9 Pentecost Yr B Proper 11 July 22 2018

9 Pentecost Yr B Proper 11 July 22 2018 Audio

Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went.

I had the great gift of sabbatical a few years ago. I took three months away from the congregation and did some traveling. The first couple of weeks Rick and I, and Tom and Amanda, who were newly married, and Willie, who was newly graduated from college, went to Norway. We saw family, we saw spectacular fjords and mountains, and we stayed in some mighty fine places. The kids flew home, and Rick and I were in London, and then we traveled through Europe ending in Paris. We were with a group of people who turned into friends, and we saw beautiful sights, ancient ruins, and ate really well. Rick flew home from Paris, and I had a month, by myself. The first two months were highly planned, and rightly so when you want to make sure you do and see some very particular things. But I purposefully did not plan out my month by myself. I went where the Spirit led. So the deserted place for me was the Scottish Island called Iona. Iona is a thin place, it is a place where the land and the sky meet. It is a place where prayer has been placed throughout time. It is a place where sacred and secular dance. And it is a place where there are not many people, mostly sheep.

Have you been to a deserted place? It doesn’t have to be far away. In fact, I believe we are called to deserted places that are not far from home. Sometimes it is in the deserted place, the quiet place, where we may listen and know we are God’ beloved.

As you well know by now, Mark doesn’t waste any time getting down to business about Jesus, the Son of God, those are his very first words. Jesus is then baptized by John in the Jordan, and we hear “You are my beloved Son, I am well pleased.” And in an instant, Jesus is in the wilderness. I believe that event, and this excursion to the deserted place, are related. Between these two desert place stories, Jesus calls the disciples and sets about healing and teaching. Jesus calls out unclean spirits, Jesus heals a paralytic, a woman who was bleeding, a man with a withered hand, and a little girl. Jesus teaches about the kingdom of God. Jesus feeds five thousand with five fish and two loaves of bread, and Jesus walks on water. The disciples are in all of this with Jesus, and they need to rest.  

We don’t hear the feeding story, with five fish and two loaves of bread, nor do we hear the walking on water story this morning, but we know they are there. After the feeding story, Jesus goes off by himself to pray. And when evening came, Jesus saw that the disciples were in trouble on the water, and goes out to help them. The disciples thought Jesus was a ghost and they were terrified. That’s also what is left out of what we hear this morning, and we pick it up again when they all get to the other side of the lake. At this point people recognized Jesus, and wanted to touch Jesus, or at least the fringe of the cloak, and be healed. Remember the woman who was bleeding, she reached out her hand to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak and was healed.

This is a good news, bad news story. People were recognizing Jesus, they knew what Jesus could do, and what Jesus could do for them. The trouble it seems is that Jesus was beginning to feel closed in, torn apart, mobbed. Expectations of Jesus were rising, this man could heal, and so many needed to be healed. The disciples were beginning to feel afraid of what might happen. Just like at the very beginning, Jesus goes to a deserted place, a lonely place, but this time, Jesus invites the disciples to come.

I wonder if you’ve ever experienced what Jesus and the disciples might have been experiencing? Sometimes I feel like we live in a cacophony of noise, motion, input. With the world at our fingertips, we are bombarded with news and information from all over the world. It’s not all a bad thing, we create a community of prayer when we see the images of the young boys stuck in a cave and rescued from that danger. Or when we witness an explosion in Sun Prairie, and we can join in the prayers for all those people. Or when we see homes destroyed by tornadoes and storms and our prayers go to them. All of this information gives us opportunities to contribute our money when we are so moved.

But we also hear and see news and information that engenders fear and anxiety. The Mayhem guy has us convinced that at every occasion we need to be fearful of what will go wrong. Drug companies have us convinced that we’ll die if we don’t take their drugs, forgetting about the fact that we’ll die anyway. And your nightly news always leads with the disease, or the product, or the event that we must be scared of today.

But this Good News from Mark tells us a very different story. Jesus said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” And so they went. Jesus makes this very same invitation to us. Come away to a deserted place. And yet, the deserted places are often the places we avoid and yet know somewhere deep down they are necessary places, truthful places. They are not just “time to get away” places. They are not just “we all need a break” places. They force us to recognize what’s necessary. What’s absolutely needed. And who will truly be there when everyone else walks away. And none of this is what we see and hear on our televisions and in our news today.

