Author: shelliwilliams

Lament

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Scripture Text: Isaiah 64: 1-9 (Advent 1B)

O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence— 2as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil— to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence! 3When you did awesome deeds that we did not expect, you came down, the mountains quaked at your presence. 4From ages past no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who works for those who wait for him. 5You meet those who gladly do right, those who remember you in your ways. But you were angry, and we sinned; because you hid yourself we transgressed.

6We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a filthy cloth. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. 7There is no one who calls on your name, or attempts to take hold of you; for you have hidden your face from us, and have delivered us into the hand of our iniquity. 8Yet, O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand. 9Do not be exceedingly angry, O Lord, and do not remember iniquity forever. Now consider, we are all your people.

I’m backtracking a little and going back and picking up some of the Scriptures from yesterday’s lectionary.  And, yes, this passage assigned to us as the Old Testament reading for the first week of Advent seems a little dark and dreary.  I know.  You’re ready for some twinkling lights and perhaps a star and some signs of hope.  But we get a lament.  How does a lament fit in with this season?

The truth is that our culture, particularly in this country, doesn’t handle laments well.  I don’t know if we’re too shaped by our English Puritan roots or what.  But somewhere along the way, we became convinced that all of those things that go wrong, all those things that are uncomfortable, all of those things that involve grief and such, should be pushed down, or bottled up, or hidden away in the junk drawer of our lives.  So, when we lose those we love, when health issues don’t seem to cooperate with the life that we envisioned for ourselves, when things just do not go according to our plans, we tend to hide them away.  We are taught to be strong, even stoic at times.  And we are convinced that there is a proper way to grieve and an expected and timely way to move on.

So, consequently, reading laments is an odd, if not uncomfortable, practice for us.  Take this one, for instance.  The Israelites have returned home after years in exile.  But home was not the same.  It would never be the same.  The Temple (the place where they knew God was) had been destroyed.  And in their search for God, for a God that seemed elusive or even hidden, they began to look at their own lives and name their grief and pray a prayer of lament.  But how does that fit into Advent?

Well, see, we’re often told to move on.  Do we really move on?  Do we really put those things away or do they just continue to gnaw at the comfortable parts of our lives?  Is that really the best way to handle our grief and our losses and our failed expectations?  Maybe we should take a lesson from our brothers and sisters who are immigrants or refugees or part of the African, Middle Eastern, or African American traditions.  They openly wail their grief and pound their chests in atonement.  Their lament is tangible.  It can be felt.  It can be heard.  It can be shared. It can be named.  And in that naming, it is claimed.  And in its midst, God enters.

I have lived most of my life with little loss.  That changed over the last seven years or so.  In those years, I have lost people I love, a beloved dog, as well as my own well-being and security.  I have lost what I expected to be.  I remember when my wonderful friend Suzy died of ovarian cancer, I tried to be strong, to “move on” the way that everyone expects you to do (particularly as a pastor—for some reason people don’t want their pastor to grieve uncontrollably).  I did fine for several months and then at Annual Conference that year, where Suzy and I usually sat together and ate together and caught up with our lives, I heard her name read in worship and I collapsed into sobs.  I was pretty much given the impression from one of the other clergy that that probably wasn’t acceptable.  I didn’t care.  It was cleansing.  It was prayerful.  It was lament.

Re-read the lament.  Or write your own.  No, we don’t “move on”.  That’s a farce.  What we do is we walk the journey of lament.  We name our grief or our loss and we claim it.  And into our grief and our despair and our loss, God comes.  God comes not as a magic Band Aid that fixes our problems but as a Master Creator that re-orders them.  We do not move on.  We are never rid of them; instead, they are redeemed and recreated.

In this season of Advent, we are sometimes tempted to put our best face on, to work to make the season one of joy and memories.  But the season calls us to be fully ourselves, to be the ones into whose lives God enters.  Maybe a few laments wouldn’t be all that bad. Maybe some good old-fashioned wailing will make us realize what God offers us.  Maybe sharing with others will lead to transformation for all of us.  God doesn’t wait to enter until everything is perfect.  That was never the deal. God enters when transformation is at hand.  God enters when God is needed the most.  So, maybe go ahead and clean out that junk drawer!

