By Lilly Lewin
In January, I like to continue to remember the childhood of Jesus and realize that even though the lectionary grows him up quickly, we don’t have to do that in our own devotions and reflections. Like Mary, we can continue to ponder all the wondrous things that happened around the birth of Jesus and consider the shepherds, the angel’s visits, and later the visit of the Magi. With the drama and tragic losses happening in places like Puerto Rico, Australia, and Iraq and Iran, we can take time to consider the horrific murder of all the boys under two that resulted from Herod’s jealousy. Remembering that the joy and wonder of the Incarnation happens in the midst of pain and suffering, loss and tragedy even now.
Read again the story of the visit of the Magi in Matthew 2
Am I disturbed by the arrival of Jesus? Does the announcement of a NEW KING disturb me, or terrify me? Am I afraid or jealous like Herod of the new king? Am I numb like the scholars in the palace who didn’t seem to be paying attention to the signs in the heavens? One definition of disturb is “disrupt the normal pattern.” Am I willing to let Jesus disrupt my normal patterns this year? Am I willing to be willing?
It’s always bothered me that the chief priests and the religious scholars just stayed stuck in the palace. Herod asked them where the king, the Messiah was supposed to be born, and they told him Bethlehem; yet we don’t have any record of any of them joining the search. Wouldn’t you think someone would be a little curious about these foreign visitors? Wouldn’t you think someone would follow along to see if the Star was true? Were they so caught up in the vortex of the palace, so into power and wealth, the splendor of it all that they just stayed stuck?
Sunday night at thinplaceNASHVILLE, we did what I call a “Duct Tape Confessional.” We passed around a roll of duct tape and some sharpie markers. Everyone tore off a piece of tape and then folded the sticky sides together. We wrote on the tape, all the things that were keeping us stuck and keeping us from following the Star in 2020. We wrote down the things that were stopping us from worshiping Jesus. And we laid these in the centerpiece of hay, giving them to God to have and asking Jesus to help us see His Light and Follow the Star in 2020. 
What things are keeping you stuck in the palace right now?
What things are keeping you stuck and not allowing you to follow the Star?
Use some duct tape to help you get “UNSTUCK.” Allow Jesus to have these things and hold them for you.
We also talked about the people and places that need the LIGHT of Jesus this year.
Each person had a sheet with an outline of 4 large stars. On two stars we wrote down the names of friends, family, co workers, or people groups who need to see and know the LIGHT OF JESUS.
On the second two stars, we wrote down the places where the LIGHT of Jesus needs to be seen this year. The places could be countries like the Bahamas, still recovering from the hurricane, or places like the White House, Congress or Parliament. We prayed for these people and places to experience the great LIGHT AND LOVE of Jesus in 2020.
Some people cut out their stars and put them in their journals, some people did extra designs and artwork on their stars. The idea is to use the stars as reminders to continue to pray for these people and places in the weeks ahead.
Who are the people and what are the places you want to pray for today and in the days ahead? Create your prayer stars to help remind you to pray.
In my tradition, the season of Epiphany, celebrating the LIGHT coming to all people, continues until Shrove Tuesday and the beginning of the Lenten Season. So we still have time to celebrate.
I want to make sure I’m paying attention in 2020! I don’t want to miss the signs of the Incarnation around me! I don’t want to stay stuck in the palace, too afraid, too busy, or just too distracted by the news of the day to go follow the Star!
let’s pray for the LIGHT and LOVE of JESUS to fill each of so that we may take and be this LIGHT to the World! AMEN
©lillylewin and freerangeworship.com
By Michael Moore —
It is January 9th and we have moved into the season of Epiphany.. It has been 16 days since we commemorated the birth of our Lord. What was the song of the angels on Christmas Eve? The angels who appeared to the Shepherds shared this hope and promise. “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”–Luke 2:14
And on earth peace… ten days after many congregations sang these words bombs dropped and the call to war became shrill and noisy. The lines are being drawn as politicians echo soundbites and tweets for and against the bombing and killing in Iraq. Sadly I have seen this before. Politicians rattle their sabres while the ones who serve and the innocents caught in the line of fire will die. A heavy decision with incredible consequences was made behind closed doors without hearing all perspectives.
