Called to be a Shepherd

The shepherds are some of my favorite characters in the Advent story, mostly because they show so clearly that God often uses the lowly and despised among us to demonstrate His power and righteousness.

Paul explains in 1 Corinthians: 

“For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:26-29)

The night of Jesus’ birth is described in songs as quiet and peaceful. I can’t imagine Bethlehem was actually calm with so many people milling about the town for the census. Maybe the countryside was quiet. But Kelly Nikondeha warns us about interpreting the “silent and holy night” as calm. She explains,

“It is a signature of privilege to associate peace with a quiet night. For those who live on the edges of the empire, nightfall increases the possibility of danger. Snapping branches, unexpected pops, unidentified rumbling of poachers and natural predators you cannot see through the darkness make for uneasy nights. Trouble can come from any direction. Silence for shepherds is always thick with jeopardy. They know what can be lost before the dawn” (p. 90).

We talk so much about the shepherd’s humble status and their astonishing arrival as Jesus’ first guests—but I often wonder at their occupation. It was lowly work. The work of sons for a father. When a grown man was a shepherd, he worked as a hired hand. It is clear that shepherding was not a calling.

And yet, God called (and prepared) these particular laborers to be the first to hear the news of Jesus’ birth.

We cannot confuse lowly with easy, however. A shepherd had to always be on high alert, almost becoming one with their sheep to better observe any changes or dangers in their midst. Nikondeha describes it this way: “These shepherds, who never made the mistake of equating quiet with peace, minded the sheep and the dark with equal vigilance” (p. 91).

What about being a shepherd was preparing them for what would happen next?

We know from Luke’s account in chapter 2 that the shepherds were terrified when the angels appeared (as anyone would be!). But I wonder if they were relieved and thankful for the obvious light and noise. This was no revelation sulking in the shadows. It was bold and glorious. And it provided something new.

We know Jesus called Peter, Andrew, James, and John to be His disciples after watching them fish. He declared they would no longer fish for fish, but that they would be fishers of men.

I wonder if God was preparing these shepherds to become shepherds of people.

Luke 2:16-18, and 20 reads:

“So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. . . The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.”

We don’t know anything about the shepherds after this—whether they remained shepherds in the fields, or whether God’s revelation transformed their work. But we do know this: Nothing in God’s story is insignificant. He prepared each one of the shepherds for their role and their participation that day. And because of that, their lives were forever changed.

The Good Portion

The theme of this third week is Preparing.

I borrowed this quartet of themes (Waiting, Anticipating, Preparing, Celebrating), and to be honest, I’ve had a hard time incorporating them into my writings. They are a little unfamiliar. But sometimes the unfamiliar can shake us up a bit. A new perspective can help gain insight.

Thinking about the theme of preparing, my mind immediately goes to shopping lists, recipes, and in my own particular career—library storytime planning. I spend a large chunk of my workdays finding engaging read-aloud picture books, designing flannel stories, and selecting relevant songs and rhymes—all to educate and entertain. The finished product is so much the better for my well-organized plan. The structure helps regular attendees learn the songs and rhymes with ease. The careful selection accommodates childrens’ ages and backgrounds. Everything from the time of day and room setting to the length of time and volume is intentional. Everything has a purpose.

And that makes me think of the Master Orchestrator of our well-known Advent narrative. Our God is a God who prepares. Not because He couldn’t snap His fingers for everything He has designed to instantly appear. No, God prepares because everything He does is building, layer upon layer, towards His plan for humanity’s salvation.

In her fifth day Advent devotional, “No Random Days,” Hannah Brencher writes, “Our God is a God who orchestrates redemption stories. He is constantly up to something. Where we see random days, God sees hidden pockets of purpose. Where we see random lines in a story, God reads between those lines and fills our days with hidden meanings.”

Now, here’s the flip-side of a life-style drenched in preparation. It’s something we commonly see during the holidays. In the hustle and bustle of exerting all our energies for one special day, we neglect to be present. It can become impossible to see God’s “pockets of purpose” when we are so busy preparing for a purposeful day.

