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Showing posts from December, 2012

At Hand

Imagine Peace in our time. Imagine Love without borders. Imagine Broken bits healed. Imagine Delighting in difference. Imagine Communion, holy union. Imagine God dwelling among us. Imagine Plows over swords. Imagine Redemption the norm. Imagine Grace superseding. Imagine On earth, as in heaven. Hope seeks only permission. Hear the knock? Clear the path. From imagine, expect. From expect, demand. The dream of God, as near as our hands. Imagine This poem, which I share with you as a gift on this Christmas Day, was written by an old friend, the Rev. H. Mark Smith.  During the early part of the last decade, Mark and I were one of the lay teams that led morning prayer at Trinity Church Copley Square in Boston.  Mark is now a vocational deacon in the Episcopal Church. With the prayer that you experience the love and joy of the new born Jesus, the risen Christ, this Christmas day, Yours faithfully, Steve

There's Still Time!

It's Christmas Eve Day, but that doesn't mean that the premise of Advent, that we are called to make a place in our lives for God, is moot, that the moment to get ready has passed.  To the contrary, this day, when we will welcome the Christ child through song and prayer and Scripture, is the perfect time to do so.  When all attention is focused on the story of or Lord's nativity, we are afforded that rare opportunity by our society to finally slow down and be quiet, to contemplate God's work in our lives.  So, there's still time -- time to prepare, time to anticipate, time to welcome, time to be transformed by the birth of an infant in a manger.

Almost There ...

We're almost there. But where, exactly, is there? The end of Advent?  Christmas Eve?  An invasion of family or friends?  A long sought vacation?  An extra shift at work? Where, exactly, is there? There, paradoxically, can be many places.  It's a date on the liturgical calendar, it's a frame of mind, it's a new way of being.  And, hopefully, it's a place where we are more fully prepared to meet and be met by the Christ child. Not there yet?  It's okay.  For while we're almost there, there's still more time, time provided by an ever gracious, ridiculously loving God.

Quiet

It's 10 pm and a light snow is falling; all is quiet, all is peaceful.  My day has been punctuated by grace, an unexpected opportunity to comfort someone here, an intense sense of God's presence there.  The chance to reflect on this now is welcome, especially with all the activity, which can preclude reflection, that comes in the final approach to Christmas Eve.  I give thanks to God for this moment, and for all the blessings I have received this day. How has God made his presence known in your life today?  How have you experienced God's grace today?  I invite you to reflect upon and to pray over these questions, and to then give God thanks and praise.

34

At last count, 34 homeless people in New Hampshire have died since last December 21.  That's 34 people who didn't have a home, security, or even a continuing sense of the familiar, things we can all too often take for granted.  That's 34 people who often found themselves not having a warm, safe place to retreat to on days with the kind of nasty, raw weather we're experiencing today. This evening at 5:00 pm people from across the Upper Valley will gather at the Haven in White River Junction for a vigil to remember those of our homeless neighbors across New Hampshire and Vermont who died during the last year.  If you are able, please consider attending.  If you're not, please offer a prayer, for those who have passed away, for those who are without a home or shelter this day, and for the strength to work for a world in which all people have a place to call their own.

Lost in the Shuffle

With Christmas almost here and talk of wintry weather tomorrow, you might have missed the significance of this day: it's the last day of fall.  Mind you, autumn already seems like history -- those golden, fiery leaves are long gone, now turned a pallid brown.  Yet, it is still autumn, even if the mercury and precipitation lead us to feel otherwise.  Likewise, it's still Advent, and will be right up until Christmas Eve.  There's still time to be present in this moment, even with family returning or trips about to be made; with last minute trips to 12A or purchases on the internet looming; with a sense that there's not enough time to do everything that needs to be done before Christmas.  Yes, there's still time.  Time for preparation, for anticipation, for making room for the Christchild in our lives.

