Pilgrim Notes

Reflections along the way.

Category: Advent (page 8 of 9)

Advent – December 16

O Antiphons – December 16
We live in response to the resounding Word of God. His earth-shaping voice
shakes creation with the awful danger of unconquerable life. Our yearning
for the complete revealing of Jesus Christ, is merely a response to His
battering waves of love.

Tomorrow, our advent journey intensifies this call and response to the
Creator’s voice. Tomorrow begins seven days of “O Antiphons.” Antiphon
literally means “sounding against” and it calls to mind the alternating call
and response of the liturgy. The liturgy is but a formal recognition of our
human calling to take part in the grand call and response between heaven and
earth.

For seven days, we cry out for the coming Messiah.
O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
O Adonai (O Lord)
O Radix Jesse (O Root of Jesse)
O Clavis David (O Key of David)
O Oriens (O Rising Sun)
O Rex Gentium (O King of the Nations)
O Emmanuel (O God with Us)

Each day reveals yet another glorious title of the world’s only Savior. Each
day the intensity of longing builds for the appearance of the coming King.
When he finally comes, the world is scandalized. “For unto a child is born,
and unto us a son is given…”

The shocking fleshly, particularity of the Incarnation topples the towers of
the world’s wisdom. The Word that created the world now coos in the arms of
the virgin Mary. Only fools can proceed to this stable. Holy fools that is.
The powerful are angry, the wise mock, the worldly turn away in disgust. But
the holy fool walks up to the manger, like a humble servant approaching the
throne.

Come all you holy fools and join this motley throng as we respond to call of
God and worship the baby who is “God with us.”

Advent 5 – Dreaming

Advent 5
I’m dreaming of a white Christmas.

Well, at least my brother is. Every year for as long as I can remember, Jeremy has dreamed of a white Christmas. Most of the time, his dream does not come true.

This year little children all around the world will dream of white Christmases, as well as beautiful baby dolls, magical toys and fun-filled games. Christmas day will come with grand spectacle. They’ll tear through gifts, eat till their stuffed, and play till they pass out. Christmas will come and go in a flash.

In the afterglow, some if not all, will feel a hint of disappointment. In spite of the grand excitement, in spite of the fantastic delights, there will be a hint of emptiness, a yearning for something more. Some parents may even notice this hint of sadness and scold their children for selfishness.

But the children will come by this feeling honestly. They already experience, in their own child-like way, a hint of the angst of the human condition. Nothing fully satisfies. The fruit was sweet for a moment, but the bitter aftertaste poisoned the tongue to any lasting delight.

This feeling is so small in children that it rarely quenches their expectations for tomorrow. Soon they are excited and looking forward to the next big thing. Dreams grow in their hearts like apples on a thriving tree; new buds always replace the fallen fruit.

By the time they grow into teenagers, many children still maintain their capacity to dream. Only now, they have a new energy that comes with puberty and they sense they can do anything. They can conquer the world!

Many translate these dreams into stunning projects from social to personal: and they literally do change the world. But often over time, that angst returns.

Whether they realize their dreams or experience failure, they still feel this sense of disappointment. And gradually, for many, wonder fades, and they forget the zeal of youth. Bitterness, frustration, self-ambition, the tyrannies of the moment, all the pressures of life in the modern world gradually sap these plants of their vitality. And for so many, the hope and dreams of youth forever fades.

The Israelites knew this darkness. Captured and held captive in Babylon, they forgot the old songs and knew only grieving. Their God forsook them, failed them and forever forget them.

But then the unexpected…into their forsaken lives came the voice of God. The promise of God restores youth, offers restoration and opens new possibilities. They learned to dream again.

