Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. Luke 2:10-11
Love has been in the air all week long. My community in Houston always surrounds me by love in such tangible ways… time together, hugs, laughter, food, practical acts of service… the list could go on.
Of course we know that at Christmas we’re entering into the greatest love story ever. I don’t have much time to blog today, but let’s remember love as we live this week.
For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. John 3:16-17
For you, O Lord, have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feel from stumbling, that I may walk before the Lord in the land of the living… How can I repay the Lord for all his goodness to me? I will life up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. Psalm 116:8-9, 12-13
So this week is all about peace. I was talking with my former roomies on Monday morning (yes, we still do weekly Advent skype sessions) and we talked about two different ideas of peace: There’s the make-love-not-war-beat-our-swords-into-plowshares-blessed-are-the-peacemakers idea of peace. There’s also that deep-down-assurance-even-in-the-midst-of-fiery-furnaces-and/or-other-forms-of-chaos idea of peace. I think both come into play as we talk about peace this time of year – we long to bring peace and we also desire to experience it in our deepest places.
We read a passage from Isaiah 66 together – I encourage you to back up and read more of the passage, but here’s a tidbit:
…For this is what the LORD says: “I will extend peace to her like a river, and the wealth of nations like a flooding stream; you will nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so will I comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.” Isaiah 66:12-13
How are you seeking peace this Advent season? How am I? Great questions. Not such easy answers.
Remember Mary’s response when the angel told her that she would conceive the Savior of the world? Even though she was a virgin? Even though it sounded loco? Even though it was going to rock her world? I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered. “May it be to me as you have said. Luke 1:38
Now that’s some crazy peace. Maybe I’d like a bit more of that this Advent season.
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God. Luke 1:35-37
In this first week of Advent, we focus on hope. Advent is a time of waiting, watching and preparation. Hoping for something. Asking the king who is (and was and is to come) to breakthrough once again. As many years as I’ve done this, each one is unique to that particular year, that season. I want to take time this week to look and listen for hope. What does it look like this year? Where do I need to see hope break in? What about you?
Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. Isaiah 64:4
Give thanks to the Lord, for his is good; his love endures forever. Let Israel say: “His love endures forever.” Let the house of Aaron say: “His love endures forever.” Let those who fear the Lord say: “His love endures forever.” In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free. Psalm 118:1-5
I’ve recommended it in the past, but I love this website for daily Advent devotions. I’ll end this week’s blog with their benediction from this week:
Let us begin Advent, waiting.
Not the “going back to sleep” kind of waiting.
Not the impatient pacing, or the wasted anxiety of waiting.
Not even the passive-aggressive waiting that says, “Really? We’ll see.”
Let us begin Advent, waiting.
Getting up and joining the adventure,
Even when we don’t know where it will take us.
Shifting the impatient waiting to expectant living.
Boldly claiming the Good News that we know will come.
Waiting with joy as we reach out with the grace of God that is so much more than amazing.
Let us begin Advent.
Well, another wonderful South American Thanksgiving has passed. Yesterday was a good day of food, sharing and relaxation. I’ve come to anticipate with excitement our little Santiago Turkey Days – not because we’re Americans and we have to keep up a tradition lest they revoke our passports, but rather as an opportunity to pause in the midst of the crazy and spend a day giving thanks. Of all the “take it or leave it” aspects that I find in both cultures, I can’t help but appreciate a day set aside for gratitude. I’ll take it.
We had several Chilean guests at our table yesterday, as well, and I always love their commentary: The gringos have an entire day to be thankful?! I wanna play! Also… the food is awesome! And so we spoke English and we spoke Spanish and we ate turkeys and pies and stuffing and we shared about the year that has nearly passed us by. We reflected on the good things that have happened, even some of the struggles that have been good for us. It’s a fine exercise no matter which side of the Equator you happen to call home in this season of life.
Speaking of seasons, another is upon us. Welcome, Advent.
Christmas is the renewed invitation not to be afraid and to let him – whose love is greater than our own hearts and minds can comprehend – be our companion. Henri Nouwen, ¡Gracias! A Latin American Journal
I thought my faithful readers might be interested in this little tidbit from last weekend’s conference. This video was used on the opening night to introduce the conference theme “Unified in Diversity” and it just so happens to have a few clips of yours truly in all her glory. I have to say that I had no idea I was actually going to be filmed for this project – I only went because they were using the top of a friend’s apartment building to film. The next thing you know, though, I’m reading my lines and trying not to laugh (hey! being a serious actress is hard!) So without further explanations or adieu, enjoy:
And as it happens so often in life, the days have turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Will I ever stop being surprised at how time has flown by?
