A few days ago, I wrote how Diane and I have grown into Christmas carols in the recent past. Where once they were beautiful on their own, increasingly their meaning cuts to the core. It is one thing to listen to them on Pandora or Spotify. It is another to sing them surrounded by others who feel as we do. Regardless, some of them speak clearly to that which we most value. Of course, we have our favorites and I could probably name my top five. I can also name my number one as it combines both music and lyrics in a way that leaves me spent at the end. It is unabashedly Christian, for which I make no excuse.

It is O Holy Night.

As one of the most popular, it is performed by a long list of pop stars. Some renditions are soft, while others are rousing. (Celine Deion’s version is a keeper. It begins slowly, while reaching a stunning crescendo at the end.) There are not many verses altogether, unlike some other carols. In fact, there are only three, with the added choruses.

 

O holy night the stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our dear Savior’s birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices

For yonder breaks the new and glorious morn.

 

Fall on your knees

O hear the angel voices

O night divine

O night when Christ was born.

 

Truly He taught us to love one another

His law is love and His gospel is peace.

Chains shall He break

For the slave is our brother.

And in His name

All oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy

In grateful chorus raise we

Let all within us praise His holy name.

 

Christ is the Lord

O praise HIs name forever.

His power and glory

Evermore proclaim.

His power and glory

Evermore proclaim.

 

Fall on your knees

O hear the angel voices.

O night divine

O night when Christ was born.

O night divine

O night divine.

 

The skeptic will, undoubtedly, find plenty with which to debate. The modern mind tends to scoff at the concept of sin, especially when spread across all of humanity. Many will find no thrill of hope and will be quick to point out the lack of new and glorious mornings. Perhaps the words in the second verse about breaking chains of slavery and ending oppression, of a gospel teaching peace and love, will resonate, but reality may quickly nullify such lofty ideals. Such perceived nullification will negate any draw to sing sweet hymns of joy. And, certainly, with such a mindset, there will be no praise to a holy name.

However, that is not a reality I live in, nor the reality where many of my friends and family live. Mine and ours is a different reality and there is only resounding truth expressed in these words.

In these pages, I try to strike a tone that expresses my heart and mind while respecting many differences. This is as honest as I can be.

But, I cannot be completely honest without saying that my only response to the reality of Jesus is to fall on my knees. To raise sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus. To live a gospel of peace and love, wherein the slave is my brother and all oppression shall cease. I have no compulsion other than to praise his holy name and to do so resoundingly. I do hear angel voices and know that my praises join with theirs.

The night we celebrate the birth of Jesus is, indeed, a holy night. A night divine.

I am taking the liberty of linking to a rendition of the song by one of my favorite Christian groups: Hillsong. It is not a soft rendition, punctuated as it is with an almost gospel flavor at moments.

God bless and Merry Christmas.

How are we supposed to feel during this time of year, anyway?

Part of the problem is with the words “supposed to.” For starters, we are led to look forward to the holiday season with great anticipation. Most working people get at least an extra few days off from their jobs, with some taking additional vacation time, as much of the non-retail business world slows down a bit. Add in trips, families and friends getting together, parties and gatherings, gift-giving, boat loads of pies, cookies and other sweets and there is certainly cause to be festive.

Of course, Christians and Jews have their own reason for celebration as certain days carry special meaning.

I wonder, though, how people are actually feeling beyond the prescribed notion that we should all be joy-filled?

I know that this time of year can be especially challenging for many people for all sorts of reasons. Perhaps they’ve recently lost a loved one and this is the first Christmas of their absence. Perhaps this has been a tough year for other reasons, making it terribly difficult to muster up enthusiasm. Perhaps there are challenging family members that are usually avoided but no such luck now.

Then, let’s add in the hustle and bustle on roads and in shopping centers. The need to buy and buy only accelerates as deadlines loom large. I avoid all of this as much as possible but am sure that tempers edge upwards and can easily shove love and joy aside.

I am so fortunate that our annual house guests are such lovely people. Diane’s sisters and husbands arrive for the week with their three dogs so we have six adults and five beasts afoot and about in our modest home. But Diane decorates the inside beautifully so wherever you look, we see color and light and images of things that make the heart sing. We love one another so much. There is laughter and cooking and visiting and no crazy uncles to deal with. On Christmas Eve, after some of us return from church, other family and dear friends will arrive, swelling our ranks to something like 18 for dinner. With a beautiful Christmas tree and many presents on display, I feel that this is how it’s supposed to be. Look up Christmas Cheer in the dictionary and you might see a photo of our home on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning.

On the other hand …

On the other hand, I received the news a couple of days ago that my very dear friend has brain cancer. Until a biopsy is performed in the next two or three weeks, we will not know for certain how advanced it is but the early indication is that it is growing rapidly. He is like a brother to me and there is no way to take such news joyfully. He, too, will have a house full of grown children and this news will not be easy for them to digest. I will be by his side for whatever it takes. Neither of us is Pollyanna. We know that this kind of thing happens. He has stood by me through my many medical challenges, while this is the first one for him. We both know that life can change in a moment’s notice but there is no getting around what it actually means when something like this occurs.

So, how are we supposed to feel this time of year? The answer is that there is no supposed to. For whatever reason, the world or tradition may have its own ideas about this but what is important is that we continue to reflect the values that drive us every other day.

Do we approach our days, open to both joys and sorrows that are a reality of life? Do we approach our days, attuned to the sufferings and celebrations that are ever present? Do we search our hearts to identify the hardened places that keep us from truly loving others? Do we seek to find the good in others, even if we disagree with them on this or that thing? Do we idolize things like money or health or position to the point where the loss of one shatters us? Do we wake up each morning with the expectation that no matter what our own situation is, we have an opportunity to bless someone else that day, whether they are known to us or a complete stranger?

