Saturday 7 December 2013

Open to the best

From 'Daily Advent Reflections' by Nick Fawcett, which I've borrowed from the Bradford Diocesan Resource Centre:


"Advent calls us to prepare for the worst in that it counsels us to examine our lifestyles, to consider our discipleship, and to reflect on who and what we are, gauging whether we have responded from the heart to the challenge of the good news. Yet it calls us also, not simply to hope for the best but to expect it, confident that having responded, and despite the fact that we still repeatedly fail to follow Christ as faithfully as we would like, all things will ultimately work together for good with those who love him." (p.32)

You may want to read Romans 8:28,38-39 for some context.

Monday 2 December 2013

Coming, Confidence and Candles

I attended the beautiful and haunting Advent Carol service at Bradford Cathedral last night. Many folk love a Christmas Carol service, but there's much more drama in the Advent version, which includes much more of the service conducted in near darkness. This meant that we were required to read our service sheets in the gloom, which initially proves quick tricky, but before too long my eyes had adjusted to the darkness around me and I could read the words to the carols with clarity.

And so it is with Advent.

As Christians we are obliged to take seriously the gloom and darkness that's around us. Darkness of unbelief (often in our own hearts), of sin, of sorrow, or grief, of pain, of loss, of a sense of being exiled in a hostile place, of not sensing where God is...and the darkness of our own death.

But we are called to read God's word carefully amidst this darkness. And one of the places we, as Anglicans, feel we can find God is in the pages of Isaiah.

During this Advent I'm setting myself a serious challenge. I want to blog every day: as a spiritual discipline. I want to really dig deep into Isaiah, and the lectionary has already done most of the hard work by weaving the majority of the book into morning and evening prayer for the coming season, and beyond into Christmas and Epiphany. Indeed, All Saintstide started us off. This means that bookending the Christian year is the glorious vision of Isaiah.

Yesterday morning, we read Isaiah 2:1-5 and I think we see the major Advent themes in these five verses: Coming, Confidence, and Candles.

Firstly, Coming.

The word, "Come" appears four times (v.2, 3, 5):
"In days to come" - a future perspective
"Many people shall come" - a future promise
"Come, let us go up" - an invitation to worship God
"Come let us walk" - an invitation loyalty and faithfulness to God

Many of us pray, every day, the Lord's prayer, which includes the line, "your kingdom come".

Now I don't know about you, but I find it helpful to linger sometimes on phrases or words in the Lord's prayer (this of course is only possible if you're in the habit of praying it on your own (and out loud)). I am always forced to think carefully what I'm praying for when I say 'your kingdom come', for this is not as straightforward as it might seem. After all, how many of us really truthfully want God's kingdom to come now, in all its glory? Would we be embarassed at what God might find?

But of course, we must pay attention to Isaiah. Where he says, "in days to come" it could refer to Jesus' first coming. Consider the promise of one who will 'judge' and 'arbitrate' (v.4). This has echoes in the great promise of Isaiah 9 and 11, that one is coming who will be the judge, one anointed by God. This Messianic hope in Isaiah is fulfilled in Jesus. And maybe Isaiah's talk of 'the mountain of the Lord's house' being raised up isn't so much an eschatological vision, as a metaphor for the cross of Christ?

Advent, then, is about coming: the Messiah born to reign and a returning Lord to usher in his completed kingdom. When we pray, 'your kingdom come' we are praying for both. There is that fervent hope (cranked up to fever pitch in Advent) that God would finally return, but also that renewed sense of how we need the saving work of Jesus, that his kingdom can begin to reign in our hearts, minds and lives.

So what?

I think we respond to this theme of Coming by inviting people to come too.

We encourage our brothers and sisters to keep on keeping on. How many of us have a Christian friend who needs to be invited back to church over the season? What a great opportunity.

But we also invite those who don't know Jesus. We do so much to celebrate but how much effort do we make to get folk there. And then when they come do we sparkle, shine and radiate that joy? Do we speak about the cross and resurrection at Christmas? Do we look to Jesus' promised return?

And I would also invite you to pray that ancient prayer, with all its multi-layered meanings, 'Come, Lord Jesus'.


Secondly, Confidence.

This brief passage is full of Hope. If Coming is the first big Advent theme, then Hope is the second.