Advent is the season to dream dreams. During Advent, we watch and wait for the coming of the Lord. The anticipation of His coming taps in the hope the Israelites discovered in captivity. His kingdom will forever eliminate the power of sin in this world and gather together in one all things in Christ. Advent looks with hopeful expectation to the victory of Christ realized in all things. Advent gives us power to see through the disappointments of living to the hopeful future that cannot be stopped.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
experienced disappointments and grief in the darkest hours of the Civil War. His faith hung in the balance:

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

The world wearies our soul and saps our strength. The faith of many grows cold. Yet in the midst of darkness, Longfellow saw a glimpse of hope:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

The bells become a reminder that kingdom of God cannot be thwarted. God’s purposes have prevailed and will ultimately transform the world. The lion really will lay down with the lamb.

This is the hope of Advent waiting. This is the joy of Advent longing.

Our hope is not in the pretty packages of the moment. Each desire we fulfill and each goal we achieve is momentary and passing. Like the children on Christmas morning, we look for something more.

We still yearn for something that earth cannot satisfy. We are searching for a city whose founder and architect is God. So we yearn toward that city where love will prevail. We translate this yearning into simple acts of love and kindness in the present moment. These actions spring from faith that the good really does win.

This Advent, may we learn to dream dreams again.

May we become like little children, ever expectant and hopeful for the goodness of God. And as we reach out toward the coming of the Son, may we transform everything we touch into a glimpse of the love and joy and peace of the kingdom of God.

Advent 4 – Fear Not

Advent 4

Exodus 1:8-11
A new king came to power in Egypt who didn’t know Joseph. He spoke to his people in alarm, “There are way too many of these Israelites for us to handle. We’ve got to do something: Let’s devise a plan to contain them, lest if there’s a war they should join our enemies, or just walk off and leave us.”

The Pharaoh fears the Israelites. He fears they will grow too big. He fears they may leave and upset the economic order. He fears they may take away food or supplies from the Egyptians. He fears they might join with another land and make war against Egypt.

His fear becomes force.

Soon the Israelites face the crushing reality of his fear as he oppresses them, enslaves them and eventually slaughters many of their children.

Fear is deadly.

Our world reels with fear. We fear there won’t be enough. We fear we’ll be alone. We fear our lives won’t count for anything. We fear someone else will get the raise or the promotion or the recognition. We fear we’ll go unnoticed. We fear our freedom to do good and evil. We fear our capacity to hurt others. We fear making wrong choices that result in a disappointment. We fear failing. We fear the end will come too soon.

We fear dying.

Ultimately, we all die. This fear of death, whether conscious or unconscious, animates many actions and decisions. Will we die and be forgotten?

Fear drives people to steal, kill, and destroy. Fear blinds us to the abundance and wonder and glory that surround us. Fear settles over our hearts like a smothering black cloud.

Oh that an angel might suddenly appear into the middle of our heart of darkness and proclaim, “Fear Not.”

On that awful ancient night, the shepherds beheld the terror that ends all terror: the glory of the Lord. And they heard good tidings of great joy for all people.

Heaven’s hope comes to earth in a tale that is strange to even fairy ears. The Creator of heaven and earth, the all powerful, the King of the Jews, the Savior, appears. He’s not in shining robes of glory surrounded by untold armies of heaven. Rather, he comes as a helpless baby among the animals, the outcasts and the forgotten.

He embraces our weakness and reveals His strength. Into the heartache, into brokenness, into the darkness of our fear-filled world comes a babe who will end the power of fear.

In his birth, in his life, in his death and ultimately in his resurrection, he will restore trust to the earth. For only those who trust can live outside of fear.

May this Advent be a time for rediscovering simple trust in the Lord. May we remember the future, looking forward to the end of all things, when the faithfulness and lovingkindness of our Creator is fully unveiled. As we behold the goodness and greatness of our Lord, may we trust in the ancient words that still echo through our being: “Fear Not!”

Advent 3

Jesus wept.

If He wept, I am certain He laughed. For he who goes forth weeping, will come again rejoicing.

Jesus reveals the God to man. At the same time, he reveals man to man. We forget who we are and what makes us human. Like scribbles on pad, we become distorted figures, drained of the glory and wonder and the power of being human–of being childlike.

