Here marks the end of another year. We mark it now with Christmas, the gift of the Christ child, the gift of Christ coming to us in an unremarkable form, a form defined by need and fragility. That lovely, lowly stable hosting eternity amidst mud and straw seems a poor, messy, unreliable host for a fragile King, let alone a needful Savior.  And yet, that is us, so often standing with messy hair, muddy shoes, and pizza dough sticky hands trying to host the Christ child in my home. 

Yes, we have had many unremarkable, poor and lowly moments hosting Christ this year in our home. Sometimes our eyes were too bleary eyed to really see him, but there he was nonetheless—no matter what. When we wiped our eyes and kneeled at the altar, he was there. When we lit our candles to pray, he was there. When we yelled at each other or worse, didn’t say a word to each other, he was there.

We humbly opened our stable each day and attempted to wrap the Christ child in warm blankets, but often it was really just the straw of scratchy words and irritation. “We’re sorry, Jesus.” we said, again and again. “This is all we have today. We can’t find the blankets. We found some muslin, but the straw pokes through. We’re sorry for the mess. We’re working on it.”

But Jesus just laid there and smiled. He waved his holy hands and made the sign of the cross. “Did you see that?” we asked one another. “He knows.” 

We poured the broth from the roasted chicken and made soup. We served it to our sick children and invited the Lord to the table with us. Smile. Bless. He knows. We shushed each other impatiently during bedtime prayers and asked Jesus to forgive us our sins. Holy arms. Sign of the cross. Smile. He knows. We ran late to church. We lost our vision in piles of clean laundry, then later, dirty laundry. We gave up. We laid Jesus in the laundry basket. Smile. Coo. Holy arms. Bless you, children. He is doing something. He knows. I don’t know what he’s doing. We sang and sang and danced and played and studied and we asked Jesus to look what we can do. He laughed and smiled. Waved his hands in pleasure. He made the sign of the cross. He loved us.

And that is what he knew and we learned. His love is unending, great and powerful. His joy in us unnerving. His commitment to us full of justice. His peace beyond all knowledge.

In our simplicity, we just really wanted Jesus to be a part of lives, but we weren’t always sure how to welcome him in our stable. Until now, at Christmastime, when we realize how intentional God is. He didn’t end up in a stable by mistake. He arrived there quite on purpose. And if that is his choice, then it’s not all that far fetched to think that Christ feels quite comfortable in the middle of our messy, somewhat unstable, stable of a home. Straw, mud, and all.

“So no more apologies, Jesus. This is us and we are glad you’re here. Maybe this year, we can all move up to the house though.”

May you know Christ in your midst in 2023.

Here is a simple chorus from the 1970’s church. Easy to sing and easy to catch. That’s the beauty of it, really. As much as I love Gregorian chant and Bach and intricate harmonies, being able to join the chorus on the first round can really be a gift. I’m praying my kids go to sleep with this truth ringing in their ears, “Our God reigns.”

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, “Your God reigns!” Isaiah 52:7

He reigns at all times and in all circumstances. He reigns in all sovereignty during peace times and pandemics, during joy and sorrow, during waiting and receiving.

And this is indeed good news. Our universe is ordered by an all-knowing, all-powerful being and as an added bonus, this being loves us enough to send His one and only Son in the form of a baby, so rock our world and draw us all back to him.

All we have to do is claim Him as our own. Our God reigns.

Last night, we finished the second half of Wachet Auf. This is really not because my children couldn’t sit through a 30 minute cantata all at once. Oh, they can! No, simple bedtime math meant we really only had 15 minutes each night for Advent songs.

Wachet Auf really drove home for the kids the idea of Christ as the Bridegroom and the Church as His bride. We talked about the collective bride and the individual aspect of the bride. My kids are all under seven, but they all understand the special relationship of a bridegroom and bride. They understand that this pairing should never part one another. There is true faithfulness that must be seen between them.

As we moved one from Wachet Auf, I was impressed by this as well. Lord, my Christ, my Bridegroom, make me ever faithful.

After the cantata, we sang through “Hark, A Herald Voice is Calling” and then tonight, “Christ is Surely Coming.” Both of these tunes exhibit a bit of simplicity in music, using familiar tunes with various lyrics, but both draw attention to the coming Christ as one of great power, coming to do great things in the universe.