When I was away, on my own in Canterbury, Durham, Edinburgh, Iona, I listened. I found quiet places, sometimes deserted places, thin places, in the catacombs and the cathedrals, in the countryside and the seaside. And what spoke most loudly to me in the quiet, was this, “In the end only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”

And so Jesus takes the disciples to a deserted place not just for a well-deserved respite, but to teach them what was learned in the wilderness -- and what will be essential for them to remember when it comes to their role in bringing about the Kingdom of God. Deserted places change our perspective. In the quiet places we have a chance to meet Jesus again. In the quiet places we have a chance to hear Jesus’ claim on our lives and our hearts. We are followers of Jesus. We are invited into the quiet places with Jesus so that we may hear Jesus’ call to us. Jesus says to us, you are my beloved, you are my beloved, and together we may build this Kingdom of God. Amen.

1 Advent Yr B Dec 3 2017

1 Advent Yr B Dec 3 2017 Audio

The church year turns to another beginning, another new year. We look to new years with hope, expectation, anticipation of better relationships between people, and even countries, even when the reality of our lives may be much more bleak. But, Advent, the church’s new year, invites us to stay awake, don’t fall asleep or cover our eyes when the going gets tough. And. there is a Caribou coffee tag line - life is short, stay awake! I feel that way about Advent, Advent is short, stay awake, stay alert, or you'll miss it and all the Good News.

Indeed, our culture has already missed it. Christmas carols, Christmas trees, Christmas decorations. Christmas is all around us, and today I encourage you, at least in this sacred space, to make room for Advent.

In the cacophony of Christmas, make room for quiet. In the race to Christmas, make room for waiting, preparing, anticipating. Advent really isn't that foreign to us, it is where we live most of our lives, in the tension of what has been and what is to be. Advent calls us to live that tension intentionally. Rather than be lulled to sleep by the shiny balls and blinking lights, stay awake, stay alert, listen, and turn toward God.

Advent calls us to occupy the space between the inconceivability of incarnation and the mystery of resurrection, the messiness of birth and the hope of new life, the reality of brokenness and the joy of healing. Advent calls us to be fully present in each event and activity, and to be fully present with each person. Advent calls us not to walk through this time with indifference, but to shine the light of love and hope in all places and at all times. Advent calls us to sit with the other, to look into the eye of the other, and to listen, not to talk. Advent calls us to stand next to the one that you really cannot stand, the one you really disagree with, and look toward love and hope together.

This is the very darkest time of the year. We look for light, that's why we hang twinkly lights on everything, that's why we light candles. But here, in the church, we don't light them all, not yet, we light them one at a time, watching the light build, preparing for the light that is Jesus to be fully blazing.

And, on this first day of Advent this year, and next week as well, we have before us the gospel of Mark. This is a story of assurance. We know that God is love, and love drives out darkness and fear. And, some of these passages we read during Advent may seem to be pretty scary reading.

But Mark is not pointing us to end times. There is no mention in here of the end of the world, no indication of final judgment, no call to flee the day-to-day realities and obligations and responsibilities of life, only the promise that the Son of Man is near. Indeed, if we recognize that the key temporal markers of the parable that concludes this passage – evening, midnight, cockcrow, and dawn – as identical to the temporal markers of the passion story about to commence, then we realize that much if not all of what comes before – darkening of the sun, the powers being shaken, etc. – also correspond with key elements of the passion narrative. Mark, in other words, isn’t pointing us to a future apocalypse but rather a present one, as Christ’s death and resurrection change absolutely everything. Jesus suffers all that the world and empire and death have to throw at him…and is raised to new life!…and nothing will ever be the same again. Including our present lives and situations.

The church has long counseled keeping Advent as a season of active and vigilant preparation for, rather than constant celebration of, Christmas. And so it is the Good News, the Incarnation, that is spoken into any fearful time, as it is the Good News and the Incarnation that is spoken into the fear of our time. It is god-in-our-midst that is hope and promise. It is into all of this that Mark cries stay awake! Stay awake!