This past weekend was the conference for Vineyard churches across Latin America. We happened to be hosting it this year right here in Santiago, so I had an up-close view of the action as the preparation unfolded. All in all, it was a fantastic weekend. Being together with our extended family was a beautiful thing. I was reminded how much I love the Vineyard and what they stand for; not only did we learn about God or talk and sing about him, but we experienced him. I was encouraged, challenged and changed.
I now find myself a week into November and looking toward the next big thing – my end-of-year trip home! Of course I have about five weeks left before I can truly turn off my brain – five weeks of work, tying up loose ends and such… but I’m ready. I’m ready to rest and reconnect and eat Mexican food. (I’m always ready for Mexican food.)
I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself, though. There’s Thanksgiving on the horizon and the start of Advent. What a wonderful time of year!
Bring it on.
Something that I always said of my little house in Houston is also true for my little apartment in Santiago: It’s always happier when it’s full of people, voices, activity and life. I love sharing my home. In fact, it’s one of the things that brings me the most joy. I enjoy having people over and making them good things to eat. I enjoy watching them play my guitar or look at my pictures. I love when they tell me that they feel at home in my space.
Everyone who relocates to another country – for whatever period of time it may be – has a slightly different strategy. Some live like nomads, knowing that it won’t be permanent. Some settle in but never really make it their own. Some move in, unpack, and make it home. That’s me. I’ve never really known how long I would be here, but from the start I knew that I needed the place where I lived to be a real home if I was ever going to make it in Chile. I needed my space to reflect me. I needed a space where I could host and where I could rest.
Although it’s been a slow process of purchasing items and bringing “essential” things from the US (books, kitchen stuff, a million little things), I’ve really created a nest that I’m pleased with. There is still much more work to be done, but I’m quite content with where it is. The mix of things that you find on my walls and shelves represent old and new parts of me, but they all represent me. This past year I’ve been hosting more than ever – small groups and prayer groups and coffees with friends and such. More than any adorable knick knack, these times have breathed life into these walls. And this, in fact, has breathed life into me. I feel more like myself, more at home, when I’m welcoming guests and sharing the AMAZING pumpkin cake doughnuts that I’ve just made (yes, try this recipe today!) When people come to my place, they get a glimpse of me that they can’t get anywhere else. This connects us in a good way, in a significant way. I feel more known, which is priceless when you’re far from the familiar. Actually, I’d say it’s priceless any time.
For those who don’t know of Henri Nouwen, he’s been a favorite author and example to me for quite some time. I first learned about him through my old co-worker and friend, Paul. Nouwen was a Dutch priest who spent his life living and working among those most marginalized in societies around the world – including some time in South America! To learn more about him click here. One of the things I appreciate so much about his writing is his raw honesty. Here are a couple of snippets for today, seeing as it marks the anniversary of his death. Although these words were published nearly 30 years ago, I think they still ring true today:
The more I think about the meaning of living and acting in the name of Christ, the more I realize that what I have to offer to others in not my intelligence, skill, power, influence or connections, but my own human brokenness through which the love of God can manifest itself… Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. This hope is not based on any power to solve the problems of those with whom we live, but on the love of God, which becomes visible when we let go of our fears of being out of control and enter into his presence in a shared confession of weakness.
…
In the midst of our darkness – darkness in Poland, Ireland, Afghanistan, Iran, and in most Latin American countries; darkness in the broken, hungry, and fearful families; darkness in the hearts of millions who feel impotent and powerless in the face of the powers and principalities; and spiritual darkness in the countless souls who cannot see, feel, or understand that there is any love for them – in the midst of this darkness, St. John of the Cross sings of a Light too bright for our eyes to see. In this divine Light we find the source of our whole being. In this Light we live, even when we cannot grasp it. This Light sets us free to resist all evil and to be faithful in the darkness, always waiting for the day in which God’s presence will be revealed to us in all its glory.
-Henri Nouwen, ¡Gracias! A Latin American Journal
