Immanuel Spelled Out

 

 

All through the Christmas season, we were reminded that Jesus is our Immanuel, which means God with us. We witnessed God With Us in our decorations, the liturgies in our worship, and surrounded by what seemed as an endless soundtrack.

But now in early January, the Christmas decorations have been stowed in our attic, now colder than a freezer.  I sat down to maneuver my way through a tottering stack of work, largely orphaned during the holidays, calling my name. It looked ominous.

But glancing a little further back on my desk, I saw a nativity of painted wooden figures that I had neglected to put away. And somehow I realized that this little scene was not just a forgotten decoration (there always seems to be a few), but a reminder how to approach and navigate this new year with all of its big rocks, surprises and challenges.

These four little figures were not just a faded refrain of God With Us, but a call to move on to the next verse that God whispers to us, "Be with Me,"  acknowledging His promises and abiding in His presence. He is with me in this new year as well. He is with me in this new day too. Past, present and future tense.

How do we get through our looming dilemmas, those dark and stormy forecasts as on a weather app?  Our hard stuff appears far beyond our skill sets or endurance.

What do we do? How do we respond? As Samir replied in Daniel Nayeri's short novel The Many Assassinations of Samir, the Seller of Dreams, "God will think of something."

And indeed, He already has, already leading, already providing His Presence.

The quagmire we are walking through may not be caused by our fumbling mistakes, but God trying to get our attention.  Not saying "you failed," but "be with Me." God is not a harsh schoolmaster trying to "teach me a lesson," but a gracious God who is forming something new in me. Sometimes we have to be struggling before we see our need to realize exactly that.  Not "be the best" or even "do your best," but "be with Me."  It is not a matter of dignifying the winning place, but treasuring a long faithful walk with Him.

What does that require in this day before me?  Trying something new. Doing something that might be hard. Playing it, perhaps, in a different key.

How then should we live? What needs to be changed? Charlie Peacock and Andi Ashworth underlined those profound adjustments in our hearts, in the title of their 2024 book Why Everything That Doesn't Matter, Matters So Much. 

Everything matters.  God is not just with us.  He is not there with us, way off on the horizon. He is here with us.  On the journey, not just the other side of this.  What makes the significant difference in living that way is "a long term, unhurried togetherness with Jesus," writes John Starke in his book The Secret Place of Thunder, not a quick nod to the holy, but a daily abiding.

We can go forth into these new days with plans and agendas already set in stone.  But God always calls us to something deeper and something more.  "Allow yourself to be led," advises Martin Schleske, luthier and author of The Sound of Life's Unspeakable Beauty.  Schleske works with wood found in the forest. And makes it sing.

God does the same in us.

Write that on an index card and post it on the kitchen cabinet in plain view for this new year with all of its struggles and brokenness, awesome views and unexpected joys.

In these grey wintry months, in the days that appear just so ordinary, God spells out the Immanuel for us, word for word.  Right here with you. Be with Me.

So do not fear, for I am with you;

do not be dismayed, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you and help you;

I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.

                     Isaiah 41. 10

The Crowd On My Bookshelf in 2024

In the middle of our granddaughter's soccer game last weekend, my son-in-law inquired about my favorite book in 2024.  I had no idea.  Even after perusing my list later that day, I still didn't have a definitive answer.  I loved the story in this one.  The characters were incredible in that tale.  I never knew the backstory behind that historic event. This narrative really made me think. And those other books, oh, I will definitely read again. (And some of them I already have).  I read history, theology, some great novels, and lots of children's books.  And the Bible, which holds us all together, more than we can know.

Here is my list for 2024.  Hope you enjoyed some of these as well.  Of making many books there is no end... Ecclesiastes 12.12.

Alongside my list of titles, for years I have archived notes or quotations from most of the books I read.  I have included just a few nuggets from this year at the end of my booklist.

