It’s always the fire, isn’t it? As a young lad, I would spend an hour every week stuck in a church pew without a kids program or snack bag to comfort me. Perhaps it was here that I first heard…
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The Christmas Eve candlelight service is about to begin. After a day of unsuccessfully trying to avoid meltdowns from over-excited kids, running to the store for one last bag of milk, and racking your brain to remember where on earth you stashed those gifts you bought back in August, you sink wearily into the pew.
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Reading Scripture can be tricky. I think we often fall into a trap when we read about the lives of our spiritual fore-parents. We sit in our comfortable armchairs with our leather-bound book filled with crisp, white pages and wonder to ourselves how “they” could be so foolish and unfaithful. Of course, if we could put ourselves in their places we would know how gritty and difficult their faith journeys actually were.
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When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
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When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
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I grew up in a congregation with a deep love of choral music. For many years, I joined the men’s choir to sing at the Christmas Eve Candlelight service because I always looked forward to singing Es ist ein Ros’ entsprugen (Lo, How a Rose e’er Blooming) in four-part male harmony.
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The first theologian who introduced me to the concept of Advent being something other than an effervescent, sparkling, anticipation-filled countdown to Christmas, was the Rev. Fleming Rutledge. As I watched a recording of her declaring ”The significance of the birth of Jesus Christ will forever elude us if we are unable to take an inventory of the gravity of the human condition”, something in me said a quiet yes.
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I hadn’t been home for Christmas in five years.
It was December 23, 2008, and I vibrated with excitement as we exited our car in the Orlando Airport parking garage. My husband was wrestling luggage from the trunk as I unstrapped our toddler from his car seat. In just a few short hours, this little guy would be spending Christmas with his grandparents for the very first time.
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The liturgical season of Advent is a space where the mixed emotions of longing and grief are given space to sit in tension. In contrast to the “Christmas season” filled with Christmas parties, one more gift exchange to buy a gift for, hunting for the most desired gift on a child’s wishlist and preparing far more food than is good for many of us. Creating space for the tension between what we long for and the struggles that are immediately before us is a delicate task.
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In the Christian tradition, Advent is a season of great hope and possibility. God has come to dwell among human beings, setting in motion something new and mysterious – the kingdom of heaven emerging in our earthly dimension.
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“I don’t know, but they did it. They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep,” I hear these words spoken from the backstage, where I stand, waiting in the wings for my next cue. I watch Marie, who is playing Scout Finch lean her head against Atticus, and I see the shine of tears in the eyes of the audience in the first row. Tonight, as with each previous performance, we all weep. The story doesn’t end as we expect; it’s all gone terribly wrong.
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In the sparkly season of Christmas, I often feel out of sync when life is stressful or dark or just full of emotions. I know that Christmas can be full of happiness for many people, but sometimes I just feel the pressure to do Christmas “right” when I can’t muster up the requisite joy on my own.
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Today’s reading in Isaiah is such a clear picture of a world I want to be a part of. Isaiah invites us to imagine a future in which God’s reign is at the centre of our world. A future where God’s judgment, true and just, begins to settle the disputes of many peoples.
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Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent. Here on the New Leaf Blog, we are going to be journeying through Advent together with writers from across Canada. The New Leaf Network is a Canadian network spread across this northern country.
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I walk regularly. I have a route through a provincial park close to my home that takes about an hour and I do this almost every day. About two-thirds of the way through my walk, the path goes up a small incline and at the top, the trees suddenly break and a field of tall grass spreads out wide at the bottom of the valley.
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For the first time in nearly 3 years my current church plant, Cypher Church, held what I’ll call a “conventional” worship service. You know the one: 5 songs, 1 by Hillsong, announcements, and a 20-45 minute sermon. We don’t worship in this way so it was novel to do once.
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I first heard about the book, Unsettling the Word: Biblical Experiments in Decolonization, in an online group for Christians of colour in Canada. Resources that speak to the visible minority experience in this country are few and far between.
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It is 1936. I live near the Red River in Winnipeg. I am a brown woman looking for safety in a land that’s fast becoming white.
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When I think of Canada, I often think of big – big landscapes, big mountains, big open spaces. But Canada is also small – small populations (relatively speaking on a global scale), small towns, small beauty.
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Occasionally, if I’m feeling a least mildly provocative (or if I want to see if someone is actually paying attention), I will respond to the query, “So, how’s it going” with “Good enough.”
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