…and moved into the neighborhood
“And the Word became flesh, and made his dwelling among us.” (John 1:14)
A day out with believing friends who live ten hours away
There is this story I tell. To my kids, to students, and as part of my story of what matters. I grew up outside the church in a family stuck in the muck of addictions and anger. When I was 15 some girls from school, urged on by a believing woman who chose to love me, tried to bring me into their circle. One day several of us went to Krissy’s house. There I sat, uncomfortable, an outsider to their laughter and confidence.
The phone rang. I could hear Krissy’s mother’s end of a conversation from the next room.
“Really? That’s big–what a hard decision! No, I don’t know what you should do. … Hmmm, I don’t know. But I’ll pray for you. Yes, the Lord cares about this. Let’s pray to know how to handle things. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”
The chatter, the giggles and teasing, my discomfort–all faded as I eavesdropped on that call. A mom who talked about God on the phone. A mom who prayed. A mom who thought prayer mattered, that Jesus might enter and show the way. In that moment my whole world changed.
My usual talking point for this story is that we never know what goes on behind the doors of another’s home, and we never know what profound impact our everyday actions of faith might have on lonely eavesdroppers in our homes.
“The Word became flesh” and moved to a new place. Jesus left his eternal home to make a temporary home in a place where no one knew him.
We find ourselves on the Mediterranean coast of Turkey. After living seven years in the Middle East. Not by accident. We were drawn here, invited, we believe, by that same Word who moved to physical
Israel 2,000 years ago. Invited to purchase property and make space for people who seek solitude for prayer and re
st. We call it Spa for the Soul, and we moved here with intention.
Making olive oil with the neighbors
But we soon understood that we also moved into a neighborhood, a community where no one had before encountered the Word enfleshed. As I write these lines the mosque singer sings and his call echoes above the wind over the hillside. It penetrates our office and our bedroom and wafts down to the sea below. Twelve days into advent and not a sign of Christmas anywhere.
We understood we’d moved into the neighborhood, so we schooled ourselves to listen and to love. From earliest days first one, and then a few more, and then others, called me Mommy. Their children call me babaanne or anneanne (father’s mother or mother’s mother) depending on which parent attached first. It surprised me. Still does. I looked for a cultural explanation, but found none. I listened to their stories and realized that many of these dear ones are distant from birth-family. Some have lost their parents. Others, well, there are stories from their growing-up years. All are met deeply by parental love.
Mother love. Attentive, accepting, forgiving. One who listens, treasures, helps, and on occasion is severe. One who takes time, who is interested. One who is present.
Can a mother forget the baby at her breast
and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget, I will not forget you!
See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are ever before me. (Isaiah 49:15-16)
Yes, we came with a purpose. But we also moved into a community. As the Word did 2,000 years ago. Incarnation. Jesus in human flesh. To make a home among these beloved ones, to invite them to our home, to let them hear us pray for them, to offer welcome to true and eternal homecoming.
Jenga works in any language
And so in this season we light the advent candles and we put out a small nativity not too fragile to be played with. I prepare an old handmade cradle that we will put in the entryway so that we can tell of an overfull house with place found for just one more, the Gift who makes space and welcome for us all. The One who invites us home to live with him.
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Jeri Bidinger spends her days in the Mediterranean village of Gökseki, just outside of Kaş, Turkey, caring for whoever God brings. She and her husband Curt have created a contemplative retreat center there that they call Spa for the Soul. Jeri is a retired attorney, former BSF teaching leader, and spiritual director. She posts from time to time at www.crackedoldpots.blogspot.com, and looks forward to the publication of her book on Biblical gender, the first book written for Albanian Christians to be formally published in Albania. The rest of her time is given over to language study, serving guests in one way or another, loving on the community, and enjoying her family.
Each month I participate in a synchroblog co-ordinated by Liz Dyer, Kathy Escobar, Sonja Andrews and Jeremy Myers. This month they chose to synchronize with the godspace theme of Coming Home. Here are the links to the rich and varied posts that have been contributed. Coming home is such an evocative theme for all of us that stirs some of the best and unfortunately sometimes some of the worst memories. How I long for that final coming home which is the deep ache of so many hearts, into the fullness of God’s kingdom.
here are the links of bloggers writing this month on “coming home” this advent:
-
- Christine Sine – Is There Room for Jesus to Find a Home In Your Heart?
- Jeremy Myers – It Sounds Like Christmas
- Nathan Kitchen – Coming Home
- Michelle at Moments with Michelle – Home
- Mallory Pickering – I’m Kind of Homesick
- Bobi Ann Allen – Coming Home
- J.A. Carter – Going Home
- Glenn Hager – Where the Adventure Begins
- Marta Layton – Can You Ever Come Home Again?
