Lighting the candle of love.... Merry Christmas all

The last candle on the advent wreath is the candle of love.

This year,  it was lit in the morning and the christ candle for Christmas lit at the midnight service.

As I light the love candle,  I see advent giveway to Christmas.  God with us.

On my way to Christmas eve with the family,  I stopped to see how she was doing.  She was coloring pages from an adult coloring book,  tears streaming down her face.  I sat with her.  I looked at each of the beautifully coloured pages and I saw God with us. 

Love turns pain to joy,  despair to hope,  violence to peace.  Love is what came on Christmas morning and lives on in and with us. 

Love is getting out of your own storyline and breathing in someone else's.  Love is not losing it when someone wrongs you. Love is unexpected thoughtfulness. Love is letting go and moving on.

That tiny baby born in Bethlehem grew up and walked the way of love.  Love of God.  God made flesh. And he didn't fix it.  He hands the work to us.  With one command... "Love each other as I have loved you." 

Love lights your candle and your small light pierces the darkness, drives out fear and beats down the voices that can haunt at night. 

May this holy night shine a light into the world corners of your life and may you carry a flame into the new year.  The world so desperately needs it.

Lighting the candle of joy

Joy. 

I think of the birth of my children,  the Easter morning that I got engaged, moments where life felt compete.  When the world stood still and for a moment the broken pieces of life melt away.

Joy is birthed from hardship.

The joy of a new baby after 9 months of pregnancy and painful labor.

The joy of marriage after years of waiting for "the one".

Joy in graduating after years of hard work or in watching your child start thier life after years of hard work and prayers to raise them.

Joy comes to the weary world that waits and groans in brokenness.  The empty void in our hearts filled by the presence of the divine who comes to make a home along us.

We are nearing Christmas.

The busy commotion was dizzying. I picked Eddie from school and people were milling about trying not to forget anything before the break ahead and jumping in cars off to start whatever plans await.

I felt compelled to make a quiet house today.  To let the world go with its busyness and traffic and shopping and sit at home to reflect on joy drawing near.

For unto us,  a child is born.  To us a son is given...

Lighting the candle of hope

Lighting advent candles with my boys has become my favorite tradition for the holiday season.  Each year we do it a little differently.  But it is a quiet moment in the night.  A dark house.  Kids patient at the table waiting for something sweet while I light the candles.

For those who don't know, there are 4 candles to be lit. One  for each week of advent and a white candle for Christmas. I've seen different themes assigned to the candles.  The most common one is hope,  love,  joy and peace.

This advent has been particularly poignant in pushing a deeper reflection on these candles as I light them.  Many friends are going through rough times.  Failing health,  parents failing health,  broken relationships, divorces leading to lonely Christmas mornings. I breath it all in and I pause as I light the hope candle.

Hope.  It feels foolish in the midst of a world that continually disappoints.  A certain vulnerability to be open to possibility in the face of uncertainty. It's so much easier (and safer) to be cynical.

But those candles.

My dark cold house is transformed by their tiny light. It pierces the darkness and warms the room.

In a barn, on the outskirts of a small town a light came into the world.  A tiny baby started a fire that has carried on across the ages.  A fire that carries the message of hope for light that is still to come.

Tonight,  I gaze at my candles and carry on my heart a prayer of hope for all of you who are trudging through it. May a small light shine in your life this week.

Lighting the candle of peace

I've been struggling a lot with the concept of peace.

Jesus came to being peace and yet in his first days there was a massacre of young boys and he fled to a distant place as a refugee.

The world gets wound up this time of year. It seems people rush to hit deadlines by the end of the semester or the year.  They add to the list with holiday shopping and crafting. The stress creates shorter fuses than usual and there is some strong underlying emotional current that is palpable.  It doesn't feel like peace. It doesn't look like peace.

And so,  I yell at God... where's the peace? Didn't you come to bring peace that passes understanding?

And God whispers... I did.

I'm looking for a world to be a peace.  That would be a peace we could all understand.  But the peace of God passes understanding.  It is like love.  Solid and present in the midst of turmoil and chaos. I need to stop looking for the world to be a peace and rather look to God. The promise of peace is there and when I reach beyond myself to the  limitless holy mystery of the divine. Peace comes.  And it passes all understanding.

Peace be with you.

The season of waiting for God to show up and fix this mess

Growing up, I thought of advent as a tame, candlelit season. Christmas plays, cookies, decorating. Preparing for little baby Jesus. A gentle season, for a gentle baby who didn't cry.

When I moved to California, I encountered an Advent that was bigger and wilder than that.

The ancient church used the season of advent to reflect on the coming of God into the world. For God who came and for God who will return. Ironically, Advent pushes Christians into the mindset of Judiasm. We are waiting for a savoir. We are waiting for God to come and fix this mess.

This year, I've been in the middle of mess. I've had hardly any time to do any of the fun "Christmas things" with my little guys and wishing there was more of me to just fix is all. Phone calls, conversations, facebook -- all pushing the question -- why does life have to be so broken? Even at work I feel it.  I work everyday with people who long to start a family, for whom the holidays are a deep, painful reminder of the brokenness of their bodies. Everywhere I turn, I see a need for God to come and fix this mess. And as I reflect on that, I find a deep joy.

God is coming.

God is entering into and meeting us all where we are. This season flips the world on it's head, empowering the weak, freeing the addicted, redeeming the unforgivable. It's the promise that none of our messes are too big for God and no matter where you find yourself this holiday season there is joy, hope, peace and love reserved for you because none of us are beyond the reach of God.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.