“And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.”
Nothing like being dive-bombed by the Holy Spirit! Of course, it only says the Spirit descended like a dove… But the image of a bird landing on Jesus’ head sticks for the literal-minded. That image can obscure the power of what gospel writers describe here: the moment when the Spirit of God – present at Jesus’ conception, present in his youth from the limited stories we have – fully indwells him.
This is when Jesus moves fully into his identity as the Christ, “the Anointed One.” (“Christ” is from the same Greek word for oil, or ointment, from which we get “chrism.”) This moment is when his public ministry begins, when he takes up his mission of transformation and redemption.
We receive the Spirit at baptism as well. We are baptized in water and by invocation of the three-fold name of God, and then we are anointed with oil, signed with a cross on our foreheads. That oil signifies the Holy Spirit. In some early baptismal rites, the oil was as important as the water, or more, so crucial was it to convey the power of the Spirit to be released in the newly baptized.
The gift of the Holy Spirit can be among the most unused gifts we possess, like a punch bowl gathering dust in the cupboard, or the wedding china left in the buffet except for “special occasions.” Yet St. Paul calls this gift of the Spirit a down-payment on the inheritance that we can access now. He writes, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.” (Ephesians 1:13-14).
In essence, we have a huge inheritance in the bank, that will never run out. At baptism we receive the card and the pin number. We can leave it sitting there – or we can use it to bring spiritual power into all kinds of pain and brokenness and stuckness we encounter in ourselves and others.
Are you aware of the presence of the Spirit in you and around you? When do you access that power? Sometimes we can simply invite the Spirit to make him/herself known (the Spirit has no gender… but is not an “it.”)
Today you might sit quietly for a time, get comfortable, both feet on the floor, spine straight but relaxed, and pray, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me. Let me know you’re here.” And wait, with attention.
Or, if you’re confronted with a tense or challenging situation, you can invoke the Spirit over it, praying silently, “Guide me, give me the right words, protect me…,” whatever seems right. Think how engaged our churches can be in our communities when we all exercise the gift of the Spirit!
We aren’t always aware of such cosmic activity at baptism – yet I believe that each time we enact that sacrament, the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends and alights on us. And once the heavens are opened to us, we have lifetime access to the God of the universe. Lifetime, and beyond.
1-8-14 - Water
In Robert Duvall’s classic film, The Apostle, there is a scene in which Duvall’s character, a wayward evangelist fleeing an attempted murder charge, stands waist deep in a river. Slowly he sinks down and submerges himself. He’s down there awhile – we wonder if he’s coming back up. Then slowly he does and breaks through the surface. From here on he adopts a new name, “The Apostle EF,” and assumes a new identity. We never quite know whether this is grace or scheming – that’s part of the power of the film. The scene infers, though, that he was in effect baptizing himself, allowing his old identity to die and a new one to be born.
Baptism is the premiere rite of new beginnings. In the Christian church, it has long been the entry point for life in Christ, though sometimes it comes long after faith has taken hold. One reason baptism always includes water is because Jesus was baptized in water. “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” Many theologians have argued that in this way, Jesus sanctified all waters.
Christian baptismal rites emphasize both birth and death – some early baptismal fonts were designed to suggest wombs, tombs or both. We all begin life in the water, the amniotic fluid in which we prepare for birth. Water can also be death – imagery which our liturgies emphasize as the dying of the old self and the rising with Christ of the new, eternal soul.
I find it a great blessing that an element we encounter numerous times each day should be the sacramental sign of our new life in Christ, for it allows us constant reminders of our status as beloved of God. Martin Luther is said to have instructed followers, “When you wash your face, remember your baptism.” I would go further and say, “When you have a bath or a shower, remember your baptism. When you go swimming or pass a puddle, or fill your coffee pot or your water glass, remember your baptism.”
If you can’t remember yours, you might spend a little time today imagining it in prayer. What water source would you choose? A font, a pool, a beach, a water fall, a fountain? Would you like to go into the water or have it poured over you? In your imagination, can you see those waters as healing? What do you want healed? Regenerated? Renewed?
