How Christmas Myth Prepares Us for Advent Truth

We're already more than a week into Advent and I've barely begun the daily Scriptures, much less posted them for friends to download. {they're included at the bottom of this post!} I have to confess that I'm a little sad my Christmas decorations are all neatly packed away in storage. I think their absence this year has made me feel less Christmasy, so I've finally decided that I must get at least a tabletop tree to adorn "the Shire" (my room at the Dorsch Casa, affectionately named because it has a short, hobbit-hole door that opens into a large, high-ceilinged space with lots of glorious light--it reminds us all of a hobbit hole!).

Tonight I'm shamelessly re-blogging a post I wrote for my Church since the Reformation class in response to a forum question about whether or not Christians should observe the secular traditions associated with Christmas.  I hope it inspires you to read not only the Advent Scriptures this month, but also some fancy that will help you to believe in the seemingly too-wonderful story of God in the manger.

My family has always celebrated Christmas with a lot of intensity and sparkle. In an almost Narnian way, the fanciful traditions of Santa Claus were mingled with the nativity, which I understood from an early age to be the true meaning of Christmas. While I have heard many of my gospel-minded friends express concern about confusing their kids with notions of the jolly old elf sliding down their chimney, these two aspects of my family's Christmases never seemed to me to conflict.

I remember one special Christmas Eve when Santa Claus made a visit to my grandparents' living room.  I was about five and desperately enthralled with the magic of it all, although my older cousins recognized the man in the red suit as a man from their church. Being the youngest, I anxiously awaited my turn as Santa addressed the cousins one by one, giving us each a gift and whispering a secret in our ears. Finally, Santa presented me with my gift, and then, pulling me close whispered, "You know that Jesus is the real reason for Christmas."  In a strange way, it was one if the holiest moments of my life, when I sensed that all I had heard about Jesus was true.  Thus began an even deeper faith in Santa {{he was a Christian! Somehow I had sensed it all along!}} and in the Jesus we both shared.  Believing in Santa helped me to believe in Jesus. And when I stopped believing in Santa, I kept right on believing in his God.

I recently read a Wall Street Journal article from 2008 in which a Christian father explains why he encourages his kids to believe in Santa. He writes: "This sheds light on a seeming paradox in St. Paul's letter to Roman Christians: "For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made. . . ." How does one see "invisible attributes"? Only people raised on fairy tales can make sense of that. It belongs in a terrain where magic glasses can illumine what was heretofore hidden, where rabbit holes open into wonderlands."  

I dearly love this idea that myth prepares our hearts for Truth, and never sense it so profoundly as at Christmastime.

I must say that I am disturbed by moralistic interpretations of Santa Claus, such as the Elf on the Shelf tradition (although the lighted-hearted Facebook pictures of his mischievous escapades are hilarious) that conflict with a gospel of grace. But that was not the Santa I knew growing up--thanks, I suppose, to the fact that my parents didn't rely on his pending visit as a way to make me behave.  I agree with others who have commented that we need to resist the secularization of Christmas, including the accompanying, all-too-prevalent materialism. However I think there is a way to hold the mystery of the Incarnation in tension with the fairy tails--and traditions--that help us to believe it.   

 As Sally Lloyd-Jones retells the meeting of Mary and the angel Gabriel in her beloved Jesus Storybook Bible, "So Mary trusted God more than what her eyes could see. And she believed." 

Advent Scriptures 2013: Daily Readings to Anticipate Christmas

On the High Holy Days, Hebrew Liturgy, and Studying for the Competency Exam

If Greek is math, Hebrew is poetry.

Greek is logical, systematic, and linear.  I am therefore a sub-par Greek student.

Fluid and full of nuance, Hebrew connects us to ancient roots and calls us to worship.  I am remembering how much I love Hebrew.

I took my final exam for first semester Greek last week and immediately dusted off my Hebrew books to begin studying for the competency exam in January.  Maybe it wasn't the best planning to try to relearn two semesters of Hebrew in four months while working full time and taking three other classes at Conwell.  But as my dad likes to say, I do nothing easy.

In perfect timing, as I was just beginning to review the Hebrew alphabet after a four-year hiatus, my former student Abby, now a college girl in New York, contacted me about the observation of the High Holy days and Messianic Judaism.

"Didn't you use to go to a Messianic synagogue and how can we celebrate Yom Kippur?" she wanted to know.  So off we went to West Haven last Saturday morning to sing the liturgies and proclaim with Jewish believers that Jesus has indeed made the final atonement for our sin.

Singing in Hebrew, I learned during my college-girl days in Richmond, is the best way to learn the language.  Slowly as we recited the blessings from Yom Kippur siddur (prayer book), I found the old words and rhythms coming back to me.

Blessed are You, L-rd our G‑d and G‑d of our fathers, G‑d of Abraham, G‑d of Isaac and G‑d of Jacob, the great, mighty and awesome G‑d, exalted G‑d, who bestows bountiful kindness, who creates all things, who remembers the piety of the Patriarchs, and who, in love, brings a redeemer to their children's children, for the sake of His Name.

The Hebrew prayers are always reminding us of this God who promises a Redeemer, and in Messianic worship we rejoice that he has come in the Person of Jesus. 

Appropriately, it is the writer of the Book of Hebrews who tells us about this connection between the Jewish observance of Yom Kippur and our great once-and-for-all Redeemer:

But only the high priest entered the inner room, and that only once a year, and never without blood, which he offered for himself and for the sins the people had committed in ignorance...But when Christ came as high priest of the good things that are now already here, he went through the greater and more perfect tabernacle that is not made with human hands, that is to say, is not a part of this creation. He did not enter by means of the blood of goats and calves; but he entered the Most Holy Place once for all by his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption. (Hebrews 9:7, 11-12).