And Hope is about much more than our future home with God in eternity - although this must come to dominate our prayers as we reflect more and more on the darkness of our own sin. We see a present hope that this world might be transformed... now.

We see the image of nations streaming to God's city, God's mountain.
We see the image of tools of war beaten to till the land.
We see men longing to worship.

But....(there's always a but)...we doubt it, don't we? We show an alarming lack of confidence in God when we doubt his ability to transform a fallen and falling world. We rob ourselves of hope when we expect nothing to happen, when we accept the status quo. We do this chiefly with our own lives: God can't do anything about this or that sin, or this situation...

Isaiah rebukes this apathy. We are called to an active, vibrant, obedient and confident hope. God has promised to act - and he will.

Isaiah speaks a lot about Israel - God's children. They are the leaving, breathing vehicle God works through and with to reach the world, which is why he's so angry about their sinfulness and apostasy. They were chosen to be the sign of hope, but they failed to live up this.

In the same way, the church of God, the body of Christ is to be that sign of Hope. We are to love and live for God.

So what?

Advent is a brilliant time to rethink how we engage with Church and the theme of Hope. What is it you hope for? What do you long for? Have you doubted God?
Spend some time as you read the promises of Isaiah to consider how you've become stuck in a rut with regard to worship and prayer.
How might your church reinhabit that role in its community as a sign of hope?


Thirdly, and finally, Candles.

We walk in a dark world, but we do so "in the light of the Lord" (v.5)

Okay...this may seem like a really weird theme to focus on, but consider how integral the theme of light is. We have candles, Christmas tree lights, and (where they're still affordable) we have civic decorations.

One of the major differences between Lent and Advent is light. In Lent, we get progressively more and more dark, as though hope is slowly draining, which all culminates on Good Friday with the horror of God's crucifixion. This darkness heightens in Passiontide and is sustained by a season of tough fasting.

Advent does the opposite - we should find ourselves getting steadily brighter and brighter.

In preparing for Advent this year, keen to be 'changed' by it, I got rather confused beginning to see Advent as a second Lent, a second opportunity to be tough on myself; I even considered giving things up (although I'm still trying to ration my chocolate intake!). I think this is also because I've been getting quite negative about my weaknesses. In fact, in a recent interview I genuinely struggled to list my strengths, my abilities, my light side.  You recall where I said (above) that the hope for eternity grows as we see more and more of the darkness of our own sin? Well, perhaps Advent is different from Lent in that we allow more and more of God's light, God's present activity to try and break in now.

Advent is about candles - and candles are about light; they're also about birthdays. Christmas and Birthdays are times for presents. Have you recently considered your gifts? Yes, the gift of Jesus, the light who has come into the world, into your world, but also the strengths, abilities and talents God has given you? This is a new thought for me. How might I use Advent to reflect on the light God has placed in me? We're so naturally inclined to be self-deprecating, to focus on our status as sinners, and not enough on our status as Saints.

And in thinking about gifts/presents, consider how Isaiah refers to the law and instruction - he's referring to God's word. We too have this inestimable gift - the Bible. One thing that struck me last night was how much Bible we read at the Carol service, how much was sung. We too must allow our lives to be saturated in God's word.

So what?

Well...spend time in Advent reflecting on Light. Get a candle and light it in your home, while you pray, while you eat...and let that candle stir memories of birthdays and Christmases gone, allow some light and joy to grow in you.
Also, commit more time this Advent to reading God's Bible. This is a great gift. Add an extra reading, or challenge yourself to read Isaiah, or start to read it with a family member, ensure Advent talk of Christmas is focused on the feast of the nativity, remind people of the Bible story. And have fun with it, make games...don't let the season rob joy from you. Play Frank Laubach's game of minutes - try to read more, to think more about God.
And finally, reflect on the light that is in you. You yourself are a great gift to the world.


Coming. Confidence. Candles.

Jesus. Hope. Light.



I hope and pray this Advent will be a time of rich joy, renewed hope and refreshing fellowship.