So maybe that is what staying awake during Advent can be all about. Maybe in the midst of the cacophony of Christmas, in the quiet we can hear the voice of Good News. When the herald of consumerism speaks more loudly than does the angel Gabriel we need to stay awake to hear the announcement that a child will be born and that the world is about to turn. When the blast of trumpets announcing sale after sale drowns out the voice singing “my soul cries out with a joyful shout that the God of my heart is great, and my spirit sings of the wondrous things that you bring to the ones who wait” we need to be quiet to hear the music.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the beat of our own heart, and the beat of God's heart within us, the beat that says there is nothing you can do that will make me turn my love from you.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the love of Jesus moving in our blood, giving nourishment to our bodies, our minds, and our hearts.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the movement of the Spirit, enlivening us with new birth, connecting us to one another, connecting us to the ones who have not yet said yes to the Good News of Jesus, connecting us to all those who are broken and hurting on this most amazing day, at the beginning of this, most amazing season.

Today we light the first candle of Advent. We watch its quiet light flicker in the darkness, anticipating the light and the love and the hope of Jesus.

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent, to hear the word of Love?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent, to share the Light of Jesus?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent, to speak love and hope into fear and darkness?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent to proclaim the love that wins?

Ash Wednesday 2017

The ashes of this day remind us of who we are. We are God's beloved, God's delight. Every person is named and claimed, marked as Christ's own forever, by the God who created her. The ashes of this day trace the mark of our baptism, the mark of our identity as God’s beloved. There is no one or no thing that can change that. No one, no thing. The ashes of this day remind us that we are God's, God created us out of the dust, and to the dust we shall return. 

The Lenten journey is the journey with Jesus and one another to the cross of Good Friday. The Lenten journey is not a personal journey of "I am not worthy", but a journey we take together of discovery of our identity. Our identity of God's beloved, God's delight. On this journey we experience the God who weeps, the God who suffers not only for us but with us. Nowhere is the presence of God amidst suffering more salient than on the cross. This is a God who does not cause suffering, but a God who bears suffering. This is a God who does not initiate suffering, but God who transforms suffering that is ever present, ever real. 

The season of Epiphany has taught us that God, who is revealed and incarnated in Jesus, loves us and names us. God, who becomes flesh and walks among us full of grace and truth, this God loves us, and is with us so completely, that God goes all the way to the grave on our behalf. There is nothing we can say, or do, or believe, that makes God's love any less. The ashes of this day, remind us of that.

The ashes of this day remind us of who we are. The ashes of this day remind us that God's love wins. The ashes of this day remind us that God's victory over death, Jesus going to the cross and the grave, does not mean that we do not die, but that we have new life, and freedom in God's love.

God is already calling us into relationship, sometimes we need to make room. God shows up, all the time, we though are often just too busy, or too loud, to notice. 

It may take a while, it may take the whole 40 days, but you may make room for remembering who you are. You may make room for remembering that you belong to God, that you have been marked as Christ's own forever. As that reality dawns on you, as the reality of God's amazing and abundant love takes hold in you, as you remember that Love wins, you may feel compelled to respond. 

You may feel the need to ask for forgiveness, for that which you have done or left undone. You may feel the need to forgive someone in your life. You may need to lay down that which is killing you. You may feel the need to serve, or to give. You may feel the need to repent, and return.

Or you may just need a place to sit, and be quiet, a place to deposit all your questions, all your misgivings, all your feelings of emptiness. Relinquish control, let go, trust yourself to be a part of something beyond yourself. Open up the quiet space, be connected to the community of faith, and remember the words, into your hands oh Lord, I commend my spirit. 

Lent isn't just the lead up to the party at Easter. It's actually much more like life itself. We get cleaned up, all ready to go, and the next thing you know we fall back into the mud. Life is hard, it's messy, just like this dirt, just like these ashes, this smudge reminds us of who we are and whose we are, loved, imperfect, forgiven. Everyone one of us the same before God, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. There is no getting out of it.

We are invited to a Holy Lent. A time of quiet, a time of renewal, a time of examination, a time to be filled. I invite you to consider embracing the quiet. What is it you need to set aside, what is it you need to forgive, what is it you need to heal, what is it you want to do this Lent. I invite you to write that down.

We’ll take those pieces of paper, put them together, offer them up as ashes. Take a little time to be quiet, and write on your paper. 

