Here is a beautiful Christmas prayer by Bebe Winan to meditate on as we head towards Christmas Eve.
“My Christmas Prayer”
I pray for peace
Blessings and honor
Heaven right earth’s despair
This is my Christmas prayer
For those that grieve
God will bring comfort
Laughter will rapture there
This is my Christmas prayer
See I pray that love will rule and reign
And I pray that time will rid the pain of this world
As we learn to trust and care
This is my Christmas prayer
I pray for you, yes, I know you do
That your triumph and conquer
Poses the strength you need to bare
This is my Christmas prayer
For those in need
There would be plenty
And each other’s burdens share
Oh this is my Christmas prayer
See I pray that love will rule and reign
And I pray that time will rid the pain of this world
As we learn to trust and care
This is my Christmas prayer
So let hope fill our hearts, let’s let hope fill our hearts
Shine the light through the dark
All around the world and everywhere
I will pray this Christmas prayer, prayer
See I pray that love will rule and reign
And I pray that time will rid the pain of this world
As we learn to trust and care
This is my Christmas, this is my Christmas prayer
See I pray that love will rule and reign
And I pray that time will rid the pain of this world
As we learn to trust and care
This is my Christmas prayer
This is my Christmas prayer
Merry Christmas, Rob
Merry Christmas, BeBe
We are in the season of Advent. A time to ponder the mystery of Christ coming into the world. In the humble beginnings of a stable.
A few years ago my family and I were in Greyton, a beautiful country village tucked into a valley in the Overberg of the Western Cape of South Africa. We were celebrating Christmas in a small home church and I saw baby Jesus being laid in the manger of my heart.
For God to come into the world into the family of Joseph and Mary, at a time for them of change and journey, which left them to find refuge in a barn for the delivery of the Son of God: this turning point in the history of mankind makes us pause; this turning point requires great reflection…
What are the expectations around the birth of the King of all kings? If we had no stories at Sunday School to tell us, no cartoons or movies, no passing on to us as a child the stories of Christmas – on being asked where we think he may have been born, what would we say? Maybe:
A palace or castle, with the select doctors or midwives of the time.
The best hospital you could imagine with the most professional special care.
The cleanest, most hygienic of environments.
Everything 5 star. Everyone available at a mere murmur from Mary, rushing to her aid, to make sure the King of all kings comes into the world safe and sound to fulfil the greatest mission ever, the salvation of all human beings.
But no, and we read of it in the scripture. Allow time for the pondering of this most familiar story to linger in your mind as you think of the improbability of it all. The coming of the King of kings…
“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 room for them in the inn.”
(Luke 2:6-7)
No room for them in the inn. Born and placed in a manger.
noun: manger; plural noun: mangers
- a long trough from which horses or cattle feed.
Really? A long trough from which horses or cattle feed. Surely God could have organised better accommodation for the coming of his Son?
Unless we turn it all around and realise, the coming of the Son of God was always ordained to happen in the humble ways, in the unexpected ways, the ways not known to man. God chose to be born to the world in obscurity and hiddenness.
And the humble beginnings were foretold years before, and proclaimed to all who could see with the portent of a star in the heavens shining the way to the coming of salvation in the most beautiful God-Man we will ever know, Jesus Christ.
“For to us a child is born…” Isaiah 9:6
“…the greatest among you should be like the youngest…” Luke 22:27
The picture I had of Jesus being born in the manger of my heart comes back to me at this time. And I wonder, how is my heart a suitable manger for Jesus to be placed? How may Jesus come into the world through me at this time?
Is my heart a humble place for the Son of God to rest?
Is my heart a place of expectation for the birthing of something new?
A poem I wrote some time ago, explores how God uses unlikely places to bring about the miracle of his coming:
Weakest Strength
A baby knelt by strangers
Tip-touches starry universe
Wisdom lines his face
From creases of the birth.
God passes through
The legs of a woman
To grace the disdain
Of unlikely places.
