Simple Ways To Celebrate The Feast

Today is the feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. I posted on seeing salvation and naming it for what it will become here and here.

If you are eating with others today, why not mark this ‘feast’ in a simple fashion by sharing where you see salvation entering into your life and/or into the community within which you live?

Today is also known as Candlemas. It marks the end of the season of Epiphany, during which we remember that Jesus came as light into a dark world. As well as naming God’s salvation in your world, why not light a candle and give thanks?

Seeing Salvation : The Presentation Of Christ

“For my eyes have seen your salvation...” Luke 2:30

Today is Candlemas, the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple.

What does seeing salvation look like?



God’s saving activity can be understood as occurring in the past, present, and future.

As a consequence of the past – the coming-into-the-world of Jesus – we have been saved from that which separates us from God. We have experienced a fundamental shift in identity - from enemies of God to sons of God – and nature - from sinful to holy.

As a consequence of the future – Jesus’ return – we shall be saved from the consequences of separation from God. We shall experience a fundamental shift in environment – from broken world to world made whole – and self – from broken to whole.

But in the present we are being saved. We are experiencing salvation by degrees from those things that we are in need of saving from. It looks like justice for the widow and mercy for the orphan and asylum for the alien and setting captives free and meeting the needs of the poor and tenderly binding-together the broken heart and feeding the hungry and healing the sick and delivering the demonised from torment and raising the dead and proclaiming that the kingdom of heaven is at hand, breaking-in, right now.

And it starts somewhere. And it starts small – though it is intended to grow vigorously.

And it needs someone to step up and name it for what it is, and for what it is going to become.

So, what does seeing salvation look like where I find myself today? What does seeing salvation look like where you find yourself today?

Covenant Prayer : Nunc Dimittis

I am no longer my own, but Yours:
Put me to what You will, rank me with whom You will;
Put me to doing, put me to suffering;
Let me be employed by You or laid aside for You,
Exalted for You or brought low by You;
Let me be full, let me be empty;
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to Your pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
You are mine, and I am Yours. So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
Let it be ratified in heaven. Amen.

Wesleyan Covenant Prayer


“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation...”
Luke 2:29, 30

[‘nunc dimittis’ – Latin, ‘now dismiss’ – is the name under which this prayer has been passed down within the Church]


The ‘Covenant Prayer’ was written down by John Wesley as a prayer of re-dedication. In some Methodist churches, the congregation pray it together annually. It has also been taken up by The Order of Mission (established in 2003). Whenever new members make their temporary vows, or when temporary members come to make permanent vows, they pray this prayer and those existing members witnessing the occasion pray it with them. They are dangerous words, and as an Order we are really only starting to grow in our understanding of just how much such a prayer can cost. And yet, to take it seriously, we need to regularly revisit and wrestle with each clause.

Tomorrow is the Feast of Candlemas, commemorating the Presentation of Christ in the Temple (Luke 2:22-38). When the baby Jesus is brought to the temple, the Holy Spirit prompts a man named Simeon to go there. He has waited patiently to see something before he dies: the one God had promised to send. God had chosen a people to be a light to all peoples, but instead of fulfilling that purpose they had been overwhelmed by darkness. And so God had promised to send them someone who would not only rescue his people from darkness, but would fulfil their calling to be a light that would draw all peoples to God. And God had promised Simeon that he would see it.

Simeon sees it, and is satisfied. He does not live to see the outworking of salvation. He does not live to see the miracles, the crucifixion, the resurrection. He does not get to see the spread of the early church, the at times painful working-out how to be a community of faith made up of Jews and Gentiles. Instead, he allows God to make a prophetic declaration through him and then dismiss him from this world.

“...Let me be employed by You or laid aside for You...”

“...Let me be...laid aside for You...”

To the extent that our identity is found in what we do, being laid aside feels like failure, or punishment, a vote of no confidence. To the extent that our identity is found in what we do, having been laid aside feels disorientating, and disappointing. To the extent that I recognise these responses in my own heart, my identity is misplaced.

Simeon is not only dismissed, he is dismissed in peace. He is not dismissed too soon. God is good for his promise. Simeon’s identity is not found in what he does – we are told nothing about his life story, only that he is of godly character – but in his confidence in God’s promise, confidence that allows him to let God be god and Simeon be himself before God.

God has me in this place at this time. And he is working out his salvation, here. I will not get to see the fulfilment, and perhaps not even the flowering, of that salvation. This is true of both the passing encounters of any one day, and the ongoing relationships over the three more years I am likely to be here. Indeed, it will always be true, for any of us.

If my place is to name the infant work for what it will be, and be dismissed, please God let me be dismissed in peace.

Ahead Of Time

I woke this morning thinking of Good Friday, and the Three Hours at the Cross.

Note to self: create visual meditations on the wounds of Jesus and the sayings of Jesus from the cross, and revisit a visual meditation on the stations of the cross.

Time For A Change

Time for a change. I liked the black design through Advent, Christmas, and most of Epiphany, the banner image of the Liverpool Eye at night, the theme of light shining in darkness. But it is time for a change: something simple - and not dark.

The new banner image is of a carved cross, a gift from my friend Jon, that I have hung on the wall of my study. Jon didn’t know it, but I was thinking that the wall needed a cross. I can’t even say why, exactly. But the gift, and the timing of the gift, have been a greater gift than could have been imagined.

I’ve also added a banner image at the bottom of the page, a ceiling painting from the Monastery of the Temptation, built on a cliff edge close to the place where Jesus spent forty days and nights, immediately after his baptism in the Jordan, fasting and meditating on Moses’ address to the people before they entered the Promised Land, in preparation for his own invasion. The beautifully painted image of the risen Christ as ‘Lord of All’ is one that has held my imagination ever since I stood beneath it.

