Thursday, January 10, 2013

Today’s text

Luke 3:21-22

Now it happened that when all the people had been baptized and while Jesus after his own baptism was at prayer, heaven opened and the Holy Spirit descended on him in a physical form, like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, 'You are my Son; the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’

Reflection

A picture is awakened in my mind. Jesus prays quietly by himself. He emerges from the water and settles into a place where he can hear his thoughts and listen for the Voice we all want and need to hear.

Some say it is our deepest voice, the voice of our true self or the voice of conscience deep within. It is that Voice we hear when the noise of life fades away, and we can feel our lives and hear once more who we are, what we need and what God is saying to us.

In the silence of his soul, Jesus hears the Voice for which we all hunger, ‘You are mine. You are my true beloved. My pleasure rests on you. Live as one who knows my pleasure surrounds you.’

We all arrive in this world hungry for a food found only in the sheer delight of our mothers and fathers. We yearn for that look, that smile, those words that fill us with the knowledge of love, the awareness of our belovedness.

It makes us shine and glow, giving us the freedom to discover and become the uniqueness we each are. Souls that know and receive the glow of such love are more likely to grow in generosity and grace, becoming what they receive.

Without this blessing, we wither. We feel empty, and our hunger grows

There is no emptiness in this picture of Jesus. Baptized alongside other human souls, he prays, rests and hears that Voice of Blessing that fills and completes his soul.

It tells him whose he is. His entire life, the totality of his service, his words and ministry flow from this moment, this awareness.

His invitation is to us is to come, … sit by him, … listen, … hear … and know.

Know what he knows, hear the Voice he hears, hear him as he speaks to you and shares the belovedness that is in him.

‘You are mine. You are my true beloved. My pleasure rests on you. Live as one who knows my pleasure surrounds you. Live your life in constant knowing.’

The message of Jesus baptism and our own is that the light of God’s loving eyes rests on us. Always.

Imperfect and sinful we are. But the delight of God’s love is constant and unchanging. We can ignore and deny our relationship with this Love that looks on us with delight and longing.

But we cannot turn it off. This One, this blessing, this Belovedness is always there, waiting for us to listen … and know.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Today’s text

Isaiah 43:1-2

And now, thus says Yahweh, he who created you, Jacob, who formed you, Israel: Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name, you are mine. And now, thus says Yahweh, he who created you, Jacob, who formed you, Israel: Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name, you are mine

Reflection

You are chosen. You are not and never were second best.

You are first and always were. Never settle for any estimation of your life that suggests that you are less than precious.

On the worst day of your life as on the best, you are my delight, my joy, my treasure.

On your happiest day and on days you feel most lost, alone and troubled, lift you head and know. Lift your soul and feel the warm of life within, filling you. I am that life.

Feel the hunger of soul for peace, for love. I am that hunger.

Feel the hope for that joy which has always escaped you. I am that hope.

Feel the delight that fills you at the sight of beauty and children at play. I am that delight. I am that beauty.

Feel the rush of warmth that floods you in moments when … somehow … you know all is well … or will be. I am that love. I am that warmth. I am that assurance. I am that knowing.

For I know you. I have always known you and always will.

How could it be otherwise? I formed you from the depth of my heart. You bear my life, the mark of my soul. I fashioned you for myself and for the joy I know in making all that is … and you.

From joy you are made, and for joy you are intended. You are an extension of my own soul, and that soul is love beyond limit, the love you know in every joy, each delight, every hungry hope and in the peace that comes and passes all understanding.

There is no need for fear, not ever. For I have chosen you. You are mine, and I am love.

Pr. David L. Miller

Saturday, January 5, 2013

Today’s text

John 1:16

Indeed, from his fullness we have, all of us, received -- one gift replacing another,

Reflection

All. No one is left out. All that that is came into being from the Source who fills the heart and words of Jesus, the passion of God made flesh.

At our core, too, lies that sparkling diamond of divine life, that divine spark which gives us life, yet awaits the cleansing of all that obscures its beauty.

The fullness that bubbles from the being of Jesus is not his alone, for all we who have life share in this fullness, bearing the image and likeness of the One who has no name, the Mystery who is Love.

This is who we are, and the contradictions of our lives, the pains and self-doubt all start … one way or another … when we lose track of our being … of the Mystery of Love who gives life and is our truest self.

For each of us … and all we see … is the breathing of Being Itself, the overflow of grace and gift from the Infinite we cannot grasp.