What greater joy is there than to be surrounded by love? What greater darkness is there to live without love of any kind. What can we do to enhance the love we both give and receive?

To me, this particular season is about that. I admit I have a long way to go. I deeply regret the times when I do not act lovingly, which occurs far too frequently. I regret the times in my life when I have not heard the plea of the needy, nor given comfort to the afflicted. I regret the hurt I have caused others and am deeply grateful for the forgiveness I’ve received.

It does not matter to me what I’m supposed to feel. What matters is how I actually feel and what I do about that. So, this Christmas, when I celebrate the birth of the God I’ve chosen to follow, I know I will feel both joy and sorrow because that’s what it means to be fully alive. I will rejoice in so many things while also embracing the struggles of many others. To me, Merry Christmas is about gratitude. And, of that, I have much.

With that in mind, I have only one response: To fall on my knees.

Thank you for listening. With love, Brad

I remember my first compass well. I was in the boy scouts and it had a clear plastic piece, used for magnifying, connected to the actual compass. With it, I could read a map and ascertain direction. It was indispensable for hiking and traveling in the backcountry. Along with a good knife, some rope, and a canteen, I felt well-prepared.

Knowing direction is a handy skill when trying to go from here to there. I acquired a pretty good sense of direction at an early age and also learned how to seek clues about both direction and location. Of course, it always helps to understand where here is before trying to go to there.

I recall one moment when my three young companions and I went purposefully off trail deep in the Cascade mountain range in Washington. We hadn’t seen anyone for at least a couple of days. At some point, slowly making our way through thick forest growth, we realized we were lost. Our topographical map didn’t help as much as we’d expected. Neither did our compasses. Being lost is not the best feeling, especially if you know it. If you don’t know it, you just forge ahead until you either luck out or realize the truth of the situation. In this particular situation, I remember we were finally able to read the terrain of the mountains, match it to our map and compass and continue our journey as planned.

Anyone reading this will already have understood the analogy.

A compass has one concrete, objective feature. The needle points north. This is because the earth is a magnet. All magnets have two poles. We call them north and south. The tip of the needle in our little compasses has a tiny magnet on it. It is the opposite of the magnetic field near our north pole. (Magnetic North is actually about 1000 miles south of True North, in Canada. And, to make matters interesting, Magnetic North is shifting towards Siberia. This makes navigating by magnets not a perfectly exact thing. Well, at least we have GPS!)

On a clear and dark night in the Northern Hemisphere, perhaps the most well-known constellation is Ursa Major (or big bear), also known as the Big Dipper. Many people know the star Polaris … also known as the North Star … that it never moves from its stable location in the northern sky, unlike other stars, and can be easily found by drawing a line from two of the Big Dipper’s star outwards. Hence, the North Star is a permanent sign of where True North is.

I was reminded of all of this in a quiet time earlier today. I was reflecting on many of the symbols of Christmas and I recalled the image of a bright and unique star heralding the birth of the Messiah. Often referred to as the Star of Bethlehem, it is only briefly mentioned in scripture but has attained a lofty place in the subsequent lore. Astronomers have tried to figure out what it actually was if, indeed, it actually existed. It could not have been an actual star but maybe a supernova, a comet or a conjunction (temporary alignment) of planets. Whatever the thing actually was, it represented a sign that pointed to something very significant.

I have written many laments over these past two years about how we have lost direction. The theory that there is such a thing as absolute truth, completely independent of what people feel or believe, is out of favor and even fully attacked as oppressive. Everyone’s truth is as valid as anyone else’s. All directions are of equal value and to suggest otherwise is intolerant. In this vein, the only truth (see: there is such a thing as objective truth) is the notion of perfect equality of all things. All roads lead to the same outcome. All paths are equally important and valid. Hence, there is no True North. No maps and compasses that are calibrated to get us to a specific point. There is no “there” there.

But, what if that line of thinking is just plain wrong (as I have argued many times)? It’s either right or wrong. It can’t be both. If it’s wrong, then the only solution is to locate the compass and map, figure out where we are and then figure out how to read the map and chart a course towards the obvious destination.

I am fascinated to learn about how people manage this issue. Having engaged it for many decades, I am intrigued by how and why people either avoid it or the various ways they seek to resolve the dilemma. There’s always a starting point and it’s unavoidable. There’s a “here,” whatever and wherever that is. I was good at avoiding that for a long time. A good topo map, with its defining contours and elevations, is a place to start. What are those things in our real life? Then, what kind of compasses do we use and, if we use them, where does the tiny little magnet at the tip, point to?

When I say, I finally found my map, compass and True North, the skeptic can easily nod and say, “Well, if that works for you…” To which, I can logically reply, “Yes, it does and it’s the same for everyone.” Truth is Truth. This brief exchange could either end there or be the beginning of a fascinating dialogue.

I humbly ask, “What is your north star? Do you have a timeless point of reference towards which all things good point? Does it hold up under scrutiny, even after pulling away the layers to get to a pearl in the middle? Is there a pearl in the middle?”

Mine emerged from the womb 2000 years ago and turned the world upside down. He has never changed his position. His essence is immutable. His magnetic pull is omnipresent. Which begs the question of the nature of our direction finder.

I don’t remember how I obtained that first compass I used. It was probably a gift. I do remember how I obtained my last one. It was also a gift. A gift above all other gifts. On this Christmas, I rejoice in that and will be forever thankful. Amen.

Diane remarked the other day how the singing of certain Christmas carols has changed for her over the years. That they are much more meaningful now she is so aware of what lies behind the words. To which, I wholeheartedly agreed.