The images in the sidebar – the circle, semicircle, triangle, square, and pentagon – have their own significance, and have become permanent features, fixed points around which the design can be adapted.

Over the years this blog has undergone shifts in content as well as design. It is time for a change...and it might be even be time for a change.

Purity

Pure gold
Overwhelmingly in the Bible the description ‘pure’ refers to gold, and to pure gold in a particular context: the tabernacle. God has rescued his people from slavery in Egypt, and they are living in tents in the desert at Mount Sinai. God calls Moses up onto the mountain to meet with him and declares his intent to dwell among his people in a tent of his own. Exodus chapters 25-31 record God’s design specifications. Almost everything inside the tabernacle is either to be made of pure gold, or made of wood and covered in pure gold. These items play a role in the interaction between God and his people: the ark of the covenant, the table on which offerings were made, etc. For seven chapters, God goes on about pure gold. And so pure gold signifies that the thing in question is set aside for God’s purposes – his purpose being that God and people can live together.

Moses waits at the bottom of the mountain for a week, and then is gone for forty days and forty nights. The people decide that they do not know what has become of him, and that therefore they will make a representation of the god who rescued them. Moses’ brother Aaron instructs them to bring gold jewellery, given to the slaves as they left Egypt, with which he casts a gold calf. This misuse of gold angers God, and Moses, who on returning to the camp has the calf ground into gold-dust, the dust thrown on the water supply, and the people forced to drink this contaminated water. Then the camp is purified, in drastic measures: those who have not taken part are sent through the camp to kill their brothers, friends, and neighbours, and 3,000 are killed on that day. (This story is told in Exodus 32). A connection is established between pure gold and pure hearts before God.

Pure hearts
This idea, of pure gold symbolising pure hearts, is developed later on in the history of God’s people, in the time of King David and his son King Solomon. In the ancient world, royal courts where centres of learning. David, the musician, compiles psalms; Solomon, the wise man, compiles proverbs. The idea of pure gold symbolising pure hearts is expressed in both psalms and proverbs. Proverbs 17:3 goes further, declaring: “The crucible for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart.” A connection is established between the process of purifying gold and the process by which God purifies the human heart.

Interestingly, when Jesus appears in the story, he is described by John in these terms: “The Word became flesh, and made his tabernacle among us.” Just as long ago God had chosen to live in a tent among his tent-dwelling people, so Jesus living among us is described as the tabernacle. His flesh is like the tabernacle itself, and his total purity of heart like the pure gold inside the tabernacle. He is both God in our presence and the human who ministers to God on our behalf.

Pure joy
James begins his letter to the persecuted church by writing: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4). He goes on to contrast purity and impurities of various kinds.

This, then, is the purifying process. Gold is heated in a furnace, and the impurities within it rise to the surface of the molten gold, where they are skimmed off and poured away by the goldsmith. In the same way, through the circumstances of our lives, heat is applied, and as we become increasingly uncomfortable the impurities within us rise to the surface. The things we would rather remained hidden, invisible within the gold. Things like anger; or evil desire; or ties of obligation to those who live opposed to God; or worrying about money, how we will eat or what we will wear. For example, when we are frustrated even by small ongoing things anger may come to the surface; when we are faced with serious or tragic circumstances, all kinds of reactions might surface. We have a choice: to allow these things to sink back into the gold when the pressure is relieved, so that we look good on the outside; or to ask God to purify us, so that we are changed.

Purity is concerned with being set aside for God’s purposes, for his use, in order that people can live with God in their midst. Purity is single-hearted devotion. God’s intention is to purify us: to bring to the surface the impurities in our heart and to pour them away. On our part, this requires confession. On God’s part, this is not merely forgiveness in the expectation that we will not be changed but he will continue to forgive: this is about transformation. This is the process by which we are changed from one degree of glory to another: from 9-carat gold, through the various qualities to 24-carat gold.

Can you identify impurities that God has removed from your heart in the past? Thank him for that work.

What circumstances are testing you at present? What impurities keep rising to the surface? Ask God to skim them off and pour them away.

Are you looking for ways in which you might be used for God’s purposes? Start each day this week dedicating yourself to him, making yourself available today.

Seven

Today is Noah’s seventh birthday. Yesterday, we had a party. Jo made a(n enormous) LEGO-inspired cake. I made a pin-the-hat-on-the-LEGO-policeman. And Susannah played ‘Happy birthday to you!” on the piano.

Poverty : Riches

Further Thoughts On The prodigal Son

Some further thoughts on the idea that the prodigal son in Luke 15 should be identified as Jesus speaking about himself (following on from what I wrote here)...

The son finds himself in a place that represents the absence of God – slowly dying, surrounded by pigs. From this place, he returns to his father as one who has sinned against heaven and against his father, who is no longer worthy to be considered a son but hopes to be a servant, this time of his father (for he has already become a servant).

Instead, the father not only takes him back as a son, but elevates the younger son to a place of honour, putting upon him the best robe, a ring, and sandals – symbols of authority over the father’s entire estate – because he was dead and is alive again.

When Jesus took upon himself the sins of the world he became sin, cut off from God, experiencing death and descending to hell. Although he lived without sin, he died the greatest sinner of all, carrying everything that separates us from God and neighbour.

Now consider Philippians 2:5-11, where Paul draws on a very early hymn in praise of Christ:
“Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus:
Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death - even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Here is the one who made himself nothing, who became a servant, and died. And who God – the Father – exalted to the highest place, in order that everyone should acknowledge the Son...for this is how the Father has decided that he himself will glory, in honouring the Son.

That sounds to me like the same story, from two sides: the parable foretelling the story, and the hymn reflecting on it.

And Paul introduces the hymn by saying that our attitude should be the same as that of Jesus Christ. The prodigal son, who squandered his father’s resources on sinners, is our role-model.

