once upon a time

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

                                                                        1 Peter 2:9-10

 

Once not a people, now a people.

 

Once in darkness, now in light—his marvelous light.

 

Once without mercy, now recipients of mercy.

 

We have come far. No, we have been brought far.

 

We are a people—and not just any people. A holy people. A royal and priestly people. A people belonging to God. A people with a voice and a message. A people with light and mercy and belonging.

 

Do we proclaim him? Do we live as this people—his people?

 

We should remember today where we’ve come from, what we once were. And what we once were not. Without salvation from Jesus we wouldn’t only be missing out on heaven when we die. There is so much more! Without Jesus we wouldn’t be a people, we wouldn’t know his mercy, we wouldn’t have his praises to proclaim. Without Jesus we would still be in darkness, still be alone, still be the once upon time people that weren’t even a people.

 

We should remember. Remember where we’ve come from. Who Jesus has made us into. Who he is still making us into.

 

Are we living as the royal priesthood? Are we embracing the family heritage we’ve been given, the mercy we’ve been lavished with? Are we telling and sharing and living out the message of mercy and life and belonging that is ours in Christ? Or have we forgotten? Are we in a stupor? Do we simply go through motions without meaning, say words without power, share the message of self and self interest forgetting the light we’re living in where once there was only darkness?

 

We are a people. His people here for his glory.

 

Once upon a time we were not a people and were living for our own self-interest in the slavish darkness of our own self-destruction. Some killing themselves swiftly and boldly. Others of us killing ourselves slowly and subtly. But still we all were not a people. We all were in darkness. We all were without mercy or hope or belonging.

 

That was us, but not anymore. We are now a people—his people. Let us revel in this mercy and live for his glory and proclaim these truths.

 

Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness
and who seek the Lord:
Look to the rock from which you were cut
and to the quarry from which you were hewn;

look to Abraham, your father,
and to Sarah, who gave you birth.
When I called him he was only one man,
and I blessed him and made him many.                       Isaiah 51:1-2

 

light

The people who walk in darkness
will see a great light.
For those who live in a land of deep darkness,
a light will shine.    

                                    Isaiah 9:2

 

The light has come. That’s what I’m remembering today.

 

The celebration of Jesus’ birth and the joys of anticipating his coming was such a good time of reflection and gratitude. December brought a time to recognize what God did in sending his Son. It was a time to celebrate his gift to us. But all the anticipation and warmth of the season, all the traditions and familiarities can leave us feeling a little hollow come January.

 

In December it was snowy and wintery and Christmas-like. Now it’s just bitter cold and dark and far from the green of spring. So I need to remember – the Light has come. Jesus has come. Not only did he appear, born of a virgin; but he came, he lived, he brought the Light. He died and he rose again.

 

The light has come. We no longer need to walk in darkness. Salvation is here. Jesus has come!

 

Maybe some of the hollowness comes from the fact that while Jesus has come, the anticipation of waiting to celebrate his birth brought into clear focus that we are still waiting for his return. Yes, he did come; yes, he did bring light to our darkness, yet all is not complete. All is not fulfilled. We are still waiting.

 

But now we are waiting with Light. We are no longer the people of deep darkness, we are the people of the Light.

 

He is here, he is with us, he is our Light.

 

And I need to remember that. The winter ahead is still long, and it promises to still be cold. But I am not simply waiting for spring. I’m not merely waiting for temperature changes or color to return to the land. I’m not longing for short sleeves or bare feet. In truth, my long goes far deeper. My longing is for the final waiting to end. My missing isn’t for summer and sun, but for final restoration and the making all things new that is still to come.

 

And I wait with Light. Light to bring hope, light to give life. Light to be my joy and my salvation. Jesus has come and he is here.

 

The one who is the true light, who gives light to everyone, was coming into the world.       John 1:9

 

advent day 19 – the morning light of heaven

And you, my little son,
will be called the prophet of the Most High,
because you will prepare the way for the Lord.

You will tell his people how to find salvation
through forgiveness of their sins.

Because of God’s tender mercy,
the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,

to give light to those who sit in darkness

and in the shadow of death,
and to guide us to the path of peace.

 

It amazes me to consider what Zechariah knew; to realize what he understood. Granted, he obviously didn’t comprehend that the Savior coming would one day die—willingly. He probably did not grasp how Jesus would turn religion on its head. But just recognizing that he understood the Messiah was coming, that he saw his own son as the prophet who would prepare the way. It is truly amazing to comprehend his level of faith and trust in what God was doing.