Reciting the blessings and praises of the holiest days in the Jewish calendar calls our attention to the reality of a risen Savior, who has "done away with sin by the sacrifice of himself" (Hebrews 9:26).

As I do, I am thankful for this poetic native tongue of the people of God, preserved for us that we might praise Him more.

{{the Word became flesh}}

Already a week into Advent, and I am just now posting this year's daily Scriptures.  {I put up my tree late this year, too--such is the life of a busy student/career girl!}  Anyway, the readings are embedded below if you want to follow along!

We've been doing a study on Advent for our Sunday morning youth small groups at Walnut Hill, and this morning we talked about the Incarnation and what it means for us that "the Word became flesh..." (John 1:14). 

As I was developing the material the past couple of weeks, there were several practical applications that struck me: 1.) Jesus is fully God, so he deserves our worship, 2.) Jesus inhabited a body, so God cares what we do with our bodies, 3.) Jesus "moved into the neighborhood," (as Eugene Peterson has paraphrased John 1:14 in the Message), so it matters how we inhabit the places we live.  Wow--it was a lot to cover in one morning!

But before we launched the small groups, I shared with students for a few minutes about why Jesus had to come at all.  I tried to connect for them the two dimensions of God's Word--written (the Bible) and living/Incarnate (Jesus!).  God's written Word is manifest in the Person of Jesus Christ who comes to fulfill the Law and Prophets (Matthew 5:17) and to accomplish what the law could not do (Romans 8:3).

Fittingly, one of tonight's Advent Scriptures is Psalm 115.  Last year, I blogged about a song called "One Winter's Night," that has truly become my favorite-of-all-time Christmas carol.  There is a line in the bridge that confused me a bit when I first discovered the tune:

the gods we trusted and became

will find no solace here

The gods we trusted and became?  This was an odd concept to me.  But that same week, I read Psalm 115 and it all made sense:

But their idols are silver and gold,

made by the hands of men.

They have mouths but cannot speak,

eyes, but they cannot see...

Those who make them will be like them,

and so will all who trust in them.

(vv. 4-5, 8)

The point is, we become what we worship.  Since last Christmas, I've noticed that this theme of becoming like our idols is repeated often in Scripture, especially in the Psalms and in Isaiah.  And in my Old Testament class at Gordon-Conwell this fall, Dr. Carol Kaminski has lectured on this concept a good deal. 

At the first of our three class meetings of the semester, Dr. Kaminski said, "We have to learn to listen to the voice of God in our lives, otherwise we treat Him like some dumb idol." 

For this YHWH God has always been a speaking God.  His Word went forth as He created the heavens and the earth (Genesis 1-2). And when gave Moses the Law at Mount Sinai.  And through the prophets when the people were so steeped in idolatry that they would not listen and repent.  

And finally, when He could stand it no longer, God spoke through the Word Incarnate, Jesus, "the image of the invisible God" (Colossians 1:15).   

{The Word became flesh!}

May you hear Him speak this Christmas.

Now that is God shouting. You can't mistake it. Christ is God, and you see every attribute of God manifest in him. His judgment, his justice, his love, his wisdom, his power, his omniscience. It's all there in person as we see Him walk through the world, working his work, living his life. The fullness of God may be seen as it was never seen before in Jesus Christ.

John MacArthur 

Advent Readings 2012

Increase

It's been a particularly tough day, one when I've felt sort of forgotten. 

{Thank goodness for friends and wine and Christmas movies and cheer!}

After all the jolliness of an impromptu Christmas celebration at my house, I am sitting here with the Advent readings and a cup of tea.  The Psalmist is reminding me that "the LORD loves righteousness and justice," and that His plans "stand firm forever" (Psalm 33:5, 11).  Such sweet truth as I sometimes question what, really, is going on in the world, in my life.

Perhaps even more fitting after the day I've just had is Alistair Begg's sermon excerpt in Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus.  I've already read it once today, but it is hitting me in fuller measure tonight.  Reflecting on some of my favorite verses from Philippians 2--according to scholars and theologians the world over, some of the richest theology ever written--he writes about the incarnation and what it tells us about the nature of God the Giver:

In other words, instead of holding onto his own uninterrupted glory, he chose to set it aside... 

Jesus did not approach the incarnation asking, "what's in it for me, what do I get out of it?"

In coming to earth, he said, "I don't matter."

Jesus, you're going to be laid in a manger.

"It doesn't matter."

Jesus, you will have nowhere to lay your head.

  "It doesn't matter."

Jesus, you will be an outcast and a stranger.

"It doesn't matter."

Jesus, they will nail you to a cross, and your followers will all desert you.

And Jesus said, "That's okay."

This is what it means, he "made himself nothing, taking on the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men."

 

I'm reminded for the hundredth time that those of us who want to be identified with him will experience these same feelings of being deserted, made an outcast, misunderstood. 

Not that my tiny little troubles hold a candle to the disgrace he bore. 

Still, it's beautiful in some small way to find that my story is his story, that on these days of feeling small, I can look to his example.  That in Christmas, he provides a resource for me to lay aside entitlement and say with him "I don't matter."  

May we become nothing this Christmas!

He must become greater, I must become less.

-John the Baptist (John 3:30)

we will cast our stones at him

The gospel Scripture for tonight's Advent reading is John 8:1-11,  Church tradition disputes whether the story was part of the original manuscript, but it made its way into the Cannon--and it sure sounds like something my Jesus would do.