Seasonal Prayer : Epiphany

Almighty God,
in Christ you make all things new:
transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of your grace,
and in the renewal of our lives
make known your heavenly glory;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.

The Collect, Morning Prayer: Epiphany Season
Common Worship

This is my favourite of all the seasonal prayers from Common Worship: Services and Prayers for the Church of England.

Frozen Duck Pond

Frozen Duck Pond
Originally uploaded by andrew dowsett

Larkhill Gardens.

Reclaiming The Prodigal Son : Be Recklessly Wasteful

I am convinced that Jesus’ parable in Luke 15:11-32 is the most routinely misunderstood of all his parables.

It is traditionally known as The Parable of the Prodigal Son. ‘Prodigal’ means ‘recklessly wasteful’ or ‘lavish,’ and ‘prodigal son’ has come to mean a ‘repentant wastrel’ or ‘returned wanderer.’ More recently, the NIV translation used the section heading ‘The Parable of the Lost Son,’ bringing it in line with the two preceding parables, ‘The Parable of the Lost Sheep’ and ‘The Parable of the Lost Coin.’ The son has been presented as one who turns their back on God, lured away by the pleasures of the world, before eventually coming back to faith. Though the father does not try to force his son to stay against his will, he never gives up hope that one day he will return – and, in both regards, we look to the father as our role model in relation to friends or family who walk away.

But I am convinced that this interpretation misses the point, and therefore misses the proper implications for us.

In Luke 15, we see Jesus engaging in polemic [strong argument] against the Pharisees, who have accused him of welcoming sinners and eating with them. He tells the parable of the lost sheep, and the parable of the lost coin. Both end with rejoicing, and the explanation, “I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.” // “In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

Jesus contrasts the way the Pharisees despise those who do not live up to their own standards with illustrations of how precious each sinner is in God’s eyes. Having established this, he builds on this foundation [that is, the third parable does not underline the first two - note that it does not have the same ending, the same explanation - but goes beyond them] to speak about himself in answer to the accusations levelled against him.

I am convinced that the younger son in Jesus’ story is his way of speaking about himself. The younger son asks for his share of the inheritance, sets off on a long journey to a distant land, and squanders his wealth in wild living. He leaves the Father’s presence in heaven, and comes to earth, where he wastes the resources of heaven not on those who would consider themselves to be deserving of such honour but on the undeserving. He lives in such a way as to be accused of being a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors, prostitutes, and other sinners. He does not observe the ritual rules when it comes to eating, or the Sabbath. And his choices come with great personal cost.

Of course, the big objection to such a reading is that the son calls himself one who has sinned against heaven and against God...and Jesus was without sin. But if we understand the context – a polemic against the Pharisees who have accused him of having sinned – then this is part of Jesus’ demolition of their case against him. The one who has clearly lived in such a way as to be rejected by God is, in fact, lavishly accepted by God. The one who did not hold on to his status is highly honoured. The one who was dead is alive again – and if that is not a prophetic reference to Jesus’ death and resurrection, then I don’t know what is...

And Jesus contrasts himself – the younger son – with the Pharisees – the older son, who neither enjoyed the father’s goodness themselves nor shared it with others.

Now, of course, a story can be understood at more than one level. And so it could be argued that we can see the younger son to refer to Jesus at one level while still seeing it as referring at another level to those who walk away from God – as referring to the majority interpretation, the common understanding. But that understanding has such a strong gravitational pull on our imagination, and the context is so clearly a confrontation between two views of Jesus – from the devil or from God? - that I just don’t think a dual interpretation will do. It will always pull us away from who Jesus is.

Rather than the father being our role-model, in letting-go and hoping, I would suggest that the prodigal son is meant to be our role-model.

That we should reclaim ‘prodigal’ as a model for the missional life [that is, living a life defined by mission]: ‘prodigal’ applying not to those we hope to see come back, but to us as we go out.

And that we should ask ourselves:

How much of heaven’s resources are we prepared to ‘squander’ on sinners?

How far from home [from our place of comfort] are we willing to go?

How great a personal cost are we prepared to pay?

Whose rules are we prepared to break, and who are we prepared to offend, in order to live prodigally?

Larkhill Gardens aka The Duckie

Larkhill Gardens aka The Duckie
Originally uploaded by andrew dowsett

We Were Told It Never Snows In Liverpool

...but we have been blessed!

Top: the view from our house.
Middle: view of our house (first house on the right).
Bottom: view of the church.

Epiphany

The Season of Epiphany runs from the eve of the Feast of The Epiphany (January 6; see Matthew 2:1-12) until the Feast of The Presentation of Christ in the Temple (February 2; see Luke 2:22-40).

An epiphany is generally understood to be a moment of sudden and unexpected revelation, but in fact an epiphany is both event and process – the event itself, and the process of interpreting the event and responding to it; or, the initial event and its long-term implications.

The Feast of The Epiphany recalls the story of the Magi, court astrologers who witnessed an event – a new star – and who then went through a process of interpreting that event – this tells of the birth of a new king, the start of a new era – and responding to it – choosing gifts to take to this new king, making the necessary arrangements for a long journey.

But the Season of Epiphany is also concerned with an epiphany event and process for God. In Jesus, God has become a human being. But God does not appear in adult human form, and retaining all his divine knowledge of humanity, as the One who created us and had watched us since that day. Jesus empties himself of divine knowledge, and is born as a baby. That is the sudden and unexpected (albeit foretold) event. But the event gives birth to the process – Jesus must learn what it means to be a human being.

The gifts that the Magi choose to welcome his coming into the world are gifts that will help Jesus to learn what it means to be human. And, therefore, they can help us to discover what it means to be human too.

The gift of gold shows Jesus that to be human is to be a physical being, with physical needs:
need for shelter, for food, for clothing; needs that Jesus will learn that God our Father meets (Matthew 6:25-34).