I wonder how things would have looked for Mary and Joseph if God hadn’t prepared a place for them in Bethlehem—a place in which most of their autonomy was removed. Would the days leading up to Jesus’ birth have been so full of preparations and ministrations that they missed the significance of the day?

In a town filled to the brim with people registering for the census, they didn’t get to arrange the perfect birthing room. Sharing a dwelling with livestock, there was only one choice for a crib. They only had one option to clean and wrap the baby. They didn’t get to decide who would be the first to visit their newborn son. They didn’t even get to select his name. All these preparations were made by bigger Hands.

Maybe in the moment, Mary was frustrated and anxious. The angel hadn’t said anything about this part of birthing God’s Son! But later in chapter 2, Luke records that she “treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart” (v.19). Mary had a lot to ponder. She had not been able to prepare for this day’s practical details. But she had prepared her heart for the magnitude of this role with each faith-filled step towards Bethlehem. She responded to God’s call with joy and hope. She had sought the wisdom and encouragement of her cousin, Elizabeth. She had trusted in a God who is mindful and mighty and full of mercy (from the Magnificat, Luke 1:46-55).

This brings to mind the story of Mary and Martha:

Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

I don’t know if this was so much mother Mary’s choice as God’s orchestrating, but like her name-twin, Mary indeed chose the good portion.

This season, may our Advent preparations include the quiet actions of both Marys. Treasuring and pondering, mother Mary looked to the manger, awed by tiny baby feet who would one day save the world. Sitting at adult Jesus’ feet, sister Mary listened, welcoming the Lord into her home through meaningful patience and praise.

"Like Every Newborn"

I began my Advent blog in 2009 with a desire to share poetry of the season, especially poems by one of my favorite authors, Madeleine L'Engle. Each year I seem to find a poem I've never read before. This year I stumbled upon this one, "Like Every Newborn," first published in one of L'Engle's collections of poems, The Weather of the Heart. Enjoy!

Tendency and Tension

This year, I’ve relied a lot on being inspired by what I run across—books, articles, poems, songs. I didn’t set aside time to collect things the way I have in years past. And that’s ok. I’ve been able to write more this year than any other. But tonight I wanted to share some poetry. So I put on some choral music and went hunting. This is what I found. The first isn’t strictly a poem, but it’s close. They speak to the tension that is the Advent season. They speak to our tendency to shy away from the very things that will help us find our way.

The disappointment, brokenness, suffering, and pain that characterize life in this present world is held in dynamic tension with the promise of future glory that is yet to come. In that Advent tension, the church lives its life.

- Fleming Rutledge, Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ



Toward the Light

Too often our answer to the darkness
is not running toward Bethlehem
but running away.
We ought to know by now that we can’t see
where we’re going in the dark.

Running away is rampant… separation is stylish:
separation from mates, from friends, from self.
Run and tranquilize,
don’t talk about it, avoid.
Run away and join the army of those who have already run away.

When are we going to learn that Christmas Peace
comes only when we turn and face the darkness?
Only then will we be able to see The Light of the World.

-Ann Weems, Kneeling in Bethlehem

Sovereign Serendipity

In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered. This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria. And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.

(Luke 2:1–5)

Eleven years ago (the first year writing this blog), I reflected upon the upcoming 2010 Census and compared it to the census that brought Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem. What an amazing thing to think of Jesus being listed in a Roman census!

This year our country underwent a census again. But its execution ended up drastically different from the initial plan. Human plans have that tendency. We cannot fully foresee things like pandemics, natural disasters, economic plight, social unrest. We have trouble factoring in the possibility of something we could have never imagined seeing in our lifetime.

When Caesar Augustus decreed that the whole world should be registered, he could not have known that he was bringing the actors of Christ’s birth story closer and closer to their intended setting. If we didn’t know any better, we could call it coincidence. I think it’s sovereign serendipity. A marvelously orchestrated puzzle in the Master’s hands.