The people are gathered around Jesus as he is teaching in the temple courts, when in march the pious religious leaders with a woman caught in adultery.  Looking for a way to accuse Jesus, they demand an answer: "Do we stone her as Moses said?  Do we give this woman the justice she deserves?"

Quietly, Jesus begins to write in the sand.  Scripture doesn't tell us what he is writing, but we can imagine what he is thinking: that he will be accused--for us.  That his body will be broken instead of hers, instead of mine.  That he will die even for the self-righteous ones, those religious folk who care more about looking good than loving God.  We will cast our stones at him.

Jesus dares them to stone her--but only if they are without sin themselves.  With this challenge, he shuts up the hypocrites.

He knows he is the only one worthy to cast a stone; he is the only one without sin.  And he will not do it.  He will not condemn her.

Tonight, at our area high school WHY Groups, students discussed the temptation of Jesus in Luke 4.  For one student in particular, the discussion raised some heady questions about the nature of sin.  "How much is too much to sin?  And why does it matter anyway if they're just little sins?  If Jesus was tempted too, does he really blame us for giving into temptation sometimes?"  (Man, I just love the ones who ask questions!)

This passage from John can raise some similar concerns for us.  "Why does Jesus let her off so easy?  And how does he really know she will leave her life of sin as he directs her?" the legalist in each of us might venture to ask.

The point, my friends, is grace.  Because of the Incarnation and the Cross, you and I have been "let off" too.

He has silenced our accusers. 

He has taken the beating we deserved.

He has wiped the slate clean.

And grace never leaves us where we are, but calls us instead to leave our old lives behind.

But he was wounded for our transgressions;
   he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that brought us peace,
    and with his stripes we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray;
   we have turned—every one—to his own way;

and the LORD has laid on him
   the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
   yet he opened not his mouth;

like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
   and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent,
   so he opened not his mouth.

Isaiah 53:4-7

let there be light

Today I discovered my new favorite Christmas song of. all. time.  Buy the song on iTunes and/or check out these lyrics by Ross Byrd of High Street Hymns (in Charlottesville!):

One Winter's Night

If only that which is assumed could ever be redeemed

Then come to us within a womb; be born and wash out feet

And not our feet alone we pray but everything we know

That thou O Love would come and stay and all our sorrows go

Yet thou will not be welcomed here, still Love please come and be

Our refuge, wipe away our tears though we will murder thee

But darkness only turns to day if You become the night

And we on You our darkness lay that it be swallowed in light

The gods we trusted and became will find no solace here

Beside his creatures low and lame the Son of God appears

A thousand years of "progress" past, a million hearts beguiled

Now Love alone will reign and last within one little child

O Love, make a way, come find us

Search the darkness, light the way, come and guide us Home

Oh the sunrise burns the night away

Find us, find us

Blessed One, born today, come and find us

Search the darkness, light the way, come and guide us Home

One winter's night begins eternal summer morn

If only You are born

Those words have ruined me for cheesy Christmas music.  Beautiful.  I listened to this song on repeat yesterday--no less than 25 times--and then found myself in tears throughout the day

when the single woman on a TV drama underwent in vitro while a sick little boy lay in a hospital bed without parents

when a friend told me about a marriage that is failing

when I read about women who are still enslaved in brothels

And it just struck me again and again how much we need this LIGHT that has come!

to dispel our darkness...

 Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

John 8:12

to come and find us..

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me

   and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
   the night will shine like the day,
   for darkness is as light to you. 

Psalm 139:11-12

to put His light in us...

“I will keep you and will make you
   to be a covenant for the people
   and a light for the Gentiles,
⁷ to open eyes that are blind,
   to free captives from prison
   and to release from the dungeon those who sit in darkness."

Isaiah 42:6-7

You are the light of the world.

Matthew 5:18

The power of the Incarnation is that in Jesus, the Kingdom of Light breaks in and dispels the darkness of broken humanity. 

As Simon Tugwell has put it, "He has followed us into our own darkness."

In Jesus, we have hope that things will not always be as they are, that as C.S. Lewis so masterfully wrote, it will not be "always winter and never Christmas."  That all things will be set right when this Heavenly King returns, once and for all.  That all of our longing is stirring up anticipation for Him.  That the light of the Son continues to shine in us, His Church, even as we wait.

"One winter's night begins eternal summer morn, if only You are born"--what a thought!

 
You, LORD, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.

Psalm 18:28

What Advent Means

In my family, a greater-than-average love for Christmas is mandatory.  Cue my baby sister, who once said, pertaining to a boy she was seeing and why she liked him, "well, he really loves Christmas!"  It's true--we Kingston (Russell) women are nuts about the holiday.

My preparations for Advent have been frenzied.  But I am determined that Advent itself, the discipline of preparing oneself for Jesus to come, should be just the opposite.

My mom reminded me this weekend while I was home for Thanksgiving that as a little girl, I badgered her for months about the coming of Christmas, counting down the days many months in advance.  Once December rolled around, I couldn't sleep at night for the excitement!  That is just the spirit that Advent recaptures each year for me.  I may not be that enthusiastic seven-year-old anymore, but sitting in my cozy Connecticut apartment with the tree lit and my Bible open, I feel as though she and I have been reacquainted.  Only now it's not Malibu Barbie or American Girl Dolls that get me excited.  It's that this Jesus whom I love has come...and He will come again!

Christmas on Greenwood Ave.

