the First Thursday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Malachi 3:5-12
5 “So I will come to put you on trial. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers, adulterers and perjurers, against those who defraud laborers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive the foreigners among you of justice, but do not fear me,” says the Lord Almighty. 6 “I the Lord do not change. So you, the descendants of Jacob, are not destroyed. 7 Ever since the time of your ancestors you have turned away from my decrees and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty. “But you ask, ‘How are we to return?’ 8 “Will a mere mortal rob God? Yet you rob me. “But you ask, ‘How are we robbing you?’ “In tithes and offerings. 9 You are under a curse—your whole nation—because you are robbing me. 10 Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the Lord Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it. 11 I will prevent pests from devouring your crops, and the vines in your fields will not drop their fruit before it is ripe,” says the Lord Almighty. 12 “Then all the nations will call you blessed, for yours will be a delightful land,” says the Lord Almighty.
Philippians 1:12-18a
12 Now I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that what has happened to me has actually served to advance the gospel. 13 As a result, it has become clear throughout the whole palace guard and to everyone else that I am in chains for Christ. 14 And because of my chains, most of the brothers and sisters have become confident in the Lord and dare all the more to proclaim the gospel without fear. 15 It is true that some preach Christ out of envy and rivalry, but others out of goodwill. 16 The latter do so out of love, knowing that I am put here for the defense of the gospel. 17 The former preach Christ out of selfish ambition, not sincerely, supposing that they can stir up trouble for me while I am in chains. 18 But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.
Luke 1:68-79
68 “Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel, because he has come to his people and redeemed them. 69 He has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David 70 (as he said through his holy prophets of long ago), 71 salvation from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us— 72 to show mercy to our ancestors and to remember his holy covenant, 73 the oath he swore to our father Abraham: 74 to rescue us from the hand of our enemies, and to enable us to serve him without fear 75 in holiness and righteousness before him all our days. 76 And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, 77 to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, 78 because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven 79 to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
NIV
Presence in Absence
by Dawn Chow
Dawn Chow is a lighter and dustier blue than she was a few years ago, which she takes as a sign of peculiar growth and becoming. A diaspora settler from hong kong, she is currently living in North York, Ontario, the traditional land of the Huron-Wendat, the Seneca, the Haudenosaunee and the Mississaugas of the Credit River. Dawn is sustained by bread, tea and coffee, and the silence that comes after the words. She labours as an M.Div student at Tyndale Seminary, an editor at inheritance magazine, and a routesetter at two rock climbing gyms in Toronto.
The Census at Bethlehem - Pieter Bruegel the Elder
When I first saw this painting, I was struck by the contrast between the image’s cold setting and its warm colour tones. I could feel heat radiating from the crowd on the left and the chilled air being breathed in by the workers in the field and by children at play. I wondered about the lives of the people in the painting - how many of them were lonely or grieving, were at their wit’s end, or were simply living day-to-day because they didn’t know how else to live? I wondered how many of them lived well. Would the presence of God among them mean anything? Could it mean anything…?
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Today’s liturgical passages bring us through a rollercoaster ride of emotions: in Malachi, a spiritual low filled with anger, disappointment, and bitterness; in Luke, celebration, freedom, and anticipation; and in Philippians, a mix of the two, as shackles of imprisonment ring out with faith, hope, and joy in a muted kind of celebration. However, it is interesting to note that our lectionary places Philippians 1, the passage of tension, before the joyous eruption in Luke. Read in this order, YHWH’s invitation to the Israelites (to return to living in right relationship with him and others) is in a sense accepted through Paul’s declaration of faithfulness towards Jesus despite his chains, which then results in Zechariah’s proclamation that God will redeem Israel (and for us today, all things).