This morning we joined a couple of hundred other people and a fabulous worship band in raising our voices to the perennial favorite, Joy to the World.

I had no sooner sat down than I was called to write about such a thing.

Now, I have written pretty extensively about joy. And, I’ve written about things that both bring us joy and things that stand in the way of bringing us joy. But, joy to the world is a somewhat different kettle of fish.

For, we probably rarely think of a thing like joy to the world. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb to think we’d be surprised by headlines that shout, “THE WORLD REJOICES!”

To take this one step further, I doubt many people would say, “This world is doing just great!” Or, “The world is in fine shape indeed.” Maybe we’d be closer to the mark if we reflected that some people might say, “In the big picture, the world is doing ok, I guess.”

On the other hand, many people would join up with those saying the world is hurting or, at a minimum, things are just plain messed up. A far cry from joy to the world.

But (and I’m going to split hairs here), part of the problem is in the prepositions. There’s a difference between Joy of the World and Joy to the World.

Let’s face it. Unless we’re sitting inside some fantastic fortress, substantially walled off from all suffering, where we are provided our every desire, things are messy. (Of course, such an imaginary place is a complete fiction because everyone suffers in one way or another.)

And, if we are truly attuned to our surroundings, whether immediate or distant, we can find plenty to decry. Of course, it is oxymoronic to rejoice in and decry the same things.

Which brings me back to the point of the song.

Of course, this being Christmas and me being a follower of Jesus, it’s only fitting that I unpack it in that light.

But, before I actually get to the song, I want to loop in another thing. Let’s briefly examine a well known passage from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 2:4-14.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them.

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”

Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”

On the one hand, the modern person might well scoff at this as a trite little fairy tale. A baby in a manger, shepherds and angels, and so forth. On the other hand, what if it’s true?

This last week, I wrote about angels and a thing called the heavenly host. What if they are real and what Luke described actually took place? What if this heavenly being swathed in blinding light appeared out of nowhere to some poor souls on a rural hillside, shocking them to the core, and said (in effect): “Relax! I’ve come to give you the best news of all! And, this news will cause great joy everywhere! As promised, the savior of mankind has arrived! It’s actually happening right now and you’re the first to see!” Then, to ratchet things up to maximum intensity, the full heavenly host appear, singing “Glory to God!” “And, on earth, peace to those on whom his favor rests!”

Now, I happen to believe this really happened, a belief that will place me in the eyes of some (even those who may know me pretty well) as more than a little misguided. As in, “Well, Brad has a lot going for him. He’s actually a pretty smart and nice guy but he drank the Kool-aid and he’s welcome to believe what he wants but I’m not going to fall for any of that heavenly host showing up out of nowhere to herald the birth of the Savior of the World stuff.”

I don’t blame them.

But, the point of this piece is that this event, if true, actually has to be the cause of great rejoicing. Because God is God and worthy of all praise. Because God arrives in the flesh to bring peace to those on whom his favor rests. In other words, Joy and Peace to those who love him.

We’ll come back to that in a minute. But first, there is no mention of the world rejoicing. For the world is littered with people who reject God for all sorts of reasons. Much of the world (that is the human part of it) is far more interested in serving self rather than God for, among other reasons, serving God is a tough thing to wrap one’s head around. But, when we flip certain notions of God upside down, arriving especially at the notion that God came to life here in order to serve us, then we may open a window into why there’s cause for rejoicing. And, why there’s a promise of peace to those whom he looks upon with favor. (Caveat: It would be a mistake to conflate favor with love as God’s love is completely unconditional while favor … itself an interesting concept … arrives with surrender. But that’s a whole other story!)

No, the joy to the world, the reason for rejoicing (which is the expression of joy) is that things will be put to rights. Theologically, this means that the brokenness within is now available to be redeemed and that all of creation is available to be restored. Once again, I completely recognize that this makes no sense or is even an affront to the senses of those who find themselves at odd with the Christian story. If received as a fairy tale, the above passage from Luke is but a two dimensional abstraction that is, at best, of no actual consequence and, at worst, a bad diversion from reality.

The shepherds were given a front row seat into the glory of the heavenly realm. Their immediate fears would have given way to utter astonishment. As the fabric of all of creation, earthly and heavenly, momentarily became whole … as the birth of God in the most backwater location in the most backwater part of the world reset the axis of all things, the meaning of the moment was unavoidable. Hope burst forth as a thousand suns. Peace became ultimately possible. Love would eventually reign. Light would cast aside the darkness. Truth would reign supreme.

If none of this true, Christmas is just another celebration of no ultimate importance. If it is true and accepted fully, then most assuredly, hearts will soar when singing the following words.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come!

Let earth receive her King

Let every heart prepare Him room

And Heaven and nature sing

And Heaven and nature sing

And Heaven, and Heaven, and nature sing

 

Joy to the World, the Savior reigns!

Let men their songs employ

While fields and floods, rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding joy

Repeat the sounding joy

Repeat, repeat, the sounding joy

 

He rules the world with truth and grace

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness

And wonders of His love

And wonders of His love

And wonders, wonders, of His love

 

Indeed.

The Christian story began long, long before that unique night in Bethlehem. But, it always pointed to that night and everything that followed. For which I, and others of a like mind, find cause for great rejoicing. Yes: Joy to the World!

Merry Christmas

We just held the second information night for our new church. Like the first one two weeks ago, we met with about forty people who our team knows, bringing this first round of introduction to about eighty. Today, we go public on social media as we move forward to roll out our ambitious plan.

As I mentioned recently, this will be unlike any church I expect most people are familiar with. I don’t think any of the eighty people who’ve heard the presentation feel disinclined to be involved in some way. In fact, the response has been overwhelming.

