(I really have wanted to be committed to regular blogging this Advent, but I really have struggled with it…so I’m doing what I can, and being gentle with myself for what I can’t. This gorgeous image came across my feed this evening, and I love it. Especially the pairing of a “ordinary time” hymn with a nativity image. May it be a blessing to you.)
It’s been a tough season for about the past six months in my circle of family and friends. We’ve been dealing with many losses. Some of which came right out of left field with little warning or time to prepare. Loss happens that way, sometimes. Others, we knew to expect, but that didn’t make them hurt any less.
So I enter into this Advent with a weight of grief upon me. I cry easily. I’m not sure how much decorating I’ll get to (part of this is grief, part of it is the new puppy in my household, and a desire not to give her easy targets for destruction). I haven’t done some of my normal Advent rituals, and I’m not sure if I will.
I’ve always made an effort to engage in the celebration of this season. It’s my favourite time of the church year, Advent and Christmas Eve sermons have always been the easiest ones to write. The music is glorious, and I seem to discover new, wonderful pieces every year. I choose to enter into the hope, peace, joy and love, each year.
This year, though…0n the one hand, I long for the ‘magic’ of Christmas (which, as a woman of faith, isn’t magic at all, but a soul-deep connection with God who gives the very best gift of all – Jesus). On the other hand, I find myself struggling to connect with the joy that once came to me so easily.
I am not alone in this. The holidays are a hard time for many.
So I guess what’s on my mind and my heart today, as I begin to blog through this season, are some questions: how do we celebrate when it doesn’t come easy? How do we lead when we feel a little lost ourselves? Where is God when our hearts are heavy and life feels like a mess?
And, of course, the answer comes from what is at the centre of this season – God’s coming among us in the Christ child. In the midst of political upheaval (the Roman census), poverty (Mary and Joseph were not even middle class, if middle class were a thing in ancient Israel), shame (an unmarried pregnancy, rumours about what THAT meant) and danger (King Herod’s jealousy over the prophecies that declared this child would be King), God comes in the humblest human form – a new born baby.
God steps into our mess, not as one who is immediately capable to take it all on and clean it all up. But as one of us – in our weakness and frailty, arriving with nothing, needing others just to survive. God becomes one of us, so that we know we are not alone. So that we can’t say to God, “You don’t know what it’s like.” God chooses to humble himself, for us.
And so, whatever you might be struggling with this season, I hope you can find some comfort in the thought that God knows exactly what it’s like. I hope you can find some rest in the thought that God isn’t put off by our messy lives. I hope you can celebrate (even if it’s a quieter celebration than normal) a season that reminds us how very much FOR US God is.
(And if life is glorious for you right now – if everything is going beautifully, may you be full of gratitude and find a way to bless others who might be struggling.)
I always find Good Friday a study in contradictions – such horrible things happened, but they happened for our good. There was so much sorrow, but also joy when Jesus declared that “it is finished.” It was a day marked by betrayal, denial and scattering of those closest to Jesus, and yet Jesus never wavered from his purpose – he was rock steady through it all.
We Christians are an Easter people – a people of the Resurrection.
But I admit I have to agree with this:
It’s tempting to skip over the tough and horrible scenes of Good Friday. But I am not convinced we can fully celebrate Easter unless we have observed Good Friday.
If Jesus had to endure unimaginable pain to ensure that our sin would be forgiven, then the least we can do is not look away from that pain. It always feels important to me, to recognize what he endured.
But that does not mean we do it without hope…or even that we fully enter into the shock and dismay that his friends would have felt at his arrest, flogging and death.
Because this is also true:
It is Friday now, but Sunday IS coming. Let us wait in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.
On this day during Holy Week, we remember Jesus washing the feet of his disciples and then gathering at table with them for the Last Supper.
I’m always reminded of this:
One of the most amazing things (most holy things) about the Last Supper, to me, is that Jesus sat at table with his betrayer. Knowing his enemy was at the table, Jesus still made room for him. Jesus still gave thanks.
I would like to tell you I’m good at giving thanks in difficult situations. But I know I’m not. I know I’d rather complain or shut down or find ways to numb out (binge-watch, anyone?).
But Jesus chooses to be grateful and in community – even with his betrayer. And let’s not just beat up on Judas…he will play a pivotal role in Jesus’ arrest, but Peter will deny him three times, the rest of them will scatter and hide – there’s no one at the table who will really keep it together through what’s about to come. Each one is flawed and human.
Except the one who chooses to sacrifice himself for their sake and for ours.