And on earth peace… On the tenth day of Christmas I picked up Bruce Epperly’s book, The Work of Christmas: The 12 Days of Christmas with Howard Thurman, which has been my companion during this time between Christmas and Epiphany. Imagine my shock when I read these words of Howard Thurman on January 3rd:
Where refugees seek deliverance that never comes,
And the heart consumes itself, if it would live,
Where little children age before their time,
And life wears down the edges of mind,
Where the old person sits with mind grown cold,
While bones and sinew, blood and cell, go slowly down to death,
Where fear companions each day’s life,
And Perfect Love seems long delayed.
CHRISTMAS IS WAITING TO BE BORN:
In you, in me, in all humankind.
Epperly continues in his commentary to discuss the heartache Thurman referenced in the above poem.
Christmas comes to those with their backs against the wall, as Thurman asserts: working-poor shepherds, a family having to migrate to satisfy a dictator’s need for riches despite a mother’s pregnancy, infants murdered by a local ruler in his quest to destroy the Holy Child and his way of peace.
And as we celebrate the twelve days of Christmas, we too witness wars and rumors of war. Swords are not beaten into plowshares but fashioned into drones, automatic weapons, and missiles. Nations continue to study war and encroach on their neighbors’ territories. Whole communities are annihilated, often inspired by religious ideology that separates faithful from infidel and “saved” from “unsaved.” (Epperly, pp. 72-73)
My heart is still heavy in this season when we remember how Christ was made manifest to the Gentiles with the visit of the Magi. To be honest, I am seeking light in this time of darkness. I am seeking the Spirit’s guidance as I attempt to walk the way of peace.
In the conclusion of his thoughts on the 10th day of Christmas, Epperly shared the story of the poem Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote following news of his son’s serious wounding in the Civil War. This portion of the poem, I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day, struck me:
And in despair I bowed my head;
“There is no peace on earth,” I said;
“For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”
I pray that I can follow my friend Episcopal Bishop Steven Charleston who shared these words with our community on January 3rd:
I will not submit to the tyranny of despair or surrender to the threats of fear. Whatever I face in this life I face with the strength of the Spirit by my side. I am not afraid. I am not alone. Not even death itself can cause my heart to waver, for I have seen the far side of that river and I know I can cross it by the bridge of an everlasting mercy. Love is my shield and hope my expectation. Therefore, as long as I draw breath I will speak the words of welcome to any who will join me in the search for peace. I will strive to give as much as I can for the sake of those who have so little and I will rejoice in the happiness of others. I am a believer: a soul awake to its calling and a spirit alive to its full promise.
Will you join with me in prayer, dear reader? A prayer that involves words and action. Perhaps we can begin the task of beating swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks. Perhaps then we can make the final words of Longfellow’s poem come to life.
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep,
The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.”
In the words that close many of my Evening Prayers, I will close this blog:
Dona Nobis Pacem et in Terra
Grant Us Peace on Earth
To read more about Longfellow’s poem, please follow this link:
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by Christine Sine
This year I am determined to start off on the right foot and for that rather selfish reason chose Starting the 2020s on the Right Foot as our Godspace theme for January 2020. Here is what I suggested to our authors:
I know that most of us feel that we don’t really start off right and as we look ahead the next decade looks pretty scary but what advice do you have for our Godspace readers? What words of wisdom, hope or promise do you have? What suggestions do you have for spiritual or even physical practices that can help our followers deal with the struggles and challenges ahead?
To be honest I think I need a bit of advice myself and am hoping that some of the other Godspace authors can provide it for me. Starting on the right foot has been a little challenging this year. Tom and I have not taken our usual New Year’s retreat yet and I find that my energy and focus is distracted by the horror of what is going on with the bushfires in Australia. It has paralyzed my creative energy.
However I am starting to find my direction and wanted to share some of what I have been doing that has helped.
Recalling.
Looking back over the last year has been both inspiring and hope giving for me.
I asked myself 4 questions:
- What were the joyspots?
- What were the challenges?
- What must I repent of?
- What am I grateful for?
2019 was a year filled with both delight and challenge. The joy of giving birth to The Gift of Wonder, as well the births of great nieces and nephews in Australia has left me with a warm glow. Unfortunately it has been tinged by the sadness of deaths within the family and of good friends as well as the illnesses of others. I have struggled too with the political situation in the U.S and the horror of the climate crisis we are facing. It has not been an easy year.
However as I looked through my journal it was not these major events that caught my attention, it was the accounts of waffle breakfasts and dinners orchestrated by our downstairs tenants. They were a special gift of love to us in the midst of the challenges.
It is often the small things like this that give me hope I realize, like the “star sky” I snapped a photo of a couple of days ago. Things like this are so easily forgotten or glossed over when we look back. Our memories have little place for them unless we actively work to bring them to mind.