We begin with a plainly different premise. Instead of building a church that is largely inviting to Christians who desire a certain kind of music, preaching, and programming, we are building a place where all will be welcome. No pretense. Come as you are. Seven days a week. A welcoming place. A place that is relaxing and unpretentious. A place where people will naturally just want to gather. Really good coffee. Really good food. Maybe even beer and wine. A place that feels home to both 90 year olds and 9 year olds. A place that is a touchstone to the kind of things people yearn for.

Three values undergird such a place. They are Faith, Love and Community.

I have written about faith before. Everyone has it. We can’t meet a new day without faith in some thing or some things. Some of us pay more attention to what faith means and how it affects our lives than other people. But, I believe we are deeply hardwired for meaning, to know our purpose. We want people of all faiths to find a place at the table. Traditional churches do a whole lot of speaking and a whole little of listening. At Uncommon [good], we value conversations. We are not in the business of saving souls. That’s above our pay grade. We are in the business of caring.

Which brings me to the second value: Love. I have written a lot about love and its uncommon expression: Grace. How do people know love? How do people give and receive it? How much does love influence each person’s life? In what ways has love shaped a person’s life? In what ways has the lack of love (or worse) misshaped a person’s life? Everyone craves love unless so beaten down it is but an obscure thing without connection to a known reality. But, even the beaten down, disheartened, broken and discarded person is able to emerge into the light of love. I have seen it and know it to be true. How does this happen? How do we who know of love and we who do not know of it, find and grow in it?

The answer is by engaging in Community, our third value. Just as we are designed for faith and love, we are designed for community. While some may reject community for a variety of reasons, it is when we exist in a loving community that we are able to flourish in the most remarkable of ways. Desolation is its antithesis. There are narratives that teach there is no meaning or purpose, just existence. These philosophies may hold some kind of intellectual allure (Nihilism, Existentialism) but I am of the mind they ultimately crumble into ash and just disappear into nothingness. On the other hand, when we are truly in the right kind of community, we are led to flourish. What does that look like? It is a place where we share life, the good and bad, the joyful and the sorrowful. It is a place where we can be vulnerable because others don’t judge our many inadequacies, past failures, and places where we might feel guilt or shame. It is a place where there is no dividing line between “church” and the real world. It is a place where people learn to be both gracious givers and gracious receivers.

The brackets in our logo are really a representation of such a place, or space. They are also a representation of the gospel which, of course, is all about faith, love and community.

The vision being cast is rather audacious. Many obstacles lie ahead. There will be people who doubt the odds of coming to fruition. The amount of money, time and talent it will take to go from vision to reality will be substantial. But, gazing upon the faces and listening to the excitement of the first eighty people who’ve attended the first two nights, representing young and old, professionals, students, retired, wealthy and poor, my heart is full.

When I was concluding one of my pieces of the presentation, I related that my license plate for the past twelve years is MTW1720. It is a fact of life for me, thankfully. It’s a verse from the Book of Matthew, 17:20.

Jesus: “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

Of course, we have to understand what he means by faith and mountains and that the mustard seed is incredibly small. But, you get the point. I look forward with anticipation and would appreciate your prayers if you think this cause is worthy. Thank you for listening.

I have not led what one might call a tranquil life. Raised with a sense of purpose, a sense that only increased with age, I was not inclined to let things just be. The fabric of life was always fraught with some obstacle or another, rarely dwelling far from my conscious mind. Moments of tranquility (defined as being removed from disturbance) did occur from time to time. I’d hazard that all of my reading might have offered some semblance of tranquility, as did escapes into the quiet regions of nature. But, they were by far the exceptions, rather than the rule. Anyhow, where would one find tranquility in a bustling 20th and 21st century America? And, what’s the point, anyway?

Oh, there was that phase in my early 20s, flirting with eastern religious practices, seeking to quiet the mind, as the mind was actually deemed a kind of enemy to the right way to live. I do not mean to be wholly derogatory, by any stretch. There is a lot to be said for a mind that is set free of disturbance. However, the mind is no enemy and tranquility should not be approached as an escape.

I was thinking about this, yesterday morning. Diane and I are blessed to be at that stage of life where the “get to’s” are more easily come by than the “have to’s.” Don’t get me wrong, we are still struck by how fortunate we were to be called into professional lives as shepherds of children (and, to a large degree in my case, of adults). We are also so fortunate to have borne and raised two fine sons, no small undertaking. These were certainly “get to’s.” But, now, on a daily basis, we are accorded much greater flexibility with how to structure our time and, appropriately, our priorities.

Again, I was thinking about this as I sat in the morning calm yesterday, under a very large oak tree, with its fellow oaks casting a beautiful canopy over our campsite in the hills just east of our home. Those hills are clearly visible, amazingly green for this time of year, strewn with massive whitish granite boulders and here and there dotted with colorful trees soon to shed their leaves. While the nights are quite cool, the days are comfortably warm with a wonderful and gentle breeze. If there is a disturbance in my mind, it is (at least temporarily) not definitive. The word, tranquil, suddenly appeared.

Recently, I shared the lyrics of a song, entitled, Be Still My Soul. I shared it as a kind of antidote to so much seeming madness we constantly face. Tranquility, however, is something at least a little different.

I make no argument that tranquility is a good thing if it’s the dominant thing. I’m sorry. Life is just too messy and full of big challenges and sorrow-filled moments. I find no compulsion or commandment that a cloistered removal from life is the only honest one.

So, what is the place of tranquility in this bustling western world we live in? What is its nature and purpose?

For one, when we are released from disturbance, we see and feel things that are otherwise largely opaque under normal circumstances. These are real things we commonly miss but offer us some enhanced perspective on what it means to be truly human.