1 Advent Yr A Nov 27 2016

1 Advent Yr A Nov 27 2016 Audio

Life is short, stay awake, is the Caribou coffee tag line, and it applies to our readings this morning as well. From Romans we read, you know what time it is, it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. And from Matthew, keep awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. Advent is derived from a Latin word for “coming.” Advent is a time of preparation, expectation, anticipation, and waiting. It is not Christmas. Just want to make that clear. Christmas begins on December 25th. It seems waiting and anticipation are foreign concepts to many today. We wait in a line at the store and we get irritated. We wait at the stoplight and we wish there was not so much traffic. We wait for life to be born, and we wait for death. We, for the most part, are very bad at waiting. No wonder we jump right over Advent to Christmas, why wait when we can have it all today.

And yet, there is an urgency in our waiting. On this first day of the new year, this first Sunday of Advent, are some readings that ask us to stay awake and to wait in urgency for something that is new. We wait for the birth of the baby, we wait for the coming of the end, we wait for the coming of the cosmic Christ, we wait in expectation and anticipation of all that we believe fulfills humanity. Our waiting is urgent waiting, it is not wasted waiting. It is waiting for the reality that we already know, and the reality of the Kingdom that comes. It is waiting that does not negate the joy and happiness in which we live, it does not negate the sorrow and pain that we feel, but it is waiting that calls us to something new. And it is waiting that calls us to stay awake.

The cultural Christmas season has already begun, as we well know. There is this seduction to be busy, not that being busy is bad, but busyness tends to divert our attention from waiting for the gift that is being prepared for us. There are wonderful things to do at this time of year, but we cannot be seduced into believing that is all there is. That seduction pulls us away from staying awake, staying alert to the amazing gift of God’s love that we receive at Christmas.

What would we do differently if we knew exactly when Jesus would come? This is the way we need to live in Advent, because the truth is that Jesus comes and is coming, for all times and all places, into our lives and into our hearts, and we must be prepared. The only way to prepare is to stay awake and see the signs around us. Romans actually gives us some instructions about how to do that. We are to lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.

I think putting on the armor of light is about paying attention to the love that God gives us, and paying attention to the relationships in our lives. I think laying aside the works of darkness is to let go of all that draws us away from God’s love at this time of the year. There is so much that draws us away from God’s love, sale after sale after sale, these things are not bad, but we can’t let them be all there is. The real event is taking place in a hidden, yet powerful way. Lives are changed every day because of Jesus, people are healed from sin and death, eyes are opened to new realities, and we seldom hear about them because often we’re too distracted by the other stuff.

What meaning can Advent waiting have for us today? The best illustration I can think of is pregnancy. Nine months of waiting, or in my case 91/2 months of waiting, nothing can make it go faster, there is no way you want it to be over early, and nothing can change the absolute change that pregnancy brings to lives. A new life, being knit together in the darkness of the womb, a new life being created, absolutely and completely out of your control. But this kind of waiting is a profoundly creative act. It is in no way passive; indeed it is quite active as this new life grows. This is the waiting of Advent. It is to be joyfully and fully present to new growth. Advent becomes a way of being.

Advent is a time to put away the distractions. So maybe this is the time to put away our iPhone’s and mobile devices for an hour or a day. Maybe it’s time to turn off for a while. This is a time to find some solitude. In fact, insist on it. This is a season to draw apart for a little while, to read scripture, to take ten minutes and breathe slowly, letting the promise of God fill your lungs with fresh air. This is a time for staying awake to what really matters and letting go of some things that don’t. Advent offers some alternatives to all that doesn’t matter: an Advent wreath on the table, and its increasing shine as a new candle is lit each week; an Advent calendar to mark the days of waiting; a brief passage from scripture with the evening meal. These are anti-stress times when people’s souls get restored among those they love. Those who live alone can sit in front of a lighted candle and remember loved ones and friends who have surrounded them in the candlelight. Most of all, we can recall a God who loves us so much that we are offered a time to prepare, a time to wait, a time to remember that underneath all that seems to be crumbling is a firm foundation, and the One who is to come.

During Advent we will be singing the Canticle of the turning. It is based on Mary's song, the Magnificat, at the beginning of Luke. This is a time in our civic lives that are full of talk about change. The world is about to turn. Turn toward Christ, walk toward those who need love, and mercy and compassion.

Stay awake to the love that brings light into the dark. Stay awake to the love that forgives and heals. Stay awake to the love that brings us together, the love that feeds us. Stay awake to the love that brings us peace. Stay awake to the love that prepares us for new birth. Stay awake to the love that anticipates our homecoming.