Sing, Part 2

Some of you responded to my invitation to share your favorite Advent hymns with our Reflection community (mine is O Come, O Come Emmanuel).  Here's what you offered: O Holy Night (Two people named this hymn) Deck the Halls Silent Night What Child is This Now, the liturgical sticklers among us might protest that these are not Advent hymns.  They're Christmas carols!  We'll have twelve days beginning on Christmas Eve to sing these beloved songs. Yet.  Yet. As I considered your messages, I found myself being reminded that a little flexibility is a good thing for our spiritual lives; too much rigidity and we're bound to shut out the Holy Spirit, which so often reaches us by surprising us.  It's not the form (in this case particular words) that prepares us for the arrival of the Christ child, but the process (here the act of consciously picking music that helps us ready ourselves for the nativity) that will enable us to be fully present as we join the angels

Enjoy This Day

"Enjoy this day!" were the words with which a member of the congregation closed a message to me this morning.  But how am I supposed to do that on a dray, dank, cold, wet day?  Perhaps by being mindful of my blessings.  Perhaps by striving to appreciate this season of Advent, which now seems to be rapidly slipping away.  Perhaps by reveling in all of God's creation. Perhaps by remember that this day can be sacred time, if only I am ready to let it be. Enjoy this day?  I'd do my darndest!

Weather Delay

Like many parents across the Upper Valley, my schedule was disrupted by the inclement weather and the delayed start to the school day it caused.  The special extra time with Chip was welcome but as a preacher preparing for five services in four days, a weather delay would have been far more welcome AFTER Christmas.  However, the timing of snow and ice is something over which I have no control.  What I can exert influence on is my response.  I can begrudge the intrusion into my routine or I can welcome a moment of grace.  This seems like the archetypal no-brainer choice but in our lives we can often be so caught up in what needs to be done and where we need to be and who we have to call and the errand or meeting that demands our attention that it can be difficult to recognize this.  Today, I was fortunate enough to see what had fallen into my lap.  I hope and pray that in these final days of Advent, and in the time that follows, we are all so blessed.

Offspring

In this morning's reading from Luke 3, John the Baptist calls his audience a "brood of vipers," or children of snakes.  Wow.  This is tough stuff.  These do not seem to be words of encouragement. Yet after he lashes out at his audience, he offers them, and by extension us, a word of hope, a way forward.  Through repentance, through changing the way we live our lives, we can be something far better than the children of snakes; we can finally claim our identity as children of God. During this season of Advent we are called, we are invited, we are beseeched by our Creator to do just this.  Why?  Because God wants us to create space for him in our lives for he loves us.  It is with this in mind that John issues his challenge: are we ready to be loved?

Coming Into Focus

Tomorrow is the third Sunday in Advent and there's ten days until Christmas Eve.  That which we've been anticipating - the arrival of the Christ child - is coming into focus.  It's no longer off in the far distance, but approaching us.  What have we done, what are we doing, what will we do as the holy baby's birth draws ever nearer?  As we consider these questions, we should recall that according to Luke's account of the Baptist's preaching (see Luke 3:7-18), John not only calls us to repentance, but to action.  With the clarity that comes from moving deeper into Advent, let us pray that we are guided by the Spirit to the way of Jesus and vocations of holy living.

Chaos

This morning I had planned to write on the subject of chaos -- both good and bad, how it can present an opportunity for new activities and ways of living, how it can upend and disrupt our routines. But that was then.  Before the news of the school shootings in Connecticut.  There chaos, in its elemental, primal sense, erupted.  There chaos, the kind of chaos that the Bible alludes to, the chaos that threatens to tear apart the cosmos, made itself known.  We're still learning the details of what happened at the Sandy Hook Elementary School, but what we know is already horrific and heartbreaking. Once again, scores of innocents have been killed by gunfire.  Once again, the pointless, numbing debates that will change nothing will soon begin.  And once again, God, the God we know in Jesus Christ, the God who will make himself known in the person of a baby in a manger, grieves. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Matthew 5.4

Serendipity

A confession: I've felt bad about the randomness with which these reflections are sent out each day.  Sometimes it's early in the AM, sometimes midday.  Once it's been late at night, another time before the sun even rose.  In a perfect world, I've thought, I'd send out a reflection at the same time each day, without fail.  When I shared this with a member of our Advent Reflection community, I was surprised, and pleasantly so, by this person's response.  I was told that it was nice to have these messages show up at different, even unpredictable times; it was serendipitous, a nice reminder during Advent to be watchful and ready for the unexpected. What a blessing this observation was, is!  With this in mind, let's all give thanks for the unanticipated during this season of anticipation.