What are the small and seemingly insignificant events of 2019 that give you hope for the 2020s?
Wisdom and Discernment
I find myself less inclined to set lots of goals these days and more inclined to listen for God in stillness at the beginning of each day and reach discernment that will nudge me into the next steps God wants me to take. Again there are several questions that come to mind:
- What spiritual practices draw me closer to God?
- What inspires and fills me with awe?
- What helps me slow down and take notice?
- What helps me focus and makes me less inclined to distraction?
Here it was not so much my journal that I looked back through but this blog. I smiled at the new spiritual practices I have discovered like making apple cider; and singing together some that I have reconnected to like walking barefoot and beach combing. These unexpected spiritual practices have enriched and delighted my soul. And I look forward with the hope and expectation that new practices will arise in 2020 with a similar impact
What practices did you create or re-discover in 2019 that enriched and renewed your faith?
Look Forward with Hope
I know that many people are struggling with where to find hope in the current political environment. And it is hard. Here are my questions:
- What are my dreams for the coming year?
- What are my fears?
- What provides the balance that I need?
As I commented above it is often the small and seemingly insignificant things that give us hope. As I look ahead I feel that God is reminding me of that. My dreams for book writing, gardening and travel don’t all need to be big. There needs to the balance of small and insignificant dreams that might in fact change me more than anything else.
A couple of years ago I created an epiphany garden that was one of the simplest I have made. It was all about balance. It was inspired by John O’Donohue words in Beauty: The Invisible Embrace : Stillness is the canvas against which movement can become beautiful. For motion to be fully appreciated it must move against a background of stillness. When everything is in motion, we end up with chaos and frenzy.
As I re-read my blog post on that I realized I still struggle to find balance. Activism comes naturally to me, contemplation does not. So once again at the beginning of this year I remind myself of the need for seasons of stillness and contemplation. It is this that fuels my activistic spirit in a healthy way.
How do you find balance between contemplation and activism as you look to the future?
By Lynn Domina —
A few years ago, I went with a group of friends to India, all of us studying interfaith dialogue. One of the few purely recreational activities was a “sunset camel ride” out into the desert near the village of Pushkar. Though I’d never heard of it before, I loved Pushkar with its mostly dirt roads filled with pedestrians, motorscooters, cows, and a few honking automobiles. I loved the market stalls filled with fabrics and vegetables and small paintings. I loved noticing how Hinduism so thoroughly infused the culture. And I was really curious about that camel ride.
Each of our camels was led by an individual camel driver who helped us climb aboard. A camel is a lot taller than a horse, something I hadn’t thought much about before. My camel, like all the others, knelt in the sand, each leg tucked under itself. Even so, its back was still pretty high up, so my camel driver helped me swing my right leg over the saddle before I hoisted the rest of my body gracelessly up. I wasn’t too nervous yet, though my camel driver kept instructing me to “lean back, hold on tight.” When a camel stands from a kneeling position, it raises its front legs first while its back legs remain kneeling. I cannot adequately describe the queasy whoosh that wheels through your stomach when this occurs, nor the conviction that you are about to tumble, somersaulting butt-first off the camel’s behind. “Lean back, hold on tight.” Then my camel lifted its back legs, too, and all seemed almost well—until we started walking. A camel’s gait is nothing like a horse’s either, and suddenly I had to worry not only about not falling off the back end, but also about not falling off either side. By the time we reached the desert, probably only about half a mile, I felt slightly more confident, though I never stopped holding on tight. The walk back was easier, and dismounting was easiest of all. I’d been afraid almost the entire time, but I’d had fun, too, and I was grateful that I hadn’t surrendered to my fear.
I remember that camel ride every year when Epiphany rolls around. I think about those wise men, those sages from the East, always pictured with their camels. They were certainly more practiced, less afraid of falling off, but surely there were moments when they needed someone to remind them to hold on tight, not to their reins so much as to their vision. Something important was happening, and they wanted to be part of it. So they rode across the desert, miles and miles, the wind blowing sand into their faces, their eyes stinging with grit. How many sunsets did it take to reach Bethlehem?
The Gospel of Matthew tells us about their arrival in Bethlehem, their encounter with Herod, their presentation of gifts to the baby, and their departure, but it tells us nothing about their journey. I understand Matthew’s choice, for his focus was on Jesus and his identity as Messiah, and he hones his focus throughout his 28 chapters. He’s not writing a big topsy-turvy muddle of a Victorian novel, heaping with characters and the rhizomic backstories of each one. He’s focused on Jesus.