Last Epiphany Yr C Feb 7 2016

Last Epiphany Yr C Feb 7 2016 Audio

Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him. At the very beginning of these Sundays after Epiphany we heard the same voice at Jesus' baptism say "you are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." In that story John the baptizer was there to show how important that event was, and in this story Moses and Elijah show up to let us know that this event is really important, and Peter and James and John are there to witness this transfiguration. The stories we have been hearing these 

Sundays have been showing us who Jesus is. Jesus, the carpenter's son, Jesus, the boy who reads from the scroll in the synagogue, Jesus, the one who would be hurled off the cliff, Jesus, the beloved, listen to him. 

In the midst of the cacophony that surrounds us, in our work, in our school, as we play, in our homes, at our tables, we are to listen. Can we even do that, can we even listen to Jesus? Where do we listen? How do we listen When do we listen? It seems like a fairly small ask, listen to him, and yet we do everything we can to not listen. We fill our spaces with sound and noise and motion. We fill our days with stuff to do, errands to run, accomplishments to fulfill. That is what our lives are made of. We wear our earbuds, we listen to our Pandora stations, we are inundated with sound. 

I don't think that is necessarily bad, but I do think we don't really know what to do with quiet and silence. I also don't think that it is only in silence that we can hear God. God will have us listen, and sometimes God knocks us around so that we do. But I do think our spirits' yearn for quiet.  

Maybe, as we begin our shift from the glory of Epiphany through this moment of transfiguration that transforms time, to the journey of Lent, we may choose to find some time to listen.

We may listen to stories of Jesus. The gospel readings we will hear are not stories about sweet, gentle Jesus, but about strong, brave Jesus who calls us to be like him. Jesus is tempted by the devil in the wilderness, Jesus tells the truth about Herod's depravity and Pilate's oppression, Jesus shows us what real love looks like, and that Love always wins. 

Last week I told you that this life is about flying boldly and courageously, these stories of Jesus show us what that looks like. Read the stories, tell the stories, know the stories of Jesus. During Lent this year you might find a way to listen to the stories of Jesus each day.

We may listen to God in prayer. Prayer is really about listening to God. It is good to thank God, and ask God, and bless God and bless people and things. But really, prayer is about listening. Prayer is about carving out some time to intentionally listen to God's movement in our lives. My personal mantra is, "more quiet, less words." But, my favorite author, Madeleine L'engle, says it much more beautifully in her poem "Word". I'll read it for you.

I, who live by words, am wordless 

when I try my words in prayer. 

All language turns to silence. 

Prayer will take my words 

and then reveal their emptiness. 

The stilled voice learns to hold its peace, 

to listen with the heart

to silence that is joy, is adoration.

The self is shattered, 

all words torn apart

In this strange patterned time of contemplation

That, in time, breaks time, breaks words, breaks me,

And then, in silence, leaves me healed and mended.

I leave, returned to language, 

for I see

through words, even when all words are ended.

I, who live by words, 

am wordless when I turn to the Word to pray. Amen.

(quoted in Praying Our Days: 

A Guide and Companion by Bishop Frank T. Griswold)

I do encourage you to find the time to pray, to sit in silence, and to listen. Now, when I was a younger mother, and exhausted most of the time, I would try to sit still for a while, and listen in prayer. I would inevitably dose off. And I believe in a God who believes in me, and I believe there is a time and a season for everything, that was my season for dosing off prayer, this is my season for attentive silence. You need to find your own kind of silence. And if you need words, there are plenty in your prayer book, use them. Those of you with young children at home might consider praying the Lord’s Prayer together each day especially during Lent. Maybe before or after meals, at bedtime, even in the car (if that is when you have quality time together).

We may listen to God in other people around us and around the world. Jesus listened and responded to the people around him and calls us to listen to the people around us and those all around the world who need us to hear them. What do we hear from people around us and around the world, that transforms us? How do we listen to the needs of others 

and respond in ways that truly help? Sometimes when we listen to the needs of others, our own world is disrupted, we are transformed in the listening. Listening, deeply listening to others, changes us. Another of my favorite authors, C. S. Lewis writes, "I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me." 

As you listen to God, You may want to respond to God's voice, God's love. How may you do that? What might you do? What will your Lenten discipline be? I know that the older children in Sunday school will be talking about collecting their coins and where they want to give them. Maybe we can follow their lead and give, there is so much need right here in our community, and there is need around the world. Episcopal Relief and Development is a project that you might think about.