Spirituality is the ability to live with ambiguity. (Ray Anderson)

I have sort of been on a Carrie Newcomer kick, so I guess you are too! She is Quaker. Her mentor is writer Parker Palmer, whose writings many of you may have read. She has a rich catalog of music that echoes peace, love of others, the beauty of this world, and a deep and abiding spirituality and belief in the God who is always and forever coming into our lives. I hope some of her music will bring you the joy and peace it brings me.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Awakening

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Scripture Text: Mark 13: 24-37 (Advent 1B)

24“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, 25and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. 26Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. 27Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

28“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. 29So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 30Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. 31Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

32“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 33Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. 34It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. 35Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, 36or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. 37And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

‘Tis the season!  Advent is here, the time of preparation, the time of waiting, the time of that somewhat always-chaotic march to Christmas Day.  And, at the risk of stressing you out even more than you already are, this year’s season is even shorter than usual since the fourth Sunday of Advent is actually Christmas Eve!  So, yes, this year we have only three weeks of Advent.  What is THAT about?  So, we begin…

I know Advent is here because the stores have their holiday décor out, I’ve heard one or two Christmas carols, and I keep seeing that commercial where the red and green Hershey kisses play “Carol of the Bells”.  And, yet, there are things in the world that do not seem to echo the joyousness of the season.  There is still a war in Ukraine, a seemingly endless war only because boundaries were not honored and greed ensued, and now the Middle East has become a veritable powder keg of violence and distrust between neighbors.  And we find ourselves getting pulled into it in a way, find ourselves dealing with anti-Semitism and Islamophobia, find ourselves being forced to choose sides in a war that has way more than two sides, a war that is nuanced so that many things can be true at once, find ourselves fighting to keep our own democracy and defend it against corruption and authoritarian creep and those that think they should control others and inflict their beliefs on those around them.  And this Scripture doesn’t really help.  Why do we have to read about suffering and the end times on this first Sunday of Advent? What happened to that angel coming to Mary and Mary doing her pondering thing and everyone being joyfully reminded that the world was with child?

Read it again.  This Scripture is not about the end times.  This Scripture is about now.  This Scripture is about us.  See, if we look at this Advent season as only a season of preparation, a season of waiting for what follows this, for what comes next, we miss out.  If we spend this Advent season trying to somehow forget the world that spins around us, trying to ignore those things that make us uncomfortable, that we might have our ideal fill of nostalgia, we’re not giving this season it’s due.  This season, like the Scripture in today’s lectionary, is not a call to merely get ready for the next season; it is a call to an awakening.  This season is our awakening.  This season calls us to wipe the sleep from our eyes and, rather than just waiting, to be a part of what comes next.

The world is still at war, both actually and figuratively.  We are still fighting each other over our beliefs and our quest for power, over our control of each other’s lives, over our differences and our diversity in which God created each of us.  We try our best but sometimes the world seems to be splitting apart at the seams.  And into this world, into this messed up little world, God comes.  But we have to pay attention.  We have to stay alert.  We have to become those who stay awake.  Something new is about to happen.  Maybe the world will or will not get better.  Maybe the wars will or will not end.  Maybe nothing around you will change.  But you will.  And that makes it worth waking up. Here’s to this joyful season, the time of your great awakening!

We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aid, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn. (Henry David Thoreau)

OK, I’m back. I’ll try to post something each day during this Advent season (short though it is!). I hope it aids you in your journey and your great awakening! Do me a favor. Don’t just read it. Digest it. And then comment back. It helps me and it adds to what others are reading. Let’s journey together! Drop me a line and invite others to either read or follow!….Shelli

The Dawn of Light

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Scripture Text: John 1: 1-14 (Christmas)

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.

The Light has come!  The Dawn is here! 

God created Light. 

And Light pushed the darkness into the shadows.

Light came and the world looked different, illuminated for the first time.

Light invited us to journey in a different way, to walk with Light.

But we wandered in the darkness, often mistaking shadows for Light.

The darkness sometimes made us afraid so we befriended darkness.

And then darkness taught us that we could see more clearly with Light.

So there, there in the darkness, we began to find Light.

Light began to flicker and shimmer over the waters and the earth and filled our space.

Light was like nothing we had ever known.

Light surrounded us and invited us into itself.

But we held back in the darkness, holding the Light at bay.

So, Light continued to shine into everything, even the dark and jagged corners of our world.

When we were lost, Light looked for us and we were found.

When we were grieving, Light held our hand.

When we were more comfortable in the darkness, Light waited patiently and beckoned us toward itself.

And when we could not find the Light, Light showed us our strength and our faith.

And then, undeterred, Light came, tiptoeing into our world, into even the darkness, without welcome or accolade.

And Light was laid aside.

So, quietly, oh so quietly, Light began to dance, filling the room, filling the world, filling us with Light.

Those who knew darkness suddenly knew Light.

Those who relied on shadows saw the way Light moves through them.

Light played.  Light danced. Light shimmered into the shadows of the world.

And Light invited us to join, to play, to dance, to shimmer.

And then we became part of the Light.

And even the darkness was filled with Light.

Light has dawned.  And Light asks us to dance—even in our darkness.  And we find that we are full of Light. 

The Light has come!  The Dawn is here! Go and be Light!  Merry Christmas!

