With Healing in His Wings

Webster’s dictionary defines “anticipate” as “expected or looking-forward to.” There is a positive connotation. But anticipation also conjures images of prediction, knowing ahead of time, and supposing.

This second set of meanings reminds me of Naomi, the matriarch we meet in the book of Ruth. My church is going through this short but powerful book during Advent. I have always loved the way Ruth is woven together with deep messianic foreshadowing. It is a perfect addition to our Advent journey.

Back to this week’s theme: When I think of Naomi’s desire to be called Mara (bitter), I don’t see her response as the antithesis of anticipation. I don’t see her doubting or questioning. She is acting too much the realist for that. She seems to have anticipated that this was just how things were going to be for her after the death of her husband and sons. Her return to Bethlehem was based on logic. Bread had returned to Bethlehem; the famine is over. She had nothing to keep her in Moab.

Naomi was not looking forward to anything, but she was expecting bitterness to wrap around her like a shroud. Maybe, she thinks, she could at least finish her days in her ancestral home. Yet, in her extreme practicality, she doesn’t want to drag anyone, especially her daughters-in-law down with her.

God, in His divine happenstance, however, places Ruth as a faithful companion to Naomi and unfolds a story full of grace and redemption. My pastor explores this idea, saying, “Naomi calls herself empty, but knowing what we know about Ruth, she (Naomi) is actually more full than ever before.”

The book of Ruth contains the word “return” twelve times. It is a major theme. And it is the same Hebrew word as “repent.” Whether through the consequences of life’s circumstances or sin, Naomi has great need to return. Little does she know, her practical homecoming to the “House of Bread” will usher in a lineage culminating in the ultimate “Bread of Life,” Jesus.

As the story unfolds, we meet another important character: Boaz. He is a worthy and righteous man, and he just so happens to be a relative of Naomi. In his kindness, he shows great favor to Ruth when she randomly chooses his field in which to harvest barley behind the reapers.

Here we see another perspective on the word “anticipate.” Any anticipation of Ruth’s part is so saturated by faith that she almost seems naïve. Maybe it’s that this kind of deep trust in God’s way forward is so new to her, or more likely, the path is so steeped in God’s leading that she is earnestly expecting anything.

(It sort of reminds me of the scene in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince when Harry takes the felix felicis potion and blissfully ambles towards the exact circumstances he needs.)

When Ruth asks Boaz why he has shown her such favor, he responds,

“I have been told all about what you have done for your mother-in-law since the death of your husband—how you left your father and mother and your homeland and came to live with a people you did not know before. May the Lord repay you for what you have done. May you be richly rewarded by the Lord, the God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge.” (Ruth 2:11-12).

Naomi was returning. But Ruth was taking refuge. Rather than running from something (after all the famine was over), she was pressing towards something. Ruth was expecting, through faith, a refuge in the land of a God she did not yet know. And the closest thing to that God was her mother-in-law, who herself carried such a shallow faith. Ruth doesn’t know what to expect, but she finds herself under a shadow of grace. My pastor draws out the analogy: “Ruth doesn’t understand why it is so dark under the wing, but she somehow knows this is exactly where she is supposed to be.”

In the Gospel of John, Jesus is quoted as saying, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

Ruth and Naomi had experienced a crash course in suffering. It is a woe Scripture urges us to expect; to anticipate. But that was not the end of their story, and it is not the end of ours. 

The third verse of Hark, the Herald Angels Sing reads:

Hail the heav'n-born Prince of Peace,
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness
Light and life to all He brings,
Risen with healing in His Wings.
Now He lays His Glory by,
Born that man no more may die
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.

This Advent, may we be a people who anticipate the redemption found only under His healing wings.

The Life-Cycle of a Tree Stump

Seeds are really good at waiting. The seeds of trees have to have amazing perseverance. From the time they are dropped in the ground (by human hand, animal droppings, or “buried treasure”) until the tiniest sprout becomes a towering tree, most trees in the forest span years longer than a human life.