In the twilight of our fading images, we forget. We forget the wonder of this world. We forget the terror of the night. We forget the joy of a blade of grass. We forget the magic behind every bush. We forget to laugh hundreds of times a day. And we forget to cry.

We sniffle. In fact, we may shed a tear or two on occasion. But most of us no longer have the capacity to cry: to turn red and scream out at the top of our lungs, to fall down in anguished groans; to cry out with our whole body.

Jesus cried so hard he shed tears of blood.

Yet most of us will attend funerals and feel embarrassed if our cry is loud enough for anyone else to hear. It’s okay to shed a tear, but to fall to the ground; to scream out and pound our chests; to tear our clothes in agony is unthinkable. We’ve forgotten how to cry.

Jeremiah cried and cried and cried. He emptied his heart and body onto the ground in desperate sobs and moans. He says, “My eyes fail with tears, my heart is troubled; my bile is poured on the ground.” And he calls out to all who can hear him, inviting, commanding them to join in the anguish: “O wall of the daughter of Zion, let tears run down like a river day and night; give yourself no relief; give your eyes no rest.”

What could be so horrible, so painful, so desperate that would cause a person to cry until he almost died? The end of the world. His world ended before his very eyes. Babylon besieged Jerusalem. Sickness and famine consumed the city. People fell dead in the streets. Mothers ate their own children. The temple was burned to the ground. The heavens and earth were consumed by fire.

He watched the world that he knew, that he loved, that he prayed for, die a tormented death. And he cried.

“Oh, that my head were waters,
And my eyes a fountain of tears,
That I might weep day and night
For the slain of the daughter of my people!”

There is a cry so deep that sounds can no longer express the twisting of the heart inside. The soul comes undone. There is a grief that rips into the fiber of every human. On occasion, people like Jeremiah enter into it. Most of us run in terror from such deep distress. In that breaking grief, we feel the grief of this world, and we know: everything is not all right.

The earth grieves and groans and cries out for redemption. This grief beats in the heart of all things. It is this anguish, this tortured agony, this pulsing pain that can only find respite in the appearing of the Lord, the Parousia!

Despite our bravado; despite our arrogant self-sufficient attitude: all of us are desperately weak. Evil and chaos and sin has enslaved every human heart. In our cool, calm satirical smiles, we may mock the emotionally weak. We are too strong to cry and have become too weak to be human. We can no longer sustain any pure passion: genuine joy and sorrow fade and we live a bland mediocre existence.

It is only by His grace alone, that we can honestly admit our weakness and face our brokenness. It is only His grace that allows us to desperately cry out for the “Parousia!”

In the lonely hours of the dark night, the rhythm of mourning gives way to the rhythm of expectation.

He is coming!

And he comes. He comes with healing in his wings. He comes to comfort the broken heart. He comes to exchange beauty for ashes. He comes to strengthen the weak knees. He comes to baptize us in the fire of His love.

As we celebrate this Advent waiting, may He grant us the privilege to go out weeping and to return again rejoicing.

Advent 2 – Santa Et Al

santa_claus
Every time I watch “Miracle on 34th Street,” I get a strange, hopeful feeling that this just might be true. Who knows? The guy in the red suit down at the mall might just be the real thing. All of the sudden, the anxious, excited, hopefully pangs of childhood stir in my belly. Instantly, I remember visiting Santa Claus as a child. Instantly, the past becomes the present.

I don’t remember ever being afraid of Santa…or clowns for that matter. I do remember being shy and a little bit nervous. The kind of excited nervousness one might feel when looking out across the Niagara Falls. Standing that close to such concentrated power is both exhilarating and a little overwhelming. That’s how Santa made me feel. Someone with such awesome power was nearby.