A few years ago, John Piper compiled a PDF of daily Advent readings called Good News of Great Joy. The reading for December 4, “For God’s Little People,” speaks to just this theme:

Have you ever thought what an amazing thing it is that God ordained beforehand that the Messiah be born in Bethlehem (as the prophecy in Micah 5 shows); and that he so ordained things that when the time came, the Messiah’s mother and legal father were living in Nazareth; and that in order to fulfill his word and bring two little people to Bethlehem that first Christmas, God put it in the heart of Caesar Augustus that all the Roman world should be enrolled each in his own town?

Have you ever felt, like me, little and insignificant in a world of seven billion people, where all the news is of big political and economic and social movements and of outstanding people with lots of power and prestige?

If you have, don’t let that make you disheartened or unhappy. For it is implicit in Scripture that all the mammoth political forces and all the giant industrial complexes, without their even knowing it, are being guided by God, not for their own sake but for the sake of God’s little people — the little Mary and the little Joseph who have to be got from Nazareth to Bethlehem. God wields an empire to bless his children.

Do not think, because you experience adversity, that the hand of the Lord is shortened. It is not our prosperity but our holiness that he seeks with all his heart. And to that end, he rules the whole world. As Proverbs 21:1 says, “The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the Lord; he turns it wherever he will.”

He is a big God for little people, and we have great cause to rejoice that, unbeknownst to them, all the kings and presidents and premiers and chancellors of the world follow the sovereign decrees of our Father in heaven, that we, the children, might be conformed to the image of his Son, Jesus Christ.

How many times have we looked at the pandemic, or politics, or the economy, or the topic of races and equality and asked God why things haven’t turned out differently? God isn’t above using things like these to teach us lessons, but if we look at the dramatic events of 2000 years ago, we see that God wielded a very empire to show His love. This year has not gone the way we expected. But I’m confident that we will look back on these days and see miraculous channels of God’s sovereignty and grace. His timing is not our timing, nor are His ways our ways.

God is an advocate for those who feel insignificant and disheartened. He is a God of compassion with hands big enough to move mountains and shape all of human history. We need only remember that He sent flood and plagues, famines and war, exile and silence in order to move us closer and closer to the birth of His Son. And He has the mercy and strength to do it again.

Encouraged Joy

As soon as the angel left her, Mary “got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth” (Luke 1:39b-40).

She wasted no time. There was no email, facetime, or even snail mail to transport what she wanted to share with her relative Elizabeth, and so she traveled there herself.

Though Mary had joyous news to share, there are two ways the meeting could have gone: celebration or competition.

I don’t know about you, but when I first read news of a friend’s engagement, pregnancy, job promotion, or other significant life event, I don’t always rush to congratulations. Often I am weighed down by feelings of inadequacy and comparison. I have to mentally kick myself and remember the love I have for my friend. This calls for celebration and joy, not pity, resentment, or rivalry.

Hannah Brencher, in her Advent essay, “Choosing to Cheer,” says,

God uses this moment in the text to bring together the lives of two women who both carried so much purpose-- Elizabeth and Mary-- for the sheer purpose of celebration.
 
I think about all the other ways this story could have played out. I think about all the opportunities they had to compete with one another or compare themselves to one another.
 
They don’t choose comparison or competition-- they immediately pick celebration.

Comparison is a fatal flaw that so many of us carry. Competition seems ingrained in our very society. Many of us feel like imposters in our own skin. But Brencher concludes, “When we choose to compare ourselves with [others], we take the focus off of God and what he is up to and we place it back on ourselves. We make ourselves bigger in the process instead of exclaiming the bigness of God.”

