Third Sunday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Isaiah 61:1-4
Good News for the Oppressed61 The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. 2 He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come, and with it, the day of God’s anger against their enemies. 3 To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory. 4 They will rebuild the ancient ruins, repairing cities destroyed long ago. They will revive them, though they have been deserted for many generations.
Isaiah 61:8-11
8 “For I, the Lord, love justice. I hate robbery and wrongdoing. I will faithfully reward my people for their suffering and make an everlasting covenant with them. 9 Their descendants will be recognized and honored among the nations. Everyone will realize that they are a people the Lord has blessed.” 10 I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God! For he has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I am like a bridegroom dressed for his wedding or a bride with her jewels. 11 The Sovereign Lord will show his justice to the nations of the world. Everyone will praise him! His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring, with plants springing up everywhere.
Psalm 126
A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem.1 When the Lord brought back his exiles to Jerusalem, it was like a dream! 2 We were filled with laughter, and we sang for joy. And the other nations said, “What amazing things the Lord has done for them.” 3 Yes, the Lord has done amazing things for us! What joy! 4 Restore our fortunes, Lord, as streams renew the desert. 5 Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy. 6 They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-24
16 Always be joyful. 17 Never stop praying. 18 Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus. 19 Do not stifle the Holy Spirit. 20 Do not scoff at prophecies, 21 but test everything that is said. Hold on to what is good. 22 Stay away from every kind of evil. 23 Now may the God of peace make you holy in every way, and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless until our Lord Jesus Christ comes again. 24 God will make this happen, for he who calls you is faithful.
John 1:6-8, 19-28
6 God sent a man, John the Baptist, 7 to tell about the light so that everyone might believe because of his testimony. 8 John himself was not the light; he was simply a witness to tell about the light.
19 This was John’s testimony when the Jewish leaders sent priests and Temple assistants from Jerusalem to ask John, “Who are you?” 20 He came right out and said, “I am not the Messiah.” 21 “Well then, who are you?” they asked. “Are you Elijah?” “No,” he replied. “Are you the Prophet we are expecting?” “No.” 22 “Then who are you? We need an answer for those who sent us. What do you have to say about yourself?” 23 John replied in the words of the prophet Isaiah: “I am a voice shouting in the wilderness, ‘Clear the way for the Lord’s coming!’” 24 Then the Pharisees who had been sent 25 asked him, “If you aren’t the Messiah or Elijah or the Prophet, what right do you have to baptize?” 26 John told them, “I baptize with water, but right here in the crowd is someone you do not recognize. 27 Though his ministry follows mine, I’m not even worthy to be his slave and untie the straps of his sandal.” 28 This encounter took place in Bethany, an area east of the Jordan River, where John was baptizing.
NLT
The Joy of Tear-Soaked Soil
Preston Pouteaux is a beekeeper, neighbourhood enthusiast, pastor at Lake Ridge Community Church and the director of Plesion Studio. He is the award-winning author of The Bees of Rainbow Falls: Finding Faith, Imagination, and Delight in Your Neighbourhood, and of The Neighbours Are Real and Other Beautiful Things. Preston lives in Chestermere, Alberta, with his wife Kelly, their daughters Scotia and Ivy, and a few thousand honeybees.
I am a neighbourhood pastor. Some days I am not sure what that means. Pastors who see their pulpit as their home base have a focus for their week. They know what to get on about. Other pastors who see their programs and leadership as their passion have their work before them. They know what to get on about. While I teach, preach, and plan, my touchpoint is my neighbourhood, and my neighbourhood is tentative - the mom with the stroller, the dad who is back from working up north for weeks at a time, the teens who gather around their smart phones waiting for the bus. These people make me a neighbourhood pastor. My work is not to nail them down and figure them out. My work is to attend to their stories.
Their pain, fears, and anxieties often make up the soil of their lives. This is the growing medium where they set to seed something in the hope that it will grow. They intend for something good, but too often are met with bitterness. One neighbour told me that he is just unlucky. Every red light that catches him solidly reinforces the fact that he was born to get the short end of every stick. He expects only bad will follow him around, it is his lot in life. Another neighbour told me about all the divorces in our community, a sign that COVID-19 is the year of relational loss. Divorce is the straw that broke the back of the frail hope that many had before the pandemic.