There was a time when my prayer life consisted of meeting Jesus on a beach in my imagination – sometimes he had a fire there and we talked. More than once, he invited me to wade into the sea with him, a profound reminder of my baptism.
Wherever and whenever you were baptized, and whoever was there, remember that Jesus also was there, sanctifying the water, in which you were born anew. That birth process takes a lifetime – and we can dip into those waters any time we want.
Baptism is the premiere rite of new beginnings. In the Christian church, it has long been the entry point for life in Christ, though sometimes it comes long after faith has taken hold. One reason baptism always includes water is because Jesus was baptized in water. “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” Many theologians have argued that in this way, Jesus sanctified all waters.
Christian baptismal rites emphasize both birth and death – some early baptismal fonts were designed to suggest wombs, tombs or both. We all begin life in the water, the amniotic fluid in which we prepare for birth. Water can also be death – imagery which our liturgies emphasize as the dying of the old self and the rising with Christ of the new, eternal soul.
I find it a great blessing that an element we encounter numerous times each day should be the sacramental sign of our new life in Christ, for it allows us constant reminders of our status as beloved of God. Martin Luther is said to have instructed followers, “When you wash your face, remember your baptism.” I would go further and say, “When you have a bath or a shower, remember your baptism. When you go swimming or pass a puddle, or fill your coffee pot or your water glass, remember your baptism.”
If you can’t remember yours, you might spend a little time today imagining it in prayer. What water source would you choose? A font, a pool, a beach, a water fall, a fountain? Would you like to go into the water or have it poured over you? In your imagination, can you see those waters as healing? What do you want healed? Regenerated? Renewed?
There was a time when my prayer life consisted of meeting Jesus on a beach in my imagination – sometimes he had a fire there and we talked. More than once, he invited me to wade into the sea with him, a profound reminder of my baptism.
Wherever and whenever you were baptized, and whoever was there, remember that Jesus also was there, sanctifying the water, in which you were born anew. That birth process takes a lifetime – and we can dip into those waters any time we want.
1-7-14 - Submission
“Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’”
The evangelist Matthew must have been a lawyer; he so often seems to be marshalling supporting arguments, citing precedents (all those quotes from the prophets…) and anticipating objections. So he alone of the Gospel writers, in telling the story of Jesus’ baptism, informs us that John was uncomfortable having Jesus submit to his ritual of repentance. After all, by the time Matthew is writing, Jesus is already risen and ascended, worshiped as the sinless Son of God. Matthew needs to get out in front of those who would question why Jesus should have undergone John’s baptism.
So here John objects to what he perceives as a role reversal, the lesser baptizing the greater. “But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.’ Then he consented.”
Jesus recognizes that, if he is to share fully in our humanity, he needs to undergo this rite of cleansing and so sanctify it. He willingly submits to this ritual, as later he willingly submits to a corrupt trial and unjust sentence and hideous death. Over and over again Jesus submits – and so subverts the sin and death from which he came to free us. Indeed, his Incarnation itself – God taking on the limitations of human flesh and nature, of boundedness in time and space – is submission, freely submitting in order to set others free.
So I was somewhat appalled to read this week that the Church of England is experimenting with a new baptismal rite that dispenses with the word “submit,” so as not to cause pain to any who have been forced to submit to power. While I recognize the issue, it seems a gross over-reaction to take out of play a word that conveys such a central aspect of being a Christ follower. (These same rites also remove the ancient language of “sin” and the “devil”… that’s a rant for another day!)
I submit that learning the art of voluntary submission is at the heart of following Christ. It is central to the kind of self-emptying love Jesus taught and demonstrated. In following Him, we voluntarily submit our prerogatives, our priorities, our time and resources, our wills, to the cause of self-giving love that heals and transforms the people around us. We might go so far as to say that is the work of spiritual growth – learning to gradually submit ourselves to the love of God, overwhelming as that can be.
Today I invite you to ask yourself where in your life you submit – voluntarily, or not. Not all submission is life-giving… yet in choosing to submit, we can often give life.