We just saw Mary proclaim deep faith in God’s enormous plan for the Messiah, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t have been flawed like the rest of us. Gabriel shares that “even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child. . .” Thoughts like “why her?” or “but that makes my baby not as special” could flown through Mary’s mind. We don’t know what was going through Mary’s mind as she traveled to the Judean countryside, but when she arrives, Elizabeth greets her with pure joy:

Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!
(Luke 1:42-45)

Elizabeth not only chooses celebration, but she showers Mary with encouragement. Not a beat passes and everything welling up inside Mary spills out. (Note that Luke describes Mary in 2:19 by saying, “Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart”—a sure sign of a deep thinker and a deeper reflector). Now, it’s possible Mary could have proclaimed the Magnificat before Elizabeth burst out with her blessing, but I don’t think so. We all need encouragement, especially when the stakes are this high. Indeed, Ray Ortlund, in his Desiring God article, “The Surprising Ministry of Encouragement,” says, “Encouragement is what the gospel feels like as it moves from one believer to another.”

The meeting of Mary, Elizabeth, and their babies was nothing short of cosmic. And it confirmed that the One in Mary’s womb was truly destined to be the “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

If infant Jesus, not yet born, had the power to spark such fruits of the Spirit in these women, how much more can we depend on the risen Christ and indwelt Spirit to guide us gently from the trenches of comparison and competition to the heights of celebration and joy?

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.

To Not Remain the Same

When Zechariah was chosen to enter the temple and light the incense, it was most likely a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. There was weight to his task. It was not a daily routine for him. That day, he was the ambassador for the people, selected to lift up the nation’s prayers before the Almighty.

Nothing is happenstance for God. That day, that task, that man, were all appointed with a purpose and a plan.

Zechariah begins to light the incense, a prayer might have already been on his lips, when an angel appears out of nowhere. He is terrified. He was probably already quivering with nervousness as he sought to do the task correctly and reverently. But now an angel! Like angels are wont to do, he says, “Do not be afraid.” (Luke 1:13) Did it help?

And then the angel goes on: “Your prayer has been heard.” Which prayer? The prayer that was on the tip of Zechariah’s tongue? His petition for all the people of Israel? Or the prayer he and his wife had been praying for years and years without answer. The prayer for a child.

Both.

The angel says, “Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born. He will bring back many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.” (v.13-17)

In that moment, God swung open the doors for his eternal plan. Israel had been waiting. Zechariah and Elizabeth had been waiting. Now a baby was going to be born. Not the messiah—but His precursor. The one who would prepare the way. For nothing is happenstance with God.

The scene is perfect. Zechariah seems to be having the most amazing day. But then his sinful humanity encounters the awesomeness of God and he skids to a halt. “Are you sure?” he asks. To wait so long for something so big. This angel must be kidding.

This was Zechariah’s fatal mistake. Now we learn the name of the angel Zechariah has questioned: “I am Gabriel,” he says, “I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time.” (v.19-20)

As soon as I reread this portion of the story, a comparison between Zechariah’s silence and this year’s pandemic sprung to mind. Being without speech must have been incredibly isolating for Zechariah. He couldn’t perform his job as a priest. He had to write down anything he wanted to say. He couldn’t even praise God when he first saw it was all true. Elizabeth is the one who speaks praise instead: “The Lord has done this for me. In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.” (v.25).

What did Zechariah’s silence do? What purpose did it serve? What have these months of isolation done for us? I don’t quite know. But I wonder if we will we emerge from a year of loneliness, fear, anxiety, and loss with praise on our lips like Zechariah did.

The events of the Christmas story were not happenstance. Why would the events of our lives, today, be any different?

I can’t speak for Zechariah, but I’m sure he learned to cherish his days and trust God’s providence more wholly after this. In his isolation, I imagine he spent quite a lot of time in silent lament before his Creator. At his own stupidity, at the nation’s hopes and needs. Those prayers in the temple he could not pray out loud, perhaps they ran through his mind in quiet meditation.  

Whether we believe it or not, we have been given a gift. Time has slowed. Seemingly important tasks, occasions, and ventures have paled. Priorities have shifted. Our perspective has been altered. Time will tell how much these events have changed us.