1.     The Sound of Life’s Unspeakable Beauty by Martin Schleske (2020)
2.     Shadows on the Rock  by Willa Cather (1931)
3.     Waymaker:  Finding the Way to the Life You’ve Always Dreamed Of   by Ann Voskamp         (2022)
4.    The Many Assassinations of Samir, The Seller of Dreams by Daniel Nayeri (2023)
5.    The Silver Chair by C. S. Lewis (1953)
6.    The Eyes & The Impossible by Dave Eggers (2023)
7.    Lifting the Veil:  Imagination and the Kingdom of God by Malcolm Guite (2021)
8.    Life After Power:  Seven Presidents and their Search for Purpose Beyond the White House by Jared Cohen (2024)
9.     The Reading Life: The Joy of Seeing New Worlds Through Others’ Eyes by C. S. Lewis (2019)
10.    My Bright Abyss: Meditation of a Modern Believer by Christian Wiman (2013)
11.    The Sisterhood: The Secret History of Women at the CIA by Liza Mundy (2023)
12.    If You Want to Write  by Brenda Ueland (1938)
13.    I Cheerfully Refuse by Leif Enger (2024)
14.    Walking on Water:  Reflections on Faith and Art  by Madeleine L’Engle (1980)
15.    Outlive:  The Science and Art of Longevity  by Peter Attia, MD (2023)
16.    The Watchmaker’s Daughter by Larry Loftis (2023)
17.    The Writing Life by Annie Dillard (1989)
18.    Rules for a Knight: The Last Letter of Sir Thomas Lemuel Hawke by Ethan Hawke (2010)
19.    Blue Ice and Other Stories from the Rink by Frank Ewert (2009)
20.    Practicing the Way:  Be with Jesus, Become like Him, Do as He did by John Mark Comer (2024)
21.    The Women by Kristin Hannah (2024)
22.    Being Mortal by Atul Gawande (2014)
23.    The Cemetery of Untold Stories by Julia Alvarez (2024)
24.    Another Day: Sabbath Poems, 2013-2023 by Wendell Berry (2024)
25.    The Elephant of Belfast by S. Kirk Walsh (2021)
26.    Beneath the Swirling Sky by Carolyn Leiloglou (2023)
27.    The Hotel Balzaar by Kate DiCamillo (2024)
28.    A Long Road on a Short Day by Gary D. Schmidt and Elizabeth Stickney (2020)
29.    Blessed Are The Peacemakers: Christ’s Teachings about Love, Compassion and Forgiveness by Wendell Berry (2005)
30.    On Wings of Love:  Stories From Mission Aviation Fellowship by Lee Roddy (1981)
31.    The Small and the Mighty: Twelve Unsung Americans Who Changed the Course of History by Sharon McMahon (2024)
32.    Reclaiming Quiet: Cultivating A Life Of Holy Attention by Sarah Clarkson (2024)
33.    Charlotte’s Web by E. B. White (1952)
34.    The Bible

 

The Sound of Life's Unspeakable Beauty by Martin Schleske (2020) Allow yourself to be led. Turn your troubles into prayer requests and let them come to rest before God.

Practicing the Way:  Be with Jesus, Become like Him, Do as He did by John Mark Comer (2024) Don’t fight against your season;  work with it.

Everyone is preaching a "gospel." The question is not "Are you preaching the gospel?" It's "What gospel are you preaching?"

The Cemetery of Untold Stories by Julia Alvarez (2024)  It’s a cemetery for stories, the woman replies.  Con su permiso, how does one bury a story?  If a story is never told, where does it go?

My Bright Abyss by Christian Wiman (2013)  All too often the task to which we are called is simply to show a kindness to the irritating person in the cubicle next to us.  

There is nothing more difficult to outgrow than anxieties that have become useful to us.

The Many Assassinations of Samir, The Seller of Dreams by Daniel Nayeri (2023)   The lesson is that prayer is not for the moon to stop for us.  It is for us to stop and consider the work of heaven.

I ask Samir what we will do.  He says, "God will think of something."

The Hotel Balzaar by Kate DiCamillo (2024)  “There are days,” said the countess as she put on a hat that featured a yellow bird, “when the soul can be rescued from despair by the right hat.  Although some days, of course the soul seems beyond rescue, and then there is nothing to do except to be patient and wait for the light to return, with or without a hat upon your head.”
     This, thought Marta, is one of those days.

Life After Power:  Seven Presidents and their Search for Purpose Beyond the White House by Jared Cohen (2024)  [John Quincy Adams]  …in a much lower office found a much higher calling.

And he’s shown that defeat is not the end of the road – it can be the beginning of a new path.

[Jimmy Carter]  “My faith demands that I do whatever I can, wherever I can, whenever I can, for as long as I can.”

[George W. Bush]   The next morning [after getting back to their ranch after 13 years as governor and president] Bush woke up early, as usual, and he asked Laura who was going to make the coffee.  “You are,” she told him.

 

 

The Twelve Bargains of Christmas

When I was a child, everyone had a real Christmas tree, either one they chopped down idyllically in the woods or bought from the Boy Scouts in the A & P grocery parking lot. Houses were filled with the intoxicating fragrance of freshly cut evergreens.  All the houses in the world, it seemed, except ours. 