During Christmas, Santa visited Gimbels, our local department store. During the rest of the year, other visitors appeared: the Jolly Green Giant, Humpty Dumpty, a variety of clowns and a host of other storybook characters. Each time we came to the store, I would peer at them through the racks. My heart raced, my hands sweated, and I stood awestruck just watching these otherworldly characters.

For a little boy with large imagination, these characters somehow represented the sacred, the holy other. The limitations of our world did not confine them. Their sizes, their colors, their powers and their stories all broke the ordinary conventions of this world. These characters were extra-ordinary.

At some point, the clock struck midnight and the magic of childhood evaporated. The big clowns climbed back in their little cars and drove away. Santa lost his sleigh and became just another sales associate trying to help the malls make more money.

Yet from time to time, I feel the pangs again. From time to time, I begin to see again and sometimes even believe. When I watch movies like “Miracle on 34th Street” I wonder, “Is it possible?” Then like waking up from Dorothy’s Oz, I see these characters all around me—in the faces of my friends.

As I look at my friends, I realize that the characters never really did disappear. They’ve been with me, all along. I just grew accustomed to the magic and lost my sight.

All these larger than life characters, like Santa Claus and the Jolly Green Giant, exaggerate certain features. Santa has an unlimited supply of gifts for the world. The Jolly Green Giant is jolly, green and a giant. Chesterton used to say, “All the exaggerations are right, if they exaggerate the right thing.” Maybe a little exaggerated giving is not so bad. And of course, no one can be too jolly. Can they?

As far as green goes, well, I’m not sure what to say. But my folks did tell me about a man who ate so many carrots his skin turned orange.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I have known some pretty exaggerated characters in my life. I once had a friend who was convinced he possessed some of Spiderman’s abilities. And I must admit, he did seem to climb up walls fairly easily.

I had another friend who wanted to possess some mind reading power. He would tell people to think of a card and then promptly present the supposed card. Usually the thought and the card did not match. He may not have been a mind reader, but he did possess an amazing discernment of people and their moral fiber. In college, I studied Astronomy with a guy who looked like he came right off the mountaintop with a shaved head, overalls and big teeth. And yet, he was a know it all: a real one. He really did know it all. His ability to remember facts and details astounded me.

The more I look around, the more I realize these fantastic fairy tale characters are real people. And they’re everywhere I turn. They’re in front of me in the grocery store. They’re beside me on the highway. They’re taking my lunch order.

I’ve come to believe everyone I meet is extra-ordinary. There is no ordinary person. Each person is exceptional, unique, larger than life, and mysterious.

I could spend a lifetime studying one person, any person, and never fully plummet the depths of their mystery. Created in the image of God, human persons reveal aspects of wonder and glory that can be breathtaking. Their power for good, and evil, is overwhelming.

In the common graces of God, each person I encounter is wonder-filled. When I finally begin to see this, I feel the pang again. I realize I’ve been born into a fairy tale world of fascinating characters. There are no ordinary, common unexceptional people. Each person is a treasure, a marvel, a glorious being, a sacred other. In spite of our flaws, I can see through each person to see the hand of our Creator, revealing His glory in all things.

This season I am seeking new eyes to really see the majestic wonder of all the people around me. Open your eyes, you might be surprised at who you might meet.

Image by Laura Pontiggia (used by permission via Creative Commons). 

Advent -New Eyes for Christmas

Advent 1 – November 27, 2005
If you didn’t notice the start of Advent, I’m sure you noticed the after Thanksgiving sales. This yearly ritual of rushing to buy the latest delights seems to be an economic necessity in our culture driven by ever increasing credit lines and quarterly market reports. So if Advent doesn’t prepare our hearts, this yearly ritual will certainly remind our wallets that Christmas is just around the corner.

In the midst of this rising cacophony of non-stop parties, shopping sprees, and sentimental songs, I’d like to encourage us to pause in wonder before a silent night, a holy night. If we can stop long enough, we might start dreaming again like little children.

