Advent Day Two: Isaiah 9:2-7

"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder. For as in the day of Midian’s defeat, you have shattered the yoke that burdens them, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor. Every warrior’s boot used in battle and every garment rolled in blood will be destined for burning, will be fuel for the fire. 

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this." - Isaiah 9:2-7

The prophet Isaiah speaks to a nation whose people were oppressed.  Here in 2013, in the land of the free and the home of the brave, we know very little about national oppression - we vote our leaders into office, for better or for worse, we are free to voice our beliefs, worship our gods, publish our words, work for a living, etc. etc. etc. You know the list of our freedoms.

For most of us, oppression manifests itself in quieter, darker, more internal ways.  There are a myriad ways our hearts may be heavy, the burden across our shoulders pressing our gazes to the ground so that we can't see the great light.  It could be the burden of debt, the burden of illness, the burden of disease, the burden of addiction, the burden of want, the burden of hunger, the burden of discontentment, the burden of depression, the burden of helplessness in the face of so many other griefs and injustices.  It is all so heavy.

What do we yearn for in times of trouble?  Maybe a wise counselor who could give guidance and encouragement.  Maybe a mighty God who can defeat the oppressors.  Maybe an everlasting father whose love and embrace can lift us up out of the darkness.  Maybe a prince of peace, who can deliver a calm that passes understanding in the middle of the storm.  We yearn for justice.  We yearn for righteousness.

God is eager to deliver these things - that's what zeal is - an eagerness, a fervor, a passion, a desire, and it is this zeal that promised to shatter the yoke that burdens us and destroy the rod of the oppressor. 

Who is this Deliverer? He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. "...In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:4-5

Advent Activity: Make Cinnamon Ornaments

The kids and I are off today for the last day of Thanksgiving break, so I thought we'd make a few cinnamon ornaments for homemade Christmas gifts.  These were great when we made them a few years back, and maybe our friends and family are ready for them again.  Here's an easy cinnamon ornament recipe.

Advent Day One: John 1:1-5

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." - John 1:1-5

It is both the first day of December and the first Sunday of advent.  For the first Sunday of advent last year, I wrote a poem called, "Advent: The First Candle."  The first candle of advent symbolizes hope and represents the prophecies made about the coming Messiah.  

I'm increasingly affected by the darkness around me: death, loss, tragedy, accidents, disease, war, hunger, greed, and selfishness seem to press in around me more than they have in the past.  Life is unfair! I yell.

And yet.  The prophets spoke about a day when the darkness would pass away.  "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."  The darkness isn't gone yet.  There are days when it seems like the only force, and then a flicker of hope, a flicker of light.  The darkness has not overcome the light.  "In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind."

On this first Sunday of advent, remember the presence of the Light, store it away inside, let it warm you, and then embrace another so they might feel that light, that hope hot enough to kill the darkness.

Advent Activity: Make Hot Cocoa

For an extra special and easy homemade hot cocoa to warm your spirit, try two cups of almond milk heated to boiling on the stove, one tablespoon or so of honey, and two sizable chunks of real good dark chocolate melted in.  Serve to the eager little snowpeople in your world, or enjoy all by yourself next to a glowing fireplace (with a little bit of Bailey's, maybe?).

Advent Day 14: Pajama Movie Night, Waiting out the Darkness

Tonight I made a big bowl of kettle corn and two mugs of hot chocolate with two big marshmallows each, started the first fire of the year in the fireplace, and piled onto the couch with my three beautiful, marvelous, remarkable children who know nothing of senseless rage unloaded onto the spirits of their peers, to watch The Lorax, who speaks for the trees.  The kids got up off the couch to dance when music came on, and then the trees, well, they grew from their tiny seeds into truffula saplings, hundreds of them with soft, pink tufts, blossoming happily ever afters to the tune of "Let It Grow."

Earlier in the movie, though, the Onesler cut down the trees, at first with an ax and then his brothers zoomed through the forest with their cutting-down machine, and one by one the truffula trees fell until the hills were dark and empty.  The Lorax could only speak for the trees and grieve.  And grieve.  And grieve. 

So helpless. 

"We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express." (Rom 8:26)

We are seven days away from the turning of the solstice, seven days left of this gradual lengthening of nights and shortening of light.  And then four days later we remember and celebrate the birth of the Light of the world, the Shepherd, the Prince of Peace, the Mighty One, the Lamb of God.  Right now, we wait and wait and wait. 

Words feel so weak and weightless in the presence of darkness, and yet the same Light, Shepherd, Prince, Lord, Lamb, God also called himself the Word.  Truth.  Good news.  He delivered to us his word, gifted us his spirit, and the fruit of his spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.  These are not the fruits of the enemy (and darkness and evil are the enemy) who robs us of joy and pours out terror and grief, who lacks all control, who is violent, who takes matters into his own hands, wields his power over the helpless and tries to evade justice.

"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)

Come, O come, Immanuel.  Be with us.  Come, God of Light and Life and Truth, and speak.

Reposting -- because I so badly want the darkness to pass away.

"Advent: The First Candle"

In November, our lips trembled
with the breath of winter etched
in frost across the windows.
We gazed at dawn’s arrival
casting bands of icy glitter
on brass and copper oak leaves
holding tight to frozen branches,
as if they could stop the turn
of seasons, suspend the spin
of Earth around the sun, but
nothing can slow this orbit
toward the solstice. Oh, Christ,

the prophets spoke about a day
when darkness would pass away.
Shadows broaden, days shorten.
We’ve waited the way I watched
my garden for the reddening
of tomatoes, the fleshing out
of vegetables, how I’ve held
my swollen abdomen, the fullness
of time a season, a month a week
a day an hour away. Now,

we unravel pine swag garland
and drape it on the mantle, melt
a candle, send a signal in a flaming
flicker, hope hot enough to kill
the darkness. Here comes the turning
of the solstice, here comes the night,
the star, and then the etching
of a few more minutes to stand
in the slow burn of frost,
the gradual stretching of the light.