And where do you sense yourself hanging on to avoid submitting? What might be asked of you?
To trust more? To give more? To spend time with someone difficult? To change careers?
Ask Jesus to show you where He might be inviting you to submit more of yourself, your agenda, to His.
How do you respond? Our “yes” sometimes takes awhile…
Jesus does not ask of us anything he has not already done – perhaps that’s why he chose to go into the water that day, the sinless one undergoing a baptism for repentance.
It was the beginning of his taking on the burden of our repentance.
It was the beginning of everything, of life for us, there in that water.
The evangelist Matthew must have been a lawyer; he so often seems to be marshalling supporting arguments, citing precedents (all those quotes from the prophets…) and anticipating objections. So he alone of the Gospel writers, in telling the story of Jesus’ baptism, informs us that John was uncomfortable having Jesus submit to his ritual of repentance. After all, by the time Matthew is writing, Jesus is already risen and ascended, worshiped as the sinless Son of God. Matthew needs to get out in front of those who would question why Jesus should have undergone John’s baptism.
So here John objects to what he perceives as a role reversal, the lesser baptizing the greater. “But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.’ Then he consented.”
Jesus recognizes that, if he is to share fully in our humanity, he needs to undergo this rite of cleansing and so sanctify it. He willingly submits to this ritual, as later he willingly submits to a corrupt trial and unjust sentence and hideous death. Over and over again Jesus submits – and so subverts the sin and death from which he came to free us. Indeed, his Incarnation itself – God taking on the limitations of human flesh and nature, of boundedness in time and space – is submission, freely submitting in order to set others free.
So I was somewhat appalled to read this week that the Church of England is experimenting with a new baptismal rite that dispenses with the word “submit,” so as not to cause pain to any who have been forced to submit to power. While I recognize the issue, it seems a gross over-reaction to take out of play a word that conveys such a central aspect of being a Christ follower. (These same rites also remove the ancient language of “sin” and the “devil”… that’s a rant for another day!)
I submit that learning the art of voluntary submission is at the heart of following Christ. It is central to the kind of self-emptying love Jesus taught and demonstrated. In following Him, we voluntarily submit our prerogatives, our priorities, our time and resources, our wills, to the cause of self-giving love that heals and transforms the people around us. We might go so far as to say that is the work of spiritual growth – learning to gradually submit ourselves to the love of God, overwhelming as that can be.
Today I invite you to ask yourself where in your life you submit – voluntarily, or not. Not all submission is life-giving… yet in choosing to submit, we can often give life.
And where do you sense yourself hanging on to avoid submitting? What might be asked of you?
To trust more? To give more? To spend time with someone difficult? To change careers?
Ask Jesus to show you where He might be inviting you to submit more of yourself, your agenda, to His.
How do you respond? Our “yes” sometimes takes awhile…
Jesus does not ask of us anything he has not already done – perhaps that’s why he chose to go into the water that day, the sinless one undergoing a baptism for repentance.
It was the beginning of his taking on the burden of our repentance.
It was the beginning of everything, of life for us, there in that water.
1-6-14 - Happy Epiphany!
Last week we explored one of the Epiphany stories, the wise men chasing their star to Bethlehem. Today we celebrate their arrival at that house, their gifts to the child. More important, we celebrate their seeing with their eyes what they already accepted on faith – that this king existed and was important, no matter how insignificant he appeared.
This story of the epiphany, revealing of truth, to the magi is a great Epiphany story in church tradition, but it is not the only one. The miracle at Cana, where Jesus turned gallons of water into finest wine, is a big Epiphany reading, as Jesus reveals himself at a wedding feast. So is the gospel appointed for next Sunday, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the beginning of his public ministry. This light of Christ is too great to be contained in just one story or one group of people – it keeps popping forth to this one and that one, all over the place.