There are many images of trees and seeds in the Bible. The tree of life, the faith of a mustard seed, the cedars of Lebanon, the fig tree. But what about the tree when all that’s left is a stump? How many more years before a mighty cedar (or maybe it was a cypress, sycamore, acacia, balsam, or juniper) falls from storm or carpenter’s hand. And all that’s left is a stump.

Isaiah writes in chapter 11 (v.1-10):

"There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse,
    and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.
And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him,
    the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
    the Spirit of counsel and might,
    the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.
And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see,
    or decide disputes by what his ears hear,
but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
    and decide with equity for the meek of the earth;
and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
    and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist,
    and faithfulness the belt of his loins.
The wolf shall dwell with the lamb,
    and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat,
and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together;
    and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
    their young shall lie down together;
    and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra,
    and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den.
They shall not hurt or destroy
    in all my holy mountain;
for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD
    as the waters cover the sea.
In that day the root of Jesse, who shall stand as a signal for the peoples—of him shall the nations inquire, and his resting place shall be glorious.”

It sounds like something, or Someone, magnificent is going to come from a withered tree stump. What does that mean? There is historical and theological significance to this motif, as we’ll see in a moment. But agriculturally, this is not necessarily an anomaly. New branches shoot up from tree stumps all the time. What’s amazing is the time it takes. Time that cannot be rushed because the Creator created the life-cycle of seeds and plants just the way he did.

On R.C. Sproul’s ministry website, Ligonier, there is a devotional based on this passage of scripture. The author writes,

“Let us not miss the significance of all the prophet is saying. First, Isaiah speaks of ‘the stump of Jesse’ (v. 1). The image here is of a tree that has been so devastated that only a stump remains. Jesse, of course, was the father of King David (1 Sam. 16:1–13), so Isaiah is speaking of the Davidic line of kings. . . [But] David's line would decline to such a degree that it would be essentially left for dead. History tells us this is exactly what happened, with David's royal dynasty all but dying out as a result of God's judgment of His people through Assyria and Babylon. Nevertheless, Isaiah also saw that while the Davidic line would seem to be dead, life would remain within the stump. A shoot—life barely detectable at first—would emerge. But once this shoot went forth, it would become a mighty tree. A king of humble origins would be a signal for the nations after the exile (Isa. 11:2–10).”

The author goes on to reference John Calvin’s commentary on Isaiah. He emphasizes that the shoot from the stump will come “from Jesse”, not “from David.” Calvin believes this speaks to how low the family line had sunk. It no longer appeared to be a royal family (emphasis on David the king), but a lowly peasant family (which they were, emphasis on Jesse the patriarch).

Sound familiar? A peasant family from the line of Jesse? When David was first anointed king he was truly the least obvious choice. As Jesus grew in his ministry, he was certainly not the leader-type or messiah people expected.

Humble beginnings. Small seeds. Miraculous outcomes.

One of the things that fascinates me the most is when I see my smallness against God's bigness. The movement of time and space and history up against God's eternal plan. Scripture is full of these images we can see woven through the Old and New Testaments, all adding up to the story we are retelling this season. The story of Jesus’ arrival.

When sin first entered the Garden of Eden (another tree!), God could have enacted his plan of salvation right then and there. But instead, He demonstrated great patience in order to unfold a plan that would teach us important lessons about faith and hope and love. For those who celebrate Advent with a Jesse Tree, the ornaments do just that: recount the rich story of God’s faithful and often astounding redemption design.

God is in the business of making all things new. And while supernatural shortcuts (miracles) are known to occur, in His providence, the normal, garden-variety life is lived according to the Creator’s intended rhythm. Things take time. The cycle of living things takes time.

I don’t think a tree knows what it means to be impatient, but the waiting still takes perseverance and care from outside of itself. Human waiting is hard. But just as a gardener watches over the things in his garden, we can rest assured that God is with us as we wait. He is holding this promise in His open hands: because of the Shoot that sprung from Jesse’ stump, we too have the hope of new life. And the resting place will be glorious.

 

From Fear to Faith

 

Tonight I draw inspiration from the sermon I heard this morning at church. One of the elders gave the message, and in it he compared the angelic visitation of Zechariah and Mary.

