Rejoice!
Somebody is shouting for joy
not because they can see the joy
not because they can feel the joy
but because they believe in joy.
And so they shout to the trees
the leaves, the hills and valleys.
They shout to the mountains,
sand and everything that sees or breathes the living air
Everything that lives,
everything that moves
or grows, or stands or lifts its hands up
in sunshine morning glory.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Not because there’s any reason
Because sometimes, it’s true, there’s not
Rejoice in the storying of hoping,
not because of any reason whatsoever,
but because of joy, because of hope
because survival must mean something more than coping
Rejoice! Rejoice! Our day of storytelling will come around again.
Rejoice! We must make it. Rejoice!
Pádraig Ó Tuama
If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the
case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.
Mary Oliver
God of faithfulness and truth,
you sent your servant John the Baptist
to preach in the desert
and summon the people to repentance.
Make us and all things new,
that in the wilderness of our hearts
we too may prepare a way
over which your Son may walk.
Lord, prepare us for your Advent coming.
In our prayers today
we try to come to you,
sure that you will come the rest of the way.
Lord prepare us for your coming – in those in need.
Give us eyes to search the face of the stranger
and there to see the face of the saviour.
Give us sensitivity to hear the doubt and hesitation,
and there to share the confusion and futility.
There are those we know who are ill now,
struggling today to handle pain.
Let us pray for them, for you to come to us in them,
and you ask for our love.
What we have promised in love and prayer,
let us never forget to do.
Lord, in your mercy,
hear our prayer.
Advent Lord, come ever nearer.
Come to rejuvenate our faith.
Come to fortify our social conscience.
Come to open wide our eyes of wonder.
So that when the Saviour comes,
he may steal into our hearts – and find them ready.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
Baptist Union of Great Britain
Isaiah 40:1-5
Comfort, comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and proclaim to her
that her hard service has been completed,
that her sin has been paid for,
that she has received from the Lord’s hand
double for all her sins.
A voice of one calling:
“In the wilderness prepare
the way for the Lord;
make straight in the desert
a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be raised up,
every mountain and hill made low;
the rough ground shall become level,
the rugged places a plain.
And the glory of the Lord will be revealed,
and all people will see it together.
For the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
I remember when my daughter, Elsa (named before the Disney movie Frozen), came out of her mama.
I was standing next to my wife when it happened… The labour was slow and long, and we visited the hospital a few times, only to be asked to go home and wait until my wife was fully dilated. We were finally admitted for the birth, Holly had been in labour for a couple of days and was completely exhausted.
I remember being in the delivery room. I was holding my wife’s hand and her right leg while the doctor called out to play-by-play. The head crowned. It was time for the last push. “Puuuusssshhhh!” the doctor called out, and my wife breathed through the pain.
Elsa came out into the hands of the doctor, and we saw her for the first time. Then we looked at each other and instantly burst into tears. I remember the action being involuntary, as if I had witnessed something that could only be expressed in the breaking of my social you confirmed demeanour. It was one of the most wonderful experiences I’ve had in my life.
To finally see what you have hoped for for so long is a breaking experience.
It’s a healing breaking. Like cracking your back. Or hearing a sad song that breaks your heart in solidarity. Or witnessing a sappy commercial that somehow tickles your emotions and then you apologize to your friends on the couch for getting teary-eyed over it. We get emotional because we are witnessing something true. Not true as in an ideological list we use to draw lines and make teams. But something true that unites us. A moment of solidarity. A connective happening that awakens us to see that we are not alone. Like when a group of strangers is unanimously filled with joy as they watch fireworks together. Or when someone shares a tasty dish with someone else and says, “You must try this. It’s so good!” Or when a newborn baby enters the room and everyone turns and looks because they know that they are witnessing the magic of someone seeing who just came from the unseen.
I wonder what broke in the room with Mary and Joseph. Probably tear ducts, because that happens to parents. But could it also have been the wall between ideology and incarnation? The culture they lived in was layered with centuries of prophecy and expectations regarding who the Messiah was supposed to be and what it was all supposed to look like. And yet here they were, being confronted with the real truth of that prophecy – the hope of resin restoration had moved from words to present. It wasn’t just ideas. It was real. It must have been a healing breaking to hold that child and realize that the words of restoration paled in comparison to the physical presence of restoration.
Isn’t that what we’re hoping for this Advent? The breaking of the wall between ideology and incarnation? From words to real? And fortunately we don’t get the newborn Christ child in the arms of Mary. But I offer you the image of it. Because that image points us to the universal truth of restoration: that the invitation is to move from words to presence.
Maybe it’s our presence that needs to be broken open this Advent. Instead of adding more of our words two centuries of expectations of what this is all supposed to do and be, maybe we need to reach out and hold what needs to be restored in our hands. Like people, or broken hearts, or systems, or perspectives, or beliefs, or policies, or a dashed hopes for a brighter tomorrow…
To finally see what you have hoped for for so long is a breaking experience. Our deepest hope is that God is truly with us in all this. But could it be that God has been with us in all this already?
God has just been waiting for us to move from words to presence so we can join God there.
May you believe in the gift of your presence. And may you bring that gift of presence to God’s ongoing work of restoration.