Until the fourth century, when the Roman churches began to focus celebrations of Christ’s nativity at the supposed date of his birth, shortly after the winter solstice, the Church celebrated his birth at Epiphany, especially at great centers of Christendom such as Constantinople and Jerusalem and Alexandria. Epiphany was the great festival of the Light inbreaking the world’s darkness, as auspicious an occasion for baptism as Easter. Epiphany celebrated the unveiling, the revealing, the manifesting, the making known of the mystery of the ages about God’s great plan to bring the world back into restored relationship through Christ. It encapsulates all the “a-ha!” moments the world has known.
So when and how has that truth been revealed to you?
Today, take a little time to recall the moments when God has seemed present, or you have experienced Christ in some way, or felt the power of God’s Spirit move in you.
Your epiphany might have come through your intellect, grasping a part of the Christian story in some way you hadn’t before.
Or it might come through your emotions, feeling overcome by joy or gratitude or love – or belovedness.
It might come through your senses, as you have tasted or felt or smelled or heard or seen evidence of God.
It might have come when you were on the move, or still.
That’s a wonderful thing about God in Christ – through the Holy Spirit, God makes God’s self accessible to us in the ways that fit us best, in all our multiple diversity, in all our unique singularity.
My prayer is that remembering just one moment of connection, of “a-ha!,” will fill us with joy and wonder, and strengthen us to make the light of Christ known for another.
And when we see someone else “get it,” lo and behold, we get another epiphany ourselves. it's a gift we never stop receiving, and more as we give it away.
This story of the epiphany, revealing of truth, to the magi is a great Epiphany story in church tradition, but it is not the only one. The miracle at Cana, where Jesus turned gallons of water into finest wine, is a big Epiphany reading, as Jesus reveals himself at a wedding feast. So is the gospel appointed for next Sunday, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the beginning of his public ministry. This light of Christ is too great to be contained in just one story or one group of people – it keeps popping forth to this one and that one, all over the place.
Until the fourth century, when the Roman churches began to focus celebrations of Christ’s nativity at the supposed date of his birth, shortly after the winter solstice, the Church celebrated his birth at Epiphany, especially at great centers of Christendom such as Constantinople and Jerusalem and Alexandria. Epiphany was the great festival of the Light inbreaking the world’s darkness, as auspicious an occasion for baptism as Easter. Epiphany celebrated the unveiling, the revealing, the manifesting, the making known of the mystery of the ages about God’s great plan to bring the world back into restored relationship through Christ. It encapsulates all the “a-ha!” moments the world has known.
So when and how has that truth been revealed to you?
Today, take a little time to recall the moments when God has seemed present, or you have experienced Christ in some way, or felt the power of God’s Spirit move in you.
Your epiphany might have come through your intellect, grasping a part of the Christian story in some way you hadn’t before.
Or it might come through your emotions, feeling overcome by joy or gratitude or love – or belovedness.
It might come through your senses, as you have tasted or felt or smelled or heard or seen evidence of God.
It might have come when you were on the move, or still.
That’s a wonderful thing about God in Christ – through the Holy Spirit, God makes God’s self accessible to us in the ways that fit us best, in all our multiple diversity, in all our unique singularity.
My prayer is that remembering just one moment of connection, of “a-ha!,” will fill us with joy and wonder, and strengthen us to make the light of Christ known for another.
And when we see someone else “get it,” lo and behold, we get another epiphany ourselves. it's a gift we never stop receiving, and more as we give it away.
1-3-14 - Getting There
Until you’re there, you’re not.
This is a truth of journeying I relived driving home a day early, hoping to beat the snow. In fact, I was trying to beat even the pre-snow precipitation, which meant for a somewhat nerve-wracking trip, driving against the clock and whatever those clouds were holding. I wanted to be through the miles, onto the next leg of the route, past all danger – but I could only be where I was at each moment. Until you’re there, you’re not.
The sages who had come so many miles in search of the new king whose star they’d seen rising in their night skies were anxious for reasons other than bad weather. They had invested a great deal in making this trip, in trusting the stellar guidance as they read it. Who knows, maybe people at home had called theirs a fool’s errand; maybe they’d read the stars wrong. This Herod fellow certainly hadn’t known anything about a new king; he just sent them off toward Bethlehem. Until they were “there,” they weren’t.