The gift of incense (symbolising priestly intercession on behalf of the people) shows Jesus that to be human is to be a spiritual being, with spiritual needs:
need to forgive, and be forgiven; needs that Jesus will learn that God our Father meets (Luke 11:4; Matthew 18:21-35).

The gift of myrrh (used to embalm the dead) shows Jesus that to be human is to be an emotional being, with emotional needs:
needs relating to love and loss; needs that Jesus will learn that God our Father meets (Matthew 5:4).

As he grows, and learns to study the Scriptures, his study will confirm those aspects of being human that the Magi’s gifts first introduce to him. For in giving of ourselves we are told we must do so with all of our heart and all our soul and all our strength (Deuteronomy 6:5; Matthew 22:37; Mark 12:30; Luke 10:27).

My guess is that as a boy, Jesus pondered the gifts brought him as an infant; that as he grew, he used them wisely – perhaps to redeem someone trapped in debt; as he prayed; perhaps as an eldest son he even helped his mother to prepare Joseph’s body for the grave? My guess is that these gifts shaped his imagination, his understanding.

At the Feast of Epiphany, our family like to invite guests and give them token gifts symbolising gold and incense and myrrh, as reminders of what it means for Jesus to become one of us, to redeem what it means to be fully human. On my bookshelf there is a new gold decoration in the form of a star, a fragranced votive candle, and a tube of hand cream. These will shape my meditations over the next five weeks. My prayer is that I may become more fully human, and that my interaction with others would – in some small way – help them to become more fully human too.

The Naming And Circumcision Of Christ

January 1 is the feast of the Naming and Circumcision of Christ. You can read about these events in Luke 2:21-40.

The name ‘Jesus’ means ‘God saves!’ And when he is presented before God [the events of v 22ff take place 32 days after the event of v 21], an old man called Simeon held him in his arms and declared:
“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

My eyes have seen your salvation. Have seen. This is important. Evangelicals tend to over-emphasise the cross as the place of salvation, Jesus’ death as the work of salvation. But that is only a part-truth and, like all part-truths, to put more weight on it than it can bear results in heresy. If salvation occurs at the cross, Simeon had not seen it. Our salvation is not found at the cross, or any other single event, but in the person of our saviour, Jesus.

By Jesus’ birth God saves us from darkness, from despair, from the heart-sickness that results from having our hope endlessly deferred.

By Jesus’ hidden – unrecorded – life God saves us, because we are no longer left alone: God has determined that he will live with people, people who are damaged and who cause damage, whatever it costs; not turning up and waving a magic wand, but committing to live-out reconciliation.

By Jesus’ public ministry God saves us, showing not only what we have been saved from – through acts of salvation from sickness, demons, death – but also what we have been saved for – multiplying-out those acts of salvation.

By Jesus’ death God saves us, as the one who takes upon himself the consequence – death – that we deserve for rebellion against God. (This ‘penal substitution’ has caused difficulty for some evangelicals lately, but ought to be understood in terms of covenant, which is the exchange of a life for a life.)

By Jesus’ resurrection God saves us, as Christus Victor, the Victorious Christ, who has fatally wounded death itself, and irreparably broken the prison gate of the kingdom of hell.

By Jesus’ present intercession at the right hand of the Father, God saves us, as our advocate in the face of the accusations of the satan (the accuser).

By Jesus’ future return God saves us, by ushering-in the kingdom of heaven in all its fullness, where we, reunited with him, will be free from everything we presently need salvation because of.

Each of these parts of the story of salvation are definitive victories, but on their own each is incomplete. And so each should be celebrated for the part they play, without worrying that it is, in itself, an incomplete telling of the story. The genius of the Church calendar is that we journey together through the story, giving each part the recognition it deserves. It is entirely unnecessary to point to the cross at Christmas (done on the basis that this is an evangelical opportunity, and therefore we must get the cross in to our presentation), because the story is too big to condense into one telling, and the fact that ‘God saves’ us through Jesus’ birth is no less significant that the fact that ‘God saves’ us through Jesus’ death. Jesus himself – who spoke of his death and his resurrection – never attempted to present the whole story in one telling. Perhaps we need to learn from him...

May you know Jesus – ‘God saves!’ – more fully in 2010, in every sense.

Feasts

Jesus said that one day there would be a great feast, hosted by God himself. Everyone would be invited, but not everyone would come. And Jesus set about modelling that feast, where all were invited. He ate and drank – sometimes as host, sometimes as guest – with such commitment that his enemies called him a glutton and a drunkard, and a friend of those who were excluded from God’s true table (Matthew 11:19).

And so the Church, following Jesus’ example, decided that they would set aside feast days throughout the year, and that they would invite people to the table, to give a foretaste of the Great Feast Day to come, and to model heaven breaking-in to earth in the present. And while they gave people a taster, to help them to decide to go to the Great Feast, they would also use these feasts as opportunities to tell the story of what God had done in Jesus – tying each feast to a particular event or person in that story.

But somewhere along the line, some Reformers (who had had the Bible translated into their own language so they could read it, but obviously hadn’t read Matthew 11:19 - or any of the Gospel accounts that led people to make the accusation of ‘glutton and drunkard’) decided that feasts were a conceit. Believing in God was a Very Serious Business. What people needed was sermons. And, of course, all the preachers – who loved the sound of their own voice – thought this was a genius idea: why had no-one come up with it sooner? Send word to the kitchen – the feast is cancelled!

I reckon we need to reclaim our feasts, as part of what it means to live a missional life, or life shaped by mission. Probably because I am an introvert, I don’t especially enjoy social events with more people present than I can fit around my table (which is to say, about twelve). But, introvert though I am, I am not a loner: I can appreciate solitude, as indeed I can appreciate festival crowds, but best of all is company around the table.

