by Christine Sine
Some of you might be looking for something longer than the prayers I have been posting over the last few days to use during the Christmas season so I thought I would repost this litany from Waiting for the Light. Enjoy
Christmas Litany
God of joy and celebration
God of love and mercy
God of peace and righteousness
We sing aloud and dance with the angels.
The ruler of all worlds, the shepherd of creation
Jesus Christ has come among us.
Our Savior Christ has come,
Not in power, not in might, but in the tenderness of love,
The promise of life hidden in a mother’s womb.
In this season of God with us we celebrate with the angels
We are graced by the wonder of God’s presence
We are filled with the tenderness of Christ’s love,
Pause to light Christ candles
Love and faithfulness meet together,
Righteousness and peace kiss each other,
Faithfulness springs forth from the earth
Shout aloud Hallelujah! God’s faithfulness comes down from heaven,
God has kept his promise, the Savior has been born and a new world begun.
This is the time we believe once more that perfect love casts out fear,
That generosity transforms scarcity into abundance,
That righteousness overcomes oppression with justice.
Shout aloud Hallelujah! God’s faithfulness comes down from heaven,
God has kept his promise, the Savior has been born and a new world begun.
We are graced by Christ’s presence and filled with his love,
May we become bearers of God’s light,
And go out to transform our troubled world.
Shout aloud Hallelujah! God’s faithfulness comes down from heaven
God has kept his promise, the Savior has been born and a new world begun .
Read scriptures of the day from the daily lectionary
The whole earth shouts with joy to God,
The world declares God’s praise.
Praise to the compassionate and gracious One,
Who sent the son to dwell among us.
Praise to the incarnate One, Jesus Christ our Redeemer,
Who fulfills God’s covenant of love to all people.
Praise to the indwelling one, the Holy Spirit giver of life,
Who proclaims God’s mercy and justice throughout the earth.
Praise to the three in One, the One in Three,
Praise to God on high.
Our Father who art in heaven hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.
Pause for a time of prayer and thanksgiving
Jesus you come,
In the voice of the poor,
In the hurting of the sick,
In the anguish of the oppressed.
Open our eyes that we may see you.
Jesus you come,
In the weakness of the vulnerable,
In the questions of the doubting,
In the fears of the dying.
Open our ears that we might hear you.
Jesus you come,
In the celebration of the saints,
In the generosity of the faithful,
In the compassion of the caring.
Open our hearts that we might embrace you.
Almighty God whose great love and compassion came into our world in the person of your incarnate son, Jesus Christ, plant in every heart your concern and care for all humankind. May the light of Christ ignite our hearts and shine out brightly from our lives, proclaiming your salvation to all the earth.
May the light of God shine on us,
May the love of Christ shine in us,
May the life of the Spirit shine through us.
This day and evermore,
Amen.
Advent Podcast #4
- Story by Tom & Christine Sine
- Music by Lacey Brown, In Mansions and Church of the Beloved
- Reflection by Tom Sine
- Meditation by Christine Sine, from Light for the Journey
- Produced by Ryan Marsh, Church of the Beloved
Listen now:
Join us here at the Mustard Seed House as we celebrate our annual Advent Homecoming party. Listen to Tom Sine reflect on coming home to the kingdom of God and Lacey Brown’s beautiful song What Happens When God Comes Close.
by Christine Sine
Christmas is not a day but a season — 12 days of celebration. So I wanted to make sure that you have plenty of prayers to use for the season. Here is a second prayer that I thought you might like to use. I chose this beautiful African artwork as a reminder that Christ comes to every culture, and nation, in every time. Finding images from other cultures of the brith of Christ and using them as we pray is one way to remind ourselves that we are part of an enormous global family.
The Gift of Rest!
Yesterday, I filled out a survey for a college friend who is studying to be a youth minister. One of the questions was:
What is the one thing you would tell someone who is just getting into vocational ministry?
My answer:
Learn to practice Sabbath and Silence. Take time for weekly refreshment and days of rest. Don’t fill your only day off with laundry and errands. Take a day or at least a half day to do something that brings life to your soul. Get outside, take a nap, do some art and TURN OFF THE PHONE! The practice of silence and sabbath, along with creativity will help you maintain your soul and joy for the work.
