A Collective Breath

Christmas Eve is here!  Complete with snow on the ground, making the White Christmas I sing about happily true this year.  The presents are wrapped with brightly colored paper, completed with sparkly shiny bows.  Cards expressing Christmas wishes to all are nearly ready to be given (my theory is that as long as they go out before the New Year it’s all good).  Soon, the house will be filled with the smell of Christmas Eve chili, lemon pie and a mixture of other goodies; complimented by the sounds of children, friends and family. 

The special time of Christmas is not something that is made up of all these wonderful things, though these are exceptionally lovely things to include.  It is a yearly instance where the world seems to take a collective breath and inhale the sweet newness of an infant in a manger; the feeling we get when we hold a tiny new life that is only minutes, days or weeks old.  Thrust into our arms, the baby’s weight is slight, but it fills us with the weight of love and responsibility. 

The pause of peace that occurs around this time of year is reflected in traditions, spontaneous declarations and heartbreakingly wistful wants of peace throughout history and the world.  The town of Turku, Finland, has declared a Christmas peace since the Middle Ages.  The holly and mistletoe, respectively the kissing plant and the plant of peace, are reminiscent of the kiss of peace monarchs would give and receive from their nobles.  The old history of many carols can be traced to the need of peace that only this new life a baby could bring.  In much more modern history, a desire for peace came out again in the Civil War, even amidst Christmas day skirmishes.  The soldiers’ hearts craved that peace should be the order of the day and reflected it in their letters and songs.  After the capture of Savannah, some northern soldiers delivered several wagons full of food and other supplies to the people who were caught in a land desolated by a bitter war.  In World War I, an impromptu peace broke out in several places as men in opposing trenches exchanged songs, a few gifts, and rallied their impromptu football (a.k.a soccer) teams with cheering, ringing foreign sounds of peace through no-man’s-land.  Much more recent is in war-torn Nigeria; a few Muslim and Christian neighbors have declared this very Christmas a time of peace to celebrate together. 

Beyond the kindness to strangers we many witness at this time, these days have a convention of people drawing in a breath and catching in a singular air of the divine.  I think it is more than just sweet traditions and customs that has brought about these singular moments that we know of, and the thousands we do not know of.  I think it is the celebration of an earthly birth of a heavenly king.  The peace our minds and bodies crave catch a whisper from the spirit, quiet amongst the sounds of wrapping, caroling, sledding, shopping, visiting, and cooking; barely heard and yet keenly felt.  It is the whisper that offers peace, the peace of the spirit.  The peace we have so long wanted is rested in our arms as a new born baby, Jesus.  The emptiness in the longing is filled with the hope of peace.  But, I think that it is not just the baby that impacts in such a tremendous way, it is the man as well.  The man that died for us, died for us out of love and returned to us out of love, to offer peace. 

In the hectic moments the next few days presents, I wish you a merry and peace filled Christmas.  That you will draw in a breath and catch a faint hint of the smell of a new baby in a manger, of a man on a cross, of the promise of peace in love. 

I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
 I heard the bells on Christmas day
 Their old familiar carols play,
 And wild and sweet the words repeat
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 I thought how, as the day had come,
 The belfries of all Christendom
 Had rolled along th'unbroken song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.

 And in despair I bowed my head:
 'There is no peace on earth,' I said
 'For hate is strong, and mocks the song
 Of peace on earth, good will to men.'

 Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
 'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
 The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
 With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

   

  

The Choir Loft

   Sunday mornings I can be found sitting up in the choir loft of our local church.  I enjoy our slightly rambunctious, at times off key, normally enthusiastic singing.  In two rows, we divide into our parts, soprano, alto, tenor, and bass.  I am an alto and I’m used to hearing my part and the tenors behind me.  But, I know that what I hear is completely different from what our audience hears.  When we sing, the music travels out and it blends differently that if you are right there in the mix.

  A little girl joined us last Sunday, one of the choir members was helping to look after her.  Standing on the pew with her blond hair in two braids and silver bows, I saw little childish hands pull out a hymnal and flip through the pages.  We were all holding our choir books, she was simply modeling what we were doing.  But, how precious it was to see her flipping through the book and I watched her and recognized the titles of the songs that she was staring blankly at.  Then, the singing started.  The jaw in that round face dropped. “It sounds different up here?”  Big eyes looked at me and her head nodded.  She stood there turning round and round, taking it all in.

