Fourth Sunday in Advent: LOVE

 

Photo by Richard Prinsen, December 20/22

 

On this fourth Sunday of Advent, the theme is LOVE.

Have you ever heard someone say "God is a God of love," only to have someone else quickly reply,"But He's also a God of justice"? Or "But He's also a holy God"?

I have. This approach seems to suggest that love is just one of many characteristics God possesses. Sometimes He'll need to emphasize one characteristic more than the other (like a worker choosing one tool over another depending on the task), but we should never lose sight of the other side: "God is loving but just." "God is merciful but also righteous." 

The deeper implication, I think, is that love is kind of flabby and indulgent and must always be balanced by something more strict. If we focus too much on love, the idea goes, we give people the idea that they can do whatever they want without consequences, so we need a corrective of justice or righteousness to keep things under control. Thinking about it, I can honestly say I've never heard anyone say we can swing too far in the direction of God's holiness -- but I've definitely heard that we can swing too far in the direction of His love.

Pastor/teacher Brad Jersak describes love in an entirely different way: it is not one of God's many characteristics, but rather it is God's essence.

God’s nature or essence is simple, boiled down for us in the fourth chapter of John’s epistle: “God is love…” God is not love plus anything. Love is the essence of the Triune nature and every attribute of God is a facet of that one Diamond or flows from that one infinite Spring. Anything we say about God’s holiness, justice or wrath can only be said with reference to God’s love. The “holiness” or “justice” or “wrath” that is not love is not God’s.

- Brad Jersak, "Does God Punish?"

I like this explanation so much (though I can't pretend I completely comprehend it). Love is who God is. These other things are expressions of who God is. 

So we don't need to say "Yes, He's love, but He's also..." But doesn't enter into it. Everything God does expresses who He is: love. Love isn't a weight placed on one side of a scale; rather, as Jersak puts it, the love that God is is more like a diamond with many facets or a spring from which everything else flows.

That means of course that Jesus -- who is "the exact representation of [God's] being" (Heb. 1:3) -- fully embodies that love too. Jesus didn't just do loving things like healing the sick or feeding the hungry or even dying on the cross; Jesus was Love. Jesus is Love.

If that's true, then even the tiny baby wriggling in the manger, in all his vulnerability and innocence, was -- is -- Love. The one whose birth we anticipate and celebrate at Christmas is Love.

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The Risk of Birth
- Madeleine L'Engle

This is no time for a child to be born,
With the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out & the sun burns late.

That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honor & truth were trampled to scorn—
Yet here did the Savior make His home.

When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn—
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

 

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You can read my previous Advent posts here at these links: HOPE, PEACE, JOY.

Third Sunday in Advent: JOY

On this third Sunday of Advent, the theme is JOY. 

I say that pretty confidently, but actually I wasn't even sure until yesterday what the "official" theme was for Advent 3. I had to ask the experts ... on Twitter. Was it joy? Or was it love? Somebody tell me – I need to know how to feel!

But of course the Advent themes aren't emotions. When we light the candle of Joy, we aren't proclaiming a fluctuating feeling of pleasure or good cheer -- which is a relief for those who find Christmas a sad, lonely time or who, in their lives in general, struggle with grief, poor health, broken relationships, or despair about the future.

 

The Joy symbolized by the brave, persistent flame of this third candle is a deeper sense of well-being that isn't dependent on our circumstances or personalities. It's not something we live up to. It's more like something God lives down to. Jesus' birth is the breaking-through of that joy into our world and our lives.

My favourite line from a Christmas carol, in fact probably my favourite line of any Christian hymn, is this one, from "Joy to the World":

He comes to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found.

I think this is the Gospel in a single sentence: that Jesus comes to bring life and blessing to every corner of our planet and the deepest places of our hearts. Everywhere there is death and brokenness, Jesus comes to heal and restore.

I'm so sorry if you don't feel joy today. I get it. Things are pretty rough out there right now. Let's light the Joy candle -- that's the pink one -- together. Let's allow that deep Joy, that sense of God's all-rightness and blessing that flows beneath everything, to make its way into our hearts. Even if we don't feel it, let's rest in it as we make our way toward the celebration of Jesus' birth.

(You can read my previous Advent posts here: HOPE and PEACE.)

