In the beginning was the Word,
                  and the Word was In God’s presence,
                  and the Word was God.
         All things came into being through the Living Word;
                  nothing has come into being except through the Word.
         What has come into being in the Living Word was life,
                  and the life was the light of all people.

         The light shines in the darkness,
                  and the darkness can not overcome it.
         The true light, which enlightens everyone,
                  was coming into the world.
                                 —John 1.1-5, 9

God begins with a musical idea,
and then sings it.
The song shines in the darkness.
Everything in this universe is God’s song.
It’s a love song.

In Jesus we can hear the melody,
clear, sweet and strong,
like a mother’s lullaby, holding her troubled child,
a strange melody, in a new key,
but one that resonates deep in our souls,
because we too are God’s singing.

Listen for God singing the world into being.
Look for the light shining in the music.
Notice this cosmic song, this act of Creation,
rising in you, unfolding, radiating,
shining in the darkness.

The true light that enlightens everyone
is coming into the world.
 

   —December 22, 2017

          Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Holy One,
                  and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior….
         For God has shown strength with her arm;
                  she has scattered the proud in their illusions.
         She has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
                  and lifted up the lowly;
         she has filled the hungry with good things,
                 and sent the rich away empty.”
                        —Luke 1.46-47, 51-53

These are dark times.
Mary has no reason to rejoice in the present tense,
as if God has already accomplished this turnover.
The mighty are still in power, reveling in debauchery,
robbing the poor, looting instead of leading,
crushing the wanderer, destroying the temple.
The Emperor has not yet even begun to buckle.
Why does Mary sing God “has” shown strength?
Is her faith just wishful thinking? Abject delusion?
Is hope just crazy fantasy?

Today is the solstice: in this hemisphere
winter is about to set in; the cold is yet to come.
But the earth has already turned.
The season is already doomed.

From the beginning God has established the power
not of death but of resurrection,
given love all the power
and hollowed out the might of the oppressors.
It’s too late already for the Emperor and his rage.
The true power in this universe
is not in the fearful hands of the mighty,
but the humble hearts of the loving.

Mary has already said Yes. Her sisters have said Yes.
The earth has turned.
A million peasant girls are out there,
ten million, a hundred million,
bearing the Divine, resisting, persisting, rising
like the dawn on the solstice.
The Emperor cannot stop this.
People of love and truth, people of humble courage,
bear the Holy Spirit into this world,
the Word made flesh, the Body of Christ, eternal,
crucified and risen, and coming again.

The light shines in the darkness
and the darkness can’t overcome it.
Hope is not deluded. Hope is knowing
what the despairing Emperor cannot even imagine.

         By the tender mercy of our God
                  the dawn from on high will break upon us,
         to give light to those who sit in darkness
                  and in the shadow of death,
                  to guide our feet into the way of peace.
                           —Luke 1.78-79
 

   —December 21, 2017

         Here am I, the servant of the Holy One;
         let it be with me according to your word.
               —Luke 1.38

God, I can’t imagine your desire for me,
your hope in me, your promise growing in me.
I do not know what you are leading me into,
but your Word is grace and love,
and something in me leans in and says Yes.
Give me courage to be yours
even when I can’t see ahead or understand.
Give me devotion to whatever of you
is unfolding in me.
Each moment, even in the press of the day,
give me grace to say to you always:

Here am I, your servant, O Holy One.
May it be for me according to your word.

Here am I, your servant, O Holy One.
May it be for me according to your word.
 

   —December 20, 2017

          You will conceive in your womb and bear a child.
                     —Luke 1.31

It is not my effort, nor another’s word,
but your presence in me that sanctifies me.
Yet you ask me to choose.
Am I willing for a great thing to unfold in me?
Am I ready to let go of my excuse of inadequacy?
Will I bear the great changes,
the weight of a life that is not mine but Yours?
Am I willing to be inconvenienced,
thrown off balance, discomforted?
Will I nourish the Holy One within me?
Will I choose even against my own self interest
for the sake of the Divine within me?
Will I chose what is good for the Child
even if it is hard or painful?
Can I be mindful always
that You are within me, growing, fragile, holy,
bearing light and life?

Let this be my hope:
not seeing you, but knowing you are within me,
bearing you into this world.

   —December 19, 2017

          Gabriel said, “You will conceive in your womb
          and bear a son…and he will be great…”

Already the Word is spoken
deep in your soul.
Already the light dawns within you,
light of heaven, vast and outflowing,
the Loving One loving in you,
God, growing in you,
holy, earthly, miraculously plain.
Let it be.