Christmas lasts twelve days. Yesterday was the feast of Stephen, the first person to be killed because of his belief that Jesus (whose coming into the world we celebrated the day before) was the Messiah, the One sent by God to rescue his people. Today is the feast of John the Evangelist, who saw God’s glory revealed in Jesus, and wrote about it in (the Gospel) According to John, three shorter letters, and the Revelation. Tomorrow is the festival of the Holy Innocents, recalling before God the infant boys of Bethlehem who lost their lives because God’s salvation was so threatening to those who have a vested interest in oppression and control over other people’s lives. January 6 is the Feast of Epiphany, recalling the Magi who recognised Jesus’ birth with gifts of gold, incense, and myrrh.

May your kitchen and your table be blessed this Christmas, and throughout the year ahead.

Advent 26 : Christmas Eve

And me? And you?
Will we change our minds about this story we once thought so familiar?
Will we settle for retelling its previous pages,
or will we turn around
and step into the Christmas story
as it continues to be written,
until Christ comes again?

Advent 25 : The Magi

The kingdom of heaven comes close to the Magi, and by repenting – by changing their mind – they step into the present presence of God’s future.

The Magi go on a journey, a journey that takes them some two years of planning and execution, that leads them a long way from where they began (and back again, by a different route). They are led by a star, almost to Bethlehem. Before they can arrive, they must go on the slightest of detours, to prophetically declare to Herod and his people that his days as king are numbered...Then, having found the child and his mother, they are led away by an angel on a wider detour – one that would have had to take them a long way out of their way - to avoid the murderous king. Stars and angels: sat nav, first-century style.

But God knows the way through the wilderness: for Joseph, Mary and Jesus, fleeing south through the Negev as political refugees, to the Jewish Diaspora community in Egypt; for the Magi, avoiding any road on which they might be seen, their movement reported. This moment, this moment when a caravan of dignitaries exits stage left under cover of darkness, buying time for escape, is a moment that God can step into in order to bring light into the world.

The Magi repent, and step forward into the unknown with God.


[Today’s Antiphon is O Emmanuel]

Advent 24 : The Shepherds

The kingdom of heaven comes close to the shepherds, and by repenting – by changing their mind – they step into the present presence of God’s future.

Shepherds not only lived on the margins of society, out on the hills on the edge of towns; they were considered to represent the margins of society. They were marginalised by society. They were mistrusted, misrepresented. Like youth in our society today, they were considered to be up to no good, lazy, antisocial. You certainly wouldn’t believe a word that they said – especially if their excuse for being in town when they were supposed to be with their flock was that an angel had appeared to them with news of great joy...

But God knows what it is to be marginalised by his people. And, as Mary sung, God “...has shown strength with his arm and has scattered the proud in their conceit, casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:51-53). This moment, this moment when the marginalised are invited as guests-of-honour into the very centre, is a moment that God can step into in order to bring light into the world.

The shepherds repent, and step forward into the unknown with God.


[Today’s Antiphon is O Rex Gentium]

Advent 23 : Joseph

The kingdom of heaven comes close to Joseph, and by repenting – by changing his mind – he steps into the present presence of God’s future.

Joseph is told that the girl pledged to marry him is pregnant, and he is not the father. How does he feel? Cheated by her family? Betrayed by her? He has the right to complain, to bring the matter into the light, to demand compensation for a broken pledge, perhaps to demand that Mary is stoned to death. Even if he does not make that demand, the matter might be taken out of his hands.

Joseph is a righteous man, and he makes a righteous decision: not to demand his rights, but to walk away quietly, to carry the consequence of someone else’s actions. Though God has other plans, this is not a bad decision but a good one – one that vindicates God’s decision (if God’s decisions need vindicating) to choose this man to raise His Son.

But God knows Joseph’s character more intimately than Joseph does. This moment, this moment when he can choose to take Mary and her baby on as his own, is a moment that God can step into in order to bring light into the world.

Joseph repents, and steps forward into the unknown with God.


[Today’s Antiphon is O Oriens]

Fourth Sunday Of Advent : A Light For Mary

The kingdom of heaven comes close to Mary, and by repenting – by changing her mind – she steps into the present presence of God’s future.

The angel says, “You will be with child”...and Mary asks, “How can this be?” She is a virgin. And we need to understand that term to mean not only someone who has not yet had sexual intercourse (in this sense, a virgin can become pregnant, simply by having sex) but to mean a girl who has not yet ovulated (that is, for whom pregnancy is a biological impossibility, even if she had had sex).

Mary knows that she cannot have a baby, because her body is not yet ready to have a baby. That is why she is still ‘pledged to be’ married: an arrangement has been made between two families, and the wedding will take place once she has become a woman, once her periods begin.

But God knows Mary’s body more intimately than Mary does. This moment, this moment when her ovaries release their very first egg, is a moment that God can step into in order to bring light into the world.

Mary repents, and steps forward into the unknown with God.


[Today’s Antiphon is O Clavis David]

Advent 21 : John, At Last

Eventually John extends the invitation to repent to someone who knows that John is right, but cannot accept: it would cost Herod the tetrach far too much. Ultimately, that refusal to pay the price will cause John to lose his life (Matthew 14:3-12).

And in prison, John hears what Jesus is doing, and wonders: is this who we were to expect after all? (Matthew 11:1-19) Who Jesus was, and what he was doing, didn’t match even John’s expectations.

And Jesus’ response is to call John to repent, to change his mind: these things, impossible for man but possible through God, are exactly the ‘kairos’ moments – the opportunities to repent, to turn around and step into the present presence of God’s future – that show heaven is come near. One day, all the blind shall see, the lame walk, the unclean will be made clean, the deaf shall hear, the dead shall be raised, and the poor shall experience God’s goodness. And even now we get to share in the signs that point to that Day.

