Last Sunday, we were on the edge of Christmas day, and this Sunday we are on the edge of a New Year.
And I am wondering how you all are feeling, what you are thinking, how you navigated this holiday season, and what you might be pondering regarding the coming year. As Christians, December is a month that is earmarked for joy. It is a time that we are called to grow quiet within so that we might return to manger spaces where God comes to us anew. As Christians, Christmas is a season of hope and light and goodness. It is a time of merriment and promise. But sometimes, it is also a month of pressure and conflicted feelings as we are bombarded by repeated media moments telling us in one breath that it’s the most wonderful time of the year, while in the next we view images of children’s faces lost too soon.
I’m a believer. I believe in the miracles of Christmas. I tend to draw close to Mary at this time of the year, and I gather love and strength from her blessed willingness to embrace God’s calling. And I believe in the whimsical loving-kindness of Santa and his reindeer. I must always look at the night sky before bed on Christmas Eve. I am compelled to listen into the night for sleigh bells. In the deepest part of me, in that place where truth resides continually, I know that Christmas is a season of love that pulses well beyond December 25th. I know that because of Christmas, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” And yet, this Christmas, I somehow couldn’t catch the spirit of happiness.
It felt disrespectful for me to be giddy with holiday cheer as so many were in mourning in Connecticut. Are you with me on this? Hasn’t it been a very heavy year in our world? There is so much struggle, so much division, so much illness. I think this Christmas I was opened up to feel the pain, and while that seems so contradictory to what I was supposed to be feeling, I trusted that those feelings were valid and honest, and still very much connected to the birth of Christ.
One of my most beloved Christmas carols is “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and I often find myself singing the first verse in times like these. “O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”
Mary Oliver, a dear American poet says something similar in her poem “I Will Try”.
I will try.
I will step from the house to see what I see
and hear and I will praise it.
I did not come into this world
to be comforted.
I came, like red bird, to sing.
But I’m not red bird, with is head-mop of flame
and the red triangle of his mouth
full of tongue and whistle,
but a woman whose love has vanished,
who thinks now, too much, of roots
and the dark places
where everything is simply holding on.
But this, too, I believe, is a place
where God is keeping watch
until we rise, and step forth again
and…
but wait. Be still.
Listen!
Is it red bird? Or
something inside myself, singing?
God, in such a spirit of love and grace, created hope as this ongoing gift of healing and joy. No matter the season or circumstance, no matter the depth of our pain or sorrow, there is a constant presence that waits with us and for us and that companion is hope.
Recently, I was sitting bedside with a beloved one in the hospital. He was feeling overwhelmed with illness and the latest headline news. And he said to me, “So, tell me something good.” And like that red bird that Mary Oliver speaks of in her poem… I opened my mouth and sang:
"Just what makes that little old ant, think he can move a rubber tree plant. Anyone knows an ant can’t move a rubber tree plant but he’s got… high hopes, he’s got high hopes, he’s got high apple pie in the sky hopes so anytime your feeling low ‘stead of letting go… just remember that ant… whoops there goes another rubber tree
plant.”
Want to hear the good news from the Good Book on hope? Jeremiah offers us this: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all of your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord., and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have sent you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back home again to your own land.
God is with us. When we feel the presence of hope and when we do not feel the presence of hope… God is with us. And this God of love has a plan for us that is good, a plan that is filled with positive possibilities, a plan that is stronger and much more steadfast than anything we can begin to comprehend. In all the definitions of the word hope, the essence of hope is that all will be well… no matter what. Dreams may not come true. People we love will suffer and die. Acts of violence will occur around the world…but nothing can ultimately deter the essence of
hope. We may lose hope… but hope is never lost. Hope is God’s way of being with us, of standing steady and never leaving our side. How can we ignore that every morning light rises up out of darkness? How can we ignore the sweet chimes that ring in hospitals announcing the birth of a new baby even as death hovers in a nearby room? How can we overlook the fact that from a brown, dried up bulb… flowers burst forth?
A few days ago, my daughter and I went to see the new movie Les Miserables. It is the story of a man named Jean Valjean who once stole bread to feed the hungry… and from that act of compassion his entire life changed.
For years he was a slave, only to be finally freed under conditions that were not free. In desperation, he made yet another choice that would surely seal his fate for tragedy, and yet in the soul of one wise man, he found absolution, forgiveness, and love. This man says to Jean Valjean, “I see God in your soul, and I claim that soul for God, for goodness, for love, for hope.” It was the moment in Jean Valjean’s life when he was able to realize the
plan for good and live a life that reverberated that message time and again. Victor Hugo, who wrote Les Miserables, also says, “The word which God has written on the brow of every man is Hope.”
The Maker of Heaven and Earth, the God who created Joseph and Mary and who came to us in human form through that sweet baby Jesus…this God who stood at the foot of the cross and who stands with us in every cross we bear… is the God of hope.
Life is full of hard times. There will be days in this bright New Year that take us to our knees and ask us to discern what we really believe. And it is my prayer for you and for me that above all, we remember that we are the hope of God. Christ, our Savior, has claimed us for goodness, for love, and for hope. May we live such truth and trust the song that waits in our hearts.