I sat yesterday and watched a flock of birds against a sparkling blue sky. They cut right and rose, turning quickly and disappeared at great speed beyond a grove of trees, only to be followed by a smaller flock rising against the blue.

My heart filled with love and peace at what I saw, hearing and knowing the Source of Life call my name in their beauty and teaching my heart that the life and beauty I see is my Source, too.

I have received being without asking, and in this simple awareness I know what the Heart of God is: the Heart of Being in joy pours out, a fountain of life whose pleasure and delight is the dark shadow of birds on against an brilliant sky … and the surge of love for life this evokes from a silent place in my depths that belongs to God alone.

I taste Life and Love complete and full, knowing the fullness of my brother Jesus and the fullness for which I am intended … and which in eternity will be mine and all.

The moment is an intuition of eternity on a cold January afternoon. More: it is a vision of the Life who is the life of all things … from whom we have all received.

Knowing … the life of the birds … the Heart of my heart … joy is the only possible response.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, January 4, 2013

Today’s text

John 1:14, 18

The Word became flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory that he has from the Father as only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.

No one has ever seen God; it is the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.

Reflection

Where do you sit?

Few of us sit much at all, unless we are older or not well, and when we do sitting is something we are forced to do if only to rest so that we can go again.

The value in sitting is to allow us to run back into busy lives with greater energy. The value in just sitting is missed.

When we do not sit, the soul cannot grow deep and wise, calm and focused, knowing truth. Depth comes as we sit in the presence of holiness, our souls quiet and receptive as the grace of eternity opens our depths and communes with us there, opening the fountain of grace and truth.

I remember a friend from decades ago, Ken, who quietly spoke to me after a song was done playing on the stereo. Daylight was fading as the sun hung low in the west, and his face revealed the music had moved him deep inside of himself.

“I don’t spend enough time listening to music,” he said.

I knew what he meant. He didn’t spend enough time sitting and listening to his heart, to hear himself, his deepest wants and needs … and to hear the Other Heart who indwells us.

That Heart would fill his interior being with loving peace and beauty of soul as he found time and space to sit in the Presence of the holiness.

Jesus offers a picture of sitting in the Presence. He dwells close to the heart of the Father, sitting in close communion that the holy fire of God’s heart sets him aglow.

We are invited to sit close to him, to hear his words, to be warmed by the substance of his heart and to let the glow of his soul saturate our own, awakening the Heart within our own heart who emerges to flow through us with grace and truth.

The invitation is to dwell near Jesus that we may know what he knows, … make that Who he knows. We are to know that Who not as external reality but internal dwelling. Then, we shall stand in the same happy relationship with the One who is Love as he does.

We will know that One at the center of our souls. And when we quiet our hearts … listening to music, walking in nature, sharing conversation with a trusted friend we will move from the outer edges of our lives to the center, the heart, where we know this One.

And as we do, we realize again that we spend too little time … just sitting and knowing.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Today’s text

John 1:10-13

He was in the world that had come into being through him, and the world did not recognize him. He came to his own and his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believed in his name who were born not from human stock or human desire or human will but from God himself.

Reflection

Children of God may not look like they have power, but they have the greatest power of all, the power of knowing.

They possess soul knowledge that they are, in fact, children of God.

They belong, always and forever. They need not prove anything to anyone, seek approval from faces past or present or achieve something great in the constant human struggle to find significance.

They can breathe and rest assured in the arms of a love that refuses to let them go.

They know who they are and the love that is always true, which frees and empowers them to listen to their depths and discover the wonder of the person they are. They can begin to live according to internal rhythms of heart not external demands of others.

Soul knowledge is not an idea one holds in your head, but deep awareness of a truth that fills your being and brings peace. It calms the mind and quiets the anxious ego that drives so much human behavior.

Soul knowledge resides not in the mind but in the whole body, in one’s entire being.

It slows our speech and allows us to respond slowly to what is happening in and around us instead of reacting knee-jerk to each person, situation or provocation. It takes a long view and knows the will that is Love will unfold in its own time.

Soul knowledge grants depth of being, integrating our inner and outer worlds, so that we choose what to say and do, instead of being driven by whims of the moment or the expectations and demands of others.

It allows us to speak and act from our depth not merely from the top of our head or the immediate rush of emotion that can flood and overwhelm us.

Coming to soul knowledge that one is a child of God is a lifelong process of learning and growing. There are set backs and sometimes great leaps forward.

The process always involves accepting what is in Jesus, who bears the mind and passion of God.

