Advent: Coming and Going

With the excitement of driving out of town to move to a new phase of life, there often comes a pang of sadness in watching the hometown get smaller in the rearview mirror. Now imagine driving into a treacherous dark night with the warm lights of home in that rearview. We think of Christ’s advent as a coming—as the coming—and rightly so. But there is in this coming very much a going. For the Son of God to come, he had to, though being in very nature God, not consider equality with God something to be clung to or used to his own advantage. Rather, he made himself nothing by taking the nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And as a human being, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross (see Phil. 2:6-8).

Christ’s advent and incarnation are about a profound leaving, a leaving behind of surety and trappings and status and comfort and the warm light of power to come to the cold, dark night of anonymity and abandonment, of pain and humiliation and death. The light of the world had to leave the “unapproachable light” of glory in order to come to the “people who walk in darkness.” This is the Christ child, heralded by the heavenly host while he helplessly wails into the blackness and bleakness of our collective night.

And so, in many ways, it is for us. Each coming requires a leaving. Each step on our journey requires another step left behind. Otherwise, we are standing still, which is sometimes appropriate, but other times is a clinging to some secure season of life, using to our advantage some place or person or experience that should be left behind for a new coming. This is especially the case in our own advent, our coming into our true selves, which requires leaving behind the false self piece by piece, step by step.

St. Catherine of Siena, by Giovanni Tiepolo

Dorothy Day famously summarized an important aspect of the teaching of Catherine of Siena (1347-1380) with the words, “All the way to heaven is heaven, because Jesus said, ‘I am the Way.’”[1] Jesus came to deliver us from the broken, pitted road of sin and lies. But he also came to be the road to heaven—and not merely heaven when we die, but heaven all the way to heaven. So, just as the Way, Truth, and Life of heaven left to come and bring heaven to us, so we must leave more and more of our old selves to come to him, to grow up into his likeness. For the same mind must be in us that was in him who left…in him who came.

Catherine offers comfort and guidance for the journey into the cold, dark winter: “In the light of faith I gain wisdom in the wisdom of the Word your Son; in the light of faith I am strong, constant, persevering; in the light of faith I have hope: It does not let me faint along the way. This light teaches me the way, and without this light I would be walking in the dark.”[2] So, in faith, we leave behind the fires of the familiar in order to follow the light that came into the darkness—the light that proclaims, indwells, and empowers even us to be light in the world. As we light the candles of the season we should remember not only Christ’s coming, but also the leaving that was required for his coming. And we should follow him. There is enough heavenly light for the next step.

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[1] Dorothy Day, All the Way to Heaven: The Selected Letters of Dorothy Day (New York: Image, 2010), epigraph.

[2] Catherine of Siena, The Dialogue, trans. Susan Noffke (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), 365.

Dis-Orientation: The Weak are Strong

Jesus’ culture (and ours) would expect the beatitudes to be, “Blessed are the rich, the powerful, the shrewd and influential—it's clear that God favors them.” But Jesus comes along with his Disorientation, turning the whole thing on its head, basically saying, “Blessed are those who have come to the end of their own strength—that's where they find God.”

“Ring the bells that still can ring

Forget your perfect offering

There is a crack in everything

That's how the light gets in” 

(Leonard Cohen, Anthem)

“You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought” (Matt 5:5, The Message).

At times, it seems excruciatingly difficult to be content with just who we are. In addition to living in a culture that encourages the worst parts of human nature, and that thrives on getting us to want more and more for ourselves (often by getting us to think less of ourselves), we also are not always clear on who we are exactly. And is Jesus saying we should just stay the way we are, even in our sin?

We stand with the crowd on the hillside, listening to Jesus' sermon. 

We call out, “And who am I, Jesus?”

“Mine!” he answers. “You are mine.” 

Banksy, Girl with Balloon

Nothing else matters. This is the source of our strength. When we let go of identifying ourselves with things that can be bought, of our need to control others (including what they think about us), of our need to have everything figured out or to appear to have everything figured out—basically, when we let go of our attempts to be strong for ourselves and by ourselves—then we are free to find contentment with who we are in Christ—no more, no less. When we are poor in spirit, when we mourn, when we long for justice, when we are mistreated for standing up for what's right—that, says Jesus, is when we’re strong.