And Jesus said that John, who was about to lose his head, stood head-and-shoulders above all those born of women (John said that Jesus would surpass him, for he needed to become less and Jesus become more – John 3:30 – but at this point in the story, John is still greater, according to Jesus – Matthew 11:11). And yet, he continued, whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than John.

That is, the secret of greatness is becoming smaller and smaller, until you disappear. That at the vanishing-point of our ego, God’s power flows through us with least resistance. No-one had become smaller than John – but, because of John’s example, they would. John’s repentance had opened a breach between earth and heaven, through which heaven poured into earth like water through a breached dam – and those forceful enough to keep going against the flow of everyone else have experienced the present presence of God’s future bursting in, ever since...


[Today’s Antiphon is O Radix Jesse]

Advent 20 : God In The Wilderness

Today’s Antiphon reminds us what God’s people have rediscovered in every generation. Abraham learnt it. Moses learnt it. David learnt it. Elijah learnt it. Mary learnt it. Cousin John learnt it. Jesus learnt it. Paul learnt it. Countless generations have learnt it ever since.

If you hope to find God, you will find him, at last, in the wilderness.

And, therefore, if you have lost all hope of finding God, he is closer to you than you know. Right there. But behind you. Turn around, and you will find that though you did not know it, you are standing on holy ground.

Today’s Antiphon is O Adonai

Advent 19 : The Guide who Leads Us In Repentance

Today marks a turning-point - an opportunity to repent and by so doing step into the present presence of God’s future - on the path through Advent.

Today marks the start of the final leg of the Advent journey. Down the centuries, in these last days counting down to Christmas, the Church has declared our Advent hope, praying ancient prayers (known as Antiphons*) inviting God into our lives, expressing our longing to step into his kingdom rule.

The first Antiphon invokes God as Wisdom from above, calling to mind Isaiah’s promise that Jesus would be known as Wonderful Counsellor (Isaiah chapter 9).

I have not walked the path that leads through today before. At times, the path seems to vanish beneath my feet, to fall into nothingness, sheer, un-scale-able. At other moments, I get a glimpse of my destination, before the rocks hide it again: moments of hope sustaining me in the midst of a hard climb. I need one who knows the path, who knows its every twist and turn, to lead me, to walk one step ahead of me, to tell me when to change direction. I need a wise guide, an expert in the art of repentance. Today, he meets me on the path.

Today’s Antiphon is O Sapientia


*The Antiphons found their way into the Christmas Carol ‘O Come, O Come, Emmanuel’ - although some hymn books do not include all the verses, and therefore miss out some of the story the Antiphons tell about God.

Advent 18 : Repentance, And Failure To Repent

Heaven – the realm of God’s kingdom rule – is closer to earth than we think. It is right there, seeping in. Repentance is the means by which heaven crosses the thin, permeable membrane of space and time: the means by which foretastes of the future – God’s ultimate future – break-into the present. Because God’s kingdom is right there...but it is heading in a different direction, towards another horizon, another conclusion; and so we need to turn round to see the world from the perspective of God’s kingdom.

There are times – moments, events; the Greek word for such time is ‘kairos’ – that interrupt and suspend ordinary time – seconds, minutes, hours, days; the Greek word for such time is ‘chronos’. These moments can be positive or negative, large or small. They can last for half a heartbeat (a passing stranger makes you smile), or for months (grief after significant loss). The world carries on about its business around us, but we find ourselves stuck in a moment...and in that moment, the world of ‘chronos’ time and space can take one of two paths.

These times are opportunities to repent and see God’s kingdom break-in. Salvation, healing, forgiveness, joy, peace – things that will define all experience of life beyond the Great Day of Jesus’ return, break-into the present, as signposts pointing to that future Day.

Or we can take a deep breath and carry on along the same trajectory we were travelling in, and miss out on partnering in God’s rule. God’s future will continue to break-in, but at another moment, delayed, perhaps through someone else.

And though this may seem counter-intuitive, God gives us the big ‘kairos’ moments – the ones even one so blind as me cannot miss – in order to train us to see the small ‘kairos’ opportunities, and step into God’s future. Because our days are as filled with ‘kairos’ moments as they are with the air we breathe; and the small moments are more significant than the big ones.

I was in the city centre, Christmas shopping, and I walked past a Big Issue vendor. And I chose not to stop – not that I wouldn’t buy a copy, but I’d do it later, once I’d actually got some shopping done. And God, speaking through my conscience, said, “Turn around!” But I kept going, arguing with the voice in my head: later, not now. The further away I got, the harder it was to turn around, and in fact I never did. I carried on with my agenda, and bought a copy from another vendor later. And we spoke, and I know he was blessed, but I also know that God wanted to break in through me earlier in the day, and, by my own choice, I missed out on being part of what he wanted to do.

The moment was small, and easy to dismiss. What will it take (and do I really want to resist God that far)?

Lord Jesus, whose days were one moment of repentance after another, so that you remained always in the Father’s will, teach me to live such a life. Amen.

Becoming [Recycled Posts]

The other day I was having a conversation with some people who were wanting to see more of God’s power made manifest in their lives. And I was suggesting that as God’s power is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9), we will see more of God’s power at work as we hold out our weaknesses before him, for him to use. Our natural instinct is to hide our weaknesses, because we are ashamed of them; or, if we are too honest or too desperate to do that, to ask God to remove them. But the apostle Paul came to realise that instead we ought to boast in our weaknesses: to openly acknowledge that it is when we reach the end of our resources that God steps in...

As part of that conversation, I thought I would link back to two previous posts, on the story of Gideon. They are:

Becoming |1| Submit To God

and

Becoming |2| Resist The Devil

Advent 17 : The Repentance Of God's People

So repentance has its root in the very heart of God, who changed direction: picking his way carefully down the sheer face of the heavens, down Jacob’s angel-ladder; down, into the inconceivable vulnerability of a human beginning, into Mary’s womb.