Accepting Jesus has nothing to do with affirming or believing in doctrinal statements about him. It is not about learning creeds or professing them on Sunday morning.

It is about coming to know what is in him by listening to him and those who truly belong to him. It is seeing the depth of compassion on his face when he encountered human suffering and need, hunger and pain. It is watching as he blessed the broken and welcomed children.

It is listening to stories about prodigals who are welcomed, about the poor who are blessed and the mourning who know the comfort of a loving promise not even death can break.

It is possible to learn what is in Jesus without ever knowing about him since the mystery of God can be found throughout all creation. God is never silent and nowhere absent.

Those who welcome the substance of what is in Jesus, the substance of his love found in those who truly know him, come to soul knowledge of what the soul most needs to live, assured of that love that will not let them go.

Pr. David L. Miller

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

Today’s text

John 1:10-13

He was in the world that had come into being through him, and the world did not recognize him. He came to his own and his own people did not accept him. But to those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believed in his name who were born not from human stock or human desire or human will but from God himself

Reflection

We step into a new year, hoping it will bring a new beginning, fresh and free from the encumbrances that weighed us down for the past 12 months … or longer.

We hope to be new, changed, better, happier. “Pray for me,” a man said as he knelt before me at a prayer station on a recent Sunday. “I want to be a better man.”

Such is our hope and desire though we often want this to come with as little pain or effort as possible. But this is not a day to carp about our weakness or the resistance to growth that hinders our efforts

This is a day to step into a new space, and the space that awaits today and each new day is that gracious circle around Jesus. It is a space of welcome and peace where what you have done or not doesn’t matter today.

All that matters is his unqualified invitation to come and be near him. The prayer of the young man at the prayer station finds its answer there.

Newness comes through a bit of cooperation. We need to step into the gracious circle around Jesus and let his nearness work its ways in us.

Newness comes in ways and at a time we do not control but only receive. It starts with getting near the heart of Jesus, feeling the atmosphere of total welcome that surrounds him, the hunger of the love that pours from hidden depths of his soul.

It is there … in this space … that newness of heart and life come. It is not magic, although it feels that way sometimes. It happens for us the same way it happened at the beginning of Jesus ministry.

Curious souls, hurting hearts, people who wanted to be new--who wanted the whole world to be made new--came to Jesus to listen and to see what was in him. They were welcomed into a circle of watching and seeing, listening and learning, loving and failing but never being cast aside.

They were welcomed in the fullness of their humanity, and as they were with Jesus their hearts were changed and minds reshaped.

Their hearts opened like flowers in springtime as they began to feel and know within themselves the Loving Mystery who filled him. They discovered that they, too, carried that Holy One, within.

The kingdom of God was within them, but they didn’t know it until they had dwelt a time with Jesus.

But knowing, their hearts changed, their convictions and commitments shifted, their hungers and passions were reshaped so that they wanted nothing more than to live from this indwelling of God, which appeared within them as they lived in the circle around Jesus.

Now we step into a new year, perhaps with a resolution or two, but also with the invitation to step into the space around Jesus. We enter as we read his words and let them jangle around in us, praying and offering to God whatever random thoughts and feelings appear.

We quiet ourselves on walks or in a private space hoping to hear that Voice that is his speaking in our depths, telling us what our hearts need to know

We find ways to receive the sacraments of his presence, entering those places and talking to those people that awaken our hearts to the love he is. As we do, this love flowers within us bringing peace and a more spacious open way of living.

And newness comes, as gift and grace.

Pr. David L. Miller

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Today’s text

Matthew 2:10-12

The sight of the star filled them with delight, and going into the house they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh. But they were given a warning in a dream not to go back to Herod, and returned to their own country by a different way.

Reflection

Once again, the wise men listened to their hearts.

Maybe they didn’t need a nocturnal warning to avoid Herod. They understood his interest in a newborn heir was a threat to him, and everyone knew Herod’s blood-soaked reputation.

Still, the wise men’s action protected the holy family and gave them time to escape Herod’s soldiers. But they also protected their souls.

They listened to the way the Word of Mystery comes to us. They took seriously that God is and God speaks.

They didn’t cut their minds off from their bodies, their intellect from that deep internal intuition where one knows love and truth, beauty and wonder. The wise men listened and knew to depart another way.

They listened to what their inner being was saying to them as they went their way, knowing they could never go home the same way they’d come. They may not have understood who Jesus was or what he would do, but they knew they’d seen a heavenly promise fulfilled.

The light of the star had drawn them, and they believed something ordained by the power and Soul of the Universe was unfolding.

