Advent 2022 Thank You
Amy Bratton is the Director of Operations & Publishing for the New Leaf Network and the project manager for the Canadian Multivocational Ministry Project. She lives in Saskatoon, SK with her husband, Tim, and their two sons, Oswald and Ira. She is a lay leader at Riversdale Neighbours church and an Adjunct Professor with Rocky Mountain College in the area of Spiritual Formation. She writes and speaks about the history of Christian spirituality, with a focus on the early Methodist understanding of Christian maturity known as “perfect love.” Read more from her in her book Witnesses of Perfect Love: Narratives of Christian Perfection in Early Methodism.
We have arrived at the end of this year’s Advent journey. We appreciated your joining with us as we navigated the Known and Unknowns of our Advent experiences. Even as the lectionary readings move from the apocalyptic and mysterious to the familiar Christmas narrative, there are still mysteries that linger. As we see the beauty of our humble God incarnate as a newborn child, some things are made known. Yet, over 2000 years later, the truly transformative and subversive reality of the incarnation still remains shrouded in mystery.
The lectionary reading for today includes Psalm 148. It is a psalm of praise, listing and compelling all of known Creation to praise God. Yet, even as I read about the sun and the moon, the sea creatures, and the fruit trees, I know that there is so much in our world that is complex, beautiful, and unknown. As we consider the broad swath of all of creation, I am also drawn to think of the particular. The beauty of the trees in the park near the river by my home, covered in the frost of winter today. The particular bird in a snowy bush outside my window. We can know the particular in a way that the general still remains opaque. That brings me comfort when the tensions between Known and Unknown remain.
As you continue into the Christmas season, may the deep love of God be known to you, in particular. And may the unknowns of your life be cradled in the heights, lengths, and breadths of God's love.
Thank you!
This is our fifth New Leaf Advent Reader. Our first year, I was figuring it out as I went along, but each year, we have expanded, tried new things, and added new people to the mailing list. I am so grateful that I have also had increasing help to make this collection happen each year. Many hands make light work.
Thank you to all the writers who contributed their words with thoughtfulness, vulnerability, and artfulness. You have been a blessing to the readers and a joy to work with.
Thank you to Cathleen Getchell, my co-editor this year. Your steady hand to help edit the submissions (including this one) has been invaluable as we pull together this collection.
Thank you to Alanna Johnson for making this project so beautiful. Alanna did the graphic design for the project, both the main image and the unique social media images. Thank you for your eye for beauty and details, which helped the reflections in this project shine.
Thank you to the contributors who also shared their voices on our podcast version of the reflections. Thank you to Drew Brown for creating the beautiful music for the intro. Thank you to Payge Lucas for organizing all the audio files from across Canada. Thank you also to Tim Bratton, my husband, for editing these snippets of voices, sometimes even at the last minute.
Thank you to all the readers who have engaged with your hearts, shared the posts on social media, and sent us thank-you notes. Even if we only had a handful of readers, I think we would still do this project, but it is so encouraging that this collection goes out and resonates in so many hearts across Canada.
One additional thing we did this year was that in our Learning Centre for Advent, we spent two weeks in a contemplative mode of reflection on Known and Unknown. Our gift to you, as subscribers to the Advent Reader, is the chance to engage with these recorded reflections for free. Use the discount code below to gain access to the recorded sessions.
Registration link Discount Code: KNOWN2022
Peace to you all during this season of Christmastide,
Amy Bratton
Lead editor, New Leaf Advent Reader
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More Advent Reader 2022 posts:
We have arrived at the end of this year’s Advent journey. We appreciated your joining with us as we navigated the Known and Unknowns of our Advent experiences. Even as the lectionary readings move from the apocalyptic and mysterious to the familiar Christmas narrative, there are still mysteries that linger…
As you read this, there's a good chance I'm currently trudging through boot-high snow with my arms weighed down by wrapped packages and Christmas treats. I'll also likely be shivering and complaining about the cold wind lifting the hairs on my neck. I'll be putting on a brave face, mustering up some deep courage, and tilting my head back every so slightly so my salty tears go back from where they came…
Recently, my job of 18 years with the Free Methodist Church in Canada ended. The process of leaving my role has included many little moments that remind me that this is really happening. And it's all permanent. As I write this reflection, the IT department is removing my email access. I will no longer be receiving emails at that work address. Of course, I have other email addresses. Just not that one anymore. I’ve just finished a stretch of other lasts: last staff meetings, last leadership team meetings, last board meetings, last ministers conferences, etc…
Over the last few years I've been learning how to form, shape, and work with clay. Immediately after reading the passages that were assigned to me, I sat down at the wheel. Some of you may know nothing about working with clay, and that’s totally fine, but for me, this is one of the times that my brain is actually quiet…
Linger in the final moments of this season's Advent journey with a deep breath...and exhale. Pause this morning, noon, or evening to listen intently to the way your body feels in this moment. What do you sense? Smell? Hear? Feel? How are you holding the Christmas hustle? The seasonal blues? The pandemic woes? Exhale. Exhale a deep breath as it disappears into a frigid Canadian winter's eve…
Growing up, I had all kinds of expectations about what my life would look like at certain ages and stages. I remember going to university to major in psychology and minor in music. As time went on in my studies, it became evident that my real love was music, and I graduated with a music major and a psychology minor. Not exactly what I had planned for…
“Let’s rule out cancer,” echoed in my head as I sat in the waiting room. I had just left my OB-GYN’s office with instructions to get a blood test and an ultrasound. What had started out as a month of spotting (not unusual for me) led to a second month of heavy to excessive bleeding. I’d never been so scared in my life as my mind raced with what-if scenarios about surgery and chemotherapy…
This day has been dark and gloomy. My window was enveloped in fog when I got up this morning. I could barely see the building next door. For some of us, this would have been a depressing day. But as I prayed and looked intently into the blanket of fog, I saw a vision of a little girl grabbing onto the right hand of Jesus…
He’s usually in the background. If the kids in your church are putting on a nativity play, it’s one of the minor roles. He might lead the donkey; maybe he asks the innkeeper a question or two, but he’s a supporting character at best. This guy is never front and centre in the Christmas story. Most of the time, it seems like he’s just along for the ride…
Recently, one of my children began his first year in a post-secondary school. We decided to have him live on campus because it was more than an hour's drive from where we live. I remember back in the summer, as he was mentally preparing for this next stage of life, I would often hear him say, “When I move out...” It was an interesting set of words that he chose…
Family gathering is a gift and something that I have taken for granted. Although much of my extended family lives in Toronto, we have not seen one another in almost three years. Both the restrictions and our cautious COVID practice meant our gatherings have been mostly virtual and not with the whole entirety of the family…
In Psalm 80, we meet a nation that is grieving, as the text in its original writing seems to be referring to the conquering of Israel, and later editors reflect the “pending devastation” of Judah. Jason Byassee, in Working Preacher, notes, “…these twin bookends of Israel’s misery are the points of origin for a Psalm seeking salvation…”
Tis the season of endearing but innocuous Christmas pageants where the Christmas story is bubble-wrapped in the most adorable tea-towelled shepherds, bath-robed wisemen, cherub-like angels belting out their off-key alleluias, and an altogether undisturbing baby Jesus, meek and mild…
In my short life so far, I have faced many seasons and situations that have looked a lot like what you might call “dead ends.” Dead ends to previously comfortable ways of thinking, physical and mental health, vocational pursuits, and relationships. I have faced dead ends in areas of my life that at one point I would have boldly said God had led me to, perhaps even ordained. Likely, similar to you…
This year's Advent Reader theme is Known and Unknown: Dwelling in the Mystery of Advent.
The lectionary reading for today includes Psalm 42, which, in my opinion, contains a lot of unknowns. Ah, good ol' Psalm 42. If you're older (like me), then the first line is bound to bring to mind the 1984 worship song titled "As the Deer." If you know this popular Christian chorus, I bet you're humming the tune as you read…
Ah! The third week of Advent. The week of Joy! We light the rose candle on Sunday, signifying the joyous anticipation of the Lord’s coming. The rose candle is sometimes called the Shepherds’ Candle to remind us that the good news of great joy was first announced to common people. Common people! Not the rich, not the elite, not the royal, not the fittest and greatest among us, but people that don’t usually draw attention…
Rich in majesty and mystery Mary’s Magnificat is written like a poetic doxology. A hymn of praise, it begins individually and ends communally as it spotlights God’s mercy and might, God’s holiness, and saving help. Singing it reminds us of who God is. Reminds us that God sees us. Helps us to see each other…
Richard Wagamese, in his novel A Quality of Light, has a white father say to his adopted Indigenous son, “You’ve got all the chapters and verses. The only thing you don’t understand is the begats. And believe me, son, no one ever reads the begats.” But that’s not true. Wagamese’s story reveals that the son did need to understand his “begats.” He needed to know the stories and details about where he came from…
Slowly, hesitatingly, the bunny ears come together. With a look of intense concentration, one loop passes over the other and then under. We should have been out the door ten minutes ago, but in this moment only one thing matters – tying her own shoes…
Recently, the realities of living in the unknown and starting something new have just felt a bit heavy. Thankfully, a friend of mine reminded me of some things I had forgotten and a few truths I simply didn’t know how to apply in this new environment in this new land I inhabit. I said to him that “someone should write this stuff down and put a warning label on it, haha.” That pretty much describes the Bible, doesn’t it?
At the mid-way point in the pandemic unveiling (or nightmare, if you prefer), I had nearly convinced myself that the Christian faith was no longer for me. You remember this time, I’m sure. We had all stopped cheering for healthcare workers, and winter was setting in, so we didn’t even have daylight after work anymore to remind us that life might still be worth the effort…
There is a four-letter word I am not particularly fond of at the moment. I suppose it makes sense in some situations. In other circumstances, I can hear it without getting annoyed. But where I am right now, in this season of life, with growing disillusionment, mounting frustration, transitions looming, and uncertainty around the corner, I am admittedly just not in a place to hear it…
I don’t want to dwell in the mystery of Advent. I don’t want to dwell in the mystery of anything. I am tired of the uncertainty. I am very aware of my likeness to withering grass and fading flowers (Isa. 40:6-7), and I am very, very tired. What I want is assurance. I just want those green pastures and still waters of Psalm 23.
I’m not a natural waiter.
I don’t mean the waiter that tends restaurant tables. I’ve spent plenty of time working those jobs to be proficient. I’m not great as someone waiting for their longings to be answered…
I was spending too much time on Twitter the other day. I should have known better.
Sure enough, in my scrolling I came across a clip of a Christian at a political rally in a southern state in the United States praying, "Lord I pray, in the name of Jesus, that you would allow conservatives to win ... I pray that Christians turn out all over *the State* and that we vote for the person most like you, Lord. And I believe that is *name* of the politician." The prayer concluded with applause…
What image does the word “mystery” conjure up for you? For me, it ranges from a wonderful novel that draws me into the unknown to the breathtaking night skies I experienced when camping in the summer to the terrifying moments I had in the hospital. The element of mystery is an odd mix of fun and dread…
This week marks the start of the Advent season, to which I say, “Bring on the Christmas carols, cards, and gifts; twinkle lights, sugar cookies, and peppermint hot chocolate; put on your fuzzy pyjamas; play festive movies; and put up your Christmas tree with me!” To some, this might not seem like a sincere, faithful response anticipating Christ’s birth…
One of the enduring mysteries, not only of Advent but of the entire premise that God is intimately invested in the wellbeing of the cosmos, is the blurring of lines between creator and creation, between sovereignty and submission, between strength and weakness, between inception and completion…
I have been learning that in life, there are many uncertain roads to walk. Uncertainty seems to be more prevalent now, as many of us face global pandemic uncertainties alongside all the other existing ones…
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
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…