Several neighbours have said to me over the years that they simply cannot believe in God because the world is too hard, too sad, too evil and too broken. I agree with them. The world is not the Good Green Garden of peace and love that we deeply believe and hope it could be. Because I am a neighbourhood pastor, I do not offer a program, three step plan, or trite phrase to smooth over the pain of these neighbours. How could I? The pain is real and the sense of sorrow is deep. Deep hurt needs a deep presence and real nurture, it is the only way.
The unlucky neighbour, the jaded neighbour, and the neighbour that has witnessed too much pain still drive past and wave, they lean on my back fence and sit on my front step. Through the brokenness we connect, visit, laugh and joke. They are still trying to plant something, anything, hoping it will grow.
When I was young I thought faith was something I had to muster. I thought I had to work it up inside. I had little faith, and I wanted more. So I had to get better or stronger at something, but I just didn’t know what. I’ve since learned a bit more about faith; it is not something to muster, but to remember. Faith is a process of remembrance. Story is the formative soil of our lives. When we amend our life story to attend to God’s presence over time and in our place, we prepare a place for growth. Stories heal and orient us. You cannot fear someone whose story you know, and so the emerging story between two people begins to dispel fear. Faith grows when the Story is told, retold, reworked, and lived out. Faith is the discovery that there is a story at work in you, and that no matter the next chapter, the story continues and the Story Teller has not abandoned their goal. Rather, the Story Teller anticipates what is coming next, no matter the twists and turns. We find our faith in the Story Teller, and we know where the story has already been.
The formative story of those who follow the Jesus Way is the journey of faith of God’s people in the bible. It is the soil, the medium, in which their life, and now ours, grows. Psalm 126 sets one of these stories to an ancient song that families would sing on their way to Jerusalem. It reads, “When the Lord brought back his exiles to Jerusalem, it was like a dream! We were filled with laughter and we sang for joy. And the other nations said, ‘what amazing things the Lord has done for them.’” This song was perhaps hard to sing in light of real-life. 2500 years ago, like today, singing a song about being full of laughter and joy when invading forces, illness, poverty, and political strife raged on; it may have felt a little too simplistic, even naïve. This God who did great things - where was this God now? But the point of the song was not to instil some misplaced optimism, it was to remind. It was to amend the soil of their story with a reminder of God’s presence. The soil of faith was being prepared.
Canadian singer-songwriter Steve Bell used Psalm 126 as the basis for his song, “The Lord Has Done Great Things.” He honours this Psalm with a reminder of the joy that comes from God. But he, like the Psalm, does something special. The short Psalm offers a turn. The Psalm pivots from celebrating and says, “Restore our fortunes, Lord, as streams renew the desert. Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.”
Steve Bell sings it like this,
“For those who go out weeping,
carrying heavy bags of seed,
there is a joy that harvest brings.
They will come back singing songs of joy.”
The sorrow and tears are not lost in the Story of God. Rather, tears are seeds that fall into the soil of the story of our lives. They have within them great potential, great life, and we can allow them to drop with well-placed anticipation that good things will grow where they land because they are tended by God.
My work as a neighbourhood pastor is not to pretend this season isn’t hard, or to offer a ready diversion to the pain we all face. My work is to tend to the soil by reminding us of the story. The story of those times that God was near, that God has been faithful and still is, that the King reigns, and that the Story Teller is not done with our stories, even now. It is into this soil that our tears may fall, and into this soil that we can invest our lives because the Lord has done great things, and here, in us now, we have faith that God will again.
This Advent is a time of waiting and of allowing the Story of God, incarnate in Jesus, to amend the story of our own lives. Mary, Elizabeth, Joseph, and the Shepherds had each, at some point, hummed along to the tune of Psalm 126. This story invited each of them to sow their tears, fears, and sorrow into the Story of God. That God would turn their tears into the gift and joy of God’s very presence in Jesus is in itself a culmination of the Psalm’s promise.
The Lord has done great things, and today he is born in the City of David.