Contemplatives and mystics of every tradition urge us to let the surface chatter of our lives drop away so we might listen, … listen until that deeper voice emerges from the center of the soul where our souls and the Soul of God are like two sides of a coin.

Some call this the virginal point within us from which we know our deepest truth, our truest voice, the worth and value of our lives, the mystery of love and the reality that our lives are the speaking of another Life into our little moment of time.

Every spiritual practice we might do seeks to clear away the chatter so we can hear that voice that is both our truest voice and the Truest Voice. That Voice speaks of the love in which we are held, and let’s us know what we must do to be ourselves and know such peace and joy as we can.

It speaks in dreams, intuition, in nature and in sudden surges of awareness that come over us. It speaks in moments when we just know something we truly need to know.

The wise men listened, and the truly wise among us know to listen beyond the surface noise of life, for there is another Voice speaking love and truth.

As we hear, the heart grows quiet and assured, knowing the wonder of life--and the certainty of Love and Life who bubbles at our core.

Pr. David L. Miller

Friday, December 28, 2012

Today’s text

Matthew 2:7-11

Then Herod summoned the wise men to see him privately. He asked them the exact date on which the star had appeared and sent them on to Bethlehem with the words, 'Go and find out all about the child, and when you have found him, let me know, so that I too may go and do him homage.' Having listened to what the king had to say, they set out. And suddenly the star they had seen rising went forward and halted over the place where the child was. The sight of the star filled them with delight, and going into the house they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh.

Reflection

I have always thought the wise men were older, in their 50s or 60s, maybe older still. The story offers no hints other than to suggest they were learned in ancient arts of astronomy. That took time.

As a child, older people, grandmas and grandpas seemed to know things the rest of us didn’t. They looked at the world through eyes less driven by ego and the need to prove something.

They seemed more secure and relaxed with themselves and didn’t always feel the need to speak. They had less to protect or prove and could hear better.

Not all of them, but enough to make me think that had I met the wise men they would have reminded me of some of those older people I knew growing up.

I wanted to be like them. They were less about themselves and more open to receive life as it came them. They were also less concerned with making a name for themselves and more interested in my name.

Here lies some of the difference between Herod and the wise men. Herod was a driven, suspicious man, constantly on guard to protect his power and position. He saw threats everywhere and had no compunction against brutality stomping them out.

The wise men were protecting nothing. They came to see and receive, surrendering their bodies to the risk of a long journey. They risked their minds, too. Not knowing what they might find at the end of their search, their considered understandings of the world might be shattered by what they discovered.

Or they might find nothing at all and discover they had been fools for setting on the journey in the first place.

At the end of the journey, they found delight that their lives had been guided by a force beyond their own minds and decisions. They had been led to something, someone worthy of worship and fell on their knees.

They gave their gifts, of course, but their wisdom lies elsewhere. They received the gift to which the mystery of God had led them, and they worshiped.

Each new day comes, a gift from the One who leads us, too, even though we may know nothing of it. Somewhere today I want to receive the gift of this day to which I am led … and worship with delight.

Pr. David L. Miller

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Today’s text

Matthew 2:1-2

After Jesus had been born at Bethlehem in Judaea during the reign of King Herod, suddenly some wise men came to Jerusalem from the east asking, 'Where is the infant king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage.

Reflection

Many of us travel during the days of Christmas. The question, ‘Where are you going?’ is common among us.

Most answers are predictable: ‘Going home … going to see my wife’s family … taking the family south to catch some sun … or north to find some snow.’

On Christmas Eve, I asked a young man I hadn’t seen in a while where he was headed, and one word was quickly on this lips, “Nepal.”

It wasn’t a Christmas trip. There would be no holiday celebrations, but there would be gift gifting. The primary gift was the young man himself, his open and heart and mind, along with those of his companions.

They were going to listen, learn and work among poor children, especially those caught up in the sex trafficking rampant in that part of the world.

They would not return unchanged, which is why they are traveling in the first place. They want to be changed, to have their minds enlightened, their hearts moved and their wills steeled to live with greater compassion.

They are not on a trip but a pilgrimage where they hope and expect something holy and deep to happen to them, something they cannot control or force.

They go with open hearts, willing to let the sights and faces, stories of pain and redemption take them to places in themselves they cannot predict.

Who knows what they will find or what it will do to them?

They are pilgrims, not tourists. The difference between tourists and pilgrims is that the pilgrim travels in order to be changed.