Some children are dreaming of drum sets and dainty dolls. They’re dreaming of Santa and sleigh bells. They’re dreaming of a night when the extraordinary invades the ordinary. They could teach us to dream again.

They could teach us to see again.

I fear we are blind and don’t even know it. We live in a time and place that other people and ages have only dreamed about. The world is literally at our fingertips. And yet, we are weary.

A certain sickness saps the soul and blinds the eyes. Like a wisp in the wind, the wonder of this world slips away. Instead of celebrating life, we stumble and curse the darkness like the foolish virgins whose lamps flickered and flashed out. Instead of enjoying the monotony of the moment, we search for the spectacular. Every experience has to top the last. Addicted to sensation, we rush to the next best thing. Our culture coddles us with sales pitches designed to accentuate our desire for comfort, entertainment, and indulgence.

We need bigger TVs, better computers, faster games, nicer cars and sexier lovers. From an early age, we learn to use tomorrow’s cash to enjoy today. And so, many people, strapped by debt, sell their souls to the credit bureau, and sacrifice their families on the altar of cash almighty. We’re working ever longer and harder to bring in the just a little more money.

Yet deep within many of us, there is an ache, a longing for simple things, simple joys, simple love. Every day, we enjoy simple delights that we fail to see or celebrate. GK Chesterton once said “Children are grateful when Santa Claus puts in their stockings gifts of toys or sweets. Could I not be grateful to Santa Claus when he put in my stockings the gift of two miraculous legs?”

Chesterton was convinced that sin blinded us to the wonder and the miracle in the monotonous. Only the innocent child and the heavenly Creator can rejoice in the same thing day after day after day after day. Listen to Chesterton explain his point in Orthodoxy:

Because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, “Do it again”; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exalt in monotony. But perhaps God is strong enough to exalt in monotony. It is possible that God says every morning, “Do it again” to the sun; and every evening, “Do it again” to the moon. It may not be automatic necessity that makes all daises alike; it may be that God makes every daisy separately, but has never got tired of making them. He has the eternal appetite for infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father is younger than we.

Would to God that we might grow young again. Would to God that we might have eyes that see. That is my hope this Advent.

In a way, I hope these emails will come like windows in an advent calendar. May each reflection be but a window that opens our eyes to a little glimpse of the wonder of God’s incarnate love, surrounding us even now with little common graces that we blindly ignore each day. In some small way, may these emails serve to prod us, awaken us, and keep us looking out into glorious wonder all around us.

The Spirit of Christmas

Every year cartoons and movies retell the same story: the story of a child or an adult who has lost the wonder of Christmas, “the Christmas spirit.” Every year the tale of innocence and experience is retold through the lens of Santa Claus and a heart that needs only believe.

Christmas is the time when we hope, we wish, we dream it might all really be true. Of course, we know better. And yet deep within us there is a longing for that place called the North Pole. The sophisticated refuse to waste their thoughts or time with such pointless dreaming, ah but the child in all of us longs for the dream to come true.

In our Christmas stories, we express the truths our imagination knows to be true, even when our intellect says otherwise. I believe that our stories embody our deepest beliefs: the beliefs that are fundamental to our whole understanding of the world.

Some parents hoping to protect their children give them presents but refuse to give them the stories of Christmas. But maybe stories are more important than an endless supply of boxed toys that will soon be discarded. Long after the specific toys are forgotten, the stories will be remembered. The stories shape us: they shape the boundaries of our imagination; they shape our understanding of the world—both seen and unseen.

And what do our Christmas stories tell us? What we believe really matters. The magic of Christmas is veiled to the unbeliever. For them it is only commerce—buying and exchanging of presents. But for those who believe, we know the Christmas present reminds us that the greatest treasures cannot be purchased: they can only be received as gifts. The believer offers milk and cookies in gratitude.

After we sit in the glow of our twinkling Christmas trees inside, we might notice the glorious glow of our trees outside: and for that matter our grass and our bushes may look a little brighter. The world around is not as dull and dreary as we had come to believe, but is really an explosive symphony of light.

