Third Thursday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
2 Samuel 7:1-17
After the king was settled in his palace and the Lord had given him rest from all his enemies around him, 2 he said to Nathan the prophet, “Here I am, living in a house of cedar, while the ark of God remains in a tent.” 3 Nathan replied to the king, “Whatever you have in mind, go ahead and do it, for the Lord is with you.” 4 But that night the word of the Lord came to Nathan, saying: 5 “Go and tell my servant David, ‘This is what the Lord says: Are you the one to build me a house to dwell in? 6 I have not dwelt in a house from the day I brought the Israelites up out of Egypt to this day. I have been moving from place to place with a tent as my dwelling. 7 Wherever I have moved with all the Israelites, did I ever say to any of their rulers whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, “Why have you not built me a house of cedar?”’ 8 “Now then, tell my servant David, ‘This is what the Lord Almighty says: I took you from the pasture, from tending the flock, and appointed you ruler over my people Israel. 9 I have been with you wherever you have gone, and I have cut off all your enemies from before you. Now I will make your name great, like the names of the greatest men on earth. 10 And I will provide a place for my people Israel and will plant them so that they can have a home of their own and no longer be disturbed. Wicked people will not oppress them anymore, as they did at the beginning 11 and have done ever since the time I appointed leaders over my people Israel. I will also give you rest from all your enemies. “‘The Lord declares to you that the Lord himself will establish a house for you: 12 When your days are over and you rest with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, your own flesh and blood, and I will establish his kingdom. 13 He is the one who will build a house for my Name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. 14 I will be his father, and he will be my son. When he does wrong, I will punish him with a rod wielded by men, with floggings inflicted by human hands. 15 But my love will never be taken away from him, as I took it away from Saul, whom I removed from before you. 16 Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever.’” 17 Nathan reported to David all the words of this entire revelation.
Psalm 80:1-7, 17-19
1 Hear us, Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock. You who sit enthroned between the cherubim, shine forth 2 before Ephraim, Benjamin and Manasseh. Awaken your might; come and save us. 3 Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved. 4 How long, Lord God Almighty, will your anger smolder against the prayers of your people? 5 You have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful. 6 You have made us an object of derision to our neighbors, and our enemies mock us. 7 Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved.
17 Let your hand rest on the man at your right hand, the son of man you have raised up for yourself. 18 Then we will not turn away from you; revive us, and we will call on your name. 19 Restore us, Lord God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved.
Galatians 3:23-29
23 Before the coming of this faith, we were held in custody under the law, locked up until the faith that was to come would be revealed. 24 So the law was our guardian until Christ came that we might be justified by faith. 25 Now that this faith has come, we are no longer under a guardian. 26 So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, 27 for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. 28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. 29 If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.
A Response to Loss
by Keitha Ogbogu
Keitha Ogbogu is the lead pastor at West Springs Church in Calgary, Alberta. A former teacher, she is passionate about the power of mentorship and especially enjoys encouraging young men and women who are called to preach, to speak and lead. Her pastoral work has affirmed her love for the nations, her pursuit of justice and, of course, her call to preach. She is married to Cyril and together they are raising three black princes, Samuel, Emmanuel and Ezra.
In Psalm 80, we meet a nation that is grieving, as the text in its original writing seems to be referring to the conquering of Israel, and later editors reflect the “pending devastation” of Judah. Jason Byassee, in Working Preacher, notes, “…these twin bookends of Israel’s misery are the points of origin for a Psalm seeking salvation.”[1] The psalmist’s words could be perceived as alarming as they cry out phrases such as “Hear us”(Ps.80:1); “How long, Lord, will your anger smolder?”(Ps.80:4) and “you have fed them with the bread of tears; you have made them drink tears by the bowlful.”(Ps.80:6). In texts like this we are reminded that Israel and the land were synonymous, and so when the land was conquered, so were the people. Whenever the land was fatigued, so were they. These moments that are referred to in Psalm 80 would be no different and rightfully elicit despair—the kind of despair that is accompanied by a “bowlful” of tears. Yet, there is something hopeful laced in their lament, despite their disappointment, their tears, and the inevitability of the moment, as the psalmist on behalf of the people still finds their way to Yahweh. Who else, they must wonder, can offer us a breath of relief? Who else, they must wonder, can understand and ease their burden? Who else, they must wonder, can sustain us in this moment? Who else, they must wonder, can sit in the shadowy sadness, the ever present sorrow that so desperately wants to consume them?