Some context for today’s readings might be helpful. For the Israelites of the prophet Malachi’s time, God felt absent and aloof. Surrounded by persistent geo-political conflict and poverty, the people of Israel began to look out for themselves, sliding from their covenant faithfulness to God to live their own ways (Mal 1:6-3:5). They were understandably skeptical - the promises and words of earlier prophets (i.e., Haggai and Zechariah) now seemed irrelevant to them; keeping the Lord’s commands did not bring the Israelites the blessings they felt were promised (Mal 3:14-15), and the wicked continued to go unpunished while the righteous suffered. By contrast, the apostle Paul in Philippians 1 responded to his suffering by doubling-down on his faith in the enduring work of the Spirit. Although the contexts of the two passages differ greatly, it is worth mentioning that in the face of his own suffering and inability to act, Paul continued to trust in the active presence of God in the world. Thus, Paul was able to rejoice because hope was always within reach.
Frankly, when I first read through today’s passages, an old, persistent wound began to throb. This wound is rooted in a tension between who I am and the kind of person I “should” be according to the churches in which I grew up.
I was brought up in a Christian household where scripture and the promises of God were used either to brush away the complexities of pain, suffering, and misfortune, or else as a moral ruler that, if followed, would lead to material prosperity and stability. Bible verses were also used to justify the suffering of those outside of the faith (e.g., Prov 3:5-6; Matt 6:33, Eph 2:12, etc.). As a result, part of me immediately recoils from words that assert how (all) suffering has meaning or purpose (i.e., “everything happens for a reason”). Upon reading Philippians 1, I was reminded of the verse in Rom 8:28 and my knee-jerk reaction was to put as much distance as possible between me and the Philippians speaker. I don’t believe that a non-Christian’s suffering is worse because they are not Christian, while a Christian’s suffering is “blessed.” Being a Christian must not mean playing an “us vs them” game.
Yet, this tension in me tempts me to play this game, only with different goalposts – rather than “the Christian vs the world,” it has become “me vs the Christian.” And much of my life seems to fit this revised game, particularly since I prefer to spend my time in non-Christian spaces.
I recognize that my comfort in non-Christian spaces partially stems from an aversion to the kind of Christianity and Christians that have hurt me. I tend to assume that the Christians I meet will be the same, so I distance myself as a way of self-protection. The description in Malachi--the discouragement, presumptuousness, and bitterness of the Israelites at their situation and at their God--feels unquestionably relevant for me, paralleling not only my own sentiments towards Christians but also some of my friends’ sentiments towards God. For me, the tension lies between cynicism and sorrow towards my own faith and faith communities, and the forgiveness and redemptive work of our Triune God in and through all things. For my friends, the tension lies in the impossible juxtaposition between very real suffering on one hand, and a God who claims to be faithful and loving towards his creation on the other.
As I continued reading through today’s lectionary passages, Zechariah’s words in Luke 1 seemed lonely to me, as though his hopeful and joyous anticipation of redemption was severed from my messy reality. But in noticing and reflecting on this, I realized that Zechariah’s prophecy embodies the tension between the “here” and the “not yet” found in his proclamation of restoration and freedom to come. Like Paul’s joy (but unlike Malachi’s Israelites), Zechariah’s joy is rooted in that which is still absent.
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Advent is a time in our calendars where the oscillation between despair and hope, or the “here” and the “not yet,” becomes inescapable: as we begin to look for presents to gift, others know there will be nothing to receive; as we begin to plan what family gatherings and dinners might look like, others dread the silence to come or mourn the empty chair at the table; as we gripe about the cooling weather, others worry about where they might find shelter for the night. No amount of laughter, gift-giving, or acts of goodwill can make up for the suffering, loneliness, and grief of others. Though we might try, ultimately we are unable to speak for or do enough to fill God’s absence on his behalf. How then might we respond?
I think the answer lies neither in withholding our celebration, nor in sinking deep into cynicism. One response is to simply lean into the tensions we find ourselves holding, trusting that the Spirit is already at work in the reality that currently is and that might come forth. One might say that to be human is to experience tension--the tension between good and evil, between what we desire and what others desire, the tension between our false self and our true selves, the list goes on. But to be human also means we can be indwelt by God. After all, he created humans and declared us “very good.” He himself became human and, in living through the tensions, chose rightly and thus redeemed humanity.