He manifests weakness
Of the greatest strength,
Conceives omnipotence
In smallness of a womb.
“…the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength.” 1 Cor 1:25
As we approach the glad tidings of Advent, may we ponder these questions in our hearts:
How is my heart a resting place?
How is my heart alive to the new beginnings of God?
How is my heart a humble place for God to come afresh?
“…clothe yourselves with humility toward one another…” 1 Peter 5:5
I ask Jesus to be at home in my heart. He uses the unexpected places to bring his revelation and new beginnings. We can be open to the new beginnings of God when we offer our hearts to him in this way, as a place to be filled by all of the newness of God.
And the light of God will shine over us like the star of Bethlehem to draw people to the coming of Christ in our lives.
Artist – Christian Schloe
As you listen to the chant of Hildegard of Bingen from “The origin of fire – Love”, allow time to ponder the questions above, as the fire of Holy Spirit breathes fresh revelation upon your heart:
Unfading treasures hymnal – photo Christine Sine
“My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise. Awake up, my glory; awake, psaltery and harp: I myself will awake early. I will praise thee, O Lord, among the people: I will sing unto thee among the nations,” Psalm 57:7-9, King James Version (KJV)
Did you know some classical hymns are being removed from hymnals in churches of various denominations? From what I’ve been told, the lyrics in these hymns have been deemed as “not inclusive enough” for today’s social preferences.
Although I have no intentions of ignoring God as my heavenly Father or Jesus as the Son of God, I must say I prefer being referred to as a “child of God,” rather than a “son.” As a lover of the church in all its parts, I’d also like to hear words sung to help Christians to see themselves, not just as individuals, but also a vital part of the one Body of Christ.
With these thoughts in mind, along with my desire to keep the old favorites from being banned from worship services, I got out a hymn book to see if the words could be changed easily enough while keeping the general idea and melody. Starting with the classical hymn, “Rise Up, O Men of God, the following lyrics came to me, making me want to do more!
Awake, O Child of God
Awake, O child of God. Leave drowsiness behind!
Stir up your faith with prayer and hope. Keep Jesus on your mind.
Awake, O child of God. Get dressed in love and joy!
Be lifted in the Light of Christ no darkness can destroy.
Wake up, O child of God. Talk to the Lord in prayer.
Fill your thoughts with God’s good word. Pray always everywhere.
Awake, O child of God. Give glory to Christ’s name.
Forgive each other in Christ’s love. Surrender every blame.
Arise, O blessed of God. Stay strengthened in your search.
Come join together in Christ’s love and heal and build the church.
by Mary Harwell Sayler
The coming of our Lord is near,
Something new is around the corner,
Love, joy, peace and hope,
We await the promise of your coming.
The coming of our Lord is near,
Something new is appearing,
A child, a saviour, God’s much beloved son,
We await the hope of your coming.
The coming of our Lord is near,
Something new is being birthed,
A new heaven, a new world, a new community,
We await the long expected One.
The coming of our Lord is near,
We wait in joyful expectation for what is emerging,
Love comes down at Christmas,
And we await your coming.
(Pause to light the appropriate Advent candles)
The coming of our Lord is near
and we await the promise of your coming,
Light of the world draw close,
Shine on us with your guiding presence,
Shine in us with your truth and forgiveness,
Shine through us with your mercy and love.
The coming of our Lord is near
and we await the promise of your coming,
Bring light and life and love into our world,
Lead us to the fullness of life,
Where peace and righteousness kiss,
Where truth and justice embrace.
Come Lord Jesus come
You who are love incarnate,
You who give life eternal,
You who are the One in whom all things find completion,
Draw close and teach us the ways of peace.
Come Lord Jesus come,
You who are fully human yet fully God,
Come again into our world,
Come again into our lives,
Draw close, come again and make us whole.
Scripture Readings: read appropriate scriptures for the day.
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, forever and ever. Amen.