For, humans benefit from the nature of imagination, the wellspring of creativity and the source for so much beauty that leads to joy. Minds and hearts not bound by disturbance can delight in the senses, allowing us to experience sides of life too frequently obscured by the pressures and stresses that regularly weigh upon us.

A tranquil state can also foster moments of peace and contentment, offering counterpoints to the constant intrusion of a demanding, even confrontational, world.

This time of year is when we continually hear the refrain, “Peace on Earth and Goodwill Towards Men.” Disturbed hearts and minds are not conducive to such a thing.

There is a sound reason that God instructed on the Sabbath. Being God, he had a good idea of what he was doing. He knows that we have a lot on our plate. After all, being made in his image, we are profoundly creative beings. We are also beings who flourish in an environment of truth and love. Creativity, truth (with its cousin, Justice), and love are all active postures. They don’t exist in isolation and are, therefore, engaged with conflict and disruption. The Sabbath, God says, is the space each week when we are called to put conflict and disruption aside and, instead, rest. But before we think this just means relax and put our feet up (not a bad thing at all), it means we are to rest in God. In him we find perfect rest. In him, we find peace and contentment. In him, our eyes and ears are open, our heart softened, and the anxiety and stresses are inclined to slip away.

Speaking of sound reasons, this is why Jesus regularly slipped away from the pressing multitudes to pray. Lest there be a misunderstanding, to Jesus, prayer wasn’t exactly what we might think of commonly as prayer. It was communion. An absorption that also acted as an energy transfer, just as concrete as when inhaled oxygen stimulates our cells to live well and function properly. This is why some Christians sing the song, This is the Air I Breathe. In that place, the disruptions of responsibilities and accountabilities related to the functions of family, work and all kinds of worldly engagements, get framed differently. They don’t disappear (as I’d argue they never should) but they are re-contextualized, so to speak.

Maybe it’s just me but I love the silence. Oh, I absolutely love the noise, don’t get me wrong. I love the sound of Diane’s voice as she laughs with her sisters. I love the good-natured banter with close male friends. I love the sound of the crowd and the band at home high school football games. I love the multi-faceted and multi-generational sounds of conversation at Thanksgiving dinner. I love when one of my several groups rolls up its sleeves and digs deep into the important things in life. And on and on.

But, I do love the silence, even when it comes sparingly. I find my mind attuned to listening, my eyes attuned to seeing and my heart attuned to the rhythms of God’s reality.

When consumed by disturbance, we inoculate ourselves against wonder and awe. By recognizing how times of tranquility can reorient us, we become better able to navigate life in the way we were designed. Arguably, we are all different and must find our own paths. As one who is (thankfully) actively engaged in the life of the world, with all of its many challenges, I am grateful for such times when I find myself absorbed by peace and contentment. I recommend it highly. 🙂

The attached photo was taken at the small lake adjacent to our campsite.

Full Disclosure: About five years ago Diane and I broke down and bought an artificial Christmas tree. I don’t think we’re alone in that. Up until then, we’d hauled home a cut tree, although, honestly, bringing one home from Home Depot wasn’t quite the same as when we went to a tree farm or cut our own years ago. Still, there was something about the fresh smell and the tradition that harkened back to childhood where artificial wasn’t an option.

What has remained the same, though, is that we still adorn the very tip of the tree with an angel. (If memory serves, my childhood tree bore a star at the top.)

There’s something truly comforting about an ornamental angel at the highest point in the room, gazing down at all of the bright colors, lights, globes and delightful images below.

Christmas time is a time when angels proliferate all over. Many are little cherubs with fat little cheeks, wearing sashes and maybe blowing trumpets. More than a few sport wings. Some, like our tree angel, are women, adorned in skirts and looking regal. Christmas cards often have angels heralding joy, peace and good will. What’s not to like? I think most people accept the presence of Christmas angels as normally as reindeer and Santa Claus. No Christmas would be complete without them!

I must admit, however, that I think of angels off and on throughout the year, not just at Christmas time. In fact, I don’t go very long without thinking of them. I do so for what I’ll claim is a very good reason. Because I actually think they’re real. On the other hand, I’m not so sure they’re the type popularized around Christmas.

I think I have some company on this. Without doing a full study of what percentage of Americans (to pick a culture) actually believe that angels are real, I’m going to guess it’s a pretty fair number. In fact, I’m aware that many people who are unclear of the nature of God, are at least partially convinced that angels really exist. I must admit that this, to me, is peculiar. I imagine that people who believe this also believe in heaven which is only natural because, of course, angels probably shouldn’t dwell anywhere else, at least not as a base of operations.

All of this brings to mind the question of what it is these beings are all about. I’m sure this is a cause of more than a little conjecture here on earth. I’m aware that some people believe in a thing called guardian angels. Purportedly, these beings are assigned to watch over we humans although I can’t remember coming across a compelling argument that this is in fact true. It’s certainly the stuff of novels and movies. I must ask, “does everyone have a guardian angel, even the bad guys?”

Mind you, I’m not opposed to the possibility that there are “guardian” angels. But, that raises all sorts of other questions like, what other types of angels are there and what’s the point of them in the first place?

Without going full theological, in the Judeo-Christian reality, angels are God’s servants. They are like his holy staff. They manage his vast kingdom that is far greater and beyond our wildest imagination. To the modern mind, this is a tough thing to buy in to. To the modern mind, it’s kind of fun watching TV shows and movies involving angels doing their thing in our reality. But, when push comes to shove, the modern mind quickly dismisses the whole thing because, you know, it’s just not something that really makes much sense.