That’s why Christians observe these days each year. As the old hymn says: love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.
When Be could have been at his worst, when he could have resorted to anger, when he could have given in to fear – Jesus chose kindness, servanthood, and community.
This Holy Week, as we continue to walk this journey with Jesus, may we be moved by all he did for us. May we choose to serve Him by choosing kindness, gratitude and community – especially in the moments when it is most difficult to do so.
As it is Holy Week, and this is always a time for extra reflection, I’ve got a few ‘extras’ to share with you on the blog today. So this Wordless Wednesday, is less wordless than normal!
Let me begin with this image, which is always causes me to reflect (I shared a similar version on facebook earlier, but this one includes scriptures that you might like to read and pray about):
This prayer, that I hope might be a blessing to you as we journey towards the cross:
This Andrew Peterson song, featuring the last seven words of Christ on the cross, which always moves me to tears:
And finally this word of hope, to strengthen you:
Blessings to you as we continue to journey through this week.
Super excited to share this interview I did in early March with the good folks at Ministry Forum for their podcast. We talked about my program (the MPS – Master’s of Pastoral Studies) at Knox College, what ‘counts’ as ministry in the current day and age, my journey to St. Peter’s, Madoc, the call that this lovely congregation has extended to me, the state of the church at this point in history, and even a little chatter about the Toronto Blue Jays!
Click here to listen to this episode:
A New Imagination for Ministry: Rev. Rebekah Mitchell and the Future of Congregational Life
And once you’ve listened, take a look at some of the other episodes and see if there are others you’d like to listen to! (I really appreciated getting to hear my Old Testament prof, Patricia Dutcher-Walls, interviewed as out-going Moderator of the General Assembly, for example.)
As we continue to journey through Lent, may we find God in meaningful conversations and shared ideas.
I love this:
It reminds me that sometimes we miss what is happening due to our expectations of what SHOULD be happening. If we are waiting on words, but God chooses to speak in flowers, we might miss the conversation entirely.
I also love the idea that God speaks to us in many languages. Some of the ways God speaks to me are: through sunsets, through Toronto Blue Jay wins, through memes that come across my socials, through other people, through music, through nature, through Koski (my dog).
These are the obvious and easy ones. But what about the easy-to-miss or difficult ones? Because I think God also speaks to us through the tough things we deal with.
God speaks to me (though I might find it hard to listen): through my anxiety (which has me wondering right now if I have offended or hurt anyone by not including them in my “easy” list), through my concern for people I care about who are going through a difficult season, through the things that are happening in the news these days (which I often want to ignore because it’s felt like too much for so long now).
Today, I want to encourage to you to look for the ways that God speaks to you which might be hard for you to hear, or easy for you to miss. Because I believe that when we expand the ways we listen for God, we become more aware of God’s presence, and our faith grows.
As we continue to journey through Lent, let’s ask ourselves what we might be missing, how we might need to listen for God in unexpected and even difficult places. Let’s trust that God will show up, and that the effort to listen in unexpected or difficult places will be its own blessing.
So it’s been an interesting week in Ontario. We’ve had nearly every kind of weather you can imagine: ice, rain, snow, bright sunshine, 20C warmth, winds, thunderstorms, downpours.
Maybe it’s not surprising, then that this little reminder came across my feed earlier in the week:
After the frustration of the ice storm and the ensuing power outages (which lasted for days in my area, had a second wave for some folks in Madoc proper, and is still affecting thousands of households…especially those in remote or hard-hit areas), I think we were all counting the storms. So the reminder of beauty to be found in the midst of a storm, or once the storm has passed – even the reminder that all storms DO pass – seemed super appropriate.
And it made me ask myself what was I counting – the storms or the rainbows? Maybe it’s easier, now that the power has been restored to my place and the sun is shining brightly through the windows, to count the rainbows. I have much to be grateful for: the damage around my property was minimal, the power has indeed come back, I was safe and warm throughout the storm, I’ve had lots of kind offers of help from the good folks of St. Peter’s (and I knew I could ask for help if needed…I felt that throughout the storm), I had enough to eat…I could go on.
So let me ask you – what are you counting? What rainbows are coming your way this day or this week? What can you give thanks for today?
As we continue through Lent, may we remember to count out rainbows. May we know that every good gift comes from God. May we allow the good things in our lives to draw us closer to the One who loves us and who gave his Son for us.
(This little poem came across my socials this week, and it just felt incredibly apropos. May it bless you!)
Rebekah's World 