- Peggy at Abisomeone – Abi Has Finally Come Home For Christmas
- Amy Hetland – Coming Home
- Coffeesnob – Home
- Carol Kuniholm – Advent Three: Redefining Home
- Liz Dyer – Advent 2013 The Way Home
- Harriet Long – The Body and the Sacred: Coming Home
- Edwin Pastor Fedex Aldrich – Who I Was Made to Be
- Emkay Anderson – Homemaking
- Anita Coleman – At Home in the Kingdom of God
- Kathy Escobar – Mobile Homes (Not That Kind)
- Jennifer Clark Tinker – My Itinerant Home
- Doreen Mannion – Heart is Where the Home is
- Sarah Quezada – Coming Home with Tamales in Tow
- Loveday Anyim – Home is Where the Heart Belongs
Coming Home: The story God is giving me through infertility
By Andrea Frankenfeld
I know Advent isn’t about Christmas trees or baking cookies in the shape of a candy cane.
It’s about the tradition, or discipline, of waiting. We wait because we believe it is worth it. We wait because we know God is faithful. We know he is our reward — no matter our circumstances.
Like most people, I hate waiting, but I can’t deny God has used the pain of waiting to turn my heart toward him. When my husband and I started thinking about having children, we expected that it would happen lik
e it does for everyone.
We expected that when we were ready, we would start our family, renewing the years with younger versions of ourselves.
It never crossed my mind that becoming a mother wasn’t certain, but in fact a fragile hope, no more and no less than a prayer submitted to a sovereign God.
Many years have passed with nothing to show for my prayer, save some grief, an ever-intense longing and God’s nearness.
My story isn’t extremely unique. As I read through Abraham’s story in Genesis, I see the story of broken humanity transformed by God’s faithfulness, a foreshadowing of the Jesus who would come to redeem us in spite of our sinfulness.
In our early years of longing for children, my husband and I followed the Lord to India on mission. We sacrificed many things to fulfill this calling. When we, eventually, returned home to the U.S., we had no clear direction and were no closer to being parents.
I knew God was good and powerful because I had seen him work in my life before. I wrestled with God. There were — and still are — dark moments.
Despite my trust in God’s faithfulness, I long for a different story.
The story of infertility is not one I would have chosen for myself, but it is the one God is giving me.
For me, coming home is about acknowledging the home I have in relationship with Christ — with or without children.
Because our home is not made up of children, I am tempted to think no one is impacted by my traditions.
But, my heart is changing while I wait. Becoming more like Jesus doesn’t mean forsaking or burying my human pieces. It means redeeming them. Yielding them. Learning to be unapologetically broken. Letting him replace my broken pieces with wholeness. Realizing that the deepest longing I have can only be met in Christ.
When my home is an authentic place where people are welcome, I’m choosing to be proud of my story.
In a season when everyone is busy, I can focus on simple things that reflect what home means to me. A cozy house with space for a few more at our table. Time to listen and share life with a friend. Abundant blessings to share with others. Quiet evenings to savor with my husband.
Over the last five years, I’ve decorated two artificial Christmas trees in two states and two countries. I’ve sung Christmas carols in the homes of Indian people who don’t know about Jesus. I’ve celebrated warm-weather Christmas mornings with my Indian family at the early dawn. I’ve played more games of Dirty Santa than I can count in Bible Belt America. I’ve hosted large and small numbers of people in my home.
I’ve slowed down to notice the people around me, the people God has put in front of me. I’ve considered my place as my mission field — whether it’s in the Southern Bible Belt, the progressive Pacific Northwest or urban India.
I continue to wait for a child until God leads my heart in another direction, but I still want to know when the waiting will end. I want to make the longing go away.
But the season of Advent reminds me that it never will. It’s worth waiting to know more of Jesus.
Because we don’t have children, I get to be more creative about how to include people in my traditions. I just have to be willing to live out my story and intentional enough to gather others around.
Because I belong to Jesus, I always have a home. In my home, there is hope that transcends my circumstances. I can wait in either grief or joy.
And, I will wait. Hope is coming.
Bio
Andrea Frankenfeld is a writer, editor and consultant who lives in the Seattle area with her husband. Despite her Southern roots and missionary heart, Andrea feels at home in the beauty of the Pacific Northwest. Some of her favorite things are traveling to new places, sharing tea with new and old friends and analyzing movies with her husband. She blogs regularly at http://www.coffeeandcondensation.com/
http://www.andreafrankenfeld.com/
Coming Home
I don’t know about you
but sometimes, more often
than I would like,
I find myself
living in a distant land
far from home.
It’s a place where
I work too hard,
where I’m over-responsible
out of touch with
my true feelings
my real identity.