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Read previous Advent Reader posts:
Joy to the world!
It might be a cold and broken hallelujah, but it's a hallelujah nonetheless.
We made it.
Despite the backdrop of injustice, the broken, decay, unlikely and at times discouraging spaces the people find themselves in, the prophets echo the sentiment of Isaiah 9 more often than we may recall: “The people who walk in darkness will see a great light. For those who live in a land of deep darkness a light will shine.”
A pandemic is an interesting time to have health care workers in your life, as I do. In normal times, I expect to hear stories of sick people and families struggling with loved ones’ illnesses. But what I did not expect during this time are the constant stories of stress and anxiety. Working in health care is always stressful. But this year’s pandemic has accentuated many of these stresses..
Sometimes the most profound truths come to us from humble teachers. A few years ago, after a particularly difficult day at work, I bought myself a small potted plant as a pick-me-up (I know, I know - emotional spending, but never mind that now)..
Two thousand years of patriarchy have undoubtedly diminished the powerful words of the two women in our readings. Today we will centre one, a voice that comes to us in the form of a song…
When I hear the word home, I find myself flooded with memory and meaning. I see the familiarity of shoes scattered over mats in the garage of my childhood, smell buns baking on busy Saturday mornings, feel the pulls and aches of being misunderstood and simultaneously cherished…
When people talk about “biblical manhood” I think of Samson, the manly man. There he is, rolling out from under a Camaro, wrench in his teeth, sweat on his brow, oil stain on his bicep and, of course, glistens of divine approval on his mullet of biblical proportions. He is awesome…
For the past few months, I’ve had the privilege of being a part of the New Leaf Network Design Shop, the online edition. While moving the event online had some limitations, it did allow us to have English-to-French translation provided in realtime for our Francophone participants. It was a sight to behold watching our skilled translators work so hard to keep up, and by all accounts, they did an excellent job…
Advent. Waiting for God to come close. Our passages today remind us that our God is an intimate God. He likes close proximity to us…
Three hundred hand-folded origami butterflies, tenderly wrapped in torn sheet cocoons, threaded onto fishing line and hung across our sanctuary. An art installation to kick off lent, a reminder that in the darkness, in our proverbial piles of goo, in the waiting, God cocoons us in his hands, transforming us with her grace. The big reveal was to come Easter Sunday morning. Our church family would enter the sanctuary and be met with the bright colourfulness of 300 butterflies soaring above them. The waiting over, the tattered cocoons lying at their feet, the transformation complete. But that day has yet to come.
“Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD. Lord hear my voice…”
The psalmist pens a cry universal to our experience. Perhaps, the deep longing strikes a more poignant and universal chord during this year of pandemic disruption and, often unwelcome, change…
I am a neighbourhood pastor. Some days I am not sure what that means. Pastors who see their pulpit as their home base have a focus for their week. They know what to get on about. Other pastors who see their programs and leadership as their passion have their work before them…
When the news of the national security bill had indeed been passed in Hong Kong, my stomach dropped through the floor. The last few months had already had me on tenterhooks, a low thrum of tension and scraped nerves—through the protests and the violence and the thought of home in such utter crisis…
Not long ago, I was asked to do a devotional for a group of young people just coming off a year-long intensive mission program. What to say? I remember that kind of transition in my own life as a student, and how hard it was to switch from mission life to “normal” life. And my mind went to a conversation I once had with my wife about Lord of the Rings…
“YHWH, do something!” Habakkuk does not mince his words when he presents his complaints before God. As he watches Judah implode from injustice and immorality, he cries out to God with urgency and desperation…
I was standing in a church basement on a cold winter day in Edmonton when I received one of the most honest compliments of my life. “Overall, you’re not an a**hole." I mean, does it get any better than that?
The subtle invitation of the readings for this second Tuesday of Advent is to “listen.” But, to listen on a Tuesday? Tuesday is a day of the week that finds us in full activity. It is not Monday when we start the week and plan for the days to come. It is not a Wednesday or Thursday when we are in the middle of the week to see how we are doing. Finally, it is not a Saturday or a Sunday where we evaluate the week, we give thanks, and we recover. It is simply a Tuesday. In any event, today's readings invite us to “listen.”