I find this so important to remember. Let us enjoy the nostalgia of the manger. Let us be in wonder of the God of the universe in the form of a baby. As my four year old said at dinner tonight, “It’s like Jesus is so much bigger than Mary, half of him was sticking out of her!” Ok, maybe we can think about it more eloquently, but it draws a interesting picture.

Yes, all of this is true. But let us also remember that the God of the universe came to do Godly, universal things. His power is never diminished; he is always Alpha, Omega, Judge, Savior, and Morning Star.

Hark! A Herald Voice is Calling

1. Hark! a herald voice is calling:
    ‘Christ is nigh,’ it seems to say;
‘Cast away the dreams of darkness,
    O ye children of the day!’

2. Startled at the solemn warning,
    Let the earth-bound soul arise;
Christ, her Sun, all sloth dispelling,
    Shines upon the morning skies.

3. Lo! the Lamb, so long expected,
    Comes with pardon down from heaven;
Let us haste, with tears of sorrow,
    One and all to be forgiven;

4. So when next he comes with glory,
    Wrapping all the earth in fear,
May he then as our defender
    Of the clouds of heaven appear.

5. Honour, glory, virtue, merit,
    To the Father and the Son,
With the co-eternal Spirit,
    While unending ages run. Amen.

Surely Christ is Coming
1 Christ is surely coming bringing his reward,
Alpha and Omega, First and Last and Lord:
Root and stem of David, brilliant Morning Star:
meet your Judge and Saviour, nations near and far;
meet your Judge and Saviour, nations near and far!

2 See the holy city! There they enter in,
All by Christ made holy, washed from every sin:
thirsty ones, desiring all he loves to give,
come for living water, freely drink, and live;
come for living water, freely drink, and live!

3 Grace be with God's people! Praise his holy name!
Father, Son, and Spirit, evermore the same.
Hear the certain promise from the eternal home:
'Surely I come quickly!' Come, Lord Jesus, come;
'Surely I come quickly!' Come, Lord Jesus, come!

Advent is just beginning. We are only five days in since Sunday and the theme of the bridegroom is strong. Today we watched the first fifteen minutes of J.S. Bach’s Cantata Wachet Auf (BWV 140), which means “Wake up!” or “Awake!”

The cantata is a beautiful setting for the parable of the wise virgins mixed with some reminiscence of the Song of Songs. It is a call for the bride to be ready for her bridegroom. Do not oversleep! Do not be caught unprepared!

The Bride, Zion, first longs for the Bridegroom. “When will you come?” she cries. He responds as he draws near, “I come as your portion…I open the hall…I come, come lovely soul.”

The Bride and Bridegroom join to feast and then comes these astounding words:

So come in to Me,
you My chosen bride!
I have to you
eternally betrothed Myself.
I will set you upon My heart,
upon My arm as a seal,
and delight your troubled eye.
Forget, O soul, now
the fear, the pain
which you have had to suffer;
upon My left hand you shall rest,
and My right hand shall kiss you.

We are the chosen Bride, the church of God. He has eternally chosen us and sets us as a seal upon His heart.

We can forget now our pain, our fears, our sufferings and rest upon his left hand. What a powerful image to rest upon his hand. When I was engaged to my husband, we were once driving down the highway, my left hand holding his right hand. I asked if he needed his hand back to drive and he answered, “No, I only need one hand to drive the car. The other is to guide your heart.” How mushy and wonderful of him! But this is true, really. Each hand has a purpose, even for Christ. One to allow you to rest in the ride of life and one to show affection, leading your heart toward Him again and again.

Again, what teary eyes I have to consider the faithfulness of Christ to me. Oh, Christ, may I be ever faithful to you.

Here is a youtube link so that you may watch the Cantata yourself. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DqZE54i-muE

Staggered cookie distribution between showers for the boys, lego clean up, and a late-working husband, not to mention a fussy, tired baby. This is Advent and not just 2020. This is Advent for a busy household with little kids.

We ended up gathering in the girls’ room to sing our nightly Advent song, discuss our focus for the season, and pray they all sleep well tonight. We sang through a simple hymn called “The Advent of our King.” Each verse is only four lines, so the whole tune takes about a minute-thirty to sing. We sang it through a couple of times.