It’s a place where I
forget who I am
and whose I am
In this distant country
hungry and miserable,
I resolve to begin
the long journey home.
Surely I can work for my Father
live as a hired hand
in the home where I was once
his beloved child.
Turning toward home
I wonder why I reject my
Father’s love and care.
Why do I work so hard?
What am I trying to prove?
I know my self-sufficiency
separates me from those I love
and those who love me.
Walking I fill the hours
thinking about what I’ll say
when I arrive home.
I’ll tell my Father
I’m not worthy to be your child
I’m not worthy of your love
let me be your servant.
While I’m still far away
My father sees me
has compassion on me
runs to meet me
puts his arms around me
and kisses me.
I try to tell him,
“I’m not worthy to be your child”.
Paying no attention
he calls for the servants
to get me a robe
-the best one
a ring for my finger
sandals for my feet.
I thought I was coming home
on my terms
my plan, my way
as a servant not a son.
The moment you called for the best robe,
the ring, the sandals
I had to decide
whether I would insist on coming home
my way, on my terms.
Or would I simply
be still and receive
the robe, ring, and sandals
all tokens of your great kindness
a love so vast
I am overwhelmed.
I know I don’t deserve
your love, grace, and mercy
perhaps that’s the point.
I can never come home on my terms-
my definitions of
don’t deserve
don’t belong
don’t matter so much anymore.
I’m finding as I let go of my way
I’m free to come home
to who I am and whose I am
your beloved child.
Far from you
it seemed no one gave my anything.
Coming home I realize
all that I am, and all that I have,
are your gifts,
given to me as signs
of your love and grace.
Being cared for
allows me to let go
of working so hard for you
to simply enjoy being with you
resting in your love
living in your grace
wearing the robe
-the best one
the ring
sandals on my feet
home at last-
-Paula Mitchell
Bio 
She is the founder and program director of Doorways Ministries providing days of prayer, Ignatian retreats, and a 9 month program based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius as ways of deepening our lives with Christ. She is also the city coordinator for the Ignatian Spirituality Project, a Jesuit organization dedicated to offering spiritual retreats inspired by Ignatian Spirituality to people experiencing homelessness.
“To be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others.”
Nelson Mandela
This quote from Nelson Mandela, who died last week, has revolved in my mind as we plan for a new year at Mustard Seed Associates. Central to our organization is the desire, not just to cast off our own chains, but to see all of God’s creatures freed and made whole. There is a growing longing in all our hearts to inspire and connect those who want to make a difference in our world; providing resources to equip others to create new models for life and faith for the future is our growing passion.
One of the remarkable things about Nelson Mandela is that he emerged after 28 years in prison, not with bitterness but with purpose. It was that purpose and that longing for freedom for all the peoples of South Africa that drove his life. Mandela’s words and life example inspire me to believe that we too can make a difference and work to bring glimpses of the freedom, wholeness, and shalom of God’s new world into being. To become the people God intends us to be, to see the world God intends emerge, we too need purpose and the desire to see God’s wholeness emerge in our world.
Making God’s Purposes Our Purposes
As I shared in our last MSA Imaginings, 2013 has given birth to new and exciting avenues for us to equip those who want to make God’s purposes more central to their own purposes. New retreats designed to guide us on our journey into wholeness and new Advent podcasts and reflections encouraging us to take our call to God’s purposes more seriously are small steps in this direction. Andy Wade’s work with the homeless in Hood River, Tom’s mentoring of local Christian leaders, and my own recent appointment to the Food and Faith Initiative here in Seattle are other examples of how we seek to live this out in our lives.
This longing for wholeness and freedom, and the desire to be God’s instruments in attaining it, are reflected in the rich and varied contributions from around the world to our Advent series Coming Home: Uncovering Our Roots in the Advent Story. The Advent video, wonderful podcasts produced by Ryan Marsh and the daily reflections that explore some of these themes are being widely shared across Facebook and Twitter and by networks like Evangelicals for Social Action, Parish Collective and Missio Alliance. Many of us long to come home to God’s world and want to strive with every breath to bring freedom, abundance and wholeness to all creation.
Begin the Year Right
This next year will provide many new opportunities to equip ourselves as God’s instruments of freedom and wholeness. We plan to hold several workshops and retreat days here at the Mustard Seed House in Seattle. Each of these is a stand alone opportunity for enrichment and equipping but together will provide an integrated year-long program in sustainable living and sustainable faith. Also by the end of 2014 we should have these available as online retreat processes to enable our associates around Lthe world to journey with us.
Our first workshop at the Mustard Seed House will be held January 11, 2014: Creating Your Best Life for 2014. Tom Sine will challenge participants to develop a sense of calling for the year and encourage them to create a one year plan that integrates spiritual growth and creative new possibilities for their lives.