If a Tree Falls ...

You're most likely familiar with the old question, "If a tree falls in the woods and nobody's there to hear it, does it make a noise?" Well, today's version, by way of the parsonage, is, "If a Christmas tree falls in the living room and nobody's there to hear it, does it make a noise?"  The answer, of course, is: "Does it really matter?  We still had to deal with the situation." The timing was exquisite: I had a 7:30 meeting.  I'd made sure last night that everything was ready for the morning.  All was going according to plan and we were all on schedule to leave the house and embark on our respective days.  Then I went to water the tree and discovered it had other ideas. No relaxed progress towards the door.  No-sir-ee.  Instead, we had to right the tree, clean up the water, deal with the mess, and do it quickly.  This we did.  And as harried as we may have felt, we did so calmly and with perspective.  I can't help but

Lawn Decorations

Early this morning I went to water the Christmas tree of some friends who are away.  As I drove down their street after leaving their house, I came to the intersection where, in the yard of one home, appeared to be every single inflatable holiday lawn decoration ever made.  Santa in a plane.  Santa in a helicopter (complete with spinning rotor).  Snoopy on his dog house.  Santa playing poker (North Pole hold 'em) with three of his reindeer.  It's quite possible there may have been a creche in there, but if there was, it wasn't given pride of place. Of course, it's easy to criticize the other guy.  We should be asking, "Where are our creches?"  Where, for us, is the holy family -- with its hopes, its fears, its anxieties, its anticipation -- during this season of Advent?  Are we making room for the Christ child?  Or when he arrives will there be too much stuff taking up space? What's on your spiritual lawn? What's on mine?  Advent is a good

A Word of Hope ...

What a gray, dreary day.  It's as if every cliche about Mondays was dropped off at the weather factory, where they were then lovingly (spitefully?) assembled to produce a cold, dank, dispiriting start to the week.  All I can say is "Bleh." Fortunately, I recalled the lectionary passages for the Second Sunday of Advent.  We didn't read this one from Baruch, but I found the word of hope it offers to be especially uplifting.  I hope you do, too. Baruch 5:1-9 Take off the garment of your sorrow and affliction, O Jerusalem, and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God.  Put on the robe of the righteousness that comes from God; put on your head the diadem of the glory of the Everlasting; for God will show your splendor everywhere under heaven.  For God will give you evermore the name, "Righteous Peace, Godly Glory."  Arise, O Jerusalem, stand upon the height; look toward the east, and see your children gathered from west and east at the word o

Sing

It's the second Sunday of Advent.  Our service at FCC, and services at churches across the world, promise to be filled with wonderful music that anticipates the coming of the Christ child, that helps us make room for God in our lives, that enables us to be present in this moment of anticipation. What music helps you enter fully into the season?  Take a moment.  Think about it.  Then hum a few bars. P.S. If you're so inclined, let me know your choice and I'll share your responses (without attribution) with our little Advent 2012 reflection community.

Shedding

Our dog Henley sheds. A lot. While I expect this in the summer, when it's hot, it's always a surprise when it happens in the colder months, even though it's nothing really novel.  Yellow labs shed, end of discussion. During this Advent season, it occurs to me that we'd all benefit from some shedding.  Imagine how much more we could live into the lives God intends for us if we were able to shed our anxieties, our resentments, our fears, our sins.  Well guess what?  We can.  It's our choice.  Then, when we do, we'll create a new, clean space in which God's grace and love can spread out. So let's shed!