“Tribute is not a real word, Mom,” chimes my four-year old with rolling eyes. So we talked about that!

I explained that a tribute is a gift given to someone who saves you. It could be said, given the context of tributes in war, that it is a payment to someone who conquers you. The kids reserved their belief a little longer. “What do you mean conquer?”

“Well, yes,” I said, “Jesus is the great conqueror, isn’t he? He conquered sin and death and Satan, all for us. He saved us from all those things. We certainly owe him tribute. We give him the tribute of our entire lives. And we show that we are doing this by acting in kindness and love to those around us in His name.”

I encouraged the kids to really think about how to show an abundance of kindness during the Advent season this year. We are trying to think outside the box of just saying “please” and “thank you.” What could they do to really surprise someone with kindness? Clear some else’s dinner plate, say a prayer for someone, write a love card, make your bed without being asked, make someone else’s bed!

A few days ago, we started writing down these acts of kindness on little strips of orange and brown (being out of yellow) construction paper and adding them to a manger in our living room, thus preparing a place for Jesus in our home and hearts. Tonight’s hymn fit right in with our current, daily conversation. Blessed providence.

Of course, this kindness activity challenges me, as well. I’m happy to say I did take time to write a little love note to my husband today to include with his lunch delivery. The more I mention it to the kids, the more I realize that I really need a good shaking out of myself to get to the heart of kindness. I must decrease, so He may increase.

What else can we do for one another to show real, thoughtful kindness?

Enjoy the lyrics below.
THE ADVENT OF OUR KING (Williams/Coffin)

1. The advent of our King
Our thoughts must now employ;
Then let us meet him on the road
With songs of holy joy.

2. The coeternal Son
A maiden’s offspring see;
A servant’s form Christ putteth on,
To set his people free.

3. In glory from his throne
Again will Christ descend,
And summon all who are his own
To joys that never end.

4. Our joyful praises sing
To Christ, who set us free;
Like tribute to the Father bring,
And Holy Ghost, to thee.

Today I am here to tell you that it is OK to mix things up and do what works for you. Advent does not have to be fancy, just humble and open. Here is how tonight went:

I had some peppermint ice cream in the freezer and angel food cake (obiligatorily made after making several “yolk only” dishes for Thanksgiving) left over from the weekend. So I sat my kids at the kitchen island to feast, talk about their kind deeds from the day, and begin learning a new to us hymn. We very simply, and in undecorated fashion, watched youtube videos of the hymn to catch the tune.

We found one video that included the sheet music and lyrics. This was truly helpful except for the fact that the page turns were slightly delayed, leaving us to guess the endings of words. Will it be “advances” or “advanceth”? Oh, nope! “Advancing.”

I had heard this hymn before, but it is not in my historical Advent rotation and it’s not in any of my hymnals. But it is a fairly common Catholic hymn, I believe. I love it. It makes me teary every time I am made to sing the word “Bridegroom.” That’s my Jesus, my Bridegroom. He is coming for me. He is drawing near.

How often do we consider that he is coming for us? To be our very own salvation? How often do we stare our need for a savior in the face? How often do we prepare our hearts to receive him, the most holy God?

We must trim our candles (a habit my earthly husband is constantly trying to instill in me) and be prepared. Don’t let your heart be clouded by the smoke of only recently cleaning house and trying to cover up stench with pine-scented wax. Trim your candle now.

Fill your lamp with oil this Advent. Do not be caught unaware. Do not be running around at the last minute, wishing you were more well-stocked on holiness. Fill your lamp with the oil of prayer, kindness, fasting, generosity, sacrifice.

Now, watch and listen. Through your lenten sufferings, you will hear the midnight cry proclaiming. It will sound like a baby, the holy infant child.

REJOICE, REJOICE, BELIEVERS
by Laurentius Laurenti (1700)

1 Rejoice, rejoice, believers,
and let your lights appear!
The evening is advancing,
and darker night is near.
The Bridegroom is arising
and soon he will draw nigh;
up, watch in expectation!
At midnight comes the cry.