Therefore repentance is the appropriate response of the people of God: of those who recognise God-with-us, and who are given the right to become children of God as a result. For repentance still carries the forgiveness of sins out into the world.

While everyone else is clawing their way up the ladder, seeking to make a name for themselves that will be heard in all the earth and even the heavens – a name that will be remembered forever - we are called to follow the path down. To empty ourselves. To become smaller. Less powerful. Less important. No, still smaller than that...

To down-size. To achieve nothing in the eyes of the world. Not even our fifteen minutes of fame. To leave behind whatever we already have.

And, just as John recognised Jesus while the two cousins were still in their mothers’ wombs, the smaller we become, the deeper the glimpse we are given into the mysterious ways of the God who is reconciling all things to himself.

Advent 16 : The Repentance Of God

To ‘repent’ means to turn around, to make a change of direction.

We’ve narrowed that massively, so that we tend to understand repentance as turning from something wrong – as turning from a sinful way of living (i.e. living in broken relationship with God and neighbour) to a righteous way of living (i.e. living in right relationship with God and neighbour). And so we see undergoing John’s baptism of repentance as a person indicating their intention to turn from sin to righteousness.

Repentance certainly may include turning from something wrong, but it is far bigger than that. Sometimes a change of direction is needed, not to return to the right path but in order to continue on the right path. Sometimes repentance is not reactive but proactive: not that we have sinned and need to repent, but that we need to repent in order not to sin. Sometimes repentance is not from but for...

John did not preach a baptism of repentance from sin, in order to receive forgiveness; but a baptism of repentance for – or, which leads to – the forgiveness of sins. John’s baptism proclaims a repentance that results in the forgiveness of sins - but whose repentance?

The start of Jesus’ ministry is marked by his being baptised by John. Jesus was without sin. If John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance from sin, Jesus could not have received it: he had committed no sin he needed to repent from. But John’s baptism was a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins:
Jesus the carpenter from Nazareth stands before him indicating his intention to make a change of direction;
to put carpentry behind him and follow a new path – first into the wilderness, from where his path would ultimately lead to Jerusalem and a cross;
to his substitutionary death and victorious resurrection, which result in a new forgiveness of sins...
in a new path to forgiveness, not through the annual ritual sacrifice made by the High Priest, but once-and-for-all.

The initiative lies always with God. For Christmas celebrates the greatest repentance of all: the one who is God from God, begotten not created, with God from the beginning, laid all aside and descended the path from heaven to earth to become a human being and live among us (John 1:1-18 ; Philippians 2:5-11).

As we seek to follow Jesus along the Way, there will be times (perhaps many times) when he asks us to change direction – to move to a new location, to take up a new responsibility – not because where we are and what we are doing is wrong, but because we have reached a turn in the path before us. We turn, for him, for others – an act of repentance that keeps us in step with the Spirit of Jesus – because he first turned, for us.

Advent 15 : A Light For John The Baptist

The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

It is written in Isaiah the prophet:
“I will send my messenger ahead of you,
who will prepare your way” —
“a voice of one calling in the desert,
‘Prepare the way for the Lord,
make straight paths for him.’”

And so John came, baptizing in the desert region and preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem went out to him. Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. John wore clothing made of camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. And this was his message: “After me will come one more powerful than I, the thongs of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
(Mark 1:1-8)


I’ve been in the Judean wilderness, rising up from the Jordan River and the Dead Sea; the wall of the deepest rift valley on earth, where John lived and went about his ministry.

I’ve seen the wilderness, through which God’s ancient people expected him to come one day, on his way to Jerusalem, with my own eyes. And I know that if you wanted to make a way through the wilderness, a straight path is no use to you.

A straight path will get you nowhere. You need a path that zigs and zags, as it seeks to climb rock so sheer that only the wild mountain ibex can pick their way up and down. A path that turns back on its self, painfully slowly, in order to gain ground...

In other words, the prophet cries out, what is really needed is not simply a better path, but a seismic shift in topography. Depths raised-up, heights brought low: the landscape unrecognisable as what was there before. The old paths no longer going anywhere at all...

John says we need to get ready. To repent – to change the direction we are moving in. To recognise that we are at a point in the path where we can go no further in this direction; and - with God’s grace - must find another.

But more than that, John says something is about to happen that will change everything forever. To respond to the call to make a straight path in the desert of our lives is to recognise that the one who will travel on it will, in his passing, transform the desert itself from the place of life in its most marginal experience to the place of life in all its fullness.

Come, Lord Jesus.

Advent 14

Advent 13

Advent 12

Advent 11

Advent 10

Advent 9

Second Sunday Of Advent : A Light For The Prophets

Advent 7 : St Nicholas' Eve

If you have children, go out and buy a bag of chocolate coins for each child. Get your children to leave out a shoe when they go to bed tonight, and place the bag of coins there to be found in the morning...because the morning brings with it the Feast of St Nicholas.

Nikolaos was bishop of Myra (modern-day Turkey) in the C4th. He was suspected to be behind a wide spate of anonymous acts of kindness, in particular leaving bags of gold coins in shoes left by the door. It would appear that his motivation was redeeming the poor from the consequences of poverty – a practical expression of the loving action of God in coming into our world to redeem us from the consequences of our slavery to the satan, or accuser: sin, and death.

Nikolaos became patron saint of sailors and merchants, and was carried by Dutch traders to Amsterdam, where he became Sinterklaas; and from there on to New Amsterdam (later, New York), where he became Santa Claus; and to England, where he became Father Christmas.

In response to God’s redemptive gift to us – the coming of Jesus – Nikolaos started a tradition of redemptive gift-giving. Over the years, this has been covered by layers of giving gifts for other reasons. But that redemptive quality has been rediscovered, through a range of fair-trade gifts, and gifts that go to someone other than the recipient – see Oxfam unwrapped, Traidcraft, and Present Aid for ideas.