          Mary said to the angel, “How can this be? I am only a girl!”
          The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you,
          and the power of the Most High will overshadow you”
                         —Luke 1.31-35

It is yours, but not you.
It is within you, but from beyond.
This light is not yours to deny.
This blossoming is not yours to resist.

Let the Spirit come upon you,
the power of the Most High overshadow you.
Be still, and let it be.
You don’t have to understand.
Just say yes.
 

   —December 18, 2017

         The God of peace will sanctify you entirely,
         and keep your spirit and soul and body
         sound and blameless
         at the coming of the Beloved, Jesus Christ.
         The one who calls you is faithful, and will do this.
               —1 Thessalonians 5.23-24

God,
I wait for so much more than Christmas,
more than the miraculous birth:
I await my own birth.
As you poured yourself into this world,
and it was never the same again,
pour yourself into me,
and change me forever.
Birth your light in me,
your Word made flesh in me,
Set me to your purposes
and sustain me in your way.
Make me a living sign of your coming,
a vessel of your presence,
an instrument of your delight.
I open my heart to you.
Come, and make me your holy one.
 

   —December 15, 2017

         John came as a witness to testify to the light.
         He himself was not the light,
         but he came to testify to the light
               —John 1.7-8

The brook is not the light
but it reflects the coming dawn.
The geese are not the winter,

but it falls from their wings.

The wave is not the sea;
the note is not the song;
I am not the light
but I am made of nothing else.

Bear witness.
If not to the light within,
bear witness to the dawn.
To the song.

The candle isn’t the sun,
but sings its song.
I don’t have to believe this,
just sing the song.

   —December 14, 2017

          “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness,
                    ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’”
                         —John 1.23

How arresting
that God intends to upend the empires of men,
promises cosmic upheaval,
and to bring it about sends
lonely prophets out in the wilderness,
who themselves will soon be arrested.

God touches a loner praying in the desert.
Kneels and says to a peasant girl,
“Your willingness is enough.”
Appears in a small, helpless child.
Holds the sagging flesh of one crucified.
Amazing, how for God so little is enough.

The voice of one crying in the wilderness
is enough.
Your voice is enough
if you lift it up.
It is not alone.
It is not empty.
Your voice,
and its millions,
is the Way of God.                

   —December 13, 2017

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

          The spirit of God the Holy One is upon me,
                    because God has anointed me,
                    and sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
          to bind up the brokenhearted,
                    to proclaim liberty to the captives,
          and release to the prisoners;
                    to proclaim the year of God’s favor,
          and the day of vengeance of our God;
                    to comfort all who mourn.
                              — Isaiah 61.1-2

This is not political.
God’s agenda is not political; it’s relational.
The promise of Advent is not political; it’s spiritual.
God comes to judge the forces of oppression
without dilution, without caveat
that there are good people on both sides.
God comes to destroy the status quo,
to upend our world and its injustice:
to raise the lowly and bring down the mighty.
This is not political. It’s moral.
It’s about health care, mass incarceration,
racism, sexism, earth care and peace.
It’s about empowering the disenfranchised,
not blaming them. It’s about respect, not abuse.
Lying, abuse and child molestation,
demeaning people, threatening war,
robbing the poor to pay the rich,
the worship of money, sex and power,
these are not political. They are evil.
What some want to do to our government,
to our diplomacy, to common decency,
God wants to do to the structures
of privilege and exclusion. They are God’s target.
This is not politics. It’s salvation.

The gentle sweet good news of Advent is
that mountains and hills will be leveled,
valleys will be filled in,
and rough places straightened out,
and it is unwise to be standing in the way
of God’s bulldozers.
This may involve some elections,
some protests, some laws.
It will involve an altogether new Empire.
But it’s not political.
It’s cosmic.

Open your heart to the little Bethlehem star,
supernova blossoming in us.
And take it to the streets.

   —December 12, 2017

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

The shoppers pass the drunk
(they are not related),
pass the little window display
of the poor baby in the manger,
and find their place
among their kind at the mall,
where there are no homeless,
only waxen, distracted shoppers,
far from the others,
separating themselves by class and style,
whatever distance they can conjure,
who go on trying to divide and divide,
while the little baby goes on
joining and joining.

   —December 11, 2017