When we see the Santa strolling through the mall, we are reminded of goodness and kindness and unending benevolence just north of all we can see or hear. We are not alone. And who knows how often we entertain angels unaware?

In the swirl of Santas, and snowmen, and songs of sleigh rides, we discover something else—a lean to, a broke down barn, a rustic shelter. Inside this stable lies a baby that bears the hopes of all the ages.

Once again, the manger is an embarrassment to the sophisticated. How could the God of the ages come to earth as a poor child? Yet this tragically beautiful tale captures the imagination: a virgin with child, a cold winter night, no place in the inn, a miracle birth, shepherds and angels and wise men. And in the center of the story: the hope of hopes lying helpless on the hay.

This is the myth of myths, the story of all stories. The story of the God who comes to earth as man—not to betray the world, not to oppress or destroy but to love in weakness; to embrace the downtrodden; love the unlovely; heal the broken heart; preach freedom to the captives; to bear the weight of every pain, every fear, every sin; to overcome evil with goodness; and to overcome death with life forevermore.

We fear the story is too good to be true. Because ultimately we fear good stories cannot be true. We’ve seen too much pain, too much loss, too much needless suffering. We’ve lost our innocence to the dark reality of this cruel world. In the midst of this dark world, a light still shines.

Dare we believe? Dare we become childlike again? Dare we believe that our stories were pointing to something real? Dare we believe in someone who created us for a life beyond all we ever could hope or imagine?

This Christmas we might truly discover the Spirit of Christmas. Or rather, he might waken us to the wonder of a love that we have longed for all our lives.

“O come let us adore him, Christ the Lord.”

Anticipation

The countdown has begun. All across the Western world, children are counting the days. Santa will be here soon.

Okay, I realize Santa doesn’t seem too spiritual. In fact, some folks go so far as to say that teaching children about Santa is dangerous. When they find out there is no Santa, they might quit believing in God. Actually, when children cease to be children they will quit believing they need God. Jesus says, “Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matt 18:3).

Children have the capacity to appreciate the wonder and magic of myth. They may not understand why the snow falls in winter, but they delight in it as a gift from heaven. The whole world is touched with wonder. There are friendly trees and mean trees. Digging a hole in the back yard may take them to China. Fairies play in the backyard—just out of sight. Children see something adults have grown to old and blind to see. G.K. Chesterton says, “It may be that (God) has the eternal appetite of infancy; for we have sinned and grown old, and our Father us younger than we.”

Children are still young in spirit. They realize this world is miraculous. The spiritual world in entwined with the physical. Their minds may not understand the subtleties of doctrines and theology but their hearts recognize the reality of spiritual light and spiritual darkness.

When it comes to Christmas, they understand something so close to the human heart that adults seem to overlook it. Christmas Eve is just as spectacular as Christmas Day. Christmas Eve is when the Mystery draws near. Paul Jones says:

“As a child I could understand this, for no Christmas Day could ever match the mystery of anticipation called Christmas Eve. All of the major Christian festivals are woven in and out of Vigils—the prior evening in which one awaits in foretaste. Especially significant are the mystery of Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and the rapture of Easter Vigil, which begins and ends in the speckled darkness of early morning. It is in anticipation, at the outer edge of yearning, deeply in time, that Mystery births us.” (A Season in the Desert, 72).

We live so close to the Mystery of God that sometimes we overlook it. In seasons like Advent, we remind ourselves of the deep inner childlike, yearning we have to draw near to the Mystery of God. He is above and beyond all we can know; yet we long to draw near Him. We live in Anticipation.

Anticipation

“What was that?”
“Did you hear that?”
“I think, I think
He’s out there.”

Christmas eve. The magic is almost here.
My heart is throbbing, my
mind is racing.
Sleep?
How?

Tonight’s the night. Michelle says that she saw him last year.
“What was that?”