Pilgrims do not seek to control what happens on the journey but move with faith, trusting there is another will, another power and grace at work that will do its work in them … and through them.

The pilgrim trusts this power seeks the redemption of his soul, moving him to greater life, purpose and compassion.

The wise men were pilgrims, not tourists. They brought gifts to Jesus birthplace. But their greatest gift, symbolized by their willing journey far from home, was openness of heart.

They trusted there was something they needed to see and hear--and that it would change them into beings more alive and human than they had been

The trick, of course, is to live each day as a pilgrim, not knowing, but always trusting.

Pr. David L. Miller

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Today’s text

Matthew 2:1-2

After Jesus had been born at Bethlehem in Judaea during the reign of King Herod, suddenly some wise men came to Jerusalem from the east asking, 'Where is the infant king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage.

Reflection

And now we return, but not too soon.

For most of us return to so-called normal life won’t happen for a few days. Christmas parties and family celebrations continue, the best of them with giddy children eager to rip through boxes beneath the tree.

Hearts will remain full. Joy will be found in the joy of those we most love, and we will feel connected (or we certainly hope) with a few other souls and realize we actually have missed them.

But we also have missed this awareness, this feeling of being connected to larger realities from which we receive life, as though we each are small branches in a great intertwining vine.

Separation from the vine diminishes, while the connections we may feel in these days stir joy and a welling goodness in our inner being.

We don’t make it happen. We just feel and know, sometimes with surprising pride, sometimes with tears, our connections with family and friends. We feel the intertwining of our lives with other lives, … which is to say with life itself, … which is to say with the great vine of life from which all grows.

In these connections, we grow larger with life and joy as we are more connected with the vine, the One vine which is the Source of this aliveness we are given and of which we always want more.

So we make trips through crowded airports and down wintry roads. We cook, clean and prepare for hours for those who will descend on our living rooms, hoping that the sacrament of human connection will awaken our hearts to love, life and beauty.

We hope, too, to feel connection with that great something we cannot name, the vine of life, the Source, the Love that wells up within during this holy season, for it is that connection that makes this season holy in the first place.

This is the 21^st century, and we are far removed from wise men traveling to find an infant king with only a star to guide them. Or … are we?

Are they, like us, on a life journey in search of their souls, hoping to find the one who will awaken their hearts and minds to see and feel the Life to which we are all connected?

That’s why they followed the star. It’s why we all follow it.

Pr. David L. Miller

December 25, 2012

Today's text

And the shepherds went back glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as they had been told (Luke 2:20).

In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things came into being, not one thing came into being except through him. What has come into being in him was life, life that was the light of men; and the light shines in darkness, and darkness could not overpower it (John 1:1-5).

Reflection

Be born in us, O Lord. Illumine our souls with the light of your loving presence for this is the birthday of life.

As once you were born into the darkness of our world, be born in our hearts that our coldness might be overwhelmed by your warmth;

That our confusion might be washed away by the certainty of a love that always was and always will be; 

That our mortality might be filled with your immortality; 

That our narrow hearts might be expanded by the immensity of your encompassing compassion.

Let Christmas come and banish all sadness. Let every soul see cold winter’s darkness drenched in sunlight. Fill us with the joy of your eternal morning as the light from our savior’s cradle seeks every corner of creation, leaving no forgotten place.

Be born in us. Raise us from the lethargy of grief, from preoccupation with what we have lost and from anxious fears of what may come. Warm our flesh with the light of your love deep within that we may know that you are with us and will never depart.

Assure us once more that you are greater than every sadness, stronger than the anxieties that erode our joy and more powerful than the forces of death that cloud the future.

Make our souls like a bright winter morning.

Bare trees rejoice amid winter’s cold for the world is clothed in laughing light. It plays across the yard and stretches throughout creation. 

Your light draws shepherds to the brightness of your rising and sends them dancing into the daylight of your presence, swallowing every fear.

Teach us to dance with them in the laughing light of your loving nearness. Open our eyes and hearts to see your light in the places we live our days.

Be born in us every day and most certainly on Christmas Day, for today is the birthday of life.

Fill us with the light of the morning that gave you birth that we may live each day … like its Christmas.

For prayer and reflection

• Remember a Christmas Day that was particularly happy or meaningful to you.
• When do you most need Christmas to come to you and fill you with the joy of God’s light and life?
• What do you want and need to receive from Christmas and carry with you into the new year?

Another voice

O holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us, we pray; cast out our sin, and enter in, be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels the great glad tidings tell; oh, come to us, abide with us, our Lord Immanuel!