The Christmas spirit is that hope which tenaciously clings to the hearts of the faithful and announces in the face of any Herod the world can produce and all the inn doors slammed in our faces and all the dark nights of our souls, that with God all things still are possible, that even now unto us a Child is born! (Ann Weems)

Thank you for joining me again this year as we journeyed toward the Light!  I needed it and I hope it provided a wonderful Advent for you.  Now I’m taking a little break because, frankly, every day is A LOT!  Look for some “not every day” writings now!  And I’d love to hear from you!  Go into the Light!

Merry Christmas!

 Shelli

The Story of Light

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Scripture Text: Luke 2: 1-14 (Christmas Eve)

In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. 

8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, 14“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

It’s finally here, this night of nights.  The Light for which we’ve waited and journeyed toward peers into the darkness and the world is changed forever.  We love this story.  Most of us could probably recite it from memory.  And, yet, the story may not be EXACTLY the way we think.  It’s not like there was someone with a video camera following them around that night.  Only two of the canonical Gospel writers even tell the story and they tell it very differently.  The non-canonical Gospel According to James tells it in more detail but the birth takes place in some sort of cave.  (But, in all honesty, where did you actually read about a stable?)  The same account also brings in a midwife, which, when you think about it, makes a whole lot of sense.  So, no, I’m not trying to tear down your much-beloved story.  The truth is, it’s not about the story; it’s about the birth.  It’s also about the Light.  It’s about the Light of God coming into the world, however that may have happened.

This is the story of Light.  It’s the Light that has always been there, the light that was created so long ago.  It’s the light that led people home over and over again.  But it was always a light that was hidden in a cloud or shrouded on a mountain or even set in the promise of a bow in the clouds.  But this night, this story, tells of Light not shining onto the earth but coming into the earth, mingling with us and giving us life.  This is the night that our story becomes the story of Light.

The Bible is not about people trying to get to God or get to the Light; it’s about the story, the story of God.  And this part of it, this chapter that we read and relive tonight, this holy night is not the climax of the story; it is a new chapter, a new beginning.  19th century American author and pastor Henry Van Dyke once asked “And now that this story is told, what does it mean?  How can I tell?  What does life mean?”  And then he answered himself by saying, “If the meaning could be put into a single sentence, there would be no need of telling the story.”

This is the night of the story of God coming out of the darkness and out of the shadows and showing us what we could not see before.  The Light is beginning to dawn.  It’s not a new light.  But this time, the heavens themselves spilled into the earth so that the story would become ours.  This is the story of Light.  It’s also the story of us.  So, what comes next?  Go into the Light…and follow God to write your story.

To be continued…

I cannot create the light. The best I can do is put myself in the path of its beam.  (Annie Dillard) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

The Light Shining in the Darkness

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Scripture Text: Isaiah 9:2-7 (Christmas Eve text)

2The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined. 3You have multiplied the nation, you have increased its joy; they rejoice before you as with joy at the harvest, as people exult when dividing plunder. 4For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken as on the day of Midian. 5For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire. 6For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 7His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time onward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.

I used to live in a neighborhood where I always passed this wonderful old French colonial house with wonderful verandas lining both floors of the house.  For years, the house would outline the verandas with twinkling strings of lights during the Advent and Christmas seasons.  It was beautiful.  Then, for some reason I’ve never completely understood, they began to add more and more lights each year.  They started by stringing lights across the verandas three, five, seven, fifteen times.  Then, the next year, they did the same to the house. What was once a delightful twinkling of lights became what can only be described as a veritable blob of lights.  The house had been overtaken by light. And it was no longer beautiful.  In fact, it was a little off-putting.

So, the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.  This journey toward the Light is coming to an end, so to speak.  We know now that is does not actually end at all.  It’s more of a turn, a tilt, a leaning in.  But as we do that, we need to think about our time in the darkness.  See, light is not pretty or comforting or even helpful alone.  It’s blinding.  You can’t even see anything anymore.  Light is at its best when it illuminates the darkness and creates shadows and contrasts so that we can truly look at the Light.

Much of our lives, much of our existence is about traveling in darkness.  It is a holy darkness.  God created it.  And then God created Light to push back the darkness.  Now notice that it doesn’t say anywhere that the light is meant to dispel the darkness or cover up the darkness or in some way destroy the darkness into utter extinction.  Darkness is.  The Light is.  They live together, woven into a holy mix of light and shadows and clouds and stars and deep darkness.  That is life.  That is Life.  And that is where the people that walk there see the Light.  So, our act of coming out of the darkness into the marvelous Light is not one of leaving but of looking in another direction and finally learning to travel in the dark.  That’s called faith. 

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.

It gets darker and darker…and then Jesus is born.  (Ann Lamott) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

The Coming of Light

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Scripture Text: John 12: 44-46

44Then Jesus cried aloud: “Whoever believes in me believes not in me but in him who sent me. 45And whoever sees me sees him who sent me. 46I have come as light into the world, so that everyone who believes in me should not remain in the darkness.