Over the summer, my wife and I decided to have our kitchen renovated. The old kitchen had been around for over 3 decades (which actually meant it was older than my wife!) and it was in huge need of a makeover…
Twice a year, spring and fall, in most parts of our country, we change our clocks one hour either ahead or back depending on the time of year. Sometimes regardless of the reminders from friends, the media, we forget. Several years ago, when I had just moved to Fort Frances I was on the schedule to lead the early worship service at 9:00 am…
In the Advent season, we remember that Jesus came from Heaven to live on earth, and we anticipate his imminent return. But what we should also do is reflect on what Jesus’ coming has to do with our lives today. Do we know who Jesus is and what He is doing among us? How can we faithfully participate in His work on earth?
When the news of the national security bill had indeed been passed in Hong Kong, my stomach dropped through the floor. The last few months had already had me on tenterhooks, a low thrum of tension and scraped nerves—through the protests and the violence and the thought of home in such utter crisis…
As I write this we have a big appointment for someone in my house tomorrow. It’s a medical appointment that we’ve been waiting on for more than a year and a half. There’s a lot riding on it, and there’s no way to know whether it will be helpful or unhelpful….
Last year I burned out. Before the world hit a pandemic pause, my own world halted. Looking back, I can see now that disruption was a gift to me. But at the time I only felt exhausted.
I’ve always been a little afraid of the second coming of Christ. There’s a lot of good things in the world and there were so many things I wanted to experience before we were all “whisked away to that spirit in the sky.”
As I approach Christmas this year it is with a certain resignation. I want to plan. I want to be scrolling through advent liturgies for the kids to read Sunday mornings as our tiny church family joins to light the candles on the advent wreath.
Isaiah's very powerful and poignant plea to God to split the sky, shake the earth, and settle the score is such an earthy and familiar request.
I’ve been there. Often.
Welcome to the third annual New Leaf Advent Reader. We are so glad you are here with us to journey through Advent while reflecting on change and disruption.
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
Dear Advent readers,
Thank you so much for going on this Advent journey through scripture and reflections with us…..
I lost hope this Christmas season.
I didn’t mean to, in fact, I’m not even sure where exactly I lost it.
But lo and behold, somewhere between the eggnog and the garland, I slowed down enough to realize my trusty sense of “all manner of things shall be well” had gone missing. Had I misplaced it? Did it disappear forever?…
At the conclusion of this Advent season, I wonder how many times you have thought of Christmas as the opportunity to live free from idols?…
Our second son was born mid-January, and the December before he arrived was a Christmas season like no other. I grew up familiar with the contours of the Christmas Story: the stable, angels, shepherds and wisemen. I’ve heard (and preached) many sermons about the miracle and wonder of it all, God-with-us!
But that Christmas was something special.
My children are heavy in my lap, three and six years old, cozy on our couch watching televised British people bake. These children snuggle into me. Their heads smell of shampoo and the faint sweaty sweetness of outdoor play in toques….
The strong was made vulnerable, made helpless, made refugee, and made all with the authority and the backing of the God of the universe. The King is coming, and sometimes the hope of the coming King catches my breath and all time around me stops….
Christmas was perhaps one of the more magical times of year when I was young. It was particularly special for my mom. Every year she would decorate the house inside & out like she was from the Griswold family….
In the early morning hours post-election of the now famed, Donald Trump, I held my then 8-month-old in distress. What kind of world had I brought a child into?…
Have you ever had something you needed to say, but your body refused to say it?