2 See that your lamps are burning,
replenish them with oil;
and wait for your salvation,
the end of earthly toil.
The watchers on the mountain
proclaim the Bridegroom near;
meet him as he approaches,
with alleluias clear.

3 You saints, who here in patience
your cross and suff’rings bore,
shall live and reign forever,
when sorrow is no more:
around the throne of glory
the Lamb you shall behold,
in triumph cast before him
your alleluias clear.

4 Our hope and expectation,
O Jesus, now appear;
arise, O Sun so longed for,
above the darkened sphere.
With hearts and hands uplifted,
we plead, O Lord, to see
the day of earth’s redemption
that sets your people free!

We sing an Advent song each night while we wait for the birth of the Christ child. Some years I hang up our Advent tree-story board that I made, some years I don’t. This is a treeless year. We are keeping it simple and besides, much of the crafty tree I made is broken by now and I am not up for glue sticks this season.

Tonight we sang the very classic and borderline over-sung beauty “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” I could never commit to this being an over-sung piece, though. It comes from a very old tradition where the church sings the names of Jesus during the last seven days of Advent; this is called the “O Antiphons.” The O Antiphons begin on December 17 and lead up to Christmas Eve.

O Come, O Come Emmanuel echoes these names of Christ. How impacting they are to consider.

Before you read the lyrics below, consider which one you are walking in today. Are you in lonely exile? Call on God with You. Are you suffering the tyranny of death or sickness personally or with a loved one? Call upon the Rod of Jesse.

Are you lost in the gloomy clouds of night? O Dayspring, Come!
Do you know misery too well? The Key of David makes a safe way to heaven!

Do you suffer from indecision or murky waters of morality? Consult Adonai who gives a perfect law! Call upon Wisdom!

Are you tired of division and quarreling? Pray, O Desire of Nations, come. Bring peace. Bring heavenly peace.

Wherever you are, there is God who hears your prayers.

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory o’er the grave.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Dayspring, from on high,
And cheer us by Thy drawing nigh;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Key of David, come
And open wide our heav’nly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Adonai, Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai’s height,
In ancient times didst give the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
And order all things, far and nigh;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And cause us in her ways to go.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Desire of nations, bind
All peoples in one heart and mind;
Bid envy, strife and quarrels cease;
Fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

For several years now, the first song we sing in our home for Advent has been J.S. Bach’s “Break Forth, O Beauteous Heavenly Light.” I’ll admit it was a bit of a stretch for us the first couple of years with it’s unexpected turns and harmonies and extended high range for the average singer, but now, we know it. We are comfortable with it and we do not shy away.

On the first Sunday of Advent, I find it appropriate that we should go ahead and stretch ourselves. We are waiting for an event that will change the course of humanity both collectively and individually for all eternity. We really should get ready for this.

So this Advent, stretch yourself. Reach for higher notes of ecstasy spiritually. Give more, be patient more, be quiet more, be prayerful more, be prepared to meet Christ the King of the Universe in the form of a very small child.

Here are the lyrics of “Break Forth” for you. Read through it and mediate on what we are in for.

1 Break forth, O beauteous heav’nly light,
and usher in the morning;
O shepherds, shrink not with affright,
but hear the angel’s warning.
This Child, now weak in infancy,
our confidence and joy shall be;
the pow’r of Satan breaking,
our peace eternal making.

2 He comes, a Child, from realms on high,
He comes the heav’ns adoring:
He comes to earth to live and die,
A broken race restoring.
Although the King of kings is He,
He comes in deep humility:
His people to deliver,
And reign in us forever.

We do not sing this perfectly, but neither are we perfectly holy. We continue to stretch and strive for the perfection of looking on God’s beautiful face.

Here is a list of stories and individuals we often admire because they chose to take risks instead of stay safe:

St. George
Bilbo Baggins
Frodo Baggins
Amelia Earhart
Albert Einstein
Abraham Lincoln
Michael Jordan
The Beatles
Harry Potter
Jesus Christ

This is an incredibly short list of people and stories we love to talk about. We read these stories to our children and talk to them about adventure and risk. We praise these characters for pressing forward in the face of adversity. These characters do not throw caution to the wind, but they press into the wind of challenge. They move forward and advance against the enemy bravely.