(“O Little Town of Bethlehem,” Phillips Brooks, 1890)

December 24, 2012

Today's text

As for Mary, she treasured all these things and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:19)

Reflection

What did Mary see as she gazed at her infant son, pondering the night that gave him birth? What moved in her heart as she stroked the tender flesh of his palms and learned each line? I think I know.

About 30 years ago, I stood before Salem Lutheran Church on Christmas morning and nodded at Lisa, holding out my arms for her to hand me her infant son, Cody.

I cradled him in my arms and preached a sermon, speaking softly, barely looking at the congregation. I looked at Cody, studying his hands and wondering aloud what they would do, what they would touch, who they would love and bless.

What pains and joys would these tiny hands know on the plains of rural Nebraska or wherever life might take him? At the end of the sermon, we baptized him into the life of Christ to prepare him for his journey.

We were all Mary that day, every one of us pondering a child, our hearts filled with a love only tears can speak. We knew her. We felt something of what filled her heart as she traced the lines and creases of these precious hands.

But there was so much she could not know that first Christmas morning.

She could not know that the hands of her child would bless and heal billions. They would welcome the weary and cast out demons that disfigure human souls. They would brush away detractors and beckon children to come and be enfolded in his love.

These hands would reach out and touch those others rejected. They would hold the bread of life and break it to feed thousands. They would wash the feet of his friends and forgive them when they failed him.

These hands would send men and women on the holy mission of loving this crazy world with all their hearts … because he loves it so much.

And at the end, his hands would bear the brutality of the executioner’s nails, wielded by those who could not risk being loved and changed by the grace of his touch.

Mary didn’t know all this. But we do.

We know: Jesus’ hands bear the touch of heaven to the wounds of earth. His are the hands of the One who is Love Unbounded, Mercy Unsurpassable, Beauty Inexpressible.

In his touch, we see and know the Love who draws us to know him, so that we may know the home, the peace, the total welcome for which our hearts have never ceased longing.

Look at his hands. They tell the story.

This year, on Christmas morning, we will baptize Harper Noelle Taylor at St. Timothy, and I will look at her hands. Once more, I will know Mary … and the God who comes in the tenderness of human touch.

For prayer and reflection

• What images, feelings, ideas or stories came to you as you read the reflection? What does God’s Spirit say to you?
• When have you felt like Mary?
• What have you been pondering as Christmas approaches? What does your heart need and want this Christmas?

Another voice

And who could be the same for having held the infant in their arms, and later felt the wounded hands and side, all doubts dispelled. Who could but sigh: Immanuel! Who could but shout: Immanuel!

(“Peace Came to Earth,”  Jaroslav J. Vajda, 1984)

December 23, 2012

Today's text

So they [the shepherds] hurried away and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. When they saw the child they repeated what they had been told about him, and everyone who heard it was astonished at what the shepherds said to them (Luke 2:16-18).

Reflection

Joseph stands watch, silently listening. He never speaks. But he hears with his ears … and in his soul.

Mary shifts her weight and tries to sleep. The infant whimpers, crying out from time to time, and Mary instinctively pulls him closer. Sheep in the stall shuffle in the hay.

It’s a poor place for a newborn, and there is no one to call if the child and his mother need help. The sound of his aloneness closes around Joseph as he realizes it is all up to him and Mary, and she has all she can do to keep the child warm and fed.

He is alone with his thoughts and fears. Is the story true? Is this child the presence of God visiting his people? Could this child actually be the savior who brings … what?

How can a child save anyone? He is entirely dependent on us or he dies. Joseph’s mind trails off in a fog of fatigue, stirred at the sound of footfalls outside the stable.

Cold fear grips his gut. Who is out and about at this hour? Thieves? Drunks? Beggars looking for a handout? He steels himself for confrontation.

But none comes. Several shepherds appear in the stable opening. Two of them bend at the waist, breathing heavily from a hard run. The others look in, mouths hanging open, startled at what they see.

 It is just as it had been told them. Their feet scrape in the dirt as they step inside and stammer, “Did you see? Did you hear?”

A tale of light in the night sky and angelic messengers tumbles out of them, as Joseph stands agape, listening. Mary lifts her head toward them for only a moment, her gaze steady on the child she cradles.

Joseph had heard and seen nothing, and now these messengers come with a story as fantastical as the one Mary told him about the wonder of this child on that awful day he learned she was pregnant.