Looking down over the railing, I crane my neck to no avail.
A flickering of colors rains across the hall.

Trembling, I climb onto the top step. My body
aches to keep climbing down the stairs.

But my mind is terrified.
“What if I spoil the magic?”

Endless seconds
crawl before me. And then,

Michelle taps my shoulder and wakes me from a long winter’s sleep. It’s time!

Our world is different. Just hours ago, he was here!
Here in this very house!

adf – 12/19/01

The Meeting

The young imagination can grasp the impossible. So believing in Santa is easy. When I was a child, the world was full of wonder. Everything was magical. Colors, sounds, shapes, and even smells fascinated me. In fact, I think I liked some toys because of the way they smelled. I remember one store smelled like incense (this was the 60s). That smell always made the store seem a bit mysterious. Some people’s home smelled like children were not aloud to play there. I used to play at one friend’s house who was Italian. As his mom cooked, their house smelled like families were important.

The childlike imagination is rich in associations and wonder and faith. Yet as we grow, we often loose that wonder of simple things. Soon we fail to notice the wonder around us as we plan tomorrow’s schedule or review today’s events. Scientifiic laws explain away the fancies of childhood (like why birds fly and we don’t). We see the grass as green due to light and pigmentation. The sun dissappears from view because of the rotation of the earth.

Faith in God can restore the childlike appreciation of the world. Faith doesn’t seek to do away with scientific laws, but rather, it suggests that beneath those laws is a will. The will of a Supreme, loving Creator. So we may explain the details of green, but faith says that ultimately the grass is green because a divine will wanted it green. There is an active will of a loving Creator behind every man-made explanation. God wills the Sun to shine and it does. God willed for you to exist and you do.

When we see the world through this lens, we realize the absolute wonder that we even exist. God desired you to be here this day. And somehow, in the mystery of His great love, He gave us the freedom to gaze in wonder at His creation or to ignore Him altogether.

As you watch the excitement of children this season, may the excitement and wonder of faith come to life within your own heart.

The Meeting

“Oh , look Mom!
Look!
I think it’s him.
Can we stop? Please, please. Can we stop?”

Standing in line,
My wet hands hands are jumbled in anticipation.

This is the “real” one.
At least I’m pretty sure.
Just look at his stomach.
That’s no pillow.
And that beard, it’s real too.
Not some cotton on elastic.

Oh, great.
I’m next.
My heart is pounding.
I’ve never, …

Met the “real” one.

Quick, review my list:
a scrumpled notebook paper with pencil markings.
I hope he can read it.
Let’ see. Cross out number 3 and 7.
Can’t sound too greedy.
Put a star by 1 and 5. These are the most important.

Oh.
It’s my turn!
He’s so big.
Giant hands gently swoop me into his lap.
Look at those boots. Yep, those are real.
Boy, he looks old. I bet he’s over a 1,000 years old.

“Uh, uh thanks.
Yes, I want a, a”

deep breath.

“A train set that lights up and whistles.
Oh, yes. I promise I would be careful.
Oh wait!
Here’s my list.
You can, uh
Bring me, uh
Anything you want.
Thank you Santa.”

Wow! I finally met him.
Boy he sure smelled good.

by alan douglas floyd

12/2000

Wish Lists

One of my favorite memories of Christmas festivities is the making of wish lists. Several department stores sent out a “wish list” toy catalog each year, but none surpassed the Sears catalog. I spent hours pouring over the pictures and descriptions. I bent the corner of pages with potential “wish list” items for future review. Then I would visualize playing with those particular toys. The toys in my dreams were more fun than anything I ever could receive for Christmas.

There is a profound lesson here. In the wish list, the child uses the imagination to cultivate a sense of longing. This longing may start with a specific toy or any specific thing or even a specific person or a specific place. But our imagination presents a perfect or ideal image of the thing we desire—and the actual reality can never meet our expectations. And we experience disappointment.