Our society loves to tell children to “go, have adventures.” In fact, we say that to adults, too. “You’re never too old! Go, try something new! Have an adventure and tell us about it.” At the same time, we are constantly being reminded to “stay safe” and “take care.”

The thing about adventure, though, is that it is by nature full of challenge, risk, danger, and often suffering. A true adventure is difficult and dangerous. It’s a tough and risky business. And it’s worth it.

When I was getting married several years ago, my friends kept telling me, “Congrats on your new adventure!” I was excited and thrilled to be starting this adventure with my husband. I imagined our adventure including things like canyoning and volcano sighting. Fun, big laughs, great photos. I imagined us laughing and holding each other tightly as we tried new and exciting things every weekend.

This did not happen after our literal honeymoon in Costa Rica. We did rappel down waterfalls, but only once! Soon we ran into the troubles of life: the exhaustion of pregnancies, the uncertainties of work, and more. In the hard times, I kept asking myself, “Why am I not having an adventure? Where is the adventure everyone kept promising me?!”

Then several years into our marriage, my husband was reading “The Hobbit” to our eldest child. Tolkien kept mentioning the “adventure” that Bilbo was setting out on. Adventure, adventure, adventure. I grabbed our copy of “The Lord of the Rings.” Tolkien uses the same term. But everything Bilbo and Frodo encounter is difficult, terrible, and life threatening. This is adventure, folks!

An adventure is climbing and scraping your way up a terrifying mountain to do something incredibly important. There are obstacles and enemies on these epic adventures. They are not glossy or safe and they do not end with a glass of wine and a photo shoot. But truly, in the end, these adventures accomplish incomparable good.

I am not climbing the mountain of Mordor to destroy an evil ring, but I am climbing some scary mountains. Mountains called Marriage, Parenting, and Off-script Life Choices: moving my large family to a busy city for my husband to start a PhD program at the age of 36. This is our adventure and through all the difficulties it is worth it for the good it brings to the world, both now and eternally.

So if you, like me, have come to value adventures for what they are, fear and all, consider now what staying safe and taking risks means to you. What do you really value? What do you want to teach your children? Are you willing to teach adventure lifestyle by example or do you wish to relegate risk to a bedtime story?

Aside (In case this post naturally causes you to consider current events):

This is a challenging question in our current health climate when we are constantly being told to “stay safe.” My post today is not to get into the weeds of lockdown verses opening up the US economy. There are innumerable factors to consider in that debate. Instead, what I am hoping to spark in you today, is that knowledge deep inside that sometimes we have to set out on long, arduous journeys that are not perfectly safe and that’s okay–in fact, it is necessary.

What will your brave story be?

 

This question carries more weight lately. A friend asked me with worried eyes from her van, “How are you?” My family and I nodded, “We’re good.” We looked at each other to confirm–more nodding, “Yeah, we’re good. You know.”  As in, you know what we mean by “good,” right?

We’re good in the ways that you can be good when you don’t know what’s coming next. We’re good in the way that we feel like we are living in a movie where the audience knows what’s coming next, but the characters have no idea. We’re good in the way that I keep thinking that I can hear someone through the screen yelling at me, “Look out! Don’t go that way! Oh my gosh! She did it?! Why would she do that?”  –Which makes me say, “I’m good” with giantly wide open eyes.

So sometimes I feel a little crazy. Call it stir crazy or call it anxiety; it’s there.

But we are also good in other ways.

We’re good in the way that we get to be more intentional with our prayers and our devotions. We’re good in the way that we get to kiss each other goodnight every night.
We’re good in the way that we are trying new recipes and perfecting our bread making skills. We’re good in the way that we aren’t letting conflicts fester, but offering swift and salvy sorry’s.

We’re good in some ways and less good in other ways. But still, challenges, stir crazies and all, we’re good.

We’re good because we can grow from this. We’re good because we can adjust our dreams from this. We’re good because we can uncover parts of us that have been hiding for too long. We’re good because God is good and his steadfast love endures from generation to generation.

So I’m putting my oxygen mask on every morning–sometimes in the afternoon, too. I’m writing. I’m praying. I’m reading. I’m smelling lilacs and noticing buds on branches. I’m sitting down with no agenda to play Calico Critters with my daughter. These things give me oxygen to take another step forward and be good.