But, what if they actually do exist? I mean, there really are these supernatural beings that occupy a space in a different dimension but occasionally cross through the veil and show up on this side of things? Who are they, what are they supposed to do and why should we care? I think Christmas time is as good a time as any to think about it. After all, one of the most well known reported appearances of an angel occurred on the eve of Jesus’ birth.

Now, I’ve read a lot about angels. There is, of course, the biblical record which is substantial. There are commentaries, articles and popular characterizations. I find some of these characterizations humorous and some just the thing of fantasy. But, I find some to be compelling. I imagine that must raise an eyebrow or two.

I must admit that I’ve never seen an angel. I claim to have heard the voice of God but I can’t say as I’ve ever met an angel. I’m not sure what would happen if one showed up. Some pretty reliable accounts suggest I’d do a face plant.

There is this thing called the Heavenly Host. The Host is like a vast army of beings … numbering like the stars on the clearest moonless night. Vast beyond number. These beings live in the presence of God and are somehow involved in doing his bidding.

Ok, the skeptic asks, what kind of bidding does the all powerful God have in mind? And, why can’t he snap his divine fingers and just make something happen? Why does he need the Heavenly Host? Now that you mention it, good question.

Honestly, I don’t entirely know but I still believe they exist and I have some idea what they’re up to.

They’re up to good. For that, I’m quite glad.

I’m either right or wrong about this but here’s what I think, for what it’s worth.

I think there are angels so numerous we can’t grasp it. I think there are angels aware of my presence as I write this. I think they’re acutely aware of us, even if we’re largely unaware of them. I think they care about us because God cares about us. In some supernatural way, I think they intercede for us although I’m really not too clear about how exactly they do that. I have opinions on that but I’m not sure I’ll go there right now.

I’m told some angels are mighty. Perhaps there are orders of angels, at least that’s what is recorded in the Bible. A few stand out, especially the so-called Archangels. Michael. Gabriel. Raphael. I imagine those anglicized names sound quite differently when spoken in some heavenly language. Purportedly, these three are part of a small handful core that command vast heavenly resources. Were one to appear (as we are told they have on occasion), we would be struck dumb with fear as they are mighty to behold. Just as purportedly, they assure us not to be afraid. Easy for them to say.

As I said a minute ago, angels exist to do good. They are God’s holy servants. We return to what that actually looks like. One thing it looks like is for them to fight bad.

Oh. All of a sudden, we need to think about some of these beings as warriors, which is quite different from the cherubim on Christmas cards or the winged feminine angels adorning trees.

Assuredly, I’m opening myself to the accusation of submitting to anthropomorphism (the projection of human form and natures on to inanimate objects, animals or even gods). Legions of mighty angelic beings locked in combat with their demonic counterparts is reminiscent of battle fields both ancient and modern. No wonder the scientific mind can easily scoff at such a thing.

But, what if it’s actually true in some form or other? For what it’s worth, I actually think it is. I’ll readily admit that I don’t have a clear picture of such a thing but the fuzzy picture I do have lines up factually with other things I believe to be true. While I don’t feel called to go into it all right now, I will say this: I believe in supernatural Good and supernatural Evil. I believe they are real and have shape and form, rather than just as some vague abstraction. I believe they are in opposition to each other, vying for primacy, most importantly for the souls of humans. This is, indeed, a battle. I believe this battle goes on all around us and is manifest in our choices and behaviors. The cartoonish angel on one shoulder and devil on the other, each whispering its message, makes a lot of sense to me, although it’s no cartoon. Not in the least.

As always, everyone is free to draw his or her own conclusions about all of this. Perhaps you’ll believe it’s either nonsense or vividly factual. Or maybe somewhere in between.

This Christmas season, I am profoundly reminded that a far different reality burst through to take up space in our own. While a cuddly infant at birth, he grew up to do battle in the cause of good against evil. His swords were truth and love, for which he was condemned to death … to some, signifying an acute failure. Phenomenally, the universe tilted and death lost its sting. Good triumphed that day.

This is one reason we celebrate Christmas. It heralds the beginning of this unique battle … one for the souls of all mankind. The Heavenly Host were present that day as they are every day, for which I am immensely grateful. I realize that this line of thinking marks me in not the most positive light these days. So be it. Are angels merely cute little creatures we march out once a year, like Santa and the reindeer? Or, are they a reflection of the glory of God, radiant and key players in a place we struggle to see?

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly singing o’er the plains

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their joyous strains.

 

Angels we have heard on high

Sweetly, sweetly through the night

And the mountains in reply

Echoing their brief delight.

 

Gloria, in excelsis Deo

Gloria, in excelsis Deo.

 

Shepherds, why this jubilee?

Why your joyous strains prolong?

What the gladsome tidings be

Which inspire your heavenly song?

 

Gloria, in excelsis Deo

Gloria, in excelsis Deo.

 

Come to Bethlehem and see

Him whose birth the angels sing,

Come, adore on bended knee,

Christ the Lord, the newborn King.

 

Gloria, in excelsis Deo

Gloria, in excelsis Deo.

Catchy title?

Yes, it’s Advent and, yes, I’ve written before about the meaning of Christmas. But I always try to pause and really try to wrap my head around the whole thing. On the one hand, it’s actually pretty easy to think, “yep, God chose to come to earth as a little baby. That’s something!” And, then we go from there.

The philosopher side of me tries to find perspective, which requires going deeper. Today, the geek side of me went to outer space.

Here’s the thing about God supernaturally becoming a zygote and arriving as a human being nine months later. It’s outrageous. We’ve all learned our Greek mythology, of gods and humans interacting, sometimes even marrying and having children: half human, half god. We can picture Olympus and Zeus and Apollo and Athena and Achilles and all of them. Stories that we know are not real but also stories that echo some things we know to be very real.

