This man had worked hard and made a difference in this world. His faith was simple but clear. I found myself inspired by the dignity with which he faced his grief. The reading he had chosen for the funeral was Revelation 21.

We find faith hard. We are easily distracted by the bright lights and the lure of the world. This Christmas eve we are reminded of the momentous turning point in the grand story of God’s plan of salvation, and called to take hold of the hope set before us holding firmly to it.

Can we set our minds and hearts to the task that lies before us, to be part of a better world not just for our own family but for the whole of God’s creation.

[Mark Fletcher]

The Mystery of Faith

I’ve been reading a book over Advent called The Christmas Mystery. It’s a fun little tale about a girl who follows a lamb from Norway to Bethlehem and back in time, picking up Angels, Shepherds and Wise Men along the way.

We’re not so keen on mysteries in our modern, rational world. We like to have things ordered, measured, tested and explained. Mysteries are there to be solved; they make us uncomfortable, perhaps even threatened.

In more traditional churches you can hear the congregation ‘proclaim the mystery of faith’:

Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.

At Christmas we celebrate the day Christ came the first time as a baby born in a manger, which is pretty mysterious in itself. Perhaps reflect today on the mystery of Immanuel, God with us.

“…God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

“My purpose is that they may be encouraged in heart and united in love, so that they may have the full riches of complete understanding, in order that they may know the mystery of God, namely, Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” (Colossians 2:2-3)

“They all realised they were in a place of holy mystery, that God was at work among them.” (Luke 7:16, The Message)

[Tom Preston]

Below is the ‘Journey of the Magi’ by TS Eliot. This is a very different image to the one of christmas cards and nativity scenes that we are all so familiar with.

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

I Recently saw a presentation of this, surprisingly in the form of ballet. This was a bit of a shock to the evening, it’s not entirely my cup of tea. However hearing this poem was what saved the evening for me. Take some time to read it through slowly, the last verse particularly. The questions that the speaker pose are well worth a little ponder.

[Bee Arnold]

Christmas time hasn’t made much sense to me this year. Sarah and I have been travelling in South America, where the build up for Christmas doesn’t begin in October. In fact by the time we left Chile in December, we were still waiting for any real sign of it happening at all.

Moving on to New Zealand hasn’t really helped either. It’s hot and sunny, not cold and wet. It’s the long summer holiday. There are Christmas lights in the streets, but it doesn’t get dark until 10pm. Despite this, Christmas cards still show scenes of snow, Santa still dresses up in a full outfit and roast turkeys are eaten on Christmas day.

For someone who has never been away from England for Christmas my brain has struggled to process this mixed version of sun and turkeys. My idea of the festive season is definitely wrapped up in certain expectations.

I think the same applies to the Christmas story in the bible. The first time you read or hear it, things don’t really make much sense – angelic visitations, a pregnant woman on a donkey, giving birth in a stable, shepherds paying a visit and wise men following a star. After a while, however, these things become central to our version of the Christmas story.

What I’ve been realising afresh is that when you strip away everything that surrounds Christmas, whether donkeys and angels or turkeys and lights, the story becomes beautiful in its simplicity. God came to earth, humbly, not how we expected, to save us. To me, that is something that does make sense.

[Luke and Sarah Bowers]

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.

If the significance of the nativity passes you by you are not alone. This story does not make sense by any human ideology. This child born in poverty, never formally educated, who held no political office, never knew wealth or status. This man who welcomed the poor and the marginalised as friends and opposed the political and religious power…
This is not an ordinary story. If you don’t get it you are half way there.
The Christmas story confronts greatest problems of humanity with the most unlikely solution. A baby. Born in a manger.
How can that make sense? As ever in the grand narrative of the story of God, it is the most unlikely source which provides the most remarkable answer.

I have 78 hours off work for Christmas this year, much of which will be spent dashing up and down the motorway, cramming in seeing as many relatives as possible.

Already, I have spent hours at Christmas parties and meals, trying to show good friends what they mean to me in a few crowded moments and rushed exchanges.

I have spent many hours and a small fortune in shops, buying presents I’m not entirely sure people want, trying to show my love for them in stuff when you, I and they know that’s not important.

I love Christmas, I love time with my family and celebrating God’s astonishing fulfilment of his promise to His people. But it’s exhausting.

On the last Saturday before Christmas, as the shopping gets more manic, the work party hangover kicks in and the long trek home looms, take 7 minutes and 23 seconds to escape into the beauty of this music and the awesome truth of these words:

“He shall feed his flock like a shepherd; and he shall gather the lambs with His arm, and carry them in His bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.

Come unto Him, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and He shall give you rest.

Take his yoke upon you, and learn of Him; for He is meek and lowly of heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5jeelU1Vb4

[Anna Jones]

He did this so that he could give up his life for us on the cross where with a loud cry, he “breathed his last.” (Mark 15.37)

Cold days like today are one of the few times that we can actually see our own breath. This evening, as you pull your woolly hat around your ears and step outside into the snow sprinkled street, focus on your breath for a few paces.

Breathing in, reflect on how Jesus came to our earth, taking his first breath as a newborn.

Breathing out, consider the life giving gift of Jesus’ last breath.

[Rebecca Mackenzie]

What was the first advent like for Jesus?

That’s what this carol (below) is about. I sang it every year at
school in different choral settings, but have only just thought about
it in those terms. What was advent like for Jesus? “Tomorrow will be
my dancing day!!”