That made me think of the best gift I could give all of us for Christmas is the Gift of Rest!
We all need it! We need to pause, breathe and even take a nap. In the midst of these busy few days before Christmas, let’s receive the gift of rest from Jesus. And we all need to remember that Christmas isn’t just one day! There are 12 days of Christmas and these include Christmas Day and go to January 5th. Then we celebrate Epiphany on January 6. So whatever you don’t get done, or if there are things you wish you could do to be more present in the season, or if you want to be more purposeful with friends or family or with Jesus, know you can choose to keep the Christmas Season not just Christmas Day!
So breathe, pause, Receive the gift of REST.
Earlier this week, my good friend Melissa Husk sent me a beautiful poem prayer she wrote on REST. Listen to Jesus inviting you to Rest. Let this be your prayer for Christmas and the New Year!
Rest.
Rest from worry.
Rest from striving.
Rest from controlling.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My servanthood.
Rest in My servanthood towards you.
Rest.
Rest from polishing.
Rest from trying.
Rest from proving: yourself, your value, your worth.
Rest from craving.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My joy.
Rest in My love.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My hope.
Rest in My Presence.
Rest.
Rest from wrestling.
Rest from questioning.
Rest from attention seeking.
Rest from overspending: time, energy, finances.
Rest from carrying burdens that aren’t yours to carry.
Rest.
Rest in My breath.
Rest in My silence.
Rest in My song.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My healing.
Rest in My provision.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My timing.
Rest in My promise.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My fulfillment.
Rest in My Word.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
Rest in My delight.
Rest in My affection.
Rest.
Rest in Me.
by Melissa Husk
Follower Melissa @honestlymelissa on instagram
Founder of 4.32.35 – Story teller – Dreamer – Cat Lady – Binge watcher – Hiker – Art lover – Grad Student – Beloved
And on this day that is the shortest, we get the longest night. That might mean that we could go to bed early and get some more rest. Merry Christmas and Happy Napping.
by Christine Sine
Christmas is almost here and though for many of us the whirlwind of gift giving and feasting holds much of our attention, it is time to turn our thoughts towards the coming of the Christ child and the excitement of the transformation that his birth made possible in our world. Our lives are changed. We are filled with the holy light of God and though we still long for the full unveiling of his presence we can live in the light of Christ, now and every day.
I hope that this prayer will help some of us to find focus.
Today is Blue Christmas! Enjoy this post by Kate Kennington Steer —
‘I follow light’
This darkness is a rope, not a prison:
hand over hand I haul myself in
to touch your face, to blossom.
My fingers crawl toward heaven
leaving behind whorling shadows;
this darkness is a rope, not a prison.
I follow light through forgotten
canyons and grottos;
I touch your face and know
that even the sun has a mission:
as it climbs, it grows.
This darkness is a rope, not a prison
not a cell from which I hasten.
Freely, hand over hand I follow
to touch your face, to open and open
like a night-blooming jasmine,
or a well widening with echoes:
this darkness is a rope, not a prison,
I touch your face, I blossom.
‘The Gift’
Maurya Simon
Today I remember those who feel imprisoned – by a physical cell; by the shadow of abuse; by a mind differently wired that keeps defaulting to negative, obsessive or paranoid places; by the failings of bones or blood, synapses or nerves.
Today I remember those who are incapable of saying for themselves, “help me”.
Today I remember those who have no glimmer there is a God who is loving them in their darknesses; I remember those who cannot say ‘this darkness is a rope, not a prison’ for themselves, who have no idea of how to ‘follow light’, grow away from the bleak places in their lives.
Today I remember those who feel utterly stuck, uncreative, trapped, who feel they cannot ever blossom into myriad ‘hues hewn from hurt’, to use Keren Dibbens-Wyatt’s beautifully evocative phrase.
Today I remember all those who long for meaning, who long for light to emerge out of the dark places in our world and for those who become overwhelmed; all those for whom Christmas cannot be an occasion for celebrating ‘Joy to the world’.
Bringing all these little ones, and myself, before our God, I remember Rumi’s observation: ‘those receiving light give out light’.