Listen to God, listen whether you can hear or not, God will show up. 

1 Advent Yr B Nov 30 2014

Audio 11.30.2014

The church year turns to another beginning, another new year, filled with hope, expectation, anticipation of better relationships between people, and even countries. Advent invites us to turn. There is a Caribou coffee tag line - life is short, stay awake! I feel that way about Advent, Advent is short, stay awake, stay alert, or you'll miss it.

Indeed, our culture has already missed it. Christmas carols, christmas trees, christmas decorations. Christmas is all around us, and today I encourage you, at least in this sacred space, to make room for Advent.

In the cacophony of Christmas, make room for quiet. In the race to Christmas, make room for waiting, preparing, anticipating. Advent really isn't that foreign to us, it is where we live most of our lives, in the tension of what has been and what is to be. Advent calls us to live that tension intentionally. Rather than be lulled to sleep by the shiny balls and blinking lights, stay awake, stay alert, listen.

Advent calls us to occupy the space between the inconceivability of incarnation and the mystery of resurrection, the messiness of birth and the hope of new life, the reality of brokenness and the joy of healing. Advent calls us to be fully present in each event and activity, and to be fully present with each person. Advent calls us not to walk through this time with indifference, but to shine the light of love and hope in all places and at all times. Advent calls us to sit with the other, to look into the eye of the other, and to listen, not to talk. Advent calls us to stand next to the one that you really cannot stand, the one you really disagree with, and look toward love and hope together.

This is the very darkest time of the year. We look for light, that's why we hang twinkly lights on everything, that's why we light candles. But here, in the church, we don't light them all, not yet, we light them one at a time, watching the light build, preparing for the light that is Jesus to be fully blazing.

And, on this first day of Advent this year, and next week as well, we have before us the gospel of Mark. This is a story of assurance. We know that God is love, and love drives out darkness and fear. And, some of these passages we read during Advent may be pretty scary reading. This chapter in Mark actually begins with the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It continues with images of war, earthquake, and famine, of family members betraying one another, of great suffering. But Mark says very clearly and emphatically that these things are not predictions of doom in the distant future. The truly frightening stuff described in this chapter is not a prediction to frighten future generations, but for Mark’s readers they are words of comfort in a generation that used this vivid kind of language, the language of sky powers and sky beings mixed with literal retellings of the kinds of betrayal and threats facing members of Jesus' community, to describe what they’d already seen brothers and sisters in Christ going through. Jesus went around calling women and slaves and tax collectors to follow him, and leaving out any hint that they need to get someone else’s permission to do so. His followers after the resurrection called him lord or master, and that’s not the kind of thing you can say, let alone a way of life you can live without getting into trouble, and so Jesus' followers were dragged before local authorities and punished. That is what we hear in Mark.

And it is the Good News, the Incarnation, that is spoken into that fearful time, as it is the Good News and the Incarnation that is spoken into the fear of our time. It is god-in-our-midst that is hope and promise. It is into all of this that Mark cries stay awake! Stay awake!

So maybe that is what staying awake during Advent can be all about. Maybe in the midst of the cacophony of Christmas, in the quiet we can hear the voice of Good News.

When the herald of consumerism speaks more loudly than does the angel Gabriel we need to stay awake to hear the announcement that a child will be born and that the world is about to turn.

When the blast of trumpets announcing sale after sale drowns out the voice singing “my soul cries out with a joyful shout that the God of my heart is great, and my spirit sings of the wondrous things that you bring to the ones who wait” we need to be quiet to hear the music.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the beat of our own heart, and the beat of God's heart within us, the beat that says there is nothing you can do that will make me turn my love from you.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the love of Jesus moving in our blood, giving nourishment to our bodies, our minds, and our hearts.

Maybe we even need to be quiet to hear the movement of the Spirit, enlivening us with new birth, connecting us to one another, connecting us to the ones who have not yet said yes to the Good News of Jesus, connecting us to all those who are broken and hurting on this most amazing day, at the beginning of this, most amazing season.

Today we light the first candle of Advent. We watch its quiet light flicker in the darkness, anticipating the light and the love and the hope of Jesus.

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,

to hear the word of Love?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,

to share the Light of Jesus?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent,

to speak love and hope into fear and darkness?

How will you make room in your busy life this Advent

to proclaim the love that wins?