In the poem Jesus looks out over his incarnation, his birth (and also
his death and resurrection in other verses) and he’s on the edge of
his chair “Tomorrow will be my dancing day!” He has a strange mixture
of fear and excitement, emotions at fever pitch– perhaps like someone
going slowly up and up on a rollercoaster, butterflies flapping
increasingly in the stomach before the hurtling descent. Or perhaps
more like the nervous, heavily-perspiring boyfriend – he’s been to see
Simon Gent, he’s got the ring in his pocket and he’s planned out the
day and tomorrow will be his day – the day he rises to it (by dropping
to his knee!). “Tomorrow will be my dancing day!”

Jesus came to dance and to draw us into his dance. He came
“To call my true love to the dance! Sing oh my love, my love, my love!
This have I done for my true love!” He dances on. Theologians, tired
of trying to set out neatly the nature of the Trinity have regularly
returned to the metaphor of the dance – living, relational, loving,
responsive, unified, distinct, beautiful, transfixing.

How would you describe your relationship with God? How would you
describe being a Christian? Does it get anywhere near the concept of
‘dance’? How contrary to all stereotypes!!

This poem shows Jesus, stepping up to it, showing off all his
beautiful and humble moves to woo his love, to see if he can somehow
draw his love into the dance. Jesus stands with his arms stretched to
us (he’s already on the dancefloor!) beckoning us into dance, drawing
our heavy trudge into a new lightness of step, setting our cold,
dutiful hearts on a trajectory to fresh romance. He would love our
Christmas day to be our dancing day too. “Oh my love, my love, my
love!”

Most of all I love the idea of Jesus’ advent feelings – sacred
butterflies in his stomach! – the joy set before him! – TOMORROW IS
DANCING DAY!!!

Tomorrow shall be my dancing day;
I would my true love did so chance
To see the legend of my play,
To call my true love to my dance;

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

Then was I born of a virgin pure,
Of her I took fleshly substance
Thus was I knit to man’s nature
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

In a manger laid, and wrapped I was
So very poor, this was my chance
Betwixt an ox and a silly poor ass
To call my true love to my dance.

Sing, oh! my love, oh! my love, my love, my love,
This have I done for my true love.

[Samuel Chaplin]

Be intentional: make a plan, be prepared and get ready…

Over the last few weeks it seems like I have been having a lot of conversation, about being intentional. Living with intentionality. If you read the ‘making life work’ book with home group, then I am sure that this was a theme that popped up at least once for you. I am exploring what this may mean for me and I wonder whether in fact it would be helpful for us all to chew on.  If you read this and it rings true with conversations I have had with you, Thank You!!

At this time of advent, a time of waiting and also a time of reflection, its good to think about what we can take from this year both good and bad, and how they will follow us into the next year, whether we like it or not… That is unless, perhaps, we make a statement about how we want things to be. This all might sound a bit wishy washy but for example, I wonder whether you have thought about the things you want to mature and change in your relationship with God (obviously what He wants for you, well, thats a different matter), in 2010. Unless you can be prepared and name the things you want to explore and refine, how can you hope to?

Perhaps you have got to this end of the year feeling exhausted, how are you going to even hope to be different in 2010?  Unless you make a plan and do some thinking about how you spend your time vs your energy levels. What about friendships and people. Truthfully who are the people who will be part of your coming year? Who are the people you need to give time to for both your sakes? You know, the friendships that are mutually encouraging and positive.  Who are the people that you want to invest in, emotional and spiritually? You can’t be all things to all people, so who are you going to try and be something for? If you have a plan, it might be easier in the decisions you make through the year.

I am sure that there are a lot of areas where a bit of this thinking would be really beneficial, I know that I have only just started to see some of the areas in my life that could do with this treatment.  I feel pretty sure that many more will appear as I get going.

This might all sound too prescriptive and not leave room for things moving and changing naturally, it might seem really dull and afteral who wants to live by a schedule? Maybe you don’t go as far as making a log book or writing an actual plan (maybe you do), but surely taking a bit of time with God  and asking what you can be intentional about  for 2010 can’t be such a bad thing.

Over the next few weeks just mull it over see what comes to mind, use this time to get ready & be prepared for intentionality in 2010.

[Bee Arnold]

I was going to post a clip from a scene from The West Wing where President Bartlet delivers a brilliant speech on how we should be subject to one another. I was going to post a clip from the West Wing and then write some smart observation, something clever and funny and, well, cool. But then I realised that the reason I wanted to write something smart and funny was to make all of you guys think that I am smart and funny and clever and witty and all those things that I secretly like people to think of when they think of me. Which, given that these are supposed to be Advent reflections, focusing on the birth of Christ, kind of misses the point. OK, it totally misses the point. The Advent reflections blog is not a platform for some ellie jazz-hands routine. Look at me! See how smart I am!
I know that God doesn’t care about that. He isn’t fooled by the jazz-hands. In fact, you guys probably don’t care about that either. And I know that really, neither should I.

What I really need this advent is NOT to spend my time worrying about what other people (that’s you) might be thinking about the two paragraphs that I’ve written for the Church on the Corner Advent blog. I don’t need to add that to all the many other things my not-so-secretly-neurotic-self worries about.

What I really need this advent is PEACE.
I need God’s peace. I need it to seep into every part of my life and I need to slow down, and breathe, slowly, and allow that to happen.
So this Advent I pray for peace.
I pray that I will find God’s peace.
And I pray that you will find that peace too.

[Ellie Welsh]