Tonight, on the first night of Advent, the Scriptures speak of Jesus' second coming as much as his first.  2 Peter 3:1-10 reminds us that He is "not slow in keeping His promises," but He is waiting for just the right time to return for His bride.  And in Matthew 25, we're reminded to be prepared for that any-day-now arrival.  This is the hope of Advent: That Jesus would come through a birth canal (as Alistair Begg has pointed out in an essay "Wrapped in Humility"), and what's more that He promises to return for us, fully, finally, once and for all.

For those of us who love Jesus, this hope also means that we will live differently.  I'm increasingly challenged by that thought recently, especially as it pertains to my materialism.  {Ouch...this being vulnerable stuff is painful at times.}

I was really excited to see that my favorite non-profit/parachurch ministry/human rights organization is to be the recipient of this year's Advent Conspiracy campaign.  Advent Conspiracy is an organization that challenges Christians to remember what Christmas really means by giving more and spending less.  Check out the  video and support the work of IJM here!

If you want to follow along with the Scripture reading plan I use each year (it's adjusted from the Book of Common Prayer), you can find it below.  

Much love to you this Advent!
chelsea

It will be said on that Day "Behold, this is our God; we have waited for Him."

Isaiah 25:9

Advent Readings 2011

He is Risen!

If you called any member of my friend Sarah's family today, he or she would answer the phone with a hearty "He is risen!" The obligatory (and joyful!) response is "He is risen, indeed!"

I love that! He is risen, and it's beautiful to reflect on that truth on this Resurrection Sunday.

My family had a lovely Easter celebration in Savannah, GA, where we've convened for a long weekend. (Taylor and I made a little road trip down from Birmingham.) We attended a service at Independent Presbyterian Church this morning, where the senior pastor is a Gordon-Conwell grad. Lowell Mason, the musician who wrote the music to several famous hymns, including "My Faith Looks Up To Thee" (one that the Walnut Hill band played last weekend at the Strand!) and "The Wondrous Cross" played the organ there back in the 1820s.

Probably my favorite thing about IPC was that the choir loft is in the back of the church, situated in a balcony high above the congregation. It's so powerful to be led into worship from the back of the church--especially when the sung worship includes the Halellujah chorus from Handel's Messiah. Needless to say, Mom was in tears!

I want to know Christ--yes, to know the power of his resurrection and the participation of his sufferings, becoming like him in his death and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead.

Philippians 3:10-11

Behold the Lamb of God

It's Passover, and if I weren't currently touring some of my favorite Southern cities (and people!), I would love to be attending a Seder meal somewhere tonight.

Seder meals--the true Jewish ones--are such instructive celebrations of the heart of God for His people. During the Passover meal, Jewish families impart the history of Israel's redemption to their children through the reenactment of the first Passover. Appropriately, today's Lenten readings include Exodus 12, the Passover story.

And today, on Maundy Thursday and on many other days throughout the life of the Church, Christians reenact Passover through the method given us by Jesus himself, the Lord's Supper. We read in Matthew 25 that it was on the first day of the feast that Jesus invited his twelve closest friends to observe the Passover with him. There in the upper room, Jesus breathed new meaning into the Passover wine and unleavened bread, commanding them to remember him each time they partook of this meal. Still, they did not understand that he was their final Passover Lamb, the one who would remove the barrier of sin forever.

We find in this meal the significance in John the Baptist's remark, "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!" (John 1:29). To a first-century Jew, it would have been remarkable to think that one lamb could absolve the whole world of its sin. R. Kent Hughes points out (in a book excerpt in Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross) that during the Passover feast, more than two hundred thousand lambs were slain in Israel. He continues:

"John mentions in [chapter 18] verse 1 that "Jesus left with his disciples and crossed the Kidron Valley." A drain ran from the temple altar down to the Kidron ravine to drain away the blood of sacrifices...So when Jesus and his band crossed the Kidron [following the Passover meal and their vigil in Gethsemane], it was red with the blood of sacrifice."

I love the lengths Jesus went to in order to help his disciples understand what was happening.

Since I'm in Birmingham, visiting my baby sister at her new home away from home, Samford University, I went to a Maundy Thursday service tonight at Christ the King Anglican Church, which meets in Beeson Divinity School's beautiful Hodges chapel. I'd never been to a Maundy Thursday service before, but it was a beautiful way to begin Easter weekend--and I loved worshiping with Evangelical Anglicans.

Dr. Lyle Dorset, a Beeson professor and the father at Christ the King, spoke of the way in which the Communion meal ushers in Christ's presence for us. Before we took the bread and wine together, we sang one of my favorite Easter/Communion songs, "Behold the Lamb of God" by Keith and Kristen Getty.

I know this post is getting long, but I have to share these lyrics with you:

Behold the Lamb who bears our sins away,

Slain for us: and we remember
The promise made that all who come in faith
Find forgiveness at the cross.

So we share in this Bread of life,
And we drink of His sacrifice,
As a sign of our bonds of peace
Around the table of the King.

The body of our Savior, Jesus Christ,
Torn for you: eat and remember
The wounds that heal, the death that brings us life,
Paid the price to make us one.

The blood that cleanses every stain of sin,
Shed for you: drink and remember
He drained death's cup that all may enter in
To receive the life of God.

And so with thankfulness and faith
We rise to respond: and to remember.
Our call to follow in the steps of Christ
As His body here on earth.

As we share in His suffering,
We proclaim: Christ will come again!
And we'll join in the feast of heaven
Around the table of the King.

What a Savior!

Happy Palm Sunday!

