The start of Advent lays bare the world’s pain, without which there would be no reason for God’s coming. No reason for angels singing. No reason for prophets preaching.
We know Pharaoh’s playbook. And we must see our place in resisting it. It’s time to summon courage in ways we may never have imagined. We must fear God more than Pharaoh.
I took a closer look at the carved angels, with the the suggestion of toes peeking out underneath their robes. Like they could have just been walking by in the stream of neighbors.
Nothing is the way it once was, no two days in a row are the same, and our reflective time has been disrupted. I’ve come to a place where something needs to shift.
As often as we get reminded by the world of how terrible things are, we get reminded there is more as well. Beyond it, after it, before it, and under it is a reality worth rejoicing in.
I am 59, with a few things I am proud of doing, and good work still to do, I hope. What would I do if I had the gift of 123 years? What would you?
Paul took the chains of the state and preached fearless liberation. The state may have had him in shackles, but he would be bound to nothing but the love of God.
Who gets to decide what truth is, and what criteria do they use? How do we persist past the religion of “our own whims and lusts” here in our own last days?
In the midst of psalms of comfort and praise is the call to care for the poor, feed the hungry, uphold the vulnerable, and advocate for justice. It’s in the DNA of our faith.
God, let me be uncertain about my own righteousness, and certain of your unconditional love for both me and my enemies.