This child is the savior, the new king descended of the great King David. He is the Christ, the anointed one who uniquely bears the presence of God to cold stables on dark nights, when doubts distress and fears gather..

The shepherds believed what they’d heard and brought the message to the manger. We hardly think Mary and Joseph needed to be told what was happening.

But God sent messengers even to them that they might truly know their lives were caught up in the great story of God making his mind and heart flesh.

So is yours.

So look at the child … and know. God is not to be found by climbing mountains or in fits of spiritual ecstasy. God finds us in our common lives and stories where the love in Mary’s arms becomes flesh and blood.

Still.

For prayer and reflection

• What moved you or caught your attention in the reflection as you imagined the scene?
• Do you identify with Joseph or anyone else in the story? What do they show you?
• Do you think Mary and Josepha needed messengers to remind them of the wonder of which they were a part? How and when do you forget that you are part of that story? What brings you back?

Another voice

Who is the baby an hour or two old. Looked for by shepherds far strayed from their fold. Lost in the world though more precious than gold? This is God with us in Jesus.

Who is the man who looks on at the door, welcoming strangers, some rich but most poor. Scanning the world as if somehow unsure? Joseph, the father of Jesus.

(“The Aye Carol,” John L. Bell, 1987)

December 22, 2012

Today's text

Now it happened that when the angels had gone from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let us go to Bethlehem and see this event which the Lord has made known to us.' So they hurried away and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger (Luke 2:15-16).

Reflection

For years, I have prayed this story in my imagination, and each time I see a dumbstruck shepherd holding the infant Jesus.

But the story starts elsewhere. It begins with feet stumbling over rough ground. A handful of shepherds rush to see what is happening, thankful that something--they know not what--has interrupted the boredom of another long night among dumb sheep.

Coming to a stable, they stand mute at the opening, not ready to enter.

A small fire illumines the dark interior. A cow and three or four sheep lay in an enclosure to the right. A man on one knee looks down at an exhausted woman, turning his head as they approach.

He gestures, and they hesitantly enter, unsure if they should intrude. But they are not intrusion. They are the reason this whole thing is happening.

Coming close, they stand wide-eyed before a mother and infant child, nestled close amid the cold. The oldest of them steps closer to see the beauty of new life in Mary’s arms.

This is not strange to them. The shepherds know birth. They have helped ewes give birth and held their fragile young in calloused hands. They know what to do.

Mary looks at her child and into the eyes of the old shepherd and slightly lifts her bundle, a gesture he understands. She lays her child in his arms.

He says nothing but looks at the child, holding the blessing of midnight he will never understand. He understands only that it’s a night like no other he has seen: angels in the starlight, songs in the night, a child in his arms, his old eyes beholding the life he tenderly holds.

What he cannot understand is that the life he holds in worn hands is the life who holds him. He holds heart of God beating in the heart of a tender child. Looking into Jesus infant face, he cannot know that he gazes into the mystery of Love Unbounded.

Theologians of every age have sought to answer the question of why the Inexpressible God became mortal flesh. Some read the Scriptures and conclude the primary purpose of the incarnation was to atone for sin and forgive human guilt.

Others say, “no,” the incarnation did not take place because of human sin. God always planned to appear in mortal flesh, taking all that we are into himself, holding it close and loving it all, just like the old shepherd cradling Mary’s child.

Christmas Eve will soon be upon us, and once again we are the shepherds, beckoned to hold the child who holds us all.  

For prayer and reflection

• What did you see, feel, hear and notice as you imagine the scene of the shepherds coming to the manger?
• What message comes to you as you see the shepherd holding the child? Can you put yourself in the scene, holding Jesus?
• How do each of us complete creation, allowing God to be incarnate in our flesh?

Another voice

Jesus, Lord of all creation, sleep now close beside your mother, Mary. Bring us light amid the darkness, promise of life without end. For a child is born, the world rejoices! Shepherds and angels proclaim his birth. This is Jesus the Lord, our Savior and brother, bearing  God’s peace to the earth.

(“Nativity Carol,” Francis Patrick O’Brien, 1992)

December 21, 2012

Today's text

And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven, praising God with the words: Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those he favors (Luke 2:13-14).

For a son has been born for us, a son has been given to us, and dominion has been laid on his shoulders; and this is the name he has been given, 'Wonder-Counselor, Mighty-God, Eternal-Father, Prince-of-Peace' (Isaiah 9:6).

Reflection

Peace is an elusive experience for most of us. It is hard to know what it is, let alone how to find it.