But they had that star as a beacon: “...they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.”
Hard to imagine what these star-followers felt when the guidance held true. Whether real men or mythic figures – or both – these sages from far-off lands were overwhelmed with joy when they were led to a simple house. And if they were surprised to find there an ordinary young family, we see no indication in their actions: “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
What a way to greet a king, even one who didn't t look like a king, in a house, not a palace, attended only by his parents. Our wise travelers were unfazed. They knew they had arrived where they needed to be. They had come with three goals – they wanted to see, they wanted to honor, they wanted to gift. And when they had done what they came to do, they went home, guided by the wisdom that had brought them to Bethlehem, to be ready for the next adventure.
Maybe we can find in their goals a guide to our devotion:
To want to see Jesus. Make that a prayer; ask the Spirit to expand your faith vision to see Jesus wherever he might be in your life this week, in prayer, in other people, in the poor, at communion…
To want to honor Jesus. Offer Him praises, adoration in your heart, with your voice, in your actions, in song…
To give him precious gifts. What that is precious to you do you want to offer Jesus? Your time? Energy? Relationships? Love? Maybe ask what he would like you to give… you might be surprised at the answer.
This journey of seeing, honoring, giving is one we can make over and over again, arriving “there” only to leave again. Each time we arrive we are strengthened for the next trip, which might be in five minutes, or five weeks, and on each journey we see the sights somewhat differently.
And always our destination is the same – Home.
Until we’re there, we’re not.
This is a truth of journeying I relived driving home a day early, hoping to beat the snow. In fact, I was trying to beat even the pre-snow precipitation, which meant for a somewhat nerve-wracking trip, driving against the clock and whatever those clouds were holding. I wanted to be through the miles, onto the next leg of the route, past all danger – but I could only be where I was at each moment. Until you’re there, you’re not.
The sages who had come so many miles in search of the new king whose star they’d seen rising in their night skies were anxious for reasons other than bad weather. They had invested a great deal in making this trip, in trusting the stellar guidance as they read it. Who knows, maybe people at home had called theirs a fool’s errand; maybe they’d read the stars wrong. This Herod fellow certainly hadn’t known anything about a new king; he just sent them off toward Bethlehem. Until they were “there,” they weren’t.
But they had that star as a beacon: “...they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.”
Hard to imagine what these star-followers felt when the guidance held true. Whether real men or mythic figures – or both – these sages from far-off lands were overwhelmed with joy when they were led to a simple house. And if they were surprised to find there an ordinary young family, we see no indication in their actions: “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
What a way to greet a king, even one who didn't t look like a king, in a house, not a palace, attended only by his parents. Our wise travelers were unfazed. They knew they had arrived where they needed to be. They had come with three goals – they wanted to see, they wanted to honor, they wanted to gift. And when they had done what they came to do, they went home, guided by the wisdom that had brought them to Bethlehem, to be ready for the next adventure.
Maybe we can find in their goals a guide to our devotion:
To want to see Jesus. Make that a prayer; ask the Spirit to expand your faith vision to see Jesus wherever he might be in your life this week, in prayer, in other people, in the poor, at communion…
To want to honor Jesus. Offer Him praises, adoration in your heart, with your voice, in your actions, in song…
To give him precious gifts. What that is precious to you do you want to offer Jesus? Your time? Energy? Relationships? Love? Maybe ask what he would like you to give… you might be surprised at the answer.
This journey of seeing, honoring, giving is one we can make over and over again, arriving “there” only to leave again. Each time we arrive we are strengthened for the next trip, which might be in five minutes, or five weeks, and on each journey we see the sights somewhat differently.
And always our destination is the same – Home.
Until we’re there, we’re not.
1-2-14 - Bethlehem
Herod’s prognosticators told him in no uncertain terms where the Messiah was to be born:
“In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: `And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”
Bethlehem, after all, was the city of King David, from whose lineage the Savior was to come. Matthew takes care to let us know that Joseph was of David’s line and just why he and Mary happened to be in Bethlehem in time for Jesus’ birth.