Second Sunday in Advent: PEACE

On this second Sunday in Advent, the theme is PEACE.

It's been said there are three kinds of peace: peace with ourselves, peace with others, peace with God.

Peace with myself. I'm not sure how that looks for you, but for me peace with myself means the assurance that I did the best I could, that I didn't grasp for control or betray my deepest values, that I accepted my limitations and just allowed myself to be an ordinary person.

Peace with others. There's a Scripture verse that says, "As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone." (Romans 12:18) I find that first part of the sentence helpful because it acknowledges that when it comes to relationships, we can really only be responsible for our own stuff. Taking that responsibility may mean asking, Have I done all I can to foster peace, even if I feel betrayed or misrepresented? Does peace mean speaking up, or letting go? Can there be peace without restoration of relationship? These are tough questions. It strikes me, as I think about it, that peace with others and peace with ourselves are actually not all that separate.

Peace with God. Over the past couple of years, as I've been challenged to rethink a lot of things about faith and church and Christian community, I'm realizing more and more that peace with God doesn't depend on attending church, signing off on the tenets of "historic Christianity" (whatever that is), or proving our worth to God. God has already made peace with us – with me. The Incarnation shows that this has always been God's greatest desire: to be in relationship with us, to reveal what He is like, to bring peace and harmony to every corner of the planet. Jesus comes, as the carol says, "to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found."

As we walk through the sometimes dark days of Advent, may we know peace in all its forms, as a Presence deeper than emotions and circumstances, sustaining and upholding us on our path.

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You can read my previous advent post here: HOPE.

First Sunday in Advent: HOPE

 

photo Jeannie Prinsen 2020

 

 It's the first Sunday in Advent.

I haven't been attending church since the pandemic began, and while I don't miss everything, I do miss the tradition of Advent: the songs and the candle-lighting in particular.

Which candle is Advent One, anyway ... I always forget. Is it Peace? No, I'm pretty sure it's HOPE. 

Since the hope candle gets lit first, it burns down first, so a few weeks into the season it might need to be replaced with a fresh one. You wouldn't want it to burn too low and start a fire, especially in the middle of the Christmas Eve service. 

It seems a bit like cheating to take away that little stub and start all over again with an unused candle. But on the other hand it makes perfect sense to acknowledge that our hope can burn low and need refreshing. There's no shame in admitting that. Circumstances, personal and global, can snuff out our hope so that only a wisp of smoke remains.

If one of us finds our hope sputtering, we can hold hope for one another. Refresh one another's candle. Remind one another that Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not -- will not -- overcome it.

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20 years of Jonathan

 

It's Jonathan's birthday today; he is 20 years old.  

 

Can you believe that cheerful butterball (who actually did have a neck, despite appearances to the contrary) has turned into this tall young man?

 Jonathan Sept. 8, 2022 - photo Jeannie Prinsen

Having Jonathan in our lives has given us a different perspective on life than we might otherwise have had. Garbage trucks, geese and seagulls, brooms and shovels, lines of laundry all have greater significance because of Jonathan's interest in these things. Everyone he meets is a friend, and the simplest pleasures give his life meaning and joy.

 Jonathan 2017 - photo Jeannie Prinsen

I wrote the following poem, "Lakeside, with Jonathan" about five years ago and was honoured to have it published in the literary journal Relief. I think it describes Jonathan better than almost anything else could. Happy birthday, Jonathan.

 

Lakeside, with Jonathan

 To the waterfront at Lake Ontario Park we go,
you leading the way to your favourite place: down,

down stone steps to the little cobble beach, where a shelf
of flat rocks stretches into the water. Cross-legged

on a rock, you gaze at the lake, its wind-ruffled surface
dancing with a million bright diamonds. You call out

to the gulls that wheel across the sky, and watch
a half-dozen geese skim the water then swoop

swiftly up and away. You look around
with a smile and say Happy.

This is as abstract as you get, you whose mind anchors
firmly in the tangibles: supper, school, garbage truck.

No bedtime confidences for you, no heartfelt talks
of dreams or hopes, just the familiar, daily repetition.

I could choose to grieve what’s not, or let you teach me
that peace abides in the way water swells and breaks

again and again on the shore, that the seabirds speak
to you as they cry overhead, that the windmills

over on the island are your friends, tall and steady
in the sunlight, their long arms waving hello.