the Third Friday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Isaiah 42:10-18
10 Sing to the Lord a new song, his praise from the end of the earth! Let the sea roar and all that fills it, the coastlands and their inhabitants. 11 Let the desert and its towns lift up their voice, the villages that Kedar inhabits; let the inhabitants of Sela sing for joy, let them shout from the tops of the mountains. 12 Let them give glory to the Lord, and declare his praise in the coastlands. 13 The Lord goes forth like a soldier, like a warrior he stirs up his fury; he cries out, he shouts aloud, he shows himself mighty against his foes. 14 For a long time I have held my peace, I have kept still and restrained myself; now I will cry out like a woman in labor, I will gasp and pant. 15 I will lay waste mountains and hills, and dry up all their herbage; I will turn the rivers into islands, and dry up the pools. 16 I will lead the blind by a road they do not know, by paths they have not known I will guide them. I will turn the darkness before them into light, the rough places into level ground. These are the things I will do, and I will not forsake them. 17 They shall be turned back and utterly put to shame— those who trust in carved images, who say to cast images, “You are our gods.” 18 Listen, you that are deaf; and you that are blind, look up and see!
Psalm 80:1-7
To the leader: on Lilies, a Covenant. Of Asaph. A Psalm.1 Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel, you who lead Joseph like a flock! You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth 2 before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh. Stir up your might, and come to save us! 3 Restore us, O God; let your face shine, that we may be saved. 4 O Lord God of hosts, how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers? 5 You have fed them with the bread of tears, and given them tears to drink in full measure. 6 You make us the scorn of our neighbors; our enemies laugh among themselves. 7 Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved.
Hebrews 10:32-39
32 But recall those earlier days when, after you had been enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, 33 sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. 34 For you had compassion for those who were in prison, and you cheerfully accepted the plundering of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves possessed something better and more lasting. 35 Do not, therefore, abandon that confidence of yours; it brings a great reward. 36 For you need endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised. 37 For yet “in a very little while, the one who is coming will come and will not delay; 38 but my righteous one will live by faith. My soul takes no pleasure in anyone who shrinks back.” 39 But we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved.
NRSV
When Our Words Fall Silent: An Advent Prayer using Psalm 80 for the New Year Of 2022
Erik Freiburger is a blogger & podcaster at theinceptionofwonder.com. He & his wife Bonnie live in Calgary, Alberta. They enjoy barbecues with friends, neighbourhood wheels, & deep philosophical conversations about God, religion, spirituality, ethics, & community.
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 was badly injured in June, as I tore muscles, tendons, and ligaments in my left shoulder cuff after years of use while in a wheelchair due to a spinal cord injury in 1994. My wife and I missed my father-in-law’s funeral and burial the first long weekend of September, because I was still in medical care. Near the end of September, my mother-in-law also passed away unexpectedly; she was buried next to her husband a week later in early October, again in our absence because I underwent surgery the same weekend. Currently, I continue to wait in hospital while my shoulder recovers from reconstructive surgery. The healing process seems eternally long and costly in terms of precious time. While I had been experiencing paralysis in my legs, now it is also temporarily affecting my arms and hands. The feeling of emotional, physical, and spiritual failure has been acute. And if I’m being totally honest… my prayer life has fallen rather silent, not from a lack of desire to pray, but from a sheer loss of words for my Father.
Growing up in the High Anglican Church, I used to think liturgy and prayer hymnals lacked a certain spiritual sensitivity. However, over this past year they have revealed something far more in-depth within them in my current state. When our own spirit falls silent, the faithful words of our past saints that we just might find comfort and even discernment, as we feebly stammer through their texts amidst the grunts and groans of our own vulnerability. At least, this has been the case for me as they draw me closer to my Lord, while I long for renewal in the coming new year.
In that spirit, I’d like to invite you to join me in my prayer using Psalm 80 as my guide.
Give ear, O Shepherd of Israel,
you who lead Joseph like a flock!
I am but a simple being, Lord, and can go nowhere without you. Fear has drawn me to a standstill. I have lost my footing and do not know where to turn next. The shadow of death has cast itself thick within our world, and only your light can reveal a way forward.
Lead us, Father, as you have led so many before us! Fill us with courage, knowing that you go before us and that your path knows no end. Let your glory reveal to us a commune of refuge among those who journey with us on this narrow path of life.
You who are enthroned upon the cherubim, shine forth
before Ephraim and Benjamin and Manasseh.
