Lord, teach me. . . .

“We may run, walk, stumble, drive, or fly, but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey, or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way.”—Robert Louis Stevenson O Henry spins a wonderful tale of a fourth King, Artaban, who set out from a land in the East, laden with rubies, gemstones and a pearl of great price, all gifts for a newborn baby born under the sign of a star. But along the way to catch up with the other three, Artaban encounters Life: a hungry child in need of food. A wounded traveler in need of healing. One by one, Artaban sells or gives up his treasures so others might have life. He never connects with the other three, and arrives in Jerusalem thirty-three years late—as the Child he came to worship is flogged, cursed and crucified. Now an old man, Artaban dies, believing he has failed. But then he hears the gentle Voice of the Lord. Well done, good and faithful servant. For many of us, these recent weeks have been “all about the goal.” We have bee...

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you. Deep peace of the shining stars to you. Deep peace of the gentle night to you. Moon and stars pour their healing light on you. Deep peace of Christ the Light of the World to you.  –Gaelic blessing About thirty years ago, a pair of psychologists who also happened to be Episcopal priests did a study of infants and young children, and came to the conclusion that from the time we are born, every early articulation we make is prayer. We experience such intimacy of relationship with our Creator that every gurgle and coo, every kick and colic is conversation with God, or prayer. But as we grow older and more self-aware, we turn more to one another, and less—to God. As parents, we see this in our relationship with our children. We even encourage it: “You can do it yourself! Go ahead!” And then one day, when we are all older, we realize the kids hardly ever spend time with us anymore. I wonder if our Almighty Father feels the same...

The thread of joy running through all things has no beginning and no end. It winds and weaves beneath us, over us, through us, never wavering in pursuit of God’s jubilee justice and mercy for all creation. The web it weaves is sturdy enough to hold through the darkest nights of war and devastation, despair and loss. Joy always makes a way. –Kayla McClurg The third candle in our Advent wreath symbolizes Christ our Joy. This Sunday we remember when the angel Gabriel visited Mary and told her she would give birth to a child named Jesus. Mary replies with a song which has come to be known as The Magnificat (Luke 1:26-55). It can be easy to romanticize this story, but stop and think for a moment. A young, unmarried girl facing scandal and shame, her child’s life endangered by a power-mad king-- and all the “fully human” aspects and responsibilities of raising a child lie ahead of her. (This is why women have nine months to prepare mentally!) Yet through it all and through it...

“God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by subtracting.”  –Meister Eckhart During Advent, as we focus on the event that marks the beginning of what makes a Christian, a Christian, there can be a temptation to add on, to look for one more thing to do to lead us closer to the manger. Maybe it’s a Bible study or a daily devotional—something. There’s nothing wrong with these things, obviously. The problem comes when this “something” becomes another item on a Christmas to-do list, something to check off and be done with. What if, instead of adding another item to the list, we deliberately shortened the list—and made extra space and time for God? Is there something you do “because we have always done it,” but it no longer feels right—or maybe even adds to the stress of the season? Maybe this is the year to just say no. And in the place of whatever it was, be still. Stop and rest. The journey to Bethlehem is a long one. And who knows? Maybe, like the Gr...