I’m singing to the broken people because I’m a broken person. I’m right there with all the rest of the broken people in the world. I’m singing to people who have felt hopeless, because I’ve felt that way before too. Not all the time, but many times. It was a band for broken people. Some people got it, some people didn’t. Some people are broken, some people aren’t. But it was for people that aren’t fully whole and they’re looking for some reason to have hope.

Sounds like a good way of being the Church too.

A new book on the subject of faith and immigration has recently come out entitled A Common Humanity by Lane Van Ham. Lane's father, Lee Van Ham has been an advocate for biblical justice and economics in San Diego for a long time. Lee is working with Friends of Friendship Park to bring Lane to San Diego this Thursday, January 5. Event information is here. See you there?

While we wait, we prepare.

This last Sunday's Advent readings have a lot to say about houses. There is an over-arching sense of preparation; getting our "house" prepared for what is to come.

We love having people over at our house. My wife is an incredible cook and we really enjoy getting to know others over meals in our home. But with three kids and a busy schedule, whenever we do host people we usually spend a couple hours cleaning up the messes we've spent all week making around the house! While we wait for our guests, we prepare for them. But sometimes when we rush and fuss over things we find it difficult to unwind, decompress and really present to our guests once they arrive. Have we then prepared appropriately?

The scripture readings seem to allude to something like this as well. We are to be making things ready for the arrival of the King. Yet, in our anticipation do we prepare the right things in the right way? All throughout these reflections, I've pointed out that the (un)King comes in unexpected ways, in unexpected places. This naturally means that Christ comes with hopes different than what we may have anticipated. Does he come looking for splendor and magnanimous reception. Nope. Read the story as told in Luke 2.8-18. His Father brings those things to the party. Not us. Rather, he comes to those that have prepared through the practice of humility and availability. Maybe not intentionally or desired. Certainly, shepherds probably would've preferred less humble and mind-numbing work. But these are who had prepared, who were ready.

What does preparing our "house" mean, then? Maybe it means we cease comparing ourselves, our house, to everyone else's and be the house of our own that we are. Throughout these Advent readings from Sunday, scripture does not concern or compare itself with other houses. Rather, it is concerned with preparing the home through which God will commune with his people. In a rushed and hurried culture, in an even more frenzied season, maybe it means we slow down, make space and practice availability. Maybe it is then that we will truly be able to notice, to appreciate, the coming of the King we await.

In your anticipation this week, practice availability and see how God arrives.

NOTE: Sorry for being 24 hours late this week. Yesterday was... full.

Like most of the passages read during Advent, there is something about them that says, "Something good is coming!" Indeed, that is certainly the case. But He who is to come, comes in the most unexpected of ways. And He comes with expectations upon us that often are unexpected as well.

One of the readings this week is from Psalm 126. It cries out for restoration. Restoration of what, though? The psalm longs for the restoration of fortunes. Uh oh. Is this some kind of "health and wealth gospel" nonsense? Are the people of Israel, in this prayer, asking God to secure a certain lifestyle for themselves?

I don't think so.

In verses five and six it reads, "Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them." This psalm is prayed by a people longing for basic sustenance. They walk with seeds out to the fields prepared for famine. But they long to feed their people.

This isn't an individual thing. This is a communal thing. Those who prayer this long for the sustenance of their people, not just themselves. But while the need is for the whole, it is neither the whole nor the individual that provides what it is needed. This prayer (for that is what this psalm is) is prayed next to the reading of Isaiah 64 in which God brings justice to the weak and broken. (Jesus would later read this same passage from Isaiah in a synagogue to commence his ministry.)

The people of God, here, realize that they cannot bring the restoration needed on their own. Only God can. Certainly, they are to participate in his justice, his mercy, his restoration. But they know that it cannot be done without God.

Thus, in the end, Advent is about a kind of waiting that is reflected in how we live. We Christians do not seek our own benefit, we consider--and prayer for--the whole. And this is reflected in how we live. Our fortune are not for the benefit of one but for the sustenance of the whole. In so doing, we reflect our hope. A hope in a Savior that will restore all things and not just the little we can do in our life time.

So, this Advent may your waiting be reflected in your living... in your lifestyle.

Advent is all about remembering. Remembering a story. Phrases that start with, "Remember that..." and "Don't forget..." are found throughout Scripture. What is it that we are to remember? In short, the story of the cosmos as told through the lens of Scripture. The Bible provides a particular way of looking at the world. It provides a particular narrative. Like all stories, this story begins in a particular place with a particular people. But it moves out from there, spreading across the globe. It is a story that begins in the particular yet moves towards the universal. That is to say, it is a story meant for all of us.

In the West, we are each taught that we can craft our own stories. And to a certain extent, this is true. We are each individuals, choosing how we will live and responsible for the outcome of those decisions. But we are, as well, always participating in grander stories together. Stories of consumerism, democracy, nationalism, globalization, etc. Some of these narratives are more subtle than others. But they each say something about how we imagine the world to work and how it ought to be and how we believe it will turn out in the end.

During Advent, Christians remember the story of a Creator. A Creator that intends to work with that which he has created to renew, revive and re-imagine all that he has created. And he has gone to the greatest lengths to make this agenda possible. Yet it seems that greatness is defined differently in this story than in many others. Greatness in this story does not come to us loud or dominant. Rather, it comes gentle and quiet. We have to listen and look carefully to find. The lectionary readings during Advent reflect this.

So, this Advent season we choose our story. The story that will define us and shape us. And we attempt to remember that story rightly.

Warhol was right. There is something about the celebration of Advent that makes Christmas.. more exciting! The acknowledgement of this season in our home has made Christmas more special and certainly more centered on Jesus.
Otherwise, in this season many of us simply fall into the fray of the rabid consumerism.

As usual, I'm going to post a few of my reflections each week during Advent this year. It is one of my favorite times of year. As I have before, I use the term "(un)King." Two years ago, I wrote this about the term:
"Why do I call Jesus the (un)King? Because in all but title, he is unlike any human king. As you read the story of his arrival in the Gospels, you will find a very unkingly story; his first cradle a feeding trough, poor farm hands to announce his arrival and so on. "

Isaiah 64:1-9 is one of today's lectionary readings. It speaks of God's silence and the impatience of God's people for him to show up. It seems a short attention span and a lack of patience is more timeless than we might think. But the Isaiah passage, along with the remainder of today's readings, say something about the kind of King we await as Advent begins today. He is a God capable of the incredible but who loves to work in the quiet, in the shadows and in the mundane.The incredible and sensational is certainly what we would desire, as the writer of this passage does, "Oh, that you would rip open the heavens and descend, make the mountains shudder at your presence." Yet it seems that God chooses not go about his redeeming work in the world in such a way most of the time. Why would the maker of the universe work in such humble tones? Because that is where most of us hide. It's where we hide our brokenness, our woundedness, our inability to make the world what we wish it to be. Isaiah writes, "We're all sin-infected, sin-contaminated. Our best efforts are grease-stained rags." Still, it is us he chooses to work with.

In the Isaiah passage, it says, "You meet those who happily do what is right, who keep a good memory of the way you work." As we enter into the Advent season, remember the Story of redemption, of restoration. Let this story drive us to the quiet places and shadows of our own hearts and in the world around us. May we wait there faithfully. God will meet us there. Maybe not in the ways we expect. He has an affection for the humble and broken, for barns, feeding troughs and day laborers. But he does arrive. And the good news is that his arrival is not based on our patience. The happiness of she who Isaiah writes about in the quote above does not find joy in the fact that she does what is good and remembers well but in the confidence that God will arrive no matter what. That, in and of itself, is good news indeed.