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John 1.1-5

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Words, words, words, pages filled with words, word clouds, word walls, spewing words… As I’ve limped out of this election season--somewhat tattered and battered but thankfully recovering sleep, sanity, and slowly relationships—I’ve given a lot of thought to words and their purposes: To name. To communicate. To persuade. To obscure. To confuse. To encourage. To embolden.

In reading this scripture, the poetic opening cadence brought me back to Genesis with God calling forth creation, and this thought leapt out at me: Words give life, and we must be intentional about the life we wish to bring forth.

Indeed, I recently inscribed in my journal and my heart this prayer of Howard Thurman: “Lord, make me an instrument of Thy Peace. Teach me how to order my days with such sure touch that I may say the right word at the right time and in the right way—lest I betray the spirit of peace.” And, in recent moments fraught with tension, I meditated on this intention of being an instrument of God’s peace through my words.

But the scripture is not just about words, it is about the Word incarnate: Jesus! Who brings light everlasting, who overcomes all darkness! And Jesus is ultimately about Love.

So, in this new season – the season of Advent – perhaps we should put aside our words and instead open our hearts and minds to the love of Jesus.

Lord, let us set aside our own words and instead open our hearts to your Word coming alive inside us and among us. That we may radiate your love and peace in all that we are and all that we do.

Mark 13.33-37

Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Keep awake. We don't know the precise moment, except it is now. We depart the clearing, likely to journey to the high peaks, above tree line, where the air is thin and alarming and clear, the only foliage is tenaciously fragile, and the deep rooted silence can be felt on your skin and down in your heart. We have not been brought here by accident.

We have pilgrimaged here due to our need to cast off scales like old clothing, to stand unadorned as the blur of stars merges with the dawn sky and listen to the voice in the ceaseless wind. To come away with a new sewn garment of knowledge that we are responsible to and for each other, that at our deepest we are never alone. That we will return to the valley prepared to embrace, to support, to survive transformation, to really, truly risk.

¹ Corinthians 1.3-9

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind— just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you— so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ. He will also strengthen you to the end, so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is faithful; by him you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Grace. Peace. Enrichment. Strength. Faithfulness. These are words that feel out of place in 2020. As an international educator, my work has been disrupted since January when we had to evacuate and relocate our study abroad programs from China, and then dismantle everything in March. Soon after I transitioned to remote work during stay-at-home orders, our daughter’s daycare closed. Two weeks later, I defended my dissertation and graduated, all on Zoom. The disparate areas of my life all came crashing down on our 1.5-bedroom apartment and I was overwhelmed and let down.

As two working parents without childcare, John and I persevered thanks to Prospect Park and some Google Calendar wizardry. In that daily grind we certainly did not feel grace and peace. Instead of faithfulness, we experienced disappointment where we had expected certainty. Yet slowing down to consider this passage, God has shown my family grace and has given us many reasons to be thankful. By His grace we have remained healthy and employed. Our family transitioned from a very hectic season directly into COVID. Where quality time was once scarce we, by God’s grace, now have time in abundance.

Likewise, once we adjusted to Zoom church, this time and “space” set apart provided an opportunity for us to be strengthened for the week ahead and to even find fellowship with Him and each other. Each of us has brought disappointments and missed milestones as the weeks stretch on. Yet because God has always transcended space, He is present even in Zoom or in small-scale outdoor meet-ups.

Our grace-filled God has always revealed spiritual gifts in His people despite imperfect circumstances. May this year be one in which we were jolted to reconsider our own traditions, expectations, and desires against what God is calling us to do.