Create Your Best Life Throughout the Year
To create our best life for the entire year we need discipline and regular renewal. On March 1st I will facilitate our pre-Lent retreat, Return to Our Senses in Lent, and on November 15th, just before Advent, Return to Our Senses in Advent. Like the retreats that Tom and I take several times a year, these days are designed to help all of us keep our lives focused on God’s purposes and not allow the secular culture to distract us. Without this type of intentionality we will never become the people God intends us to be.
Our integrated series on sustainable faith and sustainable life also includes:
- To Garden with God, a full-day workshop on April 12th Co-led by Christine Sine and Andy Wade, and
- Justice At the Table, a full-day workshop on September 27th led by Andy Wade
We hope you will also save the date for our annual Celtic retreat, August 8-10 on Camano Island too. Come be inspired, and renewed and create new possibilities for your life.
New Resources for Your Best Life
We also intend to produce two new seasonal resources in 2014 to guide our journey. The first of these, “A Journey Into Wholeness: Soul Travel From Lent to Easter”, will be available in January. It is based on our popular Lenten guide and is in response to the many requests we have had for daily reflections to guide us through the season of Lent and Easter. The second publication, “Coming Home: Uncovering Our Roots in the Advent Story”, will flow out of the motivational reflections posted on Godspace during Advent in the last couple of years.
These developments make us aware of how important construction on the Mustard Seed Village is. We long for the completion of this facility that will provide a home for a centre of imagination and creativity. We look forward to the day when we can gather larger groups for inspiration and creativity.
Will you help us equip others to become all that God intends them to be?
Your year end gift will enable us to:
- develop new resources that can inspire and equip Christian leaders into the future
- complete our first building at the Mustard Seed Village and provide a place for all of us to gather for inspiration and creativity.
Would you consider:
- A monthly gift of $10, $20, $50 or $100 for the next 12 months to help us develop new resources and online retreat processes that stir our imaginations and encourage creativity?
- An end of year gift of $100, $250, $500 or $1,000 to help us grow the mustard seeds that make a difference in God’s world?
Thank you for being a part of Mustard Seed Associates
God bless you as we celebrate the joy of this season and prepare to celebrate the coming of our Saviour Jesus Christ.
Sincerely,
Christine Sine
Executive Director MSA
Bearing the Joy-Light
Today’s post is by Kimberlee Conway Ireton. Kimberlee is the mother of four children, an avid reader, and the author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year and a recently released memoir, Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. She and her family worship at Bethany Presbyterian Church in Seattle.
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.”—Luke 1:46-49
The watchword for this third week of Advent is “rejoice,” and it is connected with Mary whose “soul doth magnify the Lord” (Luke 1:46 KJV). This week also has a different color than the other weeks of Advent: pink, for joy.
Mary’s words and the change in liturgical colors remind us that this time of waiting and preparation is a joyful time, that even in the midst of fasting and repentance we can know joy because, as Mary sang in the Magnificat, “God has done great things for [us].”
In my Protestant upbringing, Mary was simply a Jewish peasant girl who was the mother of Jesus. I’ve since learned that Catholic and Orthodox Christians have a much richer and more symbolic understanding of Mary. They call her theotokos, Mother of God, God-bearer. She is the symbol of humanity itself, fallen but willingly entering into a restored relationship with God through her “yes” to the angel’s proclamation that she would be the mother of the Messiah.
By bearing in her womb the Son of God, she makes possible the Incarnation and, thus, later, the crucifixion and Resurrection. In so doing, she turns the mourning of our fallenness into the rejoicing of our redemption. It is God who does these great things, to be sure, as Mary herself proclaims, but how great a God we serve, that he would allow us, invite us, long for us to participate in his redeeming work in the world.
For one friend of mine, the annual sending of a Christmas letter is a way she reflects on the past year, noticing with joy (and sometimes surprise) the ways God has been present and faithful in her life and also the ways she has been able to be part of God’s work in her corner of the world. Receiving this annual missive, I rejoice with my friend in the great things God is doing in her and through her.
During Advent, we are to be like my friend, joyfully aware of the presence of God in our lives. And like Mary, we are to wait actively, joyfully, and expectantly for the new life that has been, is being, and will be born into the world. Also like Mary, we are to be agents of this birthing.
We are to bear the Joy-Light of the world into the world.
—an edited excerpt from The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year
Bio
Today’s post is by Kimberlee Conway Ireton. Kimberlee is the mother of four children, an avid reader, and the author of The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year and a recently released memoir, Cracking Up: A Postpartum Faith Crisis. She and her family worship at Bethany Presbyterian Church in Seattle.
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