It’s been said that God loves us too much to let us remain the same. I doubt Zechariah felt loved by God when the angel proclaimed silence upon him. But when he finally had the chance to speak again, his heart knew. Uttering joy at the birth of his son, he burst into prophecy:

“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
    because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
    in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
    and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
    and to remember his holy covenant,
    the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
    and to enable us to serve him without fear
    in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
 
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
    for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
    through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
    by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
    and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
(Luke 1:67-79)

Because of the tender mercy of our God.

(Inspired by Hannah Brencher's Advent essay, "No Random Days").

Preparing the Way

This second week of Advent is about preparation. After waiting hundreds of years for the Messiah, the stage has been set. But one more thing remains: Someone to prepare the way.

Throughout the history of God’s people there had always been a prophet, a representative between God and man. Now, after 400 years of silence, a new kind of messenger emerges. In the last prophecy of the Old Testament, the prophet Malachi declares, “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the LORD comes.” (Malachi 4:5).

Because of this, many were on the lookout for a returning Elijah. Even today, in Jewish homes during Passover, it is customary to leave a space for the great prophet and open the front door in hopeful expectation. But the messenger Malachi calls “Elijah” has already come. His name was John.

Much later in the story, John will become John the Baptizer. This is where the author of Mark brings John into the story. He is an adult, living in the wilderness like Elijah his predecessor, preparing the way for Jesus. Mark opens with a combined prophecy from both Malachi and Isaiah:

“I will send my messenger ahead of you,
    who will prepare your way” (Mal. 3:1)—
 “a voice of one calling in the wilderness,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
    make straight paths for him.’” (Is. 40:3)

But before John was a “voice calling in the wilderness,” he was a hoped-for babe. Luke is the only Gospel author to record John’s entry into the world. Indeed, Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story of expectation and faith feels so needed, so necessary for the story of Jesus’ birth. Even before John is born, he plays a necessary part. From within his mother’s womb, he prepares the way as one of the first witnesses to the coming Christ.

John and Jesus. Cousins. Similar yet unique. Deeply connected, their stories intertwined in magnificent ways. And it all begins with their births. One longed for, One an utter surprise. Both foretold. Both real humans who walked the same ground many still tread today. Born at a time when baby’s lives were fragile and their futures unsure.

We are thinking about the fragility of life a lot right now. A pandemic will do that. Nothing seems certain.

Throughout this long season of stay-home orders and social distancing, I’ve been re-watching a lot of my favorite TV shows. One of them is Call the Midwife. If you’ve never watched it, I highly recommend you do. It is at the same time gentle and raw, heart-breaking and inspiring. In every episode, babies are brought into the world with the aid of midwives from the order of St. Raymond Nonnatus. Some are longed for, others fall into line behind multiple siblings already scrambling for food, love, and care. The stories are narrated at the beginning and end by the main character, all grown up, reflecting on her (and the other midwive’s) experiences. In season eight, Jenny’s words during the Christmas special suddenly struck me as perfect for Advent. So I re-wound and re-wound until I copied them just right:

None of us have ever truly walked this way before.
But if there is no map, no route,
no arrowhead to follow there is sometimes a star.
And we do not make our way without companions.
As the road unfolds, we travel side by side
and share the shift from darkness into light.

We often think of Jesus as a lone individual on Earth. He walked around with the Trinity (invisible to human eyes) always by His side. Jesus didn’t need John as a companion for his journey from birth to death. But we do. We need someone to travel by our side, to prepare the way. Before the curtain lifts and we see the Christ child in the manger. Before the star shines brightly above Bethlehem. Before the angels sing their Hallelujahs, we need to know that baby John leaped for joy at the mere presence of his King.

The Christmas story is so familiar to us. May we not forget that every detail of the narrative was planned by the same God who hung the stars in the sky. There are no mistakes, no details too small, no concepts too big. If there is a character tasked with preparing the way, then we better we ready for something “great and awesome” to come.