I got to be part of something historic last night, as Walnut Hill led our second worship night in the Connecticut Valley, which is also the site of our third campus (launching November 2011). What I've loved about these nights of celebration and preparation is that we have been looking back to how God has worked in New England in the past, even as we seek to be His vessels in what He's up to now. In that spirit, the Walnut Hill worship and arts community has arranged ten hymns originating from New England, setting them to modern music. The hymn resurgence has come to Walnut Hill--needless to say, I am over the moon!

Last night, the team played "Jesus, What a Friend for Sinners," aptly timed for Palm Sunday and the start of Holy Week. This hymn was only slightly familiar to me when I re-discovered it on Matthew Smith's (from Indelible Grace) EP several years ago. Love it!!

As I think about this hymn and humanity's (my own) need for a Savior, I'm reminded of the Jewish celebration of Simchat Torah, in which Jews celebrate God's giving them His Word. Messianic Jews understand this gift in a really beautiful way, linking it to the coming of Jesus, the Word who has come to dwell within us (i.e. to be written on our hearts as in Jeremiah 31:33). You can read more about this understanding here.

Even non-Messianic Jews say something interesting on Simchat Torah, though. As the Torah scrolls are danced through the aisles, Jewish worshipers cry out "Ana Adonai, hoshia na!" which means, "Oh Lord, save us!" The volative verb hoshia stems from the root yeshua (meaning "salvation."), the Jewish name for Jesus. Wow!

And this is obviously the same Hebrew word from which we derive the Greek Hosanna!

In effect, the people who welcomed Jesus on that first Palm Sunday were enacting a Simchat Torah celebration, declaring Jesus the very Word of God, the hope and salvation of all humanity.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

O LORD, save us...Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD.
Psalm 118:25-26

Liturgy for Lent

I've been digging through liturgy for Lent and Easter, looking for things that resonate. I really miss the influence of corporate liturgy on my life (mostly in college at Third Pres and Tikvat Yisrael in Richmond), and Lent seems like a good time to read it aloud in my apartment. I came across this prayer and thought it was beautiful. Hope it encourages you today!

Love
Has its source in you
Creator God
Flows from you like an ocean
into a world as unyielding
as any shoreline cliff
And like the ocean
which batters
erodes
and wears away
even the hardest stone
your love persists
finds cracks and inlets
in hardened hearts
flows inside and works a miracle.
Who would think that water
was more powerful than granite
love mightier
than the hardest heart
Thank you, Creator God
for the power of your love

Read more at: http://www.faithandworship.com/liturgy_Lent_1.htm#ixzz1IHSQTdtQ
Under Creative Commons License: Attribution

On Lent and Healing

I've been feeling broken lately.

Let me explain: Several years ago, I had some traumatic horseback riding experiences that changed the sport for me. Six years out of the saddle have only aggravated the fear. So when I brought Aiden Magee here in September, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I believe that fear is decidedly NOT of God, so it seemed like a worthwhile spiritual pursuit as well as a practical one. Only, it's been much harder than I imagined.

Don't get me wrong--I looove Aiden and have so much fun with him. But there's this alarming degree of anxiety that rises up in me when things aren't going 100% perfectly with him...and especially when I even try to imagine riding him out on the trails. It's alarming because I'm not used to feeling this way--I'm mostly an I-can-tackle-anything kind of girl. I wouldn't generally consider myself an anxious person. So this fear, this lack of peace in my life, is pretty foreign. It has made me think of the Jewish idea of shalom. The Hebrew word we often translate "peace," also equates "wholeness" in Jewish culture. So a lack of peace signifies something that is broken.

My riding PTSD of sorts started with riding incidents during a season of spiritual darkness in my life, so no doubt there is a connection there. But more importantly, I think my inability to conquer this obstacle has challenged my idea of myself as someone who's competent. I want to feel confident, together, and in control--but riding taps into a place where I feel insecure.

In our can-do Western mindset, we try to devise a means to fix ourselves. We don't want to be vulnerable, needy, broken. This is the downfall of all religion--even our American brand of easy-believism Christianity.

But the reality of walking with Christ is that we must acknowledge our need. Like the Buddhists and the Muslims, we'd like to think that we can get to Him on our own. Really, His grace is the means for even our pursuit of Him. I am learning this afresh as I face my own brokenness. The nerdy head knowledge of my Reformed education is making its home more and more in my heart as I grasp my humanity.

Yesterday's One-Year Bible passage from the New Testament was Luke 7:36-50, where the "sinful" woman hears that Jesus is in town and rushes to the home where he is eating. Overcome by his presence, she begins to weep. Then kneeling before him, she washes his feet with her tears and lavishes them with perfume from an alabaster jar. I haven't been able to get her out of my head.

Jesus' response to her vulnerability is profound: "Your faith has saved you; go in peace" (Luke 8:50). "Go with my shalom, dear one. Your faith in me has made whole the broken things in you. No more fear."

What does all of this have to do with Lent, you ask? Well, a lot, I think. If it weren't for our broken humanity, what need would we have for a Sovereign who put on flesh to conquer the things that have bound ours? By his wounds, his brokenness, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5).

In this season of fasting and prayers, I'm increasingly thankful for the practical living that makes it all real in my heart.

The Lord is near. Do not be anxious for anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, make your requests known before God. And the peace (shalom!) of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Philippians 4:5-7

Lenten Beginnings

It's Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent.

Once again my Baptist upbringing puts me at a disadvantage when it comes to the rhythms of this liturgical season. But I am learning. I've never been to an Ash Wednesday service, nor do I feel that it's especially important. I do, however, want to temper my heart these next 40 days to think about the Cross and what it means for every nook and cranny of my life.