Stuck

Yesterday I walked by a toy store window that featured a display helpfully reporting the number of days remaining till Christmas.  Not so helpfully, I was informed that we had 28 days to go.  Now, one need not be a math major to know that on Dec. 6 that information was just plain wrong.  Why wasn't the information updated?  Why had it been left unchanged for a week?  All sorts of possibilities presented themselves: people were too busy, too harried, too distracted, too forgetful.  Honestly, I haven't a clue as to why the store was telling passers-by that there four weeks to go when in truth there were less than three. But I wondered: what if they were stuck?  What if the folks in that store couldn't imagine moving forward?  Routine can be comforting.  It can be a source of support and reassurance.  Staying where we are can help us feel grounded in turbulent times.  But doing so can also cause us to miss out on possibilities and opportunities, on growth and hea

Compline

Sometimes these reflections will come at the end of the day.  Not often, but sometimes.  The opportunity to reflect on where the day has gone, to ask how we have experienced God's grace is something that is especially worth doing in Advent.  As we prepare for what is to come, it is helpful to see where we have been, to consider how God may have been at work in our lives -- particularly if our first inclination is to think he hasn't been present.  It's in those moments when we don't expect to encounter God, when we don't see any indication of his activity, that he is often busiest trying to catch our attention, to call us to a new path. So take a moment.  Look back at the day (or, if you're reading this on Friday morning, look back at yesterday), and look for God.  I promise you'll find him.

Believe!

I have to hand it to Macy's graphic designers.  The little girl they've created for their seasonal holiday campaign is adorable.  She's been popping up in different ad venues since Thanksgiving and there she was again this morning in today's Times, popping a letter to Santa into a mailbox. Now this wasn't your garden-variety mailbox, with a US Postal Service eagle on its side.  No, this one was emblazoned with the word "Believe" -- a word that also showed up in giant letters on the front of Macy's flagship store on Thanksgiving Day. But what should one believe in?  Santa?  The therapeutic benefits of shopping?  During Advent, our faith invites -- indeed calls -- us to believe in the promise, the hope, the redemptive power of the nativity, and to encourage others to do likewise. So, by all means, be inspired by Macy's ads, and follow their advice, even if not in the way they intend.  By all means: Believe!

Unintended Messages

"Rekindle the season" the Starbucks window display urged me.  "What does that mean?" I wondered.  "Seasons aren't flammable." The phrase struck me as being a prime example of marketing nothing-speak, that dark form of the language in which fine, intelligible words are strung together to produce vapid, meaningless slogans.  I wanted to be annoyed, put out, irked that commercialism was once again doing it's best to undermine the purpose of Advent. But as I thought about it, I meditated on the truth that God speaks to us in odd, surprising ways.  If he could talk through a burning bush, why not a storefront ad?  And if I looked at it that way, "rekindle the season" seemed like good advice, especially at the start of Advent.  We get to choose what the season will be like.  So, if we take some time to pray, to study scripture, to engage in service and fellowship, we can indeed rekindle the season.  And we won't have to buy an o

Monday

Monday: the traditional start of the new work or school week.  Classes, meetings, assignments, papers and more beckon.  But what if Monday, or to be specific, this Monday were also the beginning of something else, like a new season of spiritual disciplines? What would you adopt, what you would start doing today?  It need not be the kind of the activity that would require a one-way trip to the monastic life nor faith so heroic that one would be guaranteed sainthood.  No, it can be something far simpler, much easier, yet still of great meaning: A commitment to pray for five minutes at a set time each day. A pledge to meditate while walking. A decision to read a book that will feed or challenge your faith. You choose.  But do choose.  And then amaze yourself by what you can do and how, even if takes just five minutes a day, your new discipline can begin to reshape your life.

Quiet

I write this early on a quiet Sunday morning.  Few cars, few people were out and about when I headed to the church, few are still to be see.  I know this will change, though.  As the day unfolds, people will head to worship, to work, to shop, to play, to do a thousand and one different things.  Empty roads will fill with cars and trucks and buses.  Quiet will give way to bustle. Advent in the 21st century can seem this way, too.  All too soon we'll be caught up in preparations for Christmas, year-end project deadlines, parties and potlucks, travel to places near and far.  But for now, at the beginning of this month, at the start of this liturgical season, even knowing what's ahead, we can take a moment to pause, to enjoy the stillness, to be alert for what God is about to unfold around us, for how God is going to envelop us. Advent is hear.  Be alert.  Be present.  Be quiet.  Be blessed.