 

And I love the way he speaks to his son, the way he tells John of his part in the coming of Jesus. And in the end, it causes me even more appreciation for what Jesus was coming to do—what he has done. And it gives me hope for the future of his return, when all things will be brought to fullness in him.

 

This is truly a momentous and beautiful birth we look to celebrate just a short week and a day from now. Jesus—God with us—come down from the Father to give us life and hope through the forgiveness of our sins.

 

The morning light of heaven has indeed broken upon us. I can hardly wait to celebrate it!

 

 

Day Nineteen Reading: Luke 1:67-80

 

In what ways has Jesus brought light to the darkness in your life?

 

Prayer—Father, we thank you for the way of peace into which Jesus guides our feet.

 

make a different choice

Sometimes I am tempted to be distressed, to succumb to the overwhelming weight of life. You know, times when I think about my financial needs vs. available resources, or the devastation in Haiti, or the difficulty of raising kids, or the pain in my own life, or the pain I cause others, or…well, you get the idea. There are a lot of options everyday for being totally distressed and overwhelmed.

 But here are some words from God that I came across today. They have encouraged me to not give in.

Distressed and hungry, they will roam through the land; when they are famished, they will become enraged and,looking upward, will curse their king and their God. Then they will look toward the earth and see only distress and darkness and fearful gloom, and they will be thrust into utter darkness.         Isaiah 8:21-22

 Well, that sounds way too familiar for me. Distressed, feeling like I am roaming…yep that makes me angry. You might even say enraged. That makes me want to curse God – or at least blame him and complain about the unfairness of it all! And I never seem to have trouble cursing the king as well (or any authority figures over me).

I hate feeling like I’m walking in darkness and to be honest, I feel like that often. I know God wants me to do something, but what? but when? But where? But how? I feel like I’ve been given a map (The Bible and the Spirit) and I’ve been sent on my way, but it’s dark so the map feels useless. But Isaiah goes on and that’s good news for me.

 Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress. In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the nations, by the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan—The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned. You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as soldiers rejoice when dividing the plunder. Isaiah 9:1-3

I would like to rejoice. I would like to “see the light” as they do. (makes me think of that great Charlie Peacock song: “I Wanna Be in The Light”) And what this says is that I can. He has given me the light. Verse six just drives the point home:

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

  I know, I know. February is an odd time to be pulling out the Christmas verses. But it fits, it’s truth, it’s for today, I think. God gave us Jesus. And according to this he has very large shoulders for holding up very large burdens. Mine aren’t made for that. Why do I always try to leave it all on my own shoulders when his are obviously far better suited?

 I know He has disappointed me sometimes: not making life as easy for I as we would have liked; not giving some things to me that it feels like he could have easily given. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me, isn’t in control, isn’t working for me everyday. I just don’t get it. I don’t see what he’s doing.

 I don’t want to live in distress. I want to live in joy. I guess it’s like I’ve always heard and said about love before: Love is a choice. You have to choose to love, you can’t rely on always “feeling” it. I think joy is the same way. We have to choose it.

 I remember a new parent I knew some time ago who always used to say the same thing to his son when his son was behaving badly. He would say, “Make a different choice.” The sentiment was brilliant. He was empowering the child to choose a new way of acting or engaging. He was inviting the child to be proactive in his own correction. The only problem was, the child was two years old. At two years old, “make a different choice” might as well have been a flat out “NO!” The two year old could not appreciate the power he was being given, couldn’t recognize that while he was being told, “No, you can’t do that.” he was also being invited into the process of what he could choose instead. It wasn’t being assigned to him.

I wonder how often God is saying to us, “Make a different choice.” But all we hear is “NO! You can’t do that!” Or maybe he is saying, “I’m working on that” or “You aren’t ready for that.” Or “Trust me, I have something better.” But all we hear is “No, NO, NOOOO!” And what we miss in all of it is that regardless of whether we feel like we’re walking in darkness or not, he has given us a great light. The Light. And he has very big, very strong shoulders.

 What was it that Jesus said?

 “Come to me all who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”

 But just like rejoicing, just like the light, we have to choose it. We have to decide that we won’t rollover and submit to distress. That there is something better. Someone better.

Am I in distress? Am I choosing joy? Am I choosing rest?