Advent 6 : Who Am I?

Who am I, when
everything that makes me who I am
is stripped away,
and I am laid bare before
the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob?
Who am I, when
who I am is not known round here?
Who am I, when
those I love are taken from me?
Who am I, when
all I have worked to build is washed away?
Who am I, when
I AM is:
Great Father?
Only and Beloved Son, sacrificed?
The one who brings God and man together in one,
and overcomes the gulf between them?
This is not an abstract question
for us, who live in the land of darkness...

Advent 5 : The Wrestlers

More than fourteen years after meeting Jacob in his dream, God comes to him again in the night. Though God has blessed him, Jacob is a broken man – caught between the uncle he has tricked, in order to amass wealth, and the brother he tricked out of his birthright so many years earlier. Here is a man caught between a rock and a hard place.

And God comes to Jacob again and repeats his offer: “If you give me your life, I will give you my life.”

They wrestle, physically and metaphorically, all night [note 1]. God, laying aside his supernatural might to wrestle with a man; and that man holding on for dear life and refusing to let go. Jacob gets to see God face-to-face, and live. And finally, as the dawn breaks, the covenant is renewed.

Jacob gets a new name (a divine name): Israel. No longer ‘the deceiver’ but now ‘he struggles with God and man, and overcomes.’

And God? Jacob asks, “Tell me your name!” But God replies, “Why do you ask my name?” You already know: I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and now – at last – of Jacob. The God of Israel. I am the God who exchanges identity with my people. I am the Great Father. I am the Only and Beloved Son, who will be sacrificed. I am the one who struggles with God and man, and has overcome: the one who brings God and man together in one, and overcomes the gulf between them...

note 1: read Genesis 32.

Advent 4 : Stairway To Heaven

God will introduce himself to later generations as “I am the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob.” Jacob – Isaac’s son, Abraham’s grandson – is the third Patriarch.

God comes to Jacob and says, “If you give me your life, I will give you my life.” Jacob’s life was a mess. His name – his identity – meant trickster or cheat, and that defined his life. He cheated his brother out of his birthright, and ran for his life. And the trickster would himself be tricked: he voluntarily worked for his uncle Laban for seven years up front in return for Laban’s younger daughter as a wife...only to be given the older daughter, and forced to work another seven years (though not up front this time) for the right to marry the woman he loved. Laban said, you can marry my daughter but in exchange I’ll get fourteen years of labour out of you, and get you to take my other daughter off my hands into the bargain. The trickster met his match – and responds in the only way he knows, by tricking his uncle, by getting his own back. And trickery upon trickery resulted in an ugly family situation, which would have consequences for the next generation...

God comes to Jacob twice. The first time, Jacob has just run away from home. Exhausted, he lies down to sleep on the open ground - on the very ground where his grandfather Abraham had taken his father Isaac to sacrifice him. But Jacob did not know it. And as he slept, God appeared to him in a dream, standing both at the top and at the bottom of a stair reaching from earth to heaven [note 1], on which angels where ascending and descending. There God renews his offer of covenant – an exchange of lives. Jacob is amazed, and afraid: without knowing, he has stumbled on the place where heaven and earth connect, the house of God. And he declares that if God shows himself to be true to his promises, then Jacob will enter into covenant with him, and make this place outwardly, visibly, God’s house [note 2].

He stands at the open gate of heaven, and does not go in. This is not the end of his story, but it is a missed opportunity. Nonetheless, God will not let it go: generations later, Jesus will declare that the place where the stair between heaven and earth touches ground is not at any fixed geographic point, but in him [note 3]. In Jesus as he went about on earth, and, by extension, in the heart of everyone who will accept his offer:

“If you will give me your life, I will give you my life.”


note 1: The text, Genesis 28, is ambiguous as to whether God is stood at the top or the bottom of the stair, in a way that leads us to understand it as being both at the same time. God in heaven, and God on earth. The Great Father, and the Only and Beloved Son.

note 2: Generations later, Solomon’s temple would be built here. After it was destroyed and the people taken into exile, Zerubbabel would return and build the second temple on the same spot. And, in turn, Herod the Great would build the magnificent third temple – the temple of Jesus’ day – at the house of God, the gate of heaven.

note 3: see John 1:43-51.

Advent 3 : Like Father Like Son

Back to those Patriarchs...

So God comes to Abram and says, “If you give me your life, I will give you my life.” And Abram, now Abraham, has a son, the beginning of the fulfilment that he would become Father of Nations.

But then God says to Abraham, “Take Isaac, your only son, your son whom you love, and go to a certain place I will show you, and sacrifice him to me.”

In other words, God says, “In the light of who I have shown myself to be and what I have done for you in the past, will you trust me for the future? Will you trust me to come good on my promise – trust me enough that you put me before my promises; enough that you will hold on to my promise even when all the evidence points to the death of that hope, because you know who I am?” [note 1]

Isaac is the second Patriarch. God comes to him and says, “If you give me your life, I will give you my life.” God brings Isaac ‘back from death’ and to the identity of Great Father God has taken on in covenant with Abraham, in covenant with Isaac God now adds to himself the identity of Only and Beloved Son, who will be sacrificed [note 2] as the pivotal point in God’s fulfilment of his promise to Abraham.

As we wait with anticipation for the fulfilment of Jesus’ promise that one day he will return, God comes to us this Advent with the same invitation: “If you will give me your life, I will give you my life.”


Note 1: See Genesis 22 and Hebrews 11:17-19.

Note 2: Generations later, King David bought the land where Abraham was sent to sacrifice Isaac. David’s son Solomon built the (first) temple there. And on that patch of earth, in the shadow of the (third) temple built on the site, Jesus would die on a cross, be laid in a borrowed tomb, and three days later be raised again.