God who is justice, come.
Come to refugees and victims of violence throughout the world.
God who is righteousness, come.
Come to all who have been mistreated and abused.
God who is compassion, come.
Come to all who are sick and in need of healing.
God who is love, come.
Come to all who hate and live in fear.
Light of the world come, draw near,
In this Advent season come into our world afresh,
Draw all the world’s people into your embrace,
Open our hearts to welcome you.
Light of the world come, draw near,
Shine your star that we might follow,
Let angel choruses welcome you,
And proclaim your peace through all the earth.
Light of the world come, draw near,
Birth in us something new,
Fill the emptiness within,
Let your love overflow in us, through us, beyond us.
Amen.
As Christmas approaches the tension between the hectic pace of the season and the stillness towards which God beckons us grows. Take a few minutes today to sit in stillness and enjoy the beauty of God’s presence.
On Thanksgiving Day, Denise and I took my son Alec on a hike in the Rocky Mountain National Park. The drive into the park was “interesting” as it was snowing and had been snowing for some time. The road was slick and it had been years since I had driven in those conditions. Despite some ice, getting slightly stuck (Alec, who lives in Minnesota, offered to drive for a bit and got me out of the icy spot), and snowy weather, we were not disappointed with the trip! Alec got to see some Elk and Deer as we drove along. And we had a wonderful hike up to Cub Lake along a snowy trail. The above picture was taken from the trail.
One thing I noticed while we were hiking was the difference between hiking in RMNP during the fall where you can see all the rocks and uneven bits of ground and hiking in the winter when you aren’t able to see the obstacles. As I snapped pictures, mused about life and the mountains, and walked; I found myself focusing intently on my footsteps.
A week later I was reflecting not only on the hike, but on the concept of footsteps and the Sunday’s Gospel reading. Luke 1:76-79 especially hit close to home for me. “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.”
The context of this passage is the story of the birth of John the Baptist, Jesus’ cousin. After John was born, his father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and offered this prophesy concerning his son. In the prophecy, he spoke of the coming Messiah AND of his young son’s role in preparing the way for the Messiah. Verses 78-79 are especially familiar to me from years of using various daily prayer orders.
From my use over the years of the Roman Catholic Breviary (Liturgy of the Hours) and the Presbyterian Church (USA) Daily Prayer Book, these words have been ingrained into my heart and soul. “In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Canticle/Song of Zechariah from PC(USA) Daily Prayer)
The previous week’s Gospel reading from Luke was all about the apocalyptic vision which Jesus shared with his disciples. I really struggled with that imagery as I worked on my sermon for that Sunday. Zechariah’s prophecy is a breath of fresh air compared to the doom and gloom from last Sunday. However, it doesn’t avoid the doom and gloom. After all, Zechariah said God will send the Messiah so that “we will be saved from our enemies and from all who hate us.” (verse 71 NLT) However, there is a reason that the people will be saved. That reason will NOT be to carry out acts of retribution on their enemies. “We have been rescued from our enemies so that we can serve God without fear, in holiness and righteousness for as long as we live.” (verses 74-75 NLT)
On September 11, 2001, Denise’s oldest came home from school and shared what others had been saying after the attacks on New York City and Washington, DC. “We should just go over there and nuke them all.” Needless to say, they had a long talk about the matter and he realized that this wish for blood-lust and vengeance was not right. I remember hearing similar statements being made by military members in Nevada as we secured the perimeter at Indian Springs Auxiliary Air Field and wondered what would happen next. Yes, I thought of the fact, and shared with those members, that not every person who lived in Afghanistan was the enemy and that HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of innocent people would die if we did that. Fourteen years and multiple war-zones later, warfare has not brought an end to terrorism. In fact, I would say that it has only increased the size and the scope of those who hate the U.S.