As the Spirit works within and through us, the place of tension can become a place of creative dissatisfaction where new discoveries and growth might be found. Here, we might discover the invitation of the Spirit into something small and wonderful, a mustard seed of life. And this is why despite my lingering feelings of invalidation and triteness towards verses such as, “God works all things for the good of those who love him,” I know deeply that there is truth to Paul’s perspective because the kingdom of God is one of mustard-seed faith.
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The painting that opened this piece is by Peter Brueghel (c1611), titled, “The Census at Bethlehem.” It reminds me that God-with-us is a quiet, unassuming happening. In the middle of the image, near the bottom, Mary and Joseph quietly co-labour alongside the Divine. Their mustard seed is their offering of obedience and faithfulness not only to God but to each other.
As a spiritual director intern, I am coming to realize that presence may be one of the most blessed gifts we can offer each other. Our mustard seed efforts to connect with others do not go wasted or unnoticed by God, who takes the little we give and uses it beyond what we can know or see.Under the love of our Triune God, the effect of one event ripples outwards into a redemptive eternity. In this season of Advent, where tensions feel most palpable and darkness feels ever-present, perhaps I will allow myself (and others) to sit in these spaces of grief, knowing that God sits with us in these cold places too. Amidst the cries of our groaning, the noise of our busyness, the silence of grief, the presence of God comes alongside us. He is our misty breath in the cold. The silent snowfall in the dark. In the absence, a presence.
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Read previous Advent Reader posts:
As the scene opens, in Luke 2, there are no indications that tonight would be unlike any other night. The ones keeping watch are not an elite military unit or a secretive spy agency. Just an ordinary group of shepherds pulling another night shift.
I cannot remember a time in my life where I have heard the word peace more often than I have in the last few years. It seems everyone everywhere is longing and calling for peace.
Maybe you've heard it in the cries of Canadian protestors who took to the streets over police brutality, racism, and the uncovering of the unmarked graves of Indigenous children. "No justice, no peace"…
As I write this Advent devotional, my heart is heavy. Heavy with the weight and tension of 2021. Heavy with pandemic tensions, the tensions of racial unrest, family tensions, health concerns. This year, my roads have been barricaded, my finances eroded, my relationships damaged, and my children hurt…
Christmas 1914—it was only five months into the First World War. Cultural memory remembers this war as senseless and wasteful, ending an era of stability for the West. I was taught in school that this was the war that disabused the West of their own civility in war—with the introduction of chemical warfare, machine guns, and far more powerful artillery than the world had seen up to this point…
I am not sure when I first became aware of the way my subconscious converses with my conscious self through song. But in the same way you begin to see the same car you just purchased, around every corner, I notice it happening all the time now…
We live in a world that can easily consume us with its catastrophes, commercials and cacophonies. These come at us from our larger world, or our smaller worlds; there is noise from every side vying for our attention, trying to prop up some image of what an ideal world or life should be…
“Mary was a total bada**!” she blurted out, and then almost immediately covered her mouth. This spontaneous (and hilarious) outburst happened one Sunday morning while our community was walking through Mary’s Song, the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-53)…
Growing up, Christmas was a relatively quiet experience. My mom often worked through the holidays, and living on a hobby farm meant we weren’t going far if we were to go anyway. The one day I’d look forward to was the one day my aunt, uncle and cousin would come to visit…
The past few months have been a particular season of stillness and readiness in Advent for my wife Bonnie and I. This has been one of the hardest years I can remember, encompassing family losses, pandemic social collapse and isolation, health failures, and surgery…
I have found that seasons of waiting tend to come and go in intensity and I’m coming out of one of the tougher ones for me right now. During this past June and July, the time from Monday to Friday seemed to take extra long…
A little over a year ago, I sat in a park, bundled up with a small group of people trying to safely do church in the midst of a global pandemic. Beside me sat a man about my age, whom I hadn’t seen since well before the start of the pandemic…
Today’s text from Isaiah brings to mind the many tree stumps dotting the perimeter of our home. When we moved here our single acre of land was ringed with overgrown box elder, or Manitoba maple. These trees grow like weeds but have a short lifespan. Wind storms have felled a number of them; the stumps are what remain after we clean up the fallen trees…
I’m gonna just say this flat out: I felt a leetle bit of excitement when I read the first reading from Numbers today.
