas and the focus goes right to gifts. In this story, however, as in our customary gift-heavy celebration of the holiday itself, we have missed something very important.

First, these wise men were not just some smart guys who decided to take a trip together. These men were kings, rulers of ancient realms. They commanded wealth and armies. They owned slaves and employed servants. Normal relations with neighboring kingdoms usually involved battle, not field trips. But on this occasion, they did not send emissaries. And they ignored, for this venture, their differences.

Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.--Matthew 2:2

Kings do not visit other baby kings. Rulers of the ancient Orient did not like one another. They were more likely to send a spy or an assassin than bring a gift. Obviously, something here was different.

On coming to the house, they saw the child with His mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped Him.--Matthew 2:11

They worshiped Him. The gifts were symbolic, gold and spices, but they came for another purpose. They came to worship.

As I look at my Christmas preparations--the baking, the decorations, the tree, and, of course, the mound of gifts--have I remembered what those kings knew? In that first Christmas season, they put away their privilege and prejudice to bow down before the King of Kings. They made themselves humble in a foreign land, disregarding custom, to worship the Son of God.

Forget the gifts. They don't matter. Forget the gifts and worship the baby. It's worth the trip.