Of course Lauren Winner's words are helpful as I think about becoming a person who lets the traditions of the church rub up against my here-in-this-moment life more than my Baptist forefathers might approve. From Girl Meets God: "During Lent, I don't have that always-cure, and I find myself, not surprisingly, praying more."

I have thought long and hard about what my "always-cure" might be so that I could give it up for the next six weeks. But I can't think for the life of my what would be most profitable to give up. I heard someone say once, maybe when I was in high school, that it's best to add a practice to your life during Lent rather than to fast. To just give up say, chocolate, doesn't do much good for your spiritual state if you chow down on it first thing Easter morning and never look back (and besides, who can do without mini Cadbury eggs this time of year anyway?) The point of Lent, I think, is to feast on the Cross in such a way that I might be just a little more Christ-like when it's over.

I've decided that I want to do something equivalent to my Advent tradition of meeting with the Lord over Scripture and other readings morning and night. Since I'm working through the one-year Bible reading plan, I'll move that to mornings and do my Lenten readings at night. If it sounds like I'm trying to be super spiritual, I'm not. It's just that my always-cure is many things that aren't God, and I want more of Him, more of His Word. I want Him to be my default.

Here's a link to the reading plan I'll be using, which is adapted from the Book of Common Prayer. The book I'll go through is Jesus, Keep Me Near the Cross, compiled by Nancy Guthrie. I'll share liturgies and prayers as I come across them.

Here's one from the traditional Ash Wednesday service:

Accomplish in us, O God, the work of your salvation
That we may show forth your glory in the world.
By the cross and passion of your Son, our Lord,
Bring us with all your saints to the joy of his resurrection.

How We Know What Love Is

I may be the only single girl in the world who doesn't hate Valentine's Day. Well, there have been a couple of years when I've hated it. But on the whole I look forward to the cheesiness. Case in point, freshman year of college, my roomies and I staged a cry-fest, complete with The Notebook, plenty of Nutella, and ample tissues.

I love the red juju hearts, the pretty homemade cards (sooo wish I had made some this year!), the sappy movies. And I especially love the excuse to wear red and pink in the same outfit! Plus, my parents always make me feel ridiculously loved on this day when it can be a little tough to be the single girl. Maybe that sounds cheesy, considering I'm 25. But they are so sweet--my dad always sends flowers and my mom sends gifts/candy/etc. This year they combined forces and everything was from both of them. It came in waves--first a bouquet of flowers, sent to the WH office, then a package of gorgeous heart-shaped sugar cookies and Russell Stover sent to my house, and finally a sweet card in my mailbox.

Tonight though, in spite of all the extra TLC, I expected to be just a little sad. Usually I make plans with girlfriends for Valentine's Day, but this year I just worked until 8:00 p.m. I know, depressing, right? Only for some reason, it wasn't.

I came home, made some dinner, and settled in for the Bachelor. Go ahead and judge me. It is a horrible, classless show and I deserve it. But I watch it. Every week. And every week I look at Brad and his entourage and I wonder, what on earth makes these girls willing to throw caution to the wind with this guy who may or may not be in love with them? The answer is so obvious.

We are all, whether we like to admit it or not, absolutely desperate for love.

Not to get all Platonic on you, but the kind of love we conjure up for ourselves is just a shadow of the Love that we're intended for, the Love we were created to be swept up in. I don't know about you, but that makes me feel so sad for Brad and his posse. They don't even know what they're really looking for!

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

1 John: 16

The grammar in 1 John is just so great. John writes about love using the construction above over and over again. It's like he's saying, "in case you didn't know...THIS (i.e. Jesus) is what Love really is.

I've been a little obsessed for about the past year with this Indelible Grace hymn sung by Laura Taylor called "To Christ the Lord Let Every Tongue." (I quoted it in a post about some Messianic Jewish teaching I heard around this time last year.) As I've been listening to it lately, it has struck me as so SO perfect for Valentine's Day, especially the last (and my favorite) stanza:

Since from His bounty I receive
Such proofs of Love divine
Had I a thousand hearts to give,
Lord they should all be Thine!

And there's just one last little tidbit I want to share (this post has been such a hodgepodge, I know!) from "The Love of Jesus" in Valley of Vision:

I am never so much mine as when I am His,
or so much lost to myself until lost in Him;
then I find my true manhood.
But my love is frost and cold, ice and snow;
Let His love warm me,
lighten my burden,
be my heaven.

May it be so. Happy Valentine's Day!

Just One Resolution

I love the idea of New Years resolutions, but I hate my follow-through. There's something about determining that your life will change on January first that sort of sets you up for failure. As if the start of a new month in a new year in a new decade meant a magical solution to the fact that I eat ice cream and skip the gym and say ugly things about people. As if the new year will mean a whole new me.

And anyway, I made my New Years resolutions back in August this year. (I'm still almost-daily asking God for the grace to accomplish them, by the way!)

So there's just one thing I really want to resolve to do in 2011, and that's read the Bible all the way through in a year. It's been years since I did it, and I just want to be really intentional about being in the Word this year.

At certain times in my life, I've felt so...addicted to Scripture--during the summer I worked at Poplar Springs Baptist outside of Richmond, in particular. I had shared with my students that I felt like a different person when I wasn't in the Word. One morning at a youth event, I was a little out of sorts. One of my high schoolers, a really special kid named Buddy, asked me, "Chelsea, did you read your Bible this morning?" I confessed that I had not. "I didn't think so," he replied, shaking his head. "You'd better go read it."