It is in their anger, despondency and hopeful hopelessness that they bring their entire selves while they wait, while they grieve, while they seek the answer to their query, “How Long,” while they acknowledge the ways their neighbours look down on them, while they pray: “Restore us, God Almighty…”
When I read Psalm 80, I can hear its words as though they escaped from the drumbeat of my own heart. Not as I look upon a nation, but as I scan the horizon of the church; collecting stories, unbinding burdens, and holding space for the modern equivalent to the bowlful of tears. Along with the psalmist, I too am grieving. I too wonder, “How Long?” I too hear the mocking of enemies. I too hold a prayer in my heart: “Restore us, God Almighty; make your face shine on us, that we may be saved…” (Psalm 80:7, 19)
If you had told me several years ago that loss would be the word shaping the way I see the church these days, I would not have believed you, but along the way, I’ve lost some of my idyllic sense of optimism as I sit in the shadows of bygone steeples. Growing up, our tiny Northern Ontario church was set on a hill, embedded in the familiar rock of the Canadian Shield. The church basement both terrified us and intrigued us as we played freely, finding what we imagined were secret hiding spots and mysterious doorways. Outside, there were blueberry patches and zigzag pathways among trees and rocks where our imaginations crafted wild adventures and uncovered a myriad of mysteries. Our Sunday school teachers doted on us, and the adults knew our names, our grades, and our favourite surprises. They all helped build this strange foundation of faith. And all of it—the hidden corners, the outdoor hideaways, the “secret” doors, the prayers, the people, the conversation, and the community—all of it felt like home. A safe and nurturing space.
My innocent optimism about the role and space of the church in the world has been dismantled as I uncover the caveats of who is truly safe, nurtured, and at home within its confines. Despite my sorrow, I do not lament or bemoan the Church as the people of God, capable of participating in the renewal of all things, but rather I mourn the ways the church as an expression of an institution and systems rather than an answer to the prayer of Jesus: God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven, has allowed only some to find belonging. Others sit and stand at the edges of the church and christendom with the stories and wounds of exclusion.
These stories stem from the marginalized, including those whose identity in part includes, disability, their gender, LGBTQ2S+, and BIPOC who have often had to approach the Church with caution. Their caution stems from repeatedly being silenced and met with wagging fingers and thumping Bibles that insist the Kingdom is not for them. As they dare to believe that God is FOR them even when the church is not, they relay their stories in quiet spaces with hushed and fearful breaths. They wander outside the doors of churches, on the edges of congregations and in our neighbourhoods wondering if now is the time the church will have room enough for all of who they are and all that they carry. They peer into the windows and doors of the church through media, friends and confidants with a bowlful of tears, anger, disappointment, and fear as they lament, “How Long…”
Yet, even here, there is something hopeful laced in their words, as they still find their way to Yahweh. Who else, they must wonder, can offer us a breath of relief? Who else, they must wonder, can understand and ease their burden? Who else, they must wonder, can sustain us in this moment? Who else, they must wonder, can sit in the shadowy sadness, the ever present sorrow that so desperately wants to consume them? It is in their anger and despondency and hopeful hopelessness that they bring their entire selves while they wait, while they ask, “How Long” and echo the prayer of the psalmist: “Restore us, O God; make your face shine on us that we may be saved.”
It's a prayer they offer for themselves.
But it is also a prayer they offer for the Church.
And despite what is a bleak landscape, it is in the presence, the questions and the disappointment of those who have often been pushed to the side, kept on the margins or quieted to remain in the center that I see the small tremors and waves of this prayer being answered.
Answered as some churches close and others are resurrected.
Answered as the forgotten attempt to remake home among Christian community.
Answered as the silenced, courageously choose to speak in new spaces.
Answered as some renovate, others tear down, and still more build up.
Answered as people are chosen over institutions,
The Spirit followed over doctrine,
Curiosity embraced over certainty,
Love is encouraged as a way of living over tradition as a way of being.
Restore us, O God;
make your face shine on us,
that we may be saved.
A hopeful lament for those who are grieving, for those who know loss.
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