Third Wednesday of Advent
Scripture Reading for Today:
Psalm 125
A song of ascents.Those who trust in the Lord are like Mount Zion, which cannot be shaken but endures forever. 2 As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds his people both now and forevermore. 3 The scepter of the wicked will not remain over the land allotted to the righteous, for then the righteous might use their hands to do evil. 4 Lord, do good to those who are good, to those who are upright in heart. 5 But those who turn to crooked ways the Lord will banish with the evildoers. Peace be on Israel.
Malachi 3:16-4:6
The Faithful Remnant16 Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the Lord and honored his name. 17 “On the day when I act,” says the Lord Almighty, “they will be my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as a father has compassion and spares his son who serves him. 18 And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not.
Judgment and Covenant Renewal4:1 “Surely the day is coming; it will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble, and the day that is coming will set them on fire,” says the Lord Almighty. “Not a root or a branch will be left to them. 2 But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays. And you will go out and frolic like well-fed calves. 3 Then you will trample on the wicked; they will be ashes under the soles of your feet on the day when I act,” says the Lord Almighty. 4 “Remember the law of my servant Moses, the decrees and laws I gave him at Horeb for all Israel. 5 “See, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. 6 He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents; or else I will come and strike the land with total destruction.”
Mark 9:9-13
9 As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus gave them orders not to tell anyone what they had seen until the Son of Man had risen from the dead. 10 They kept the matter to themselves, discussing what “rising from the dead” meant. 11 And they asked him, “Why do the teachers of the law say that Elijah must come first?” 12 Jesus replied, “To be sure, Elijah does come first, and restores all things. Why then is it written that the Son of Man must suffer much and be rejected? 13 But I tell you, Elijah has come, and they have done to him everything they wished, just as it is written about him.”
Taking Inventory
by Alanna Johnson
Alanna provides communications & systems support for the New Leaf Network. Alanna brings a wide-ranging background to the table; from biomedical research to pastoral care in the areas of spiritual and creative formation. She recently finished an M.Div. in Clinical Counselling at Tyndale and is now working in community mental health.
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.
The reason it went up that early wasn’t overly planned out. A friend simply asked if I could do so as a favour; he asked to use our home for a branding photoshoot. I had no intention of changing my pre-Christmas-season rhythms this year.
And yet, I did.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Eleven months ago I had no intention of entirely upending almost all of my rhythms.
And yet, I did.
My life has been deeply entwined with my local church for as long as I can remember. Starting as a young teen, I lived and breathed serving in the church, to the point of spending a number of years exploring pastoral ministry. I had no long-planned intention of walking away from church almost a year ago.
And yet, I did.
My story isn’t that unique. There are many of us dealing with disillusionment and disappointment, sorting out what has happened with our relationship to the institutional church. That’s still in process, and I don’t have it all sorted. What I do know is that this is the first pre-Christmas season that feels quiet. Empty. For many years my husband and I spent so much time planning, practicing, and serving in the weeks leading up to Christmas. We’d have church small group special holiday gatherings to attend, and large Christmas banquets to facilitate. We’d have to balance our time and figure out how to make it all work. I’d rush through it all and slam into Christmas day worn out and wondering, “how’d we get here?”
Eventually, I realized that that rhythm had become almost my whole experience of serving in the institutional church. Spending so much time planning, setting up, tearing down, and managing the expectations. Figuring out how to keep it all working against a backdrop of growing confusion, disillusionment and disappointment until I slammed up against a brick wall of “how’d I get here?”
How did I get here? I know I am not alone in asking this question. Maybe one of the reasons why I hit that brick wall so hard is that I’d neglected to seriously consider the invitation of Advent. Fleming Rutledge, the fierce and no-nonsense elder Episcopalian priest and theologian, has been unflinching in her work about what Advent means for the Church. In her book Advent: The Once and Future Coming of Jesus Christ Rev. Rutledge pushes back against the creep of premature celebration during this season:
“…this is the season of Advent. It’s superficially understood as a time to get ready for Christmas, but in truth it’s the season for contemplating the judgment of God. Advent is the season that, when properly understood, does not flinch from the darkness that stalks us all in this world. Advent begins in the dark and moves toward the light—but the season should not move too quickly or too glibly, lest we fail to acknowledge the depth of the darkness…Advent bids us take a fearless inventory of the darkness: the darkness without and the darkness within.”
If Advent is about contemplating the judgment of God and taking inventory of the darkness, I feel like I’ve been in an Advent season for over a year now. Rev. Rutledge probably wouldn’t disparage my feelings. Her thoughts? “Life’s darker side: that’s Advent.”
It’s been a year of quiet. Of being more honest with myself and others. Of allowing myself to be more fully human, in touch with my frailties and my failures, my spiritual mis-formations and misguided efforts. And of no longer being willing to pretend that the Church herself has no darkness worth interrogating.
Christmas Day might be coming on the calendar soon, but I sense my Advent season might carry on for a while longer. As I’ve said, it was not my intention to be here. But I have to believe that it has been the Spirit’s intention, and I receive it for the grace that it is. God has always been up to God’s business, whether we anticipate it or not. Gosh, whether we understand it or not! (I mean, look at the snippet from today’s reading of Jesus and the disciples coming down the mountain… they sound seriously confused in Mark 9:10, “wondering what on earth ‘rising from the dead’ meant.” [MSG]). Rev. Rutledge reminds us “one foundational truth that I have learned from apocalyptic theology, it is this: God is the subject of the verb. God doesn’t need us to help him make his “dream” come true; God is on the march far ahead of us, bringing his purposes to pass”.
If you are with me in the unintended and unanticipated grace of taking inventory in this season, I hope you feel less alone.
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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?”
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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.
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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…
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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:
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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…
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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…