Last week was another week of tragedy as a mass shooting unfolded in San Bernardino, California. Early in the morning on the same day as the San Bernardino shooting, a gunman killed one woman and injured three men in Savannah, Georgia. Last week it was Colorado making the news with the massacre at the Planned Parenthood Clinic in Colorado Springs.
In addition to looking at the Middle East and what is going on with the Islamic State (the name is an offense to the countless decent followers of Islam that I know personally as far as I am concerned) we look to our own nation. Violence doesn’t solve anything. It only leads to more violence. As Jesus said in the garden on the night when he was arrested, “Put away your sword… Those who live by the sword will die by the sword.” (Matthew 26:52)
If ever there was a time when we need a prophet to give God’s people knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins and to guide our feet into the way of peace, isn’t that time now? My prayers this Advent season are a mixture of seeking the guidance that the Lord offers to all who would follow the Prince of Peace and seeking how to respond as a Christ-follower in times of such darkness and violence. It is especially needed as I hear/read/see so-called Christians (yes, lower case is intentional) who have blood-lust in their hearts and cry for retribution or take up the sword literally against any who don’t follow their way.
Will you join me, dear reader, in this quest? Will you join me as s I pray for the dawn from on high to break upon us as we dwell in darkness and the shadow of death?
by Lynn Domina
I see their photos nearly daily without ever fully believing the images. I’ve heard testimony from friends and neighbors and recently even my own daughter. In the deep hours of night, especially as autumn is turning toward winter, northern lights ignite the sky. I’ve never seen them. I used to assume I never would, for they hold such a special mystical significance—something I believe is true, even trust is true, yet know can’t possibly be true. Their beauty is too strange.
I live now along the shore of Lake Superior, which always looks majestic, whether the day is calm or stormy or the sky above it is clear or dark with clouds. I gaze at the lake, resting in its expanse, and then I look up toward the sky, measuring the boundary between water and air. I live now far enough north that at the winter solstice, we’ll see just over 8 ½ hours of daylight. I’ll leave for work in darkness and arrive home in darkness. I wouldn’t want to spend my entire life walking through the dark, but at least for now, such short days still seem exotic. And I know that late one night, maybe next month or maybe next year, I’ll step outside, and there they’ll be, the aurora borealis, northern lights, shimmering waves of green or purple or blue. I won’t believe it.
In this season of short days, I’m waiting for the stretched out light of spring, but even more I’m hoping to see the glorious undulations of the northern lights. I’ll be grateful for both. The feeling is different, responding to the ordinary and the extraordinary. During the long days and the short days, I feel contentment, each day unfolding as it should. When I do see the northern lights, I expect to feel awe, as creation reveals itself to be even more astonishing than I could have imagined.
My response to the light I experience and the lights I hope to see mirrors my understanding of faith. I wander through my days, occasionally perceiving the ordinary grace that envelopes me, grace that is always more than enough to make this life meaningful. I wake up next to my spouse and watch her breathing, and then I hear my daughter rumbling around in her room. I step out onto the sidewalk and see the clouds reflecting dawn. I taste the grilled cheese I’ve made for my lunch, knowing that it nourishes my body as much as it satisfies my spirit. I attend a poetry reading and hear another person creating art through language, dedicating her life to observation and testimony and self-expression. I receive each of these moments as a blessing, knowing that they’re mine because God first created this world and then brought me into it. These moments are as ordinary as the days that lengthen and then contract, and they are enough to make me glad for this life.
And yet, my faith also tells me there’s more, even if I haven’t yet experienced it directly. My faith confirms that the God who created each of us also became incarnated to share our human experiences and continues to sustain us. Being alive in this world is enough. But my faith teaches me that my indirect experiences of God will one day become direct. The light I walk within every ordinary day will blaze across the night sky like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Walking in the light, walking toward the light, walking through the night and waiting for it to flare with color makes life itself an Advent experience. I wait expectantly, aware that my ordinary life and its extraordinary moments reveal the God who also waits, expectantly, filled with hope, exuding light.
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