When I think about silence and speech in the Christmas story, I remember the priest Zechariah, whose ability to speak was removed by the angel Gabriel until after his son, John the Baptist, was born. How ironic,…
Today’s reflection is based on Jude, that tiny one-chapter letter in the New Testament we mostly skip over to get to the metaphorical circus of Revelation. This is fitting, however, because Jude was a Holy Fool.…
If you grew up in pretty much any part of the church in the 1980s or after, you probably have memories of the almost-acceptably-cheesy praise song “As The Deer” which is based on one of our readings for today – Psalm 42..…
Today, as I read Isaiah 35, I thought of a few things. I found myself remembering the actions of an old Sunday School song we used to sing using the words of these verses – miming putting a crown on our heads, making motions of sweeping as we talked about sadness and joy fleeing away, and giggling as we would sweep our hands towards the friends around us, turning the song into a game...…
In the past, when Advent approached, it was a mix of Christmas songs, carols, Santa Claus parades, Christmas card exchanges, workplace dinners, and gift exchanges. Along with volunteering with The Salvation Army, Christmas light drives at night, church musical outreaches, and children’s school holiday concerts. I’m already tired just thinking about it.
It’s always the fire, isn’t it? As a young lad, I would spend an hour every week stuck in a church pew without a kids program or snack bag to comfort me. Perhaps it was here that I first heard…
The Christmas Eve candlelight service is about to begin. After a day of unsuccessfully trying to avoid meltdowns from over-excited kids, running to the store for one last bag of milk, and racking your brain to remember where on earth you stashed those gifts you bought back in August, you sink wearily into the pew.
Reading Scripture can be tricky. I think we often fall into a trap when we read about the lives of our spiritual fore-parents. We sit in our comfortable armchairs with our leather-bound book filled with crisp, white pages and wonder to ourselves how “they” could be so foolish and unfaithful. Of course, if we could put ourselves in their places we would know how gritty and difficult their faith journeys actually were.
When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
When we scroll through social media for the 18th time, or listen to the latest news events, it’s often draining. The world sounds like a mess with no end in sight and we–WE–are a part of it. The messy part.
I grew up in a congregation with a deep love of choral music. For many years, I joined the men’s choir to sing at the Christmas Eve Candlelight service because I always looked forward to singing Es ist ein Ros’ entsprugen (Lo, How a Rose e’er Blooming) in four-part male harmony.
The first theologian who introduced me to the concept of Advent being something other than an effervescent, sparkling, anticipation-filled countdown to Christmas, was the Rev. Fleming Rutledge. As I watched a recording of her declaring ”The significance of the birth of Jesus Christ will forever elude us if we are unable to take an inventory of the gravity of the human condition”, something in me said a quiet yes.
I hadn’t been home for Christmas in five years.
It was December 23, 2008, and I vibrated with excitement as we exited our car in the Orlando Airport parking garage. My husband was wrestling luggage from the trunk as I unstrapped our toddler from his car seat. In just a few short hours, this little guy would be spending Christmas with his grandparents for the very first time.
The liturgical season of Advent is a space where the mixed emotions of longing and grief are given space to sit in tension. In contrast to the “Christmas season” filled with Christmas parties, one more gift exchange to buy a gift for, hunting for the most desired gift on a child’s wishlist and preparing far more food than is good for many of us. Creating space for the tension between what we long for and the struggles that are immediately before us is a delicate task.
In the Christian tradition, Advent is a season of great hope and possibility. God has come to dwell among human beings, setting in motion something new and mysterious – the kingdom of heaven emerging in our earthly dimension.
“I don’t know, but they did it. They’ve done it before and they did it tonight and they’ll do it again and when they do it—seems that only children weep,” I hear these words spoken from the backstage, where I stand, waiting in the wings for my next cue. I watch Marie, who is playing Scout Finch lean her head against Atticus, and I see the shine of tears in the eyes of the audience in the first row. Tonight, as with each previous performance, we all weep. The story doesn’t end as we expect; it’s all gone terribly wrong.
In the sparkly season of Christmas, I often feel out of sync when life is stressful or dark or just full of emotions. I know that Christmas can be full of happiness for many people, but sometimes I just feel the pressure to do Christmas “right” when I can’t muster up the requisite joy on my own.
Today’s reading in Isaiah is such a clear picture of a world I want to be a part of. Isaiah invites us to imagine a future in which God’s reign is at the centre of our world. A future where God’s judgment, true and just, begins to settle the disputes of many peoples.
Tomorrow is the beginning of Advent. Here on the New Leaf Blog, we are going to be journeying through Advent together with writers from across Canada. The New Leaf Network is a Canadian network spread across this northern country.