Scripture tells us that on both occasions, it was Gabriel who served as God’s messenger. We don’t often think about the thoughts of angels, but we know they had desires and aspirations. What a task to be given! To herald both the Messiah and his forerunner. I wonder that he could barely hold in the news—one of the first instances of the Gospel (the good news) spoken. But such different experiences. One took place in the hallowed and architecturally stunning halls of the temple. The other, somewhere in a dusty, small town. It’s no wonder Gabriel received different responses. But they probably weren’t what he was expecting.

Zechariah definitely wasn’t prepared to encounter an angel that day, “but at least he was ready for a deep spiritual moment.” Mary on the other hand, was going about her daily life when suddenly a terrifying warrior of light appeared before her.

Without a doubt, Mary was troubled. But not at the sight of him (that was what made Zechariah become “gripped by fear”).

In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. (Luke 1:26-29)

Mary was troubled at his words. “The Lord is with you.”

These seem like comforting words, and maybe they were. But underneath that comfort, Mary was probably recounting the stories of God showing up to her ancestors. After hearing the words, “God is with you,” nothing would be the same again.

I understand that kind of fear. It is a fear of change. Even if the announcement is a wonderful thing, a life-changing and world-shaping thing, it’s only human be at least a little afraid of how different things will be from then on.

But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.”

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?”

The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.”

“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May your word to me be fulfilled.” Then the angel left her.
(Luke 1:30-38)

“Nothing was safe about God showing up and declaring His victory”—indeed the Old Testament is filled with the results of such glorious military campaigns. But Mary seems to be stilled by Gabriel’s words. Maybe she sensed that this throne her baby will grow up to sit on is a different kind of throne. Maybe she really grasped the importance of the baby’s name, Jesus—"the Lord saves.” Regardless, even though she has shown fear at Gabriel’s first words (and is probably still reeling at the improbability of it all), she does not respond in fear. She responds in faith.

God used both Zechariah and Mary in powerful, yet humble ways. He knew their unique circumstances would give them a proclivity towards fear. But he allowed that fear to shape their humility and grow their faith. For Zechariah, it took nine months. We may never know why Mary said yes so quickly. But I imagine a radical transformation took place in her heart: from the fear of “God with you” to an utter hope that Immanuel was on the way. For no world from God will ever fail.

They Mattered

One of two main women in the Christmas story, Mary lived at a time when women were not given much consideration. If not for God’s choice to include her in Jesus’ birth, I doubt she would have made it into Scripture. But, like I mentioned in the last post, nothing is happenstance for God. His choices are deliberate. And they are full of grace. The five women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy showcase this. Their inclusion was an incredibly rare occurrence. But before their names were ever written down, their lives were chosen to be a part of Jesus’ rich lineage. These women were not the ones we would have chosen as Christ’s descendants. They were scarred. They had criminal and embarrassing pasts. But God gave them the opportunity to reflect His mercy. He lifted them higher. He showed that they matter. He flipped the world’s expectations upside-down.

And so, when Mary encounters the angel Gabriel and he says, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you” (Luke 1:28), I bet you could have knocked her down with a feather. She, probably illiterate, living in the tiny rural town of Nazareth—to be called highly favored! It was not expected. Indeed, “Mary was greatly troubled at his words.”

But Gabriel, knowing the human tendency to fear, gently says, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God” (v. 30). I bet a lot of things rushed through Mary’s mind at this proclamation. As women, we are inclined to take a phrase and spin it in a thousand different directions before the sentence is even finished. Maybe Mary was thinking about a task she had left undone, or a dark path she didn’t like to walk alone. Maybe she was thinking about her family, and the weight of the taxes they had to pay to Rome each year. Maybe she was worried about her betrothal to Joseph.