   I had two thoughts standing there, with a big grin plastered on my face.  Who could help it, she was so cute!  One thought was I wonder if that will be me one day.  Standing there, every tongue confessing that Christ is Lord, worshipping with the family of God – how it will sound when I am in the midst of the crowd!  My other thought was how quickly this little girl was modeling our behavior.  What a reminder that even without any formal lessons, we need to be cognizant of our behaviors with these children around us. 

   I hope one day to see her singing with great praise. 

Home, Home on the ???

“Home, home on the….” I always seem to get stuck there. Where is home? I mentioned before that I’ve moved around a bit, so when I get that inevitable question of “where are you from?” My answer is always a question back, “at what grade?” In other words, it changed based on different times in my life. So, home has been mobile, and then family home is someplace else.

I am looking forward to a trip home (family home) in the fairly near future, thinking about seeing my family, times together. I get more excited with each passing day. Living in Iowa for 12 years, it is home and yet, at the same time is not. Where is home?
I look around me at the pains, the hurts, the terrible things we do to each other. Is this really my home? What a wonderful thing to be able to say, and know, that this is not my home. Not my real home. But, not being at home can be a lonely proposition. It can feel as if I am alone in the wide weird world. Turning to my Bible, I am reminded that I am not alone in this, I am not alone in this sojourn to my home.
“Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us,” (1 Peter 2:11-12). Friends who are also aliens and strangers in the world, we are not alone! Then, there are instructions following. This is the decision in life choices, decisions which promotes God’s glory to those who do not know him or have spurned him.
Returning back to the idea of alone, of being away from our real home, I look just a few verses above in 1 Peter 2, to verses nine and ten. “But you are a chose people a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” Not alone, but a nation – we are promised a home. One day, I will finish that song. “Home, home on the…. Streets of the heavenly kingdom.”

St. Patrick’s Breastplate

There is an old tale, more of a fireside story than anything else about St. Patrick.  The story goes that Patrick and his followers were travelling to Tara to spread God’s message.  Enemies gathered in the wood, planning on stopping him by attacking through an ambush.  The story says that Patrick prayed a prayer of protection and that the enemy saw not Patrick and his followers go by, but a small herd of deer.  Thus, the prayer song has also been known as the Deer’s Cry. 

I arise today

Through the strength of Heaven 

Light of sun 

Radiance of moon 

Splendour of fire 

Speed of lightning 

Swiftness of wind 

Depth of the sea 

Stability of earth 

Firmness of rock

I arise today

Through Gods strength to pilot me

Gods eye to look before me 

Gods wisdom to guide me 

Gods way to lie before me 

Gods shield to protect me

From all who shall wish me ill 

Afar and a near 

Alone and in a multitude 

Against every cruel 

Merciless power 

That may oppose my body and soul

Christ with me, Christ before me,

Christ behind me, Christ in me,

Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 

Christ on my right, Christ on my left, 

Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, 

Christ when I arise, Christ to shield me

Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me 

I arise today

My alarm clock will go off, I have to get out of bed.  These words sometimes greet me in the morning as the sleep fades and the smells of coffee are lingered over.  I love the gentle reminder of the words, the strength in that we are not alone and need not rely on ourselves for strength to face the day.  Instead, relying on God, we gain strength and wisdom to move through the day.  Then, in turn when we can be transparent about this, we show God to others, we can be useful to him in his works here on earth.

Heavenly Spoons

I remember reading somewhere, and I’m sorry to the author for not giving proper APA cited acknowledgement, anyway… I remember reading somewhere about a description of heaven.  The first room that people looked at was hell.  People were sitting around a table loaded with food.  However, their spoons were much too long for them to serve themselves.  Holding the handles, the people tried to reach the food and then turn the spoon so it would be reachable to their own mouths. Food spilled out, leaving the people hungry and miserable.  They mumbled and complained, groused and moaned in their hunger and displeasure. 

Then, the people looked into the second room, that was heaven.  Inside was another table loaded with food and those long long spoons.  However, in this room, the people were working together and feeding each other.  They were content and happy, well fed and nourishing each other.  Words such as please and thank you, oh compliments to the chef were heard ringing out.

In a very simple way, that is a good view of heaven and hell.  Galatians 5 is just one spot of several which tells us about a single and very important command.  “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  However, in verses 14 and 15, there is a warning attached. “If you keep on biting and devouring each other, watch out or you will be destroyed by each other.” 

In your hands, you hold a long spoon.  Scoop up nourishment for your neighbor and share.