May I offer my light freely – the unique light God gave to each of us, that is light like no other – today.
All throughout these months
as the shadows
have lengthened,
this blessing has been
gathering itself,
making ready,
preparing for
this night.
It has practiced
walking in the dark,
traveling with
its eyes closed,
feeling its way
by memory
by touch
by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.
So believe me
when I tell you
this blessing will
reach you
even if you
have not light enough
to read it;
it will find you
even though you cannot
see it coming.
You will know
the moment of its
arriving
by your release
of the breath
you have held
so long;
a loosening
of the clenching
in your hands,
of the clutch
around your heart;
a thinning
of the darkness
that had drawn itself
around you.
This blessing
does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows
its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots
along the path,
knows what it means
to travel
in the company
of a friend.
So when
this blessing comes,
take its hand.
Get up.
Set out on the road
you cannot see.
This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.
‘Blessing for the Longest Night’
Jan Richardson
By Keren Dibbens-Wyatt —
As regular readers know, I am severely affected by M.E. Sometimes I feel as though my chronic illness is like a wicked witch in a fairy tale, keeping me captive in a tall tower. I remain attached to this analogy despite the fact that I live in a bungalow, and am definitely a very long way from being a princess. My hair has grown very long over the last few years of being unwell enough to get it cut or styled, but I don’t particularly relish the idea of anyone climbing up it. I get more than my share of neck pain as it is. But yes, all joking aside, I do feel shut away from the world, held in a world of living mostly in one room against my will, and almost completely dependent on my uncomplaining, constant husband. And though I am particularly bad this year, I’ve been cloistered to varying degrees for over twenty years.
It is hard, often, to imagine what God is playing at in all this. Why doesn’t he just heal me? I would love to go for long walks. That is the thing I grieve for most, my walking. At best now, I stumble a few times a day from the bedroom to the living room, from the bedroom to the bathroom. The outside world is a closed one to me, bar the occasional daring jaunt to the patio.
I have had to ask myself some difficult questions about the worth of my life. I pray a lot, and I ask God about this too. What is the point of such a life? Is there light shining here too, in this darkness? I have taken Julian of Norwich as a kind of mentor, someone who chose to be shut away, anchored to one place, in order to free up her time for God, and the work of meditating on all the wonderful visions he had given her. I have received a lot from the Lord too, albeit minuscule in comparison, for we are all given the tasks we are capable of. I’ve been given seeings and stories, poems and prayers, and creative talents I never knew were in me.
This time, albeit robbed of the blessings that I hoped would be mine at this stage of life, and despite my often feeling low, is nevertheless full of light. Ideas for books and sharings tumble out of me, muses falling over themselves to get through the clogged doorways of my exhausted mind. Characters come to life in the small hours of insomnia, and in the daytime, paintings and drawings give me great joy in the love of vibrancy and colour that is denied me in so many other areas of my life.
Most of all, there is the presence of the holy three-in-one, who delights in me despite my weakness. He has taught me that if I am an anchoress like Julian, it is to him that I am tethered, like a tree whose roots are forever wrapped around the solidness of rock beneath. He has assured me too, that despite the smallness of my cell, it is teaching me everything, as the desert mothers and fathers knew it would, and there is some small light shining out of the windows here to help guide others either towards God and/or away from the possibility of wrecking rocks. Given the state of my life I suspect I am more likely a horrible warning than a good example! But then, it is his light that is radiating from me, and in spite of me.
The lighthouse is an image we come back to over and over again, God and I. I share it with you here in hopes that those of you who are trapped in difficult or trying circumstances might garner some hope. However small or difficult our lives are, however tiny our sphere of existence, God can and will be with us wherever we find ourselves. He will make himself known through love, truth and his merciful, beautiful grace, whether we are able to see it or not. Wicked witches may do their worst, but they cannot ever stop the light of his love from shining.
Keren Dibbens-Wyatt is a disabled writer and artist with a passion for poetry, mysticism, story and colour. Her writing features regularly on spiritual blogs and in literary journals. Her full-length publications include Garden of God’s Heart and Whale Song: Choosing Life with Jonah. She lives in South East England and is mainly housebound by her illness.
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