Since moving to Connecticut, I've lost some momentum. (It happens in full-time ministry, I'm afraid. Sad, but true.) Anyway, I don't want Bible reading to be a legalistic thing, but something that I depend on to be who I am. During Advent, I always feel like that--like I just can't get by without the Word morning and night. It's the sweetest time, and I guess I'm inspired to build on that.

It's Day 11, and I'm happy to report that I'm on schedule. And what I love about disciplined Bible-reading is that it always yields such fruit in my life. Like on Day 2, when I uncovered a little nugget of truth in Genesis that fit oh-so-perfectly into a two-part Bible study I'm writing for myMISSIONfulfilled on forced labor in Exodus and Matthew. Or on Day 10, when I read something in Proverbs that jumped off the page and hollered "apply me!!!!" I'm always amazed at the connections in Scripture, and how the Word shapes us to be who we're becoming in Christ. It's a beautiful thing.

I encourage you to read along with me this year! It's only January 11, after all, and if you start today, it will only take you an hour or so to catch up! If you don't want to purchase the One Year Bible (because really, you have 16 Bibles at your house already, and couldn't you use the $10 to buy a Bible for someone else?) you can use the reading guide I found at bibleonline.com:

One Year Bible

One last thought: Even though I'm not naive enough to believe that I'll become a whole new person in 2011, I do believe that we Christians are being transformed and made new every day. My favorite Advent passage this year--and just one of my favorite Scriptures in general--was Revelation 21:1-5 (I had my dad read this aloud to us on Christmas Eve, and we wept, thinking about Grandma and Grandpa Russell who are now living in the fullness of this reality!):

Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,”for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

To Him who is making EVERYTHING new!
Chelsea

A Puritan Prayer for 2011

Year's End
O Love beyond compare,
Thou art good when thou givest,
when thou takest away,
when the sun shines upon me,
when night gathers over me.

Thou hast loved me before the foundations of the world,
and in love didst redeem my soul;
Thou dost love me still,
in spite of my hard heart, ingratitude, distrust.

Thy goodness has been with me during another year,
leading me through twisting wilderness,
in retreat helping me to advance,
when beaten back making sure headway.

Thy goodness will be with me in the year ahead
I hoist sail and draw up anchor,
with thee as the blessed Pilot of my future as of my past.
I bless thee that thou has blinded my eyes to the waters ahead.

If thou has appointed storms of tribulation,
thou wilt be with me in them;
if I have to pass through the tempests of persecution and temptation,
I shall not drown;
if I am to die,
I shall see thy face sooner;
if a painful end is to be my lot,
grant me grace that my faith fail not;
if I am to be cast aside from the service I love,
I can make no stipulation.

Only glorify thyself in me whether in comfort or trial,
as a chosen vessel meet always for thy use.

from The Valley of Vision

Advent Fulfillment

Santa Claus was always a big part of our Christmas celebrations. My faith in him was secured the year he came to my Grandma and Grandpa Russell's house on Christmas Eve to give each of us granddaughters an early gift. My three older cousins suspected that this man in the red suit was a friend of theirs from Penn Avenue Baptist, but at five, I was enamored. The best part was when Santa leaned in close to whisper in my ear. When he told me that Jesus was the reason for celebrating Christmas, I was ecstatic. Santa Claus is a Christian! That sealed the deal. I was hooked.

I have always felt that my encounter with the "real" Santa Claus that day was significant spiritually. I hear a lot of talk in Christian circles about how harmful it is to "lie" to children about Santa...or how including him in our Christmas celebrations is pagan and detracts from the true meaning of the holiday. But somehow, I never felt lied to. And when I finally put aside my affections for the man in the red suit, an even stronger faith in Jesus remained.

My mom and I were talking about this on Christmas Eve--in the kitchen, where we have so many of our heart-to-hearts--and she said that she had been thinking recently about how much the anticipation of Santa Claus parallels our waiting for Jesus. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that was just really beautiful.

And it's true--those nights when I would make myself sick thinking about Christmas morning, those Christmas Eves crammed in a double bed with my three cousins when none of us could sleep for the excitement, they really were just a foretaste of what's to come.

It's been a long time since I slept cross-ways in a bed with my cousins on Christmas Eve, but Taylor and I have carried on the tradition. Every year, she camps out in my bedroom and we read Jolly Old Santa Claus, just like our mom and her sister did when they were little girls, and just like my cousins and I used to. It's a fanciful tour of Santa's workshop that makes you feel just a little homesick for days when Santa was real and you could count on his coming. The illustrations are stunning. This year, Taylor has been going through the Advent readings, too--so we read them together after the Santa book. The parallels were incredible:

For tonight is the night...at long last it is here...it is the night before Christmas! You must be very quite now and hop into bed quickly, for Santa Claus is ready to leave. The stars are twinkling in the blue sky above...and all the world is hushed and still, waiting for this magical night. For tonight...yes, tonight is the night he comes! And such excitement there will be when he comes!Jolly Old Santa Claus, by Maryjane H. Tonn

Say to those with fearful hearts, "Be strong, do not fear; your God will come...He will come to save you."Isaiah 35:4

"Shout and be glad, Daughter of Zion. For I am coming, and I will live among you," declares the LORD.
Zechariah 2:10

The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come!" And let him who hears say, "Come!"
He who testifies to these things says, "Yes, I am coming soon." Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.Revelation 22:17, 20

Maybe it sounds sacrilegious to write about Jesus and Santa in the same post. But I really believe that Santa was a vessel God used to teach me about expectant waiting. He pointed me to the God who has come and who will come again for us. May we always cultivate longing for Him.

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.