My focus on Epiphany, though, is the journey. I don’t mean that the journey is more important than the destination, though that often is true. The sages’ destination of Bethlehem, where they would lay eyes on God incarnate, was undeniably important. I just mean that when I think about Epiphany, I keep thinking about what it took to get there. The trip must have been physically uncomfortable. There must have been moments when they wondered if they were still headed in the right direction, guiding star or not. One or another of them probably felt sick, at least for a day or two, for what traveler never feels sick? And wherever they looked, there was all that sand, softer than rock when they wanted to sleep but also coating their nostrils when they inhaled, their mouths when they yawned, and their food whenever they stirred it in its pot. Yet they kept on, ever westward.
That’s our challenge, to hold fast to the vision God has given us. To trust that the journey and the destination are both important. To refuse to surrender to our fear.
By Emily Huff —
Today is Epiphany which marks the Season of Light. In the church calendar, Epiphany comes after the 12 days of Christmas and lasts until Ash Wednesday which is the beginning of Lent.
For over a decade, our family has carried on a tradition for Epiphany using a beautiful liturgy around our table, and over the years, it has become one of my favorite gatherings.
Each year on Epiphany, the liturgy invites us to use a piece of chalk and to write on our door. This year, we will write the following on our doorframe:
20 C M B 20
This tradition of chalking the door has been around since the middle ages. Some connect the letters CMB to the kings Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar since Epiphany is the time when we remember the wise men visiting Jesus on this day. Some report that C M B stands for Christus Mansionem Benedicat which means “May Christ bless this house.” The numbers represent the year- 2020.
My friend Kristin Kinser wrote the following to welcome this season: “Christ’s first home was a humble stable where shepherds came, at the bidding of angels, to worship the newborn king. The wise men followed a strange star in order to worship the One who was more than worthy of the precious gifts they brought.
That was 2000 years ago. Now, the risen Christ lives in us. Our very lives are the places that Jesus makes his home. When we invite a guest into our house we have the opportunity to be Christ to them. Whether it is through the hospitality of a meal, a place to sleep, a listening ear, or a cup of sugar, we have the opportunity to share the heart of God with those who pass through our doors.
The tradition of “chalking the door” is a way of marking our homes, usually at the front or main entrance, with sacred signs and symbols as we remember those who have passed through our doors in the past year and ask God’s blessing upon those who will pass through in the coming year. Just as the wise men followed the star until they found Jesus, we pray that those who come into our home would also encounter Jesus.”
The following liturgy is offered as a way to participate in the meaningful tradition of “chalking the door.” My favorite part is when we stop to remember and name all the people we can remember who came through our doors in this past year and then we pray that our home would be a light to those who come here in the new year. It is a time to remember what St. Benedict said over 1500 years ago that “all people who present themselves should be welcomed as Christ.”
A Blessing of the Home
(L=Leader, C=Community)
L: The Lord is with you;
C: And also with you.
All: Peace be to this house and to all who live, work, and visit here.
L: Let’s take a moment to remember the friends and family who have passed through our door during the past year and give thanks to God for them.
C: (say the names of friends and family who have visited)
L: The three wise men came to Bethlehem in search of the Lord. They brought to him precious gifts: gold to honor the newborn king, incense to the true God in human form, and myrrh to anoint his body, which one day would die like our own.
L: Let us pray. O God, you once used a star to show to all the world that Jesus is your Son. May the light of that star that once guided wise men to honor his birth, now guide us to recognize him also, to know you by faith, and to see you in the epiphanies of the daily experiences of our lives.
L: Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord — Jesus born of Mary — shall be revealed.
C: And all flesh shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
All: As the Wise Men once sought your brilliant light, O Lord, so may we seek to live and work in your splendor.
L: O God of Light, bless this (our) house and this (our) family. May this be a place of peace and health. May each member of this family cultivate the gifts and graces you have bestowed, dedicating our talents and works for the good of all.
L: Make this house a shelter in the storm and a haven of rest for all in need of your warmth and care. And when we go out from this place, may we never lose sight of that Epiphany star.
C: As we go about our work, our study, our play, keep us in its light and in your love.
A Blessing of the Chalk for Marking the Door
L: Lord Jesus, through your Incarnation and birth in true human form, you have made all the earth holy. We now ask your blessing upon this simple gift of your creation — chalk. We use it as a tool to teach our children, and they use it as a tool in their play and games. Now, with your blessing, may it become a tool for us to mark the doors of our home with the symbols of your wise servants who, so long ago, came to worship and adore you in your first home.