But we know it when washes over us. There is a total release of inner tension and a feeling of wholeness. Our soul is soaked in the awareness that all is well and all will be well no matter what may come.

This is the oft-quoted conviction of Julian of Norwich, a 14th century English mystic. She lived at the time of the Bubonic Plague, the Black Death that killed a third of the population.

Some might say it was obscene for her to know peace at a time of such suffering. But her words reveal the promise of God for every one of us.  

I want what she had. I want the peace the Christmas angels promise.

We have too little peace in our lives and in the world. Rockets from Gaza are raining down on Jerusalem as I write. Civil war continues to roil Syria, killing thousands who only want freedom.

In the U.S., political operatives continue to offer accusatory explanations of what happened in the recent presidential election, undermining each others’ efforts instead of working for the good of all of us. No peace here, either.

And too little in our hearts. We live far from the angels’ song, but their strains bid us to quiet our hearts and listen that the song of God’s soul may fill us.

“On earth … peace, in my heart … peace, among the nations … peace, for those with whom I struggle … peace.”

Turn it into a mantra, a prayer that the peace of heaven might fill your soul and cover the earth. Say it a hundred times a day or more. Repeat it as often as you think of it. Speak it quietly when you are caught in traffic or when frustration rises.

Say it as a prayer over the evening news and when you see the distress of others.

Pray it with a smile of gratitude at each sight of beauty, every song that moves you and in every moment of joy.

Make this your Christmas and New Year’s prayer, “Peace.”

The angels sing; do them the courtesy of listening for a moment and repeat their chorus, “On earth … peace.”

They will teach you what Julian knew far better than any of us. Peace has less to do with the outward circumstances of our lives than with the condition of our hearts.

It begins when we receive the love who comes to us everyday, and most certainly on Christmas Day.

For prayer and reflection

• When have you experienced the peace of God? How does it change you? Where do you need peace this year?
• How might you use the angel’s song as a prayer mantra? Have you ever prayed this way?
• What is our calling as Christians in a conflicted world and nation? How can you live as a person of God’s peace?

Another voice

Child of mercy, child of peace, Jesus bread of life, food to fill our longing. Child of justice, child of light, Jesus saving cup, Emmanuel, God with us. We name him: Wonder, counselor, hero mighty God, the Holy One for ever; Prince of peace!

(“Child of Mercy,” David Haas, 1991)

December 20, 2012

Today's text

And all at once with the angel there was a great throng of the hosts of heaven, praising God with the words: Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those he favors (Luke 2:13-14).

Reflection

Christmas comes, inviting us to see ourselves and our world as God sees.

God looks with favor on the lowliness of his servant, Mary sings in the Magnificat. The angels proclaim peace to those God favors. This is not a message for a few but for all nations, every time and age … and you.

God looks with favor on the face of creation and on your face.

Imagine sitting in silence, looking into the gentle smile of someone who loves you more than you can understand, someone who loves you more than yourself.

Imagine their smile beaming complete love, utter welcome and total delight in having you near. Feel the grace that hungers to share your hopes and dreams, a love for which bearing with your burdens is not a burden for them, but a privilege and joy.

God looks at you with this smile, the smile of divine favor, refusing to turn from your failures and sins, your arrogance or presumption, nor even from the moments of your life you wish you could forget.

God sees it all, loving it all and all of you.

We can barely imagine such love, but we so desperately need it and long to believe in it. And it is doubly difficult for those wearied by disappointments and low esteem to believe that this is how the Loving Mystery of God sees them.

The smile of God’s good favor shines on the lowly ones and the lowly places in each of us. The Divine Majesty looks on creation, the world in all its beauty and brokenness, grace and glory, longing to make it whole.

The angels’ song proclaims the truth of God’s favor, which is a wonder we cannot know with our minds but only in the depth of our being where deepest feelings and convictions dwell.

God comes to share our human flesh in Jesus Christ. He comes with the smile of divine favor to heal and warm, to grace and welcome, to give us the peace of God.

For that, we truly pray: Come, Lord Jesus.

For prayer & reflection

• What experiences or longings are awakened by today’s reading?
• Try to imagine the face of Christ smiling at you, showering you with the smile of divine favor. What is moved and awakened in you?
• What makes it hard for you to accept and know you are God’s favored one?
• For what troubled part of our world do you hunger for the peace of God?

Another voice

In your love you now fulfill what you promised to your people. I will praise you Lord, my savior, everlasting is your mercy and holy is your name.

(“Holy Is Your Name,” David Haas, 1989)