One year, I saw a little record player recorder that supposedly could cut records. In other words, I could make my own recordings. This delightful toy bordered on the miraculous, and I dreamed of creating my own albums much to the amazement of friends and family all around. This toy topped this list. It was too good to be true. And it probably was, but I’ll never know because I never got this gift.

One thing a child must learn early is that there is no direct correlation between the wish list and the gifts received on Christmas morning. Inevitably, as delight and wonder envelope children everywhere, disappointment still lurks in the background. Nothing can ever really live up to our expectations or imaginations. And though some adults this year, like every year, will scold their children for selfishness, they too suffer from disappointments in other adults, in relationships, in job situations, in family matters and more. Disappointment is a very real and important part of longing.

I believe our idealized longing, is ultimately reaching out for a city not made by hands: a place and time that truly is just out of reach. Some might say that this type of longing is really a longing for the womb: a place where we were connected, completely safe and satisfied. In fact, some suggest that our delight with the sound of rushing waters from oceans to rivers to creeks is because the earliest sounds we knew in the womb were in liquid.

I believe the longing is not necessarily a looking back but a yearning forward. It is the hope, the longing, the yearning for the possibility that one day the happily ever after really will come true. Our best fairy tales end in a place just beyond the reach of real life. Nobody really experiences happily ever after in the here and now. They can’t. No one and nothing can meet our expectations.

We cannot even meet our own expectations. We vow to follow a new diet or a new exercise plan. We vow to be kind, to be more loving, to live selflessly. But we fall and fail. We cannot live up to our own standards, and if think we do, I assure someone else can look into our life and point out how we fail to meet their standards. Everyone falls short. Thus disappointment is inevitable.

The Hebrew prophets experienced disappointments as well. They watched a people, a nation move from reliance on God to political maneuvering and intrigue: and in the process. becoming a captive people. But many of them continue to cultivate a longing for a time when this kingdom of God would be realized in fullness. They describe this kingdom in ways that are still hard for us to imagine. The world is in perfect harmony: natural enemies are at peace. Political foes embrace; weapons of destructions are transformed into tools for nurturing and healing—even the lion lays down with the lamb.

Their lasting and profound vision of world harmony continues to reverberate throughout our world. Though far from perfect, the United Nations was created with this vision in mind and a quote from Isaiah still adorns the front of the offices in New York. But our flawed attempts fall short of Isaiah’s full vision. He describes a world only God can restore.

And this is the hope of Jews and Christians alike. We strain forward to a world of absolute perfect harmony. While past histories shape us, we are actually energized by the future. We long for God’s kingdom fully realized. Every week, Christians every where will pray, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done…” They are praying for nothing short of absolute and perfect harmony in the heavens and on the earth.

Instead of relegating these dreams to a Never Never Land of childhood fantasy, this Christmas we might began to dream of an Ever Ever Land. We might get out those wish lists and dream of a world perfected in love and grace. Where commerce is not based on who can take advantage of who, but all our exchanges are based on blessing and love.

While our earthly dreams are subject to fail and disappoint, the prophets revealed that we could never out dream the kingdom. Inevitably it will exceed all hopes and expectations. It is better than anything we could have ever hoped. This dream of God’s perfectly realized love drives us forward and gives us energy to live out of that kingdom now. Thus Jesus says that the world would know his disciples by their love one for another.

As we live with a vision and a longing of the kingdom, we trust in God’s faithfulness to reveal this kingdom and relate on the basis of an abundance of His love. We don’t have to scrape and steal and oppress others to get ahead. For our confidence is not the shifting sands of the present moment but in a coming kingdom that cannot fail. Thus we are free to love and lay down our lives for those around us. In fact, we are free to be seen as fools for the sake Christ. Fools because we have abandoned the way of a world that suggests that if I don’t look out for myself, others will take advantage of me. Fools because we choose to return love for hate, peace for war, kindness for anger and healing for hurting.

This Christmas may we begin to live out our wish lists and live what we pray: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…”

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