I know that doesn’t make me look good. I know that this is one of those stories that we are supposed to struggle with in Scripture, and I promise that I do…
I grew up singing and have always loved to sing. We sang together as a family during evening devotions. My first memories of singing are from when I was 4 years old and my sister was 3….
“If you aren’t angry, you aren’t paying attention.” That’s been my favorite bumper sticker, and I just found it on a t-shirt for sale this Christmas.There’s a lot in this world and in myself to be outraged about this year; anger has been a great fuel to get out there, right some wrongs and feel a little more self-righteous along the way…
I went to bible school way back in the 1990s. This was before the fancy technology of today. My computer was a word processer with a 4-inch screen. We made calls on the communal dorm payphone shared by thirty students. Cellphones were not around quite yet, so people communicated by writing notes to each other instead of texting…
In mid-September, I started a 100-Day Dress Challenge, which means I have worn the very same dress every day for two and a half months. Sounds a little crazy, doesn’t it? Maybe it is, but it has also been freeing; decision fatigue is a real thing, and I experience less of it when I have fewer decisions in the morning related to what I wear…
For most (all?) of us, the past year and a half has shifted our understanding and experiences of time. I can no longer remember whether the pandemic started in 2020 or 2019. If you ask me when I last went to a sports game or a concert, it simultaneously feels like six months and six years ago…
For what do you most deeply long?
For the people to whom Isaiah spoke,
the people who were in exile,
their longing was clear:
a safe way through the wilderness,
and a path home again.
Here’s the Infinitum Christmas Plan take on the old discipline of ‘divine reading’.
First Movement: Peruse. Peruse means ‘read (something), typically in a thorough or careful way. Before you start, ask the Lord to open the eyes of your heart for this exercise and then read slowly, curiously, and aggressively…
Some things in life cannot be rushed.
Hasn’t our experience with COVID and all its associated uncertainties taught us that? We’ve been tentatively trudging our way out of isolations, shut-downs, and cancellations for a while now, and we still don’t know if COVID is over.
Because some things in life cannot be rushed…
When I first saw this painting, I was struck by the contrast between the image’s cold setting and its warm colour tones. I could feel heat radiating from the crowd on the left and the chilled air being breathed in by the workers in the field and by children at play…
“An evil generation demands a sign,” Jesus says.
I’m always looking for signs. A running transcript of my prayers might read something like this:
God, please show me what to do.
God, should I speak up? Should I stay quiet?
Is it time to start something new? Is it time to call it quits? To press pause?
Should I give that person a call, God? A text maybe? Or let them have some space?
Is now the time? Or, God, are you saying to wait?
God, please just show me what to do…
Growing up, my sisters and I built gingerbread houses and decorated them so thoroughly that the powdered sugar dust lingered in the curtains for weeks. We built palaces of icing and cookie sheets. But then the horrible reality set in almost immediately as we recalled The Great Law of Advent…
Advent is a season of expectation. We look back to the birth of Jesus and contemplate all that this event means for our lives. However, is it possible to gain a similar perspective from an event that has not yet occurred…
Thank you for joining us for the 2021 New Leaf Advent Reader. I am excited to share this collection of reflections from writers across Canada during the Advent Season. The authors are pastors and poets; historians and theologians; laypeople and church leaders. And they all come together to wrestle with the tensions of the Advent season…
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
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.