[There is a fourth theme to Advent that isn't covered in this passage, though. I think that a fourth C exists - COLOUR. We are aesthetic beings - we care about how things look - and colours are very evocative. The season has a focus on death so you might expect blacks to predominate, but instead we use purple, the colour of penitence. Although we allow bursts of kinder hues to break through, not least on the 3rd Sunday of Advent when we use a pink/rose candle (for Gaudete Sunday). And Isaiah reflects this spectrum. We find ourselves reading of judgment for sin in God's word against the nations (Chapters 13-23) but then quickly shift to kinder more hopeful themes in following chapters. Isaiah is often divided into two parts: chs 1-39 and 40-66: a book of judgment and a book of hope. And death is profoundly both of these things for a Christian - a judgment and hope]

Sunday 1 December 2013

The first Sunday of Advent

Advent Sunday is here!


    Now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. (Romans 13:11)

 

   AWAKE—again the Gospel-trump is blown—
   From year to year it swells with louder tone,
      From year to year the signs of wrath
      Are gathering round the Judge’s path,
   Strange words fulfilled, and mighty works achieved,
   And truth in all the world both hated and believed.

   Awake! why linger in the gorgeous town,
   Sworn liegemen of the Cross and thorny crown?
      Up from your beds of sloth for shame,
      Speed to the eastern mount like flame,
   Nor wonder, should ye find your King in tears,
   E’en with the loud Hosanna ringing in His ears.

   Alas! no need to rouse them: long ago
   They are gone forth to swell Messiah’s show:
      With glittering robes and garlands sweet
      They strew the ground beneath His feet:
   All but your hearts are there—O doomed to prove
   The arrows winged in Heaven for Faith that will not love!

   Meanwhile He passes through th’ adoring crowd,
   Calm as the march of some majestic cloud,
      That o’er wild scenes of ocean-war
      Holds its still course in Heaven afar:
   E’en so, heart-searching Lord, as years roll on,
   Thou keepest silent watch from Thy triumphal throne:

E’en so, the world is thronging round to gaze
   On the dread vision of the latter days,
      Constrained to own Thee, but in heart
      Prepared to take Barabbas’ part:
   “Hosanna” now, to-morrow “Crucify,”
   The changeful burden still of their rude lawless cry.

   Yet in that throng of selfish hearts untrue
   Thy sad eye rests upon Thy faithful few,
      Children and childlike souls are there,
      Blind Bartimeus’ humble prayer,
   And Lazarus wakened from his four days’ sleep,
   Enduring life again, that Passover to keep.

   And fast beside the olive-bordered way
   Stands the blessed home where Jesus deigned to stay,
      The peaceful home, to Zeal sincere
      And heavenly Contemplation dear,
   Where Martha loved to wait with reverence meet,
   And wiser Mary lingered at Thy sacred feet.

   Still through decaying ages as they glide,
   Thou lov’st Thy chosen remnant to divide;
      Sprinkled along the waste of years
      Full many a soft green isle appears:
   Pause where we may upon the desert road,
   Some shelter is in sight, some sacred safe abode.

   When withering blasts of error swept the sky,
   And Love’s last flower seemed fain to droop and die,
      How sweet, how lone the ray benign
      On sheltered nooks of Palestine!
   Then to his early home did Love repair,
   And cheered his sickening heart with his own native air.

   Years roll away: again the tide of crime
   Has swept Thy footsteps from the favoured clime
      Where shall the holy Cross find rest?
      On a crowned monarch’s mailèd breast:
   Like some bright angel o’er the darkling scene,
   Through court and camp he holds his heavenward course serene.

   A fouler vision yet; an age of light,
   Light without love, glares on the aching sight:
      Oh, who can tell how calm and sweet,
      Meek Walton, shows thy green retreat,
   When wearied with the tale thy times disclose,
   The eye first finds thee out in thy secure repose?

   Thus bad and good their several warnings give
   Of His approach, whom none may see and live:
      Faith’s ear, with awful still delight,
      Counts them like minute-bells at night.
   Keeping the heart awake till dawn of morn,
   While to her funeral pile this aged world is borne.

But what are Heaven’s alarms to hearts that cower
   In wilful slumber, deepening every hour,
      That draw their curtains closer round,
      The nearer swells the trumpet’s sound?
   Lord, ere our trembling lamps sink down and die,
   Touch us with chastening hand, and make us feel Thee nigh.


By John Keble taken from 'The Christian Year' found online here.