People in turn mark the doorway with one or more of the symbols:
20 C M B 07
L: May we, in this house, and all who come to visit, to work, and to play, remember these things throughout the coming year. May all who come and go here find peace, comfort, joy, hope, love, and salvation, for Christ has come to dwell in this house and in these hearts. All: May we be Christ’s light in the world. Amen. (Copyright © 1999. The General Board of Discipleship of The United Methodist Church. Used by permission).
Heidi Haverkamp writes, “Receive every person who comes through your door as though they were bringing Jesus to you. Receive every person you meet as though you were encountering the face of Christ……Part of what makes a monastery a healthy place is to receive guests, so that the monks or sisters don’t get turned in on themselves, or imagine that they’re the center of the world, or that only they are good Christians. Part of what makes a church a healthy place is to receive guests, so that we don’t imagine we’re a club, or a secret place. A church should be a place anyone can come to meet Jesus, and a church is a place where anyone who comes can be a way for the other people there to meet Jesus. That’s why hospitality is so important. Because it helps us meet Jesus.” (http://www.stbenedict.ws/sermon/meeting-jesus-through-hospitality/)
I remember an article in a Young Life magazine years ago talking about Young Life leaders being “Jesus with skin on.” This Epiphany tradition helps us take time to remember those who have passed through our door this past year who has been “Jesus with skin on,” and we give thanks to God for them.
Each year, we gather around the table with candles with this liturgy to celebrate the Light. One of the things I love about liturgy is that each year, we say these words, and over time, it starts to sink in. Each year with different experiences that have marked our journeys, we bring more to the table, and hopefully we are able to savor the words and let them continue to have their way with us.
May 2020 be a year in which God gives us grace to see Him in the epiphanies of the daily experiences of our lives and may our home be a place where Christ’s light is known.
Robert Benson’s invitation sums it up best:
“Now the season of looking for Him everywhere is upon us — the season of Epiphany is what they call it. Heads up. Keep your eyes and ears and hands open. He is everywhere, and He moves in pretty surprising ways. You do not want to miss Him.”
This is a beautiful poem to contemplate as we approach the Eve of Epiphany. What star will you follow?
Creator of the Stars
God of Epiphanies
You are the Great Star
You have marked my path with light
You have filled my sky with stars
naming each star
guiding it
until it shines into my heart
awakening me to deeper seeing
new revelations
and brighter epiphanies.
O Infinite Star Giver
I now ask for wisdom and courage
to follow these stars
for their names are many
and my heart is fearful.
They shine on me wherever I go:
The Star of Hope
The Star of Mercy and Compassion
The Star of Justice and Peace
The Star of Tenderness and Love
The Star of Suffering
The Star of Joy
And every time I feel the shine
I am called
to follow it
to sing it
to live it …
— M J Ryan from A Grateful Heart
M.J. works as an executive coach to senior executives and entrepreneurs around the world to accelerate business success and personal fulfillment. She combines a practical approach gained as the CEO of a book publishing company with methodologies from neuroscience, positive psychology and asset-focused learning to help clients and readers more easily meet their goals.
NOTE: As an Amazon Affiliate I receive a small amount for purchases made through this link.
By Ana Lisa de Jong —
Are you waiting in the blue?
Is blue the colour of your heart.
Or blue the light that
falls upon your path.
Is blue the weight
that sits upon your frame.
Or blue the echo to resonate
within your chest.
Is blue the hue that covers you like snow,
or clouds carrying rain.
Is blue the light that envelops you,
or in the pain that pushes at your chest.
Remember blue is another colour with which
you are held close.
Loss lengthening like shadows in the longest night,
is always the underside of life lived to its full.
Until its treasure all consumed for now,
is wrung out like rain washed clothes.
Then blue is the light that covers you,
while what is waiting in the wings takes some unseen shape.
Grows ready like the burning sun to come round,
and burn through the vestiges of what remains.
Blue, the space between the old and new,
is the gentle pallbearer of your pain,
whose job is done when life
restored enters in,
to lift the covering edge
and do its alchemy of love,
absorbing the blue
in its rainbow hues.
Yes, are you walking blue?
Has blue become the weight in your step.
Grief that knows its season
will recede back, to greet the sun.
And if not yet,
then be assured of shortening nights to come.
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