We're strong because we are turning, empty-handed, to God’s embrace. Belonging, being welcomed, being loved, being connected to something life-giving and meaningful—aren’t these the things we all want? And grasping desperately for these things outside of Christ drives so much of our feeling less about ourselves and wanting more for ourselves. These are what everyone wants, and it's what Christ offers to us—and it's what he offers through us. We need to break from the world’s misguided and even evil notions of strength. And we need to be God’s embrace for everyone who has come to the end of themselves. We need to show the disorienting message: The weak are strong.

"Love is found in the things we've given up
more than in the things that we have kept"
(Rich Mullins, What Susan Said)

Practice gratitude. Give something away. Give yourself away. Some things we give up willingly, but some we've had to let go of very unwillingly. Some have been taken from us. And there are wounds and cracks left in their place. But, in Christ, that's where the light gets in. If we have any doubt, just remember the cross.

Dis-Orientation: The Invisible is Real

The audio of this sermon can be heard HERE.

“Ask… search… knock…” Such encouraging words! It will be given to you, you will find, the door will be opened to you. These are simple yet astounding promises from Jesus. In some ways it summarizes the Incarnation and Jesus’ ministry: Turn to God he'll be there. Come to God—no matter who you are—and God will take you in. Extraordinary! And disorienting! Seek the invisible God and you'll find? How can anyone seek the invisible?

The invisible God works from God's invisible heavenly realm to bring his rule and power to bear in our visible lives in the visible world. In the beginning, our whole universe was in a hot, dense state—all the matter and energy in the known universe contained in a volume a trillionth the size of a period on a typed page. One million trillion trillion trillionths of a second after that appearance the universe began to expand unimaginably quickly. One million trillion trillion trillionths of a second before that beginning, God was there…willing it to be. As the writer of Hebrews wrote, “what is seen was made from what is unseen” (11:3). Or as Jesus put it, “your Father in heaven.” The Father of all is simultaneously within and outside all things, offering all we need for a good life.

I must confess that I don’t always trust God’s goodness, and I'm probably not alone. Jesus seems to know this mistrust when he explains, “If you who are evil know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matt 7:11). Again, Jesus is asking us: “Do you really believe God is good…really? If you do, then you will ask, search, and knock. You will leave behind the world’s empty promises and give your whole life to seek the good things of God. And God will always deliver!” 

“It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”  -CS Lewis

We are deceived by the visible world, spending our lives chasing after material wealth, physical pleasures and ease, power and the approval of people. Why? What is the better source of innovation and advancement and rallying people to work together for good: seeking material wealth and physical payoffs, or invisible things like hope, compassion, creativity, love, and faith? These are good things God promises us. You’ll have the material things you need. The question is, will they have you? Be honest: Do you think more people get to the end of life and regret the visible things they don’t have? Or do you think they regret the invisible things they missed out on—more love, more friendship, more compassion, more joy and happiness? And if someone says, “I wish I’d had a nicer car and a bigger house,” do you think they’re worth listening to anyway? 

But there's more...

Julian of Norwich (1342 - c.1416)

Living in England in the 14th century, Julian of Norwich experienced the terrible losses and suffering of the Black Plague, possibly even losing her own husband and children. When she was thirty, Julian herself fell ill and lay in a coma. During this time she had a ten-hour encounter with Jesus. Julian asked Jesus about all the suffering she and her loved ones and world were experiencing. Jesus repeatedly told Julian of his love for her and for the world, showing her very detailed images. The first image was Jesus suffering for the world on the cross. Another image was Jesus holding a hazelnut in his hand, saying that his life and love surround each of us like his hand surrounds the nut.

At one point, Jesus tells Julian a story: 

There was an assistant who worked for a remarkable boss. The assistant loved and admired his boss, following him everywhere and excitedly doing what he asked. One day, the assistant was walking along and fell in a deep, dark hole. Lying curled up in the hole, the assistant began to berate himself: “You foolish person,” he told himself. “That’s just like you to fall in a hole. Now you’ll probably die here, all alone in the dark. You’re so stupid!” While the assistant lay there in hopelessness and negativity, he was completely unaware that his loving boss was kneeling on the edge of the hole reaching down to help him out.

There is good invisible and there is bad invisible. In addition to the visible temptations and troubles of the world, we can get so distracted by the negative and harmful invisible thoughts and attitudes we hold, that we become completely unaware of our loving Lord reaching out to us to lead us into his light and life and love.

We must ask, seek, and knock for these good things, these God things. Seek and you'll find something truly amazing: Jesus leaning in, offering you the best of all invisible things—life, love, and God himself. And then you get the shocking, scandalous privilege of making those invisible things visible in the world.

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