Advent Communion

Tonight is a little sad because it is my last night in my apartment before I head to Illinois for Christmas. I know, I know...it seems odd to bemoan going home to my parents' house for a week. And actually, I'm really excited about the time in Bloomington. It's just that I love Advent here on Greenwood Avenue so much! And once I head home, it'll be over for another year.

I've been thinking about Advent and how we cannot divorce it from Easter, mostly because we had been preparing for a Communion service for the last Sunday of Advent. As usual, Lauren Winner's words (from Girl Meets God) are gold:

“The waiting is meant to be a little anxious. I picture Jane Austen heroines. They are never quite sure if their intended will come. We Christians can be sure; we can rest easy in the promises of Scripture. But we are meant to feel a touch of that anxious, handkerchief-waving expectation all the same.

“The calendar tells us that all this culminates on December 25, but really the whole season slouches toward Easter…Even His birthplace takes us to the Last Supper: Jesus, the Bread of Life, is born in Bethlehem, bet lechem, “house of bread,” and at the Last Supper, He will break bread for us, and then on the Cross He will break His body. Nothing in Scripture, even the names of birthplace towns, is coincidence.”

Oh gosh, I just love that so much! Bethlehem, "house of bread." Rabbinical reading like that reminds us that God is the inventor of narrative and literary style.

Even His birthplace takes us to the Last Supper. And so it seems fitting that we would take Communion at Christmastime, which is what we did at the 6:30 service this past Sunday. At the Lord's Table, we remember that Jesus was flesh and blood for us and that He shall come again. We remember that we are family, united by that blood, which pulsed through His tiny body in the manger and poured out of Him on the Cross. We remember that Christmas is not about presents and feasting and jollity, but about a King who came to die in order that His Kingdom might be ushered in.

As I've thought on these things, the Christmas hymns that mention the Cross have become so precious to me. Not many of them do, when you really stop to listen. But I've been loving "What Child is This" the past couple of days (particularly Sarah Story's rendition--you can get it for free from Noisetrade.com), as well as one that's new to me from Red Mountain Church--it's called "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent." It's particularly poignant in thinking about the Lord's Supper.

King of kings, yet born of Mary,
As of old on earth He stood,
Lord of lords, in human vesture,
In the body and the blood;
He will give to all the faithful
His own self for heavenly food.

This Christmas, may you rejoice in the One who came and died a real, fleshly death for you.

Advent Love

It's the third Sunday of Advent, and so tonight at Walnut Hill's 6:30 service, we lit the third Advent candle. I am slightly confused, as I thought that the third Sunday was supposed to be about joy--but no matter. Tonight we lit the candle representing love, and Clay preached on "Loving Fully."

The Advent candle for love reminds us that God's love isn't stingy--it holds nothing back. So, too, should our love overflow in generosity.

I was particularly challenged by Clay's exposition of Philippians 2:3-8. He asked us to think about what each of us tries to grasp. I know for me, those things at which I grasp become such idols in my life, competing with my love for Christ and others. Grasping keeps me from loving fully.

But what does it mean to imitate that selfless, un-grasping love modeled for us in Christ? In an essay in Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus, J.I. Packer indicts Christians (and I am so guilty of this!) who misunderstand the point that Love has come:

"We talk glibly of the 'Christmas spirit,' rarely meaning more by this than sentimental jollity on a family basis...It ought to mean the reproducing in human lives of the temper of him who for our sakes became poor at the first Christmas."

He continues: "Nor is it the spirit of those Christians--alas, they are many--whose ambition in life seems limited to building a nice middle-class Christian home, and making nice middle-class Christian friends, and bringing up their children in nice middle-class Christian ways, and who leave the sub-middle-class sections of the community, Christian and non-Christian, to get on by themselves. The Christmas spirit does not shine out in the Christian snob."

Am I the only one totally convicted by that? So much of the time I'm more concerned with decorating my house and buying presents for family and making sure I have the right holiday ensemble to wear to all of the Christmas parties than I am with giving generously to those in need. I am a Christian snob, for sure.

Thankfully, as tonight's Advent Scriptures remind us, we find in the Incarnation a remedy for our snobbery and our grasping. King David writes, "Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits--who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion" (Psalm 103:2-4).

Praying that the crown of love and compassion might come to be the mark my life!

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that you by his poverty might become rich.
2 Corinthians 8:9

Advent Treasure

Isn't it amazing what riches are stored up for us in the character of God and in Scripture?

I'm marveling tonight, once again, at the miracle of the Incarnation and what it means for us.

Tonight it was Augustine who opened up the storehouse to me. In an adaptation for Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus (do I quote this book enough?!), he wonders at the the "Word made flesh" (John 1:14), quoting 1 Peter 1:24-25: "all people are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field; the grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord endures forever."

Interpreting that text, he writes, "What is 'the Word became flesh?' The gold became grass. It became grass for to be burned; the grass was burned, but the gold remained."

It's an incredible allegory, isn't it? And straight from Scripture, no less. I love the picture of our Jesus, who "was with God in the beginning" (John 1:1), who was and is God, humbling Himself to be flesh, making Himself grass for us. Or as Paul puts it in Philippians 2:7, he "made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant." The Greek word is ekenosen, which means "he emptied himself" (or poured himself out). And yet we know, and Augustine reminds us, he could not cease being God. The grass was burned, but the gold remained.

May we never forget to marvel at this holy wonder, the gold made grass, the Word made flesh. Everything else hinges upon it, and every promise through it is fulfilled.

For no matter how many promises God has spoken, they are "Yes" in Christ. And so through Him the "Amen" is spoken by us to the glory of God.
2 Corinthians 1:20