I think we often have this sense that the Light is the end-all.  After all, it’s the thing to which we’ve journeyed, the thing for which we’ve searched.  But have you ever looked at light?  (I know.  You’re really not supposed to do that.)  But while I was thinking about this post, I looked up at my kitchen light.  It’s one of those flood lights that you can turn and redirect.  I was in my living room and it didn’t have many lights on so, basically, I was in the darkness looking at a light.  And behind the light, surrounding the light, was a circular rainbow.  See, there’s always more in the Light. And it could only be seen in the dark.

This Scripture comes in the midst of the readings that we use for Holy Week.  Jesus is preparing for the cross.  But part of that preparation was pointing yet again toward God.  Jesus more than once confirmed that he was the “Light to the world” but he never let it stop there.  There is always more to the Light.  Jesus was always quick to remind his followers of that.  He espoused that they were not believing in him as a person, as a man who showed them the Light.  They were rather believing in God.  They were looking toward the Light that Jesus had been sent to show them.

OK, hang with me here…at the risk of going all 4th century on you, I’m going to go all 4th century on you!  In “The Life of Moses”, St. Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335-c. 395) contends that a person’s encounter with the mystery of God comes in three parts—light, cloud, and darkness.  (I know, that sort of sounds backwards.)  He sees the first stage in our quest to encounter God in light, such as Moses’ vision of God in the burning bush, illuminating the darkness of our sin and ignorance about who God really is.  The second stage is a journey into partial darkness where Moses encounters God as the cloud, an intermingling of darkness and light.  The final stage is entering where God really is (not a place, mind you, but a way of being).  And in that, we come to the realization that God IS Light, that God IS Mystery, that God is utterly incomprehensible.  In this place, Moses declared on Mt. Sinai that he had seen God or, in other words, had seen the eternal mystery that is God and had finally begun to understand his part of that Mystery.

The crux of this rather long-winded explanation is that the Light to which we journey is not the end; it is the beginning.  The Light is the beginning of our knowing not God in God’s fullness.  We are not meant to know that.  God IS mystery.  But the Light to which we journey is the beginning of us knowing not who God is but who we are meant to be as we encounter our Creator, our Sustainer, our Redeemer, the One in whom we believe. It’s also the beginning of us finally knowing that the darkness is also filled with Light.  As we come into the Light as it dawns on the world, we begin to see beyond—and it is glorious!

I have come as light into the world, so that everyone who believes in me should not remain in the darkness.

In every beginning, there is darkness.  The darkness of chaos seems eternal, Yet form emerges: light dawns, and life is born. (Sixth Service of The New Union Prayerbook) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

An Invitation of Light

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Scripture Text: Psalm 139: 11-12

11If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,” 12even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.

If you are reading this at the time that it posts, you are in the midst of the longest night of the year.  In meteorology, Earth’s winter season for the Northern Hemisphere and summer season for the Southern Hemisphere began on December 1, 2021.  But the December solstice brings in the astronomical winter and summer seasons, respectively, for the two hemispheres of Earth.  This will happen on December 21 at 15:59 UTC, which is 9:59 a.m. Central Standard Time for the United States.  At that time, the imagined axis of the Earth will “tilt” and the seasons will change.  So, for us, in the midst of the longest and darkest night, the Earth effectively tilts toward the light.  After that, the nights in the Northern Hemisphere will slowly begin to shorten and the days will slowly lengthen.

So, interestingly, as our journey brings us nearer to Christmas, even the Earth shifts a bit to lean toward the light.  I think that’s an important lesson.  Because, as we’ve talked about before, the Light for which we look does not come flooding in unexpectedly.  First, we journey in darkness so that we can learn the meaning of the Light.  Think of the Light that comes flickering in as an invitation—an invitation to change, an invitation to grow, an invitation to understanding the meaning of the Light itself in a different way.  And, so, in the darkness, we begin to tilt our axis, we begin to lean toward the Light.  The change in trajectory is not just a shift so that we can see the light better; the tilt is our response to the invitation.

As the Scripture implies, even in the darkest of hours, even when we feel covered by darkness, we know there is Light.  And as we tilt our lives, as we change our view, the darkness begins to be Light.  That is what Advent is—a tilt toward the Light or, even better, learning to keep leaning toward the Light, regardless of how much darkness we see.  Sometimes the purpose of our places of darkness are to compel us to move so that we can finally see the light, which means they really aren’t completely dark at all.  We’re almost there.  The Light is beckoning.  Lean in toward the Light.

Why fear the dark?  How can we help but love it when it is the darkness that brings the stars to us? What’s more: who does not know that it is on the darkest nights that the stars acquire their greatest splendor? (Archibishop Helder Camera) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli