First Sunday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Isaiah 2:1-5
The Mountain of the LordThis is what Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem: 2 In the last days the mountain of the Lord’s temple will be established as the highest of the mountains; it will be exalted above the hills, and all nations will stream to it. 3 Many peoples will come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the temple of the God of Jacob. He will teach us his ways, so that we may walk in his paths.” The law will go out from Zion, the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 4 He will judge between the nations and will settle disputes for many peoples. They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will not take up sword against nation, nor will they train for war anymore. 5 Come, descendants of Jacob, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
Psalm 122
A song of ascents. Of David.I rejoiced with those who said to me, “Let us go to the house of the Lord.” 2 Our feet are standing in your gates, Jerusalem. 3 Jerusalem is built like a city that is closely compacted together. 4 That is where the tribes go up— the tribes of the Lord— to praise the name of the Lord according to the statute given to Israel. 5 There stand the thrones for judgment, the thrones of the house of David. 6 Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: “May those who love you be secure. 7 May there be peace within your walls and security within your citadels.” 8 For the sake of my family and friends, I will say, “Peace be within you.” 9 For the sake of the house of the Lord our God, I will seek your prosperity.
Romans 13:11-14
The Day Is Near11 And do this, understanding the present time: The hour has already come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now than when we first believed. 12 The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. 13 Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in carousing and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy. 14 Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.
Matthew 24:36-44
The Day and Hour Unknown36 “But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; 39 and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. 41 Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left. 42 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.
NIV
Starful Surprises
by Amy Bratton
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.
Welcome to the sixth annual New Leaf Advent Reader. I am so excited to share this collection of reflections with you! In 2018, when we put out our first set of daily reflections, I felt like I was leveraging the whole network to find people willing to write a reflection for this unknown project. This year, there is no way that 23 reflections from now until Christmas could do justice to the richness of the network that has emerged over the last several years. I am so grateful for all the gentle souls I have had the privilege to meet through New Leaf.
Earlier this fall, I shared the theme of Surprising Beauty with the contributors. Their reflections on that theme did not disappoint. At our national conference, The Table, in October, we focused on the future of the church; I wanted to continue that hopeful tone during Advent by looking for beauty, even in the darkest days of the year. If you have spent any time around New Leaf, you probably already know that we don’t shy away from struggles, failure or questions. Instead, we pause and reflect on how Jesus walks with us even in darkness that can feel dangerous.
Recently, I’ve been reflecting on how darkness need not hide danger, but instead inspire awe and beauty. As the end of the year approaches in our Northern country, the shortening days and growing darkness can feel routine and even mundane as it comes each year. As I read the lectionary text for today, the first Sunday of Advent, it struck me that, here, the mundane is highlighted and even celebrated.
Isaiah cast a vision of the future in which the crisis of war gives way to the daily necessity of food production, as swords and spears are transformed into plows and pruning shears.
“He will judge between the nation
and will settle disputes for many peoples.
They will beat their swords into plowshares
and their spears into pruning hooks.
Nation will not take up sword against nation,
nor will they train for war anymore.
Come, descendants of Jacob,
let us walk in the light of the Lord.” Isaiah 2:4-5
Likewise, in the Matthew passage, although apocalyptic in nature, Jesus leverages the mundane tasks of life to cast a vision of the time when the Son of Man will return at an unknown hour.
This Advent, can we let the beauty of the mundane sneak up and surprise us?
As the dark of winter builds, I am reminded of a dark summer night several months ago. During a camping trip, my 5-year-old woke up one night needing the bathroom. As we grabbed the lantern and headed to the campsite washrooms, I was aware that he might be cautious of the dark. In recent weeks, he had expressed concern about the dark at home. However, he surprised me and didn’t seem bothered as we trekked together across the field, did our business in the fully lit building, and headed back toward our tent. In the darkness, I intentionally paused with him for a moment, to look up into the darkness at the stars.
The joy on his face was fun to see. As a kid who goes to bed before the sun in the summer, and who wouldn’t see many stars from our house in the city even if he were awake in the dark, he hadn’t seen this kind of display before. We headed back to the tent and he settled into sleep. I’m glad for the moment in the darkness with him. The path to our destination was obscured. Yet, when we looked up, we were surprised by the quiet beauty of the stars.
In December, the church calendar begins the cycle again with Advent and the birth of Jesus. Can we receive a sense of anticipation for the story to unfold? Can we look for beauty as the story of Christmas reveals new discoveries each year? I’m learning that discoveries are more possible when we know the general storyline that is unfolding. Even more, there is beauty in the growing winter darkness because we know how the story of Advent unfolds. We can suspend our fear of the dark and allow God to surprise us with new beauty each year during Advent.
I invite you to join this year’s journey into the surprising beauty of Advent.
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Explore the year’s Advent Reader posts:
There is a small forest near my home that I love to walk in at dusk. The trail is well-worn. My feet know the way by heart. Why do I choose this trail time and again? There are certainly ones that are more peaceful and full. Maybe it's because God and I have done a lot of business there together. I've looked for His divine presence in the soft pine needles on the earthen floor on more than one occasion. I've added a lot of tearful prayers to the sounds of gently swaying trees as night falls…
As I reflect on today’s scripture readings and read in John how the religious people of the day denied Christ, it makes me think of those who are skeptical of reconciliation, those who are so comfortable with this present life that they do not want to think of our past history and the life’s journey of Indigenous people who have survived residential school or descendants who are suffering from inter-generational trauma. I have to ask the question, “What would Jesus do?” “Who does He call us to be?” “How do we obey the Great Commandment?”
As we reach the end of the Advent season, it’s not lost on me that the reflection I’ve been asked to write falls on December 22nd; the arrival of the winter solstice and the longest night of the year.
The reality of encroaching darkness has been with us for some time, and perhaps – like me – you’ve had to fight the urge to crawl into bed by 5:00 pm as your body tries to tell you it’s time for sleep, and the daylight seems to last only for an instant…
Essential to any meaningful relationship is ongoing communication. We know this on an instinctive level. This is especially true of a parent-child relationship. Parents listen intently for that first word and look forward to the time when their child can communicate their needs with words rather than tantrums…
I put my Christmas tree up this year the day after Halloween. It’s the earliest I have ever done so. If you knew me, you might be surprised at that. I’ve historically been a person who gets a wee bit overwhelmed by the expectations and the busyness of the season, so Christmas decor doesn’t usually go up until after American Thanksgiving (it’s ok, Canadian friends; my husband is American, and he loves American Thanksgiving, which is why that is an acceptable demarcation of seasons in our home). But this year? This year is different…
Advent is a time of waiting. Waiting for a time when it does not feel like evil is triumphing. Waiting for God’s restoration, when all in the world will be set right. Waiting for the Christ child to return as King.
This year as I reflect on the season of advent I realize more than ever that I am tired of waiting…
It’s Monday night and I am sitting at a long wooden table. Around me are eight others from our neighbourhood, a mix of professional artists and people who just love art…
Advent is one of my favourite seasons in the church calendar. Scott Erikson, in Honest Christmas, writes: “Advent means ‘coming’ in Latin, and these weeks are meant to prepare our hearts, minds, and souls for the arrival of God-with-Us, Jesus Christ, born to the virgin Mary a couple of millennia ago. You’re supposed to feel the wait – the anticipated arrival of something you want so badly – and by feeling the wait deeply, you’ll be even more satisfied by the celebration of the arrival of Christmas Day.”
"Joy" is a word that saturates the Christmas season. It echoes through carols, decorates cards and T-shirts, yet at times, amid the tumultuous backdrop of climate crises, global conflicts, and pervasive injustice, it can seem superficial…
This past summer as the kids played in their pools and begged me for more and more bubble solution and popsicles, I stumbled upon a feature from the podcast, OnScript. The episode focused on the work of Ted Smith and his latest book, The End of Theological Education…
I love everything about surprises. I appreciate the thought and effort necessary to create a successful surprise party. The collaboration required, the time offered, and the kindness demonstrated. All that love wrapped up in the word surprise makes me feel warm and fuzzy…
For someone who deals with anxiety, the fact that the Bible often says "Do not be afraid" is always hard for me. This is how Psalm 27 begins. Stating, “The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?” I can see how this makes sense…
What can the birth of a man 2000 years ago possibly have to do with people who live today? This question came to rest in my thoughts as I was mowing my lawn for the last time this year. I ruminated on it while attempting to avoid disturbing the fallen leaves that provide a safe refuge for the wildlife that overwinters in them…
My friend Lorraine and I stood outside gazing at the night sky filled with a million stars shining and twinkling brightly against the darkness. The air was brisk and cold but we were bundled up in our parkas and snow pants, hoods over our toques, scarves wrapped around our necks and covering our mouths, warm boots on our feet and woollen mittens on our hands so we didn’t notice how cold it was out there…
My son is named Raven and so people often send me anything and everything that comes across their feed that has to do with corvids. And so, I was reading about crows recently (as one does) and I was moved by the concept of a scarecrow…
In today’s reading from Psalm 85:10-13, the poet describes the divine forces of love, faithfulness, righteousness, and peace all reaching out for one another from every which way, meeting in a surprising collision that results in the healing of the land and paves the way for the arrival of the Messiah…
At the Ancaster Fair this past Fall I walked past one of those crazy mirrors that distorts everything. Among several ways it changed reality was to make me look thirty pounds lighter. I liked that. But it also made me five feet taller and distorted my body to look like a wavy spaghetti noodle incapable of existence…
I find the Christmas season is hard to untangle as a pastor, as a mom, and really just as a person. So many of our cultural customs have faith stories conflated with consumerism. I love how Christmas lights interrupt the darkness of our shortest days…
Perhaps after reading today’s lectionary, you were like me: uncertain of how to frame your thoughts and reflections in a way that would encompass compassion, hope, generosity, and love, considering the current political climate…
One of our farm chores that often falls to me is closing the animals up at night. As I wrap up my work and shut down my computer, the brightness of its screen gives way to my dark walk out under the stars to close up the chicken coop and ensure all of our animals have what they need for the night…
Welcome to the sixth annual New Leaf Advent Reader. I am so excited to share this collection of reflections with you! In 2018, when we put out our first set of daily reflections, I felt like I was leveraging the whole network to find people willing to write a reflection for this unknown project…
Explore last year’s Advent Reader:
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…