And I am wondering how you all are feeling, what you are thinking, how you navigated this holiday season, and what you might be pondering regarding the coming year. As Christians, December is a month that is earmarked for joy. It is a time that we are called to grow quiet within so that we might return to manger spaces where God comes to us anew. As Christians, Christmas is a season of hope and light and goodness. It is a time of merriment and promise. But sometimes, it is also a month of pressure and conflicted feelings as we are bombarded by repeated media moments telling us in one breath that it’s the most wonderful time of the year, while in the next we view images of children’s faces lost too soon.
I’m a believer. I believe in the miracles of Christmas. I tend to draw close to Mary at this time of the year, and I gather love and strength from her blessed willingness to embrace God’s calling. And I believe in the whimsical loving-kindness of Santa and his reindeer. I must always look at the night sky before bed on Christmas Eve. I am compelled to listen into the night for sleigh bells. In the deepest part of me, in that place where truth resides continually, I know that Christmas is a season of love that pulses well beyond December 25th. I know that because of Christmas, “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” And yet, this Christmas, I somehow couldn’t catch the spirit of happiness.
It felt disrespectful for me to be giddy with holiday cheer as so many were in mourning in Connecticut. Are you with me on this? Hasn’t it been a very heavy year in our world? There is so much struggle, so much division, so much illness. I think this Christmas I was opened up to feel the pain, and while that seems so contradictory to what I was supposed to be feeling, I trusted that those feelings were valid and honest, and still very much connected to the birth of Christ.
One of my most beloved Christmas carols is “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and I often find myself singing the first verse in times like these. “O little town of Bethlehem how still we see thee lie! Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”
Mary Oliver, a dear American poet says something similar in her poem “I Will Try”.
I will try.
I will step from the house to see what I see
and hear and I will praise it.
I did not come into this world
to be comforted.
I came, like red bird, to sing.
But I’m not red bird, with is head-mop of flame
and the red triangle of his mouth
full of tongue and whistle,
but a woman whose love has vanished,
who thinks now, too much, of roots
and the dark places
where everything is simply holding on.
But this, too, I believe, is a place
where God is keeping watch
until we rise, and step forth again
and…
but wait. Be still.
Listen!
Is it red bird? Or
something inside myself, singing?
God, in such a spirit of love and grace, created hope as this ongoing gift of healing and joy. No matter the season or circumstance, no matter the depth of our pain or sorrow, there is a constant presence that waits with us and for us and that companion is hope.
Recently, I was sitting bedside with a beloved one in the hospital. He was feeling overwhelmed with illness and the latest headline news. And he said to me, “So, tell me something good.” And like that red bird that Mary Oliver speaks of in her poem… I opened my mouth and sang:
"Just what makes that little old ant, think he can move a rubber tree plant. Anyone knows an ant can’t move a rubber tree plant but he’s got… high hopes, he’s got high hopes, he’s got high apple pie in the sky hopes so anytime your feeling low ‘stead of letting go… just remember that ant… whoops there goes another rubber tree
plant.”
Want to hear the good news from the Good Book on hope? Jeremiah offers us this: For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all of your heart, I will let you find me, says the Lord., and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have sent you, says the Lord, and I will bring you back home again to your own land.
God is with us. When we feel the presence of hope and when we do not feel the presence of hope… God is with us. And this God of love has a plan for us that is good, a plan that is filled with positive possibilities, a plan that is stronger and much more steadfast than anything we can begin to comprehend. In all the definitions of the word hope, the essence of hope is that all will be well… no matter what. Dreams may not come true. People we love will suffer and die. Acts of violence will occur around the world…but nothing can ultimately deter the essence of
hope. We may lose hope… but hope is never lost. Hope is God’s way of being with us, of standing steady and never leaving our side. How can we ignore that every morning light rises up out of darkness? How can we ignore the sweet chimes that ring in hospitals announcing the birth of a new baby even as death hovers in a nearby room? How can we overlook the fact that from a brown, dried up bulb… flowers burst forth?
A few days ago, my daughter and I went to see the new movie Les Miserables. It is the story of a man named Jean Valjean who once stole bread to feed the hungry… and from that act of compassion his entire life changed.
For years he was a slave, only to be finally freed under conditions that were not free. In desperation, he made yet another choice that would surely seal his fate for tragedy, and yet in the soul of one wise man, he found absolution, forgiveness, and love. This man says to Jean Valjean, “I see God in your soul, and I claim that soul for God, for goodness, for love, for hope.” It was the moment in Jean Valjean’s life when he was able to realize the
plan for good and live a life that reverberated that message time and again. Victor Hugo, who wrote Les Miserables, also says, “The word which God has written on the brow of every man is Hope.”
The Maker of Heaven and Earth, the God who created Joseph and Mary and who came to us in human form through that sweet baby Jesus…this God who stood at the foot of the cross and who stands with us in every cross we bear… is the God of hope.
Life is full of hard times. There will be days in this bright New Year that take us to our knees and ask us to discern what we really believe. And it is my prayer for you and for me that above all, we remember that we are the hope of God. Christ, our Savior, has claimed us for goodness, for love, and for hope. May we live such truth and trust the song that waits in our hearts.
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