The Christian story is also a story. Some people maintain it to be entirely unreal, akin to Greek mythology. Others claim it to be entirely real, unlike Greek mythology. If true, it is beyond mind boggling, hence the title.

So, why bring up outer space?

Well, as I was quietly reflecting on the implications of the Christian story being real, I was once again taken to a place of trying to fathom the nature of the power behind it all.

(It’s at this point that I may lose some readers. I’m sorry.)

You see, if the Christian story is true, then there’s this all powerful God who is actually behind and above all creation. And, in order to get a grasp on what that really means (other than to nod our heads and go, “but, of course!,”) my head pictures the power of creation. Unfortunately, there are only so many ways I can do that, all of them quite limited. Bluntly, creation is a pretty big thing … both unimaginatively large and infinitesimally small. The amount of mass and energy involved is really beyond our comprehension. We are reduced to utilizing mathematics and physics to try to capture its essence because our imagination only takes us so far. Ironically, though, it’s in the imagination that the mathematics and physics of the thing actually comes alive.

One of the most common ways for us to picture all of creation is to call to mind those incredible pictures of our massive universe, home to hundreds of billions of galaxies, many of which are home, themselves, to hundreds of billions of stars. And, maybe it’s not hundreds of billions but trillions. All the product of an explosion from an object so small, it was only a minuscule fraction the size of an atom. The best scientific minds in the world have agreed on this fact for a long time now. Very cool.

And, that’s nothing compared to the power of the God of the Christian story. Which brings me to supernovas.

A supernova is the single most powerful piece of nature in the known universe. In a galaxy like ours, I’m told, they occur about once every fifty years. Or, about once a second in the entire universe, at least according to NASA. In wanting to understand a bit more about the power of God, I found myself reflecting on supernovas.

Feel free to check out for a bit as I go full geek. 🙂

A supernova is the death of a star. Its resulting explosion will outshine an entire galaxy full of hundreds of billions of stars.

The larger Type II supernova results when a star at least ten times the size of our sun runs out of hydrogen and helium at its core. Its heavier elements like carbon build up at the center, causing gravity to pull the lighter elements inward. Once the star’s core exceeds a certain mass, the entire star begins to implode (collapsing inward). As it implodes the core heats up and becomes denser. Finally, all of this stuff basically bounces back off of the core, expelling everything into space in a gigantic explosion. One does not want to  be in any kind of proximity when this happens. Most or all of the heavy elements in the universe are the result of supernovas.

I guess I bring this up because the amount of power, mass, and energy released in these regular astronomical events that dwarf our lives, living as we do in towns, cities, and villages, driving our cars, talking on our phones, plowing our fields and carrying on, gives us just a teeny window into the power of God.

This incomprehensible reality can either push us away because it seems too fantastic (a derivative of “fantasy”) or it can draw us inwards as nothing else can. How and why would the central character of the Christian story burst through the fabric of time and space and all semblance of the normal state of things to enter the womb of a woman?

This Christmas season, we are called to think again, as I regularly do, about who Jesus was and why he came and what any of this has to do with supernovas.

We are left once again with the dilemma of whether or not to believe the Christian story. Is it crazy?

I’m reminded of perhaps the most famous of C.S. Lewis’ remarks, which I have shared before but seems always worth repeating:

“I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”

What we celebrate this month, is not the birth of a moral teacher who arrived to tell us how to lead the right kind of life. It is not the birth of an obscure itinerant Jewish rabbi, in the long line of failed messiahs. Instead, we celebrate the incomprehensible event that a power, infinitely greater than all of the supernovas in the last 14 billion years, is behind the birth of a child. What we do with that notion is something worth pondering.

Merry Christmas

I was around both laughter and tears today. That’s not especially unusual although it deserves mentioning.

Both are windows into the human heart. What is life without laughter and tears?

Should we find ourselves distant from either one, why is that?

We awake momentarily alone while we emerge from sleep to life in a new day. Perhaps we have someone dear close by. Perhaps not. Either way, we enter into life where, inevitably, most of us will be in contact with others. Should that not be the case, we must manage the nature of solitude.

If we do interact with others, is it to the degree that we know their hearts and do they know ours?

I wrote recently about vulnerability. The opposite of vulnerability is security. We can think of security in many ways. One way is to imagine a fortress with all sorts of defenses to keep the world at bay. A heart constructed so is not really a heart. It is a piece of stone. Sometimes, this is the only way a person can imagine surviving, as the attacks have eaten away at the beautiful things that make us alive.

How sad this is. Do some of us, who are fortunate enough to live in a different place, have the means to relate to such situations in others? Perhaps some of us have been there and have emerged, scarred, fortunate to survive. My world is home to people like this.

I also come across people who are in the grip of dark things. It is one thing to be influenced by dark things … after all, each of us experiences this. It is another thing to be in the grip. It is hard to laugh or cry when one is in the grip of dark things because a heart of stone is not inclined to either.

A person who laughs and cries easily, without contrivance, has a lightened sense of being which is void of pretense.

I feel most at home with people whose lives are void of pretense. I pray that I may be so, also.

I saw people today who moved swiftly between laughter and tears as if that were the most natural thing in the world. They were not simple minded. In fact, the highs and lows were purely reflections of the lives in play.

For, in fact, joy and sorrow are merely two sides of the same coin. The coin is the reality, while each side is but a reflection of its essence.

As I sit down to compose my thoughts, I am grateful that both laughter and tears are companions and that my security is not in a manufactured fortress but in its opposite. An act of surrender whereby the stone dissolves into flesh.

Heaven knows this to be true. Hell is not interested.

Let the laughter ring loudly and let the tears flow freely. And, let each of us live fully in such a life.