My mother loved Christmas, but she was deathly afraid of fire, among her other favorite fears. The very thought of a dead tree inside the house with glowing electric lights and probably-frayed wires sounded like a nightmare to her. And so, we owned what I always thought was the only artificial Christmas tree in America -- a continually rotating silver aluminum tree with two large pink spotlights shining on rows of matching pink balls. From the street, our living room looked like a store window on Fifth Avenue in New York City.  But in my mom's eyes, this blazingly beautiful display contained nothing that would burn down the house.

The hopes and fears of all the years....

 

 

 

But fire was not her only cause of alarm. No wrapped presents ever appeared under the tree, in case bands of ever-present roaming robbers would somehow see past the shimmering tree, break in, and rob us blind.  (Please, kind sir, take the tree!) 

 

Indeed, no gifts existed in the house at all until Christmas Eve afternoon when our family would pile in the station wagon for our annual drive to Bargain Town USA (precursor to Toys R Us). Mom and Dad would boldly leave the four of us alone in the parked car (gasp!) and dash into the store to indiscriminately snatch up any last minute toys put on clearance. 

 

We believed in Santa, but only because Mom said if we didn't, he would not bring us anything. We never took her up on that promise. The wonder of Christmas had more to do with wondering what was hidden under an old wool blanket in the back of the station wagon. Woe to anyone who peeked at the twelve bargains of Christmas. Our own hopes and fears abided in those big paper sacks.

Christmas Eve services in those days were scheduled late at night to ring in Christmas Day at midnight. I remember it vividly as a child, crammed together in our heavy wool coats on the hard wooden pews. The choir did not appear in its usual loft in the front of the church, but situated in the balcony, the sound of their voices covering us with familiar carols. When they sang their glorias, resounding throughout that cold stone church, I felt like God Himself was singing His glory over us.  Those moments in church marked Christmas to me.  This is real. It was a sacred moment in the midst of all the chaos, crowds, and tinsel.

 

Mom and Dad hoped that keeping us up so late might make us sleep later in the morning. Dad would be up most of the night trying to assemble one toy or another, without reading instructions and often with parts left over. (Those were just extras, he always explained). Mom just went to bed, and presents were left unwrapped. We were once told, when Santa got to our house, he ran out of time to wrap anything.  

Being amazed by what Santa brought (or bought) was the understatement of the year, because we never knew what absurd contraptions to expect, purchased from those last minute special bargain bins.  One Christmas, each of us received plastic toy skis with roller skates attached to the bottom, despite the everlasting four feet of snow in our Chicago yard. The biggest surprise was that no one ended up in the emergency room after careening out of control down our icy driveway. The larger the present the better, Mom and Dad believed, whether we wanted it or not, and well, didn't all toys break within 24 hours anyway? By noon each year with perfect timing, they settled down for a long winter's nap.

 

Within a few days after Christmas --season over-- all the neighbors gathered for their yearly bonfire of Christmas trees in someone's backyard, an event my mom banned us from attending.  Instead, boxes were pulled back out, and decorations were stowed back in the attic, ready for the next year when we would repeat that crazy dance again.  

 

But something lingered.

 

Because we cannot help but be changed by Christmas. The angels with all their heavenly spectacular display declared, "He is here." 

 

 ...and they will call him Immanuel, which means God with us. (Matthew 1. 23), a promise not just etched in glittery letters on boxed Christmas cards.  

 

Baby Jesus was not intended to just be pulled out of a taped-up box once a year.  Jesus didn't stay as a baby in a manger. He grew into a man on a cross that He might save us.  And that assurance of His love is engraved in incredible light in our lives, radiating even on the darkest nights.  

 

God is still with us through all the years. Even then. Even now through all our fears.

 

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

Be That Leaf

We were hiking last week through a forest that appeared to be dying.  The branches were bare against a sad steel-gray sky that seemed to shroud the world.  The trail was scattered with decaying leaves that once adorned these majestic trees.  The dirt, rocks and dead leaves created a monotone landscape of the ordinary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And then suddenly, standing out from the rest, a bright red maple leaf appeared right in the middle of our path like a glimpse of hope and joy.  I know people like that.  They radiate in the most unusual circumstances, not drawing attention to themselves, but taking every opportunity to bless others.

In this world of griping, complaining and brokenness, these people are like bright leaves strategically placed to give us a little bit of courage.  Not just a bright spot trampled in the impending darkness, but a vibrant reminder that all is not lost.  It will not always be this way. These woods surrounding each one of us are not dying after all, but preparing deep roots for the festivities of spring.