When the angel said, “Do not be afraid,” did all those fears wash away? It certainty prepared her heart for what was coming next:

“You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” (v.30-33)

Now, just like Zechariah, Mary asks, “How can this be?” But instead of being banished into silence, Gabriel goes on to explain: “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be unable to conceive is in her sixth month. For no word from God will ever fail.” (v.35-37)

The Lord knew Mary’s heart. He knew she had faith in the Rock beneath her feet. And He also knew her uncertainty. Not because she doubted, but because, as a woman she had probably never been taught the same things about God’s character that Zechariah the priest had. What she said next came not from experience or foresight, but from deep faith:

“I am the Lord’s servant, may your word to me be fulfilled.” (v.38)

Do not be afraid.
No word from God will ever fail.
I have to believe that the presence of an angel, plus these words sent from God Himself had the power to produce a deep peace in Mary.

We don’t often encounter angels, but we can hear from God. Do we allow His words to affect us like they did Mary?

Madeleine L’Engle talks about this when she describes her experience with story.

When we try to define and over-define and narrow down, we lose the story the Maker of the Universe is telling us . . .

And that is how I want to read and write story. This does not mean that story deals only with cheeriness, but that beneath the reality of life is the rock of faith. I ask God to set me upon a rock that is higher than I so that I may be able to see more clearly, see the tragedy and the joy and sometimes the dull slogging along of life with an assurance that not only is there rock under my feet, but that God made the rock and you and me, and is concerned with Creation, every galaxy, every atom, and subatomic particle. Matter matters.

This is the promise of the Incarnation. Christ put on human matter, and what happens to us is of eternal cosmic importance. That is what true story affirms.

(Miracle on 10th Street, p. 77-78)

I don’t believe Mary was naively agreeing to God’s plan. When the angel spoke, I think he gifted her with the ability to see God holding all of Creation with this one decision to send His son. The tragedies, the joys, even the dull sloggings of life all matter. They mattered for those living the Lineage of Expectation, and they matter for us, awaiting Jesus’ second Advent. God does not waste what He has created.

An Equal Measure of Faith

Every year there is a new kind of waiting to experience alongside Advent. It may be a long, unfulfilled yearning marked by deep ache and sadness. It may be the tight anticipation of a goal almost realized. It may be, like this year, the slow tread of seasons distanced from tradition, routine, and loved ones. We only have to wait one year for the next Advent to roll around. But our longings recognize the reality of the first Advent, thousands of years in the making. From Eden to Bethlehem, the Israelites waited.

God didn’t leave His people alone in their waiting. After all, they needed someone to steer them back from the precipice of their wanderings, wonderings, and sin. The prophets became God’s mouthpiece. Along the way, the arrival of a Messiah was foretold. Even a pagan prophet spoke of the One who was to come!

In Numbers 22, the Moabite King Balak seeks out the famous prophet Balaam to come and curse Israel. But God has other plans. Sending in a talking donkey, Balaam is warned to not disobey the God of Israel. When the time of cursing comes, a blessing pours forth instead. And then, doing what prophets do, Balaam utters a prophecy--first pertaining to David and finally to his descendant, Christ:

“The prophecy of Balaam son of Beor,
    the prophecy of one whose eye sees clearly,
 the prophecy of one who hears the words of God,
    who has knowledge from the Most High,
who sees a vision from the Almighty,
    who falls prostrate, and whose eyes are opened:

 “I see him, but not now;
    I behold him, but not near.
A star will come out of Jacob;
    a scepter will rise out of Israel.

A ruler will come out of Jacob
    and destroy the survivors of the city.”

-Numbers 24:15-17,19a

Even for the Israelites, chosen by God, the Lord’s promises had a timeline outside of human understanding. The “not now’s” and “not nears” must have made their hearers cringe. Really? Not yet? But a prophecy is still a promise. And so the people waited, trusting in the same God who could make a donkey speak and a wicked man proclaim praise.

The things we are waiting for (at least those rooted in grace)? . . . Perhaps we can learn to hold them before the Lord with an equal measure of faith. 

 

(Inspired by Paul L. Maier’s Faithful Facts for Advent, Thursday, Week 1)

 

"The Nativity" and Details Large and Small

We’ve made it to the second week of Advent. I’m not exactly sure which theme I want to follow this week, but I know that I want it to be pre-Bethlehem. There is so much to cover before Mary and Joseph arrived, looking for a place for Jesus to be born: the story of Zechariah and Elizabeth, the annunciation, Mary’s response, the birth of John the Baptist, the angel’s announcement to Joseph, the journey to Bethlehem . . . yet Nativity picture books often jump right to the manger.