Does it matter for us where Jesus was born? It mattered to the wise men because they wanted to find and honor this new king heralded by such a star. It mattered to Herod, because he wanted to eliminate any threats to his kingship. But does it matter to us?
Here’s one reason I think it does: because the story of God-With-Us, of God-with-Flesh-On is not a general, abstract story. It is a very specific one, with very particular details. Some of those details have been such a stumbling block to critics and would-be believers over the years, that theologians refer to the “Scandal of Particularity.”
Luke’s telling of Jesus’ nativity is full of particulars, who, what when, where:
"In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary…. In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)
To say that Jesus was a human person born like every other human person in history, to a human mother, in a particular place and in a particular time, is to say that specifics and places and times matter to God. The Christian claim is that God chose to enter specific circumstances in order to redeem all circumstances, that God was born into a specific family in order to redeem all families, that God entered human history in a very particular time (while Quirinius was governor of Syria, yet!) in order to redeem all of time. And perhaps that means that God cares about your specific space and time as well, and mine.
If Jesus was being born in your life this season and you were writing the Gospel account – how would you describe your place and your time? It could be a fun exercise to name the particularities into which God might come to you. What is significant about your circumstances, family, government, times, places? When you’ve named them, you might hold them in prayer for God to make holy. It is a way of praying into our lives as they are right now, today.
I hope you receive the Christmas story as a pledge of God’s love for you. As we begin a new year, in continuity with all the years we have lived to this point, we are invited to remember God-With-Us in every moment, the one we’re living right now, and the one about to unfold before us.
There. Then. Here. Now. You.
“In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: `And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”
Bethlehem, after all, was the city of King David, from whose lineage the Savior was to come. Matthew takes care to let us know that Joseph was of David’s line and just why he and Mary happened to be in Bethlehem in time for Jesus’ birth.
Does it matter for us where Jesus was born? It mattered to the wise men because they wanted to find and honor this new king heralded by such a star. It mattered to Herod, because he wanted to eliminate any threats to his kingship. But does it matter to us?
Here’s one reason I think it does: because the story of God-With-Us, of God-with-Flesh-On is not a general, abstract story. It is a very specific one, with very particular details. Some of those details have been such a stumbling block to critics and would-be believers over the years, that theologians refer to the “Scandal of Particularity.”
Luke’s telling of Jesus’ nativity is full of particulars, who, what when, where:
"In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary…. In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)
To say that Jesus was a human person born like every other human person in history, to a human mother, in a particular place and in a particular time, is to say that specifics and places and times matter to God. The Christian claim is that God chose to enter specific circumstances in order to redeem all circumstances, that God was born into a specific family in order to redeem all families, that God entered human history in a very particular time (while Quirinius was governor of Syria, yet!) in order to redeem all of time. And perhaps that means that God cares about your specific space and time as well, and mine.
If Jesus was being born in your life this season and you were writing the Gospel account – how would you describe your place and your time? It could be a fun exercise to name the particularities into which God might come to you. What is significant about your circumstances, family, government, times, places? When you’ve named them, you might hold them in prayer for God to make holy. It is a way of praying into our lives as they are right now, today.
I hope you receive the Christmas story as a pledge of God’s love for you. As we begin a new year, in continuity with all the years we have lived to this point, we are invited to remember God-With-Us in every moment, the one we’re living right now, and the one about to unfold before us.
There. Then. Here. Now. You.
Happy New Year!
Just a quick New Years wish -
Greeting a new year is like sitting down to a feast with multiple main dishes, lots of sides and desserts, at a table so long we can't even see all that's being served. Even the greatest feast, though, can only be enjoyed one bite at a time. Chew thoroughly, my friends, and savor those bites!
A blessed 2014 to you.
Greeting a new year is like sitting down to a feast with multiple main dishes, lots of sides and desserts, at a table so long we can't even see all that's being served. Even the greatest feast, though, can only be enjoyed one bite at a time. Chew thoroughly, my friends, and savor those bites!
A blessed 2014 to you.
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