No matter if there is mud up to our shins, or rocks threatening to bring us down, or grumbling as a dissonant roar around us, we can walk differently into this day, into that difficult relationship, into this season when it gets dark so early.  Because God hikes with us on that trail.

In these seemingly uninhabited, barren, dried up places, God transforms our hearts, not to make-do or survive, but to thrive in the reality of His Presence. Not in a sequined, sparkling, phony kind of way, but a deep resounding that is real and true and deep. And can't help but being shared.

...among whom you shine as lights in the world.  Philippians 2. 15

God empowers us to see circumstances with new eyes and a fresh heart, walk faithfully with Him in the ordinary or the strange, and be different in this impossible place. We can see our surroundings differently because we see God differently. What does this situation make possible? What is God forming in me through this? What leaf is not like the others?

In these strange and sacred encounters, God strengthens us to stop asking why and to start asking what.

When we hit those difficult dreary spots, we can lean on God even more. We are not lost, nor randomly scattered, but divinely appointed and strategically placed for His glory all over it.

Be that leaf.

 

The Annual Burning of the Rolls

 

Today I am reheating a posting from 2015.  The turkey is not the main course, nor the burnt rolls what we remember, but grace and thankfulness to God Almighty.  May our time together reflect that.  Happy Thanksgiving!

None of us can remember the first time it happened, but along with my mom's green beans that had been cooked to death, the annual burning of the rolls became a Thanksgiving tradition when I was growing up.

"This year," mom would promise and proclaim, "this year, it won't happen."  But it did.  The store-bought dinner rolls were slipped into the oven in their little aluminum trays, and well, there was always some kind of distraction.  The blessing went on a little too long, there was jockeying for position at the table, someone's water glass tipped over, or the rolls were simply forgotten.

And then, with exact timing 3-2-1, we all heard Mom's shriek from the kitchen as she discovered the charred rolls.  More than once, the smoke detector alerted us to the obvious.  The back door was opened to let out the smoke into the bitter Chicago air.  And the bread, now appearing as lumps of charcoal, once again was deleted from the menu, ending up still smoking in the trash.

Mom would look surprised for a moment as if "how did that happen?" and then, she would laugh.  And we would chuckle with her, grace not covering up her mistakes, but redeeming them.

Realizing that Thanksgiving comes suddenly upon us next week, a family email was circulated among our daughters yesterday, soliciting Thanksgiving menu requests.  Let the creativity commence.  And may the cornbread dressing retain its rightful place of honor..

My husband's request for the meal?  "I am just glad to be together," a rare and precious time now that our family are scattered across two time zones.

It's not about the perfect table, or perfect food, or a perfect family, but thankfulness to God for what we do have, for what He has done this year, and for Who He is.

Many friends have shared with me their anxieties about the holidays, and it doesn't have anything to do with the menu, but bitter grapes, long-seasoned animosity, and overcooked bad attitudes, things that don't belong. Breaking those traditions means taking the high road there and bringing a huge plate of grace to the table.

Saying grace refers to a short prayer or an expression of thankfulness to God, traditionally said before a meal.  It is not meant to be a recitation, but a realization of God's favor.

Bringing grace is a state of being that results in an intentional mindset and heart prepared to express a love that is not earned.  Grace releases us from expecting perfection in others, and fills in the cracks with an impossible love.  The most important person in the room is not you, but the one that needs your love the most.

Who is saying grace this year?
More importantly,
               am I bringing grace?

 Grace covers it all, even when provoked.  Grace changes it all, especially me.

A commercial last night showed a family joyously arriving for Thanksgiving dinner.  "It's going to be perfect," the narrator said. 

Think instead:  "No, it's going to be grace."

Because that is what God has given us.

And from His fullness
we have all received,
                  grace upon grace.

                                 John 1 16

If I want things to be different,
        something has to change.
And that would be me.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true,
whatever is honorable,
whatever is just,
whatever is pure,
whatever is lovely,
whatever is gracious,
if there is any excellence,
if there is anything worthy of praise,
        think about these things.
What you have learned
and received and heard
and seen in me,
                        do,
and the God of peace will be with you.

                             Philippians 4. 8-9

Practice grace in this.

May we not just say grace as a formality,
    but bring grace as a personal gift.
It is not that it will be the perfect holiday,
   impossible with imperfect humans all in one room,
                     but that is what grace is all about.
Do not forget why we come together:
           not to be thankful,
           but to thank God.
He is the honored guest.