The word, “advent” means arrival. In a sense, when some thing arrives, it is the announcement of a beginning. With an arrival, conditions change, whether minor or monumental.

If we are stuck in our ways, mired in some rut or another, we don’t expect much in the way of beginnings. The grays may seem interminable. A kind of perpetual dusk or even long night. Do we have a deep and abiding sense, then, of what the dawn will look like?

We practice many rituals to create rhythms of ends and beginnings. The first one that comes to mind right now is of an old, decrepit gray-bearded man represented as Father Time, he of the present year nearing its end. I don’t know about you, but the picture conjures up something far less than contentment of the way things have been in the last twelve months. It’s almost as if we’re stumbling broken to the finish line, just on the other side of which sits this cherubic little fellow brandishing the bright sash displaying the next year. That little fellow reminds us that we’ve made it through, as scarred as we might be, but that the next year promises things fresh and inviting.

Reflecting the other day on this particular season, I’m pulled to a certain kind of contemplation. Of course, this “season” is now all about a thing called “holidays” which my handy little dictionary defines as something festive where no work is done. So, obviously, we are led to rejoice that we get a vacation from work and can have a nice party! What’s not to like about that? No scrooge am I, and can always vote for a break from work to share good cheer with others.

Well, that’s all fine, of course, but not particularly meaningful beyond what it is. We all enjoy a fun trip to Disneyland and it would be nice if the feeling survived the car ride home.

Which brings me to Christmas, although that’s not really what I want to write about.

Briefly, Christmas, in its traditional sense, is a celebration of a birth of a promise. The intersection of the transcendent with the worldly. For Christians, both the birth and the promise are beyond electrifying. They turn everything else on its ear. For that reason, Christmas gets a lot of attention and, now, also for things having little or nothing to do with its religious origins.

As I was thinking about all of this, I was struck that so much of this season is about looking forward to a day (well, for students and teachers it’s about looking forward to two whole weeks!). Certainly, there are other festivities on the calendar and that is all great. But, the capstone event is the big deal, perhaps as it should be. What else is there in the lead-up other than parties and anticipation for the 25th?

For Christians, then, the advent season is about preparing for the thing that will transform everything. It is the recognition that such a thing deserves more attention than can occur in a single day or through all of the festivities. This sense of preparation is important. Monumental things sometimes need a good warm up.

But, what is it we’re supposed to take away from the message here? I believe the answer rests in the confluence of Beginning and Hope and what that confluence means for us each and every day.

If we approach our lives with the expectation that we will be surprised by something new and pleasant, than that expectancy creates a posture of hope. Of course, the opposite is also true. If we approach our lives with the expectation that we will be not be surprised by anything pleasant or else surprised by something new and unpleasant, then our posture will be one that may reflect misery.

I imagine many or even most people go through each day just trying to do what needs to be done, with hope that there is not terrible conflict and that there might even be a little fun or relaxation squeezed in. Each day more or less the same, with anticipation focused on weekends, vacations and special events. I imagine most people don’t wake up anticipating they will be surprised by something new and pleasant. Of course, life being as it is, there are days and there are days. Maybe I’m wrong but I don’t think by much.

I wonder what it would be like if we hoped for things to happen in our little worlds that bring even smidgens of joy. And these smidgens were portends of things to come?

What would those things be? Of course, the answer might be reflective of the kind of things that bring us joy.

I was having lunch yesterday with a new friend. I met him only recently. We discovered a lot in common although we’re separated by something like twenty years of age. (In case you’re wondering, I’m the old one.) We find that we might be beginning something, although we’re not sure where that will lead. But, it’s clear that whatever it is brings us both a sense of hope. Hope of a thing that deserves appreciation.

Currently, I live in that kind of life. I ask God regularly to show up. I know a man who has deep beliefs who wants God to show up with a large neon message. I don’t see it that way. I ask God to show up with a beginning that points to hope.

I ask God to put some thing or someone in my path that is reflective of who he is and what he wants for all of us. Maybe it turns out be a momentary thing and that’s fine. Or, maybe it turns out to be longer-lived and that’s also fine.

Some days are harder. Bad news arrives. Suffering is close at hand. The weight of things is such that it’s harder to muster something like the attitude I just mentioned. Pollyanna I am not.

Some days, doors close on good things. We may feel closer to endings than beginnings. That’s only natural. Nevertheless, there are always beginnings and there are always beginnings of good things. In the worst cases that beginning may just exist in a promise and seem a long way off. I recognize that some things qualify as hopeless. If they are big things, then that’s terribly rough.

But, sometimes, those closed doors which push hope far away, are actually just the dark night before a new dawn. I’m sure most of us can relate to that in some way.

Here’s one crazy thing about grace. When we’ve received grace, when we extend grace, it’s the exact ingredient that creates beginnings and fosters hope. When love is inserted into places unexpectedly, a sweet thing blooms and the fragrance is delightful.  A life lived where, daily, grace is a valued thing, appearing by surprise or by intention, is a life aligned towards hope. And, as we’ve previously discussed, a life without hope is a life destined for despair.

So, in these December days, I am especially resolved to wake up expectantly, eyes and heart open as much as possible to new beginnings.

As we focus on images of a baby in a stable and wonder if it could really be true, I fall on my knees, stunned by not just the enormity of such a miracle but that the same thing is available to us every day and every moment of every day. I regret that my pea brain can’t but barely begin to grasp all that such a thing really means.

Advent. An annual reminder that we often miss the point of things. We miss a reality that shimmers with brightness, that resonates with a sweet chord that can stop us in our tracks and call us to wonder at the possibilities. Advent and Hope. The Bread of Life. Amen.