When I was younger and already a budding history nerd, I remember pouring over my family’s Christmas books, looking for any hint of what life was really like for Mary and Joseph during “Bible times.” I wanted to flesh out the story recorded in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. I wanted to know the details.

There were a few that quenched my curiosity, with added dialogue and a slightly more plot lines, but then there were others that used Scripture as the text, and chose to inspire the imagination through illustration. Today's book is one of these:

The Nativity, illustrated by Julie Vivas. Vivas is most well-known for illustrating Sue Williams’ storytime favorite, I Went Walking. But in this spin on the Christmas story, she stands above the rest. I remember pouring over the whimsical images with awe and delight. Here, some of the details of the Christmas story weren’t even present, but the book had the same impact as the other stories filled to the brim with characters, scenery, and dialogue.

Why? one might ask. After some thought, I think I have an idea.

There is a saying that goes, “God is in the details.” He completely is. But when we look at our own lives, and even the lives of those in the Nativity story, the details of God’s plan are often left concealed. God is ever-working, but in His sovereignty, designs it so that we don’t get to see the full blueprint. He does this so that we have to trust and follow. Not blindly, but by a faith built on thousands of years of Scripture’s promises.

The prophets foretold that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. Zechariah and Elizabeth discovered their son would herald the Lord’s coming. Mary and Joseph were told they got to be Christ’s parents. Simeon and Anna received a promise they’d get to see the Savior face-to-face. But how would they get from point A to B?

God always has a way of showing us the way. In the Christmas story, he used prophets and angels, government censuses and brilliant stars, dreams and conniving kings. When we read about Christ’s coming, in both the simple and complex text, we see a bit of our own lives. And if we are wise, we realize the more complicated versions don’t actually offer a different story than those told with bold splashes of color across the page. God wrote the story. He alone knows the full outline. In His mercy He has shown us the beginning, the middle, and the end. For the rest, we have faith.

If we follow the pattern of Hebrews 11: By faith, Mary and Joseph accepted God’s plan, traveled the road, and welcomed the King. Can we do the same?

Rejoice and Wonder: Quotes from Madeleine L'Engle

There are ten more days of Advent, so today, I want to share three quotes from Madeleine L'Engle's third Crosswicks Journal, The Irrational Season. L'Engle's Advent poetry was one of the main reasons I began this blog ten years ago. She has a way of taking the twists and turns of human thought and unraveling them to resemble the mysteries of God. I am thankful for the way her mind and heart knew the best words to say.

". . .Christmas evoked in me that response which makes me continue to struggle to understand, with the mind in the heart, the love of God for his creation, a love which expressed itself in the Incarnation.  That tiny, helpless baby whose birth we honor contained the Power behind the universe, helpless, at the mercy of its own creation.”

"When I am able to pray with the mind in the heart, I am joyfully able to affirm the irrationality of Christmas.

As I grow older
I get surer
Man’s heart is colder,
His life no purer.
As I grow steadily
More austere
I come less readily
To Christmas each year.
I can’t keep taking
Without a thought
Forced merrymaking
And presents bought
In crowds jostling.
Alas, there’s naught
In empty wassailing
Where oblivion’s sought.
Oh, I’d be waiting
With quiet fasting
Anticipating
A joy more lasting.
And so I rhyme
With no apology
During this time
of eschatology:
Judgment and warning
Come like thunder.
But now is the hour
When I remember
An infant’s power
On a cold December.
Midnight is dawning
And the birth of wonder."

"Cribb’d, cabined, and confined within the contours of a human infant. The infinite defined by the finite? The Creator of all life thirsty and abandoned? Why would he do such a thing? Aren’t there easier and better ways for God to redeem his fallen creatures?

. . .And yet Christmas is still for me a time of hope, of hope for the courage to love and accept love, a time when I can forget that my Christology is extremely shaky and can rejoice in God’s love. . ."

 

Advent is a thin place. A place where our faith is magnified. A place where we can feel, all the more deeply, 
that love
indeed 
came down.