Let your glory overflow on your creation with a floodlight of goodness, compassion, healing, and restoration to creation’s being since the dawn of time. May your words sooth nature’s ears; may your hands mend broken spirits; may your heart redeem and reunite families, friends, and communities. And let your feet rest again upon your people’s worship and praise in all places.
Stir up your might,
and come to save us!
We long for your great work of salvation, Lord! Pandemics of disease and social unrest have ravaged themselves upon this earth, striking down our sense of well-being and our abilities to provide for our families, while isolating us in prisons of lies and self-torment and the loneliness of an untouchably distant world.
We have fallen prey to the false understanding and selfishness of personal rights over the love and care of our neighbours. Our ignorance has dampened our empathy and obscured the true value of human life as we sacrifice the other on idolatrous altars we call acceptable loss and for the good of herd immunity.
What does it mean to be human, Father? Do not let us fall upon our own sword, Jesus! Save us and make us new! Mark us with your cross of salvation; draw the blood of the lamb out of us so that it overflows into this world like a mighty river, sweeping away the weights and polarities of injustice!
Restore us, O God;
let your face shine, that we may be saved.
I am reminded, Lord, of the Sufi contemplative verse, “I saw the Lord’s figure drawing close to me in a thick mist. Crying out, I said, ‘Who are you?’ He answered back, ‘You!’”
Remake us into your image, Lord, that we might reflect your light as incarnated beings of holiness. Let us look upon our neighbours with all their rich diversities of culture, ethnicity, religion, sexuality, politics and colour and see your face, Jesus, and may they also look back at us with brotherly and sisterly love.
O Lord God of hosts,
how long will you be angry with your people’s prayers?
You have fed them with the bread of tears,
and given them tears to drink in full measure.
I have cried out to you for what seems like eternity, Father, and it feels as though my prayers have fallen on deaf ears. The worry and strain of being separated from my wife - while her health continues to deteriorate as she too cries out from the chronic pain of her body not responding to treatment - is too great a weight for us both to bear. Repeated words… the anguish of deafening silence. Can you hear me, God?
I acknowledge so many blessings during this time of difficulty. Our community has rallied around us, brought food, cleaned laundry, and travelled far to visit in person. We have received letters of encouragement, and been prayed for by name. We are so grateful–but it is so slow to hear and see your response. Am I being petty? Should we not ask for miracles in the midst of chronic pain? Must we simply accept loss and the hardships of life, rather than believe that you will grant complete healing through your mighty works? When will our house be filled with the joy of community again while worshiping your great name?
We are told you are a loving God, and yet I am at a loss as to what seems like your continuing waves of angry silence and solitude. What are we to do with these emotions, Jesus? How are we to respond? Should our questions and demands cease? Or must we, like Job, continue endlessly to plead our case while weeping?
Reveal your answers to our pleas, Father! Make known your presence!
You make us the scorn of our neighbours;
our enemies laugh among themselves.
Lord, our families and communities have been torn apart, with brother against brother, sister against sister, “us” against “them.” My heart breaks as I watch images of protestors outside hospitals, while dying patients stand and watch them from the window. Health care workers are abused verbally and physically, while misguided activists angrily violate pandemic health measures. Lies fill our social media feeds, confusing and confounding many, and resulting in life-threatening illness for some.
Reveal your truths to us, Lord. Allow us to see the errors of our ways and have the courage to repent from our selfish actions. Let us work as peacemakers as we seek to rebuild and heal our society, while tearing down walls of division. Your Word speaks to us: “For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.” (Galatians 5:13–15 NRSV)
Restore us, O God of hosts;
let your face shine, that we may be saved.
Father, we lift these cries up to you, trusting that you hear our emphatic pleas for restoration and healing. We desire for this year ahead to be one of great newness, filled with the breath of life that only you can breathe upon us.
In the words of the Celtic forefathers…
“As the sun rises, Lord, let your light shine on me. Destroy the darkness about me. Scatter the darkness before me. Disperse the darkness behind me. Dispel the darkness within me. Let your light shine on me… As the sun rises, Lord, let your light shine on me. The warmth of your Presence. The brightness of your love. The radiance of your joy. The shining of your hope. Let your light shine on me… As the sun rises, Lord, let your light shine on me. Your light to guide. Your light to lead. Your light to direct. Your light to brighten. Let your light shine on me.”[1]
Amen.
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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.