Welcome to Advent

Dear friends (and those who may have stumbled upon this blog), 

If you've joined me for any of the past eleven years, then you are probably familiar with Advent. If you are a new reader, this will serve as an introduction:

In latin the word "adventus" means "coming." Within the context of western Christianity, Advent is the season of four weeks leading up to Christmas—the celebration of Christ's birth. It is a time of joyful expectation and preparation. The four weeks are marked by the four Sundays, on which the candles of the Advent wreath are lit.

The first candle is traditionally the candle of Hope, followed by Peace, Love, and Joy. However, with so many church traditions comes a variety of names for each candle. Usually they are organized around characters or themes as a way to unfold the story and direct attention to the celebrations and worship in the season. So, the sequence might be Prophets, Bethlehem, Shepherds, Angels; Expectation, Annunciation, Proclamation, Fulfillment; or Prophets, John the Baptist, Mary, the Magi.

Last year I used children’s picture books to help introduce the characters and themes of the Nativity. This year, I’m going back to my original format and have chosen to reflect on the themes of Longing, Preparation, Proclamation, and Joy.

For four short weeks every year, we stop and see—with amazing clarity—God’s miraculous hand shaping the trajectory of human history. I have a hard time seeing this kind of perspective in daily life. Even with God’s sustaining grace, I am so often numb to the repercussions of Christ’s advent in my own life. This blog is an attempt to peel back the layers of those truths and meditate on the everlasting love God showed humanity when he sent forth His son. And as we do that together, may our hearts be directed towards the greater Advent still to come.

Let us enter this season with expectation, ever blessed by those who have paved the way. I’m glad you have chosen to join me on the journey!

 

Prepare the Way of the Lord

Let’s take a look at John the Baptist.

Now when the Gospel of Luke begins, John is not yet born, not yet a fetus in his mother’s womb. Yet the shape of the narrative indicates that this child to be born to Zechariah and Elizabeth, in their old, will be someone special. They had waited a long time for a child. Just as Israel was waiting long and hard for the Messiah. 

There is plenty of waiting to go around in this story. And I’m 100% certain that it was all intentional and purposeful. Hindsight almost always carries such certainty. But I resonate deeply with Elizabeth and Zechariah’s long experience of expectation. As I write these words and read their story, I sit in a long season of wondering, is my waiting intentional and purposeful?

I think the next chunk of John's story might shed some light:

John’s first interaction with Jesus is when a pregnant Mary goes to visit Elizabeth, whom the Angel Gabriel says is carrying a child herself:

And when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit, and she exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why is this granted to me that the mother of my Lord should come to me? For behold, when the sound of your greeting came to my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy.  And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” (Luke 1:41-45)

After his birth, we don’t see John again for 33 years. That’s a long time to wait for one’s job to begin. But I don’t think his waiting was passive. John would have grown up seeing little Jesus on occasion. His parents would have constantly kept him mindful of his miraculous beginning. John’s waiting was all about preparation. So that at the right time, he could come out of the wilderness and proclaim the words of the prophets:

“Prepare the way of the Lord,
    make his paths straight.  Every valley shall be filled,
    and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall become straight,
    and the rough places shall become level ways,  and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.” (Luke 3:4b-6)

The remaining three Gospels show John the Baptist’s second recorded interaction with Jesus. In John 1:29-31, he says,

 “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks before me, because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him, but for this purpose I came baptizing with water, that he might be revealed to Israel.”

Why do I bring this all up? As Advent comes to a close, and Christmas quickly approaches, I always experience a pang of sadness. I’ve loved celebrating this season so much, and then it all comes to an abrupt end. Sure, we see the secular vestiges of the season around for a few more weeks, but what of this holy expectation for Jesus’ birth?

Can you see the paralleled joy John the Baptist demonstrated, both as an fetus and a grown man? He knows something big is happening. And through all of this, John shows us that Christmas is just the beginning. Jesus didn’t come just for Christmas Day. He came for the day after, and all the days to come. But most specifically, He came for that fateful Good Friday on the cross.

So what would it look like to keep Advent in our hearts all year long? Living in holy expectation of God’s power to be made known each new day, just like that glorious first Christmas morn? It might make the waiting a little easier.