There’s a worship song I love that starts with these words: “Light of the world, you stepped down into darkness…”

I love it because it reminds me of the lengths God would go to – for us. As out-of-step and broken as we are, God loves us. More than we can ask or imagine.

Enough to step down into our darkness. Enough to step into our mess. To take on our mess. To suffer for us. To take on our sin, and cleanse us from it.

This Season reminds us that there is no length too far for God to go – for you, for me, for all.

This Advent may you know that the Light of the World stepped down into darkness for you. May you follow Him, and find the Light of Life.

I’ve been feeling an enormous amount of guilt about the fact that I have been failing to blog over the past several days. It’s a combination of a cold that hasn’t let go, the busy reality of this time of year, and a lack of energy (see previous comment re: cold). So here is a post that is nearly wordless ( a great reminder of how to find peace) and a promise that I’m working on further posts!

God’s got us, friends. Be at peace.

The thing about life is that it’s never 100% one way or the other. In times of grief, we still find moments of laughter. In times of stress, we are still able to experience peace. And in a season that’s feeling a little out-of-step, a little “off,” a little bit of a mess, it is still possible to celebrate, to find joy, to feel the special spirit of this glorious season.

Tonight was one of those moments for me. I attended the Let There Be Music choir’s Christmas concert. This has been a joyful experience for the three advent seasons in which I have served at Graceviews Presbyterian Church in Etobicoke. One of our elders is the director for this choir made up of about 70-80 senior citizens, our organist/choir director is the pianist, and a number of Graceview members sing in the choir. It is amazing to see the joy that these people have in singing together.

But this year was extra-special to me. I volunteered to put together the slides to be projected on the screen throughout the concert, and then to run them during the concert. This task appealed to my creative side, and there was something extra special about being in the booth, contributing to the overall experience.

It was a marvelous night – full of song and laughter and praise. Those times come, even in the mess.

This advent may you cherish the moment that shine extra-bright. May you know the joy of proposing the Lord. May you know – in the depths of your soul – why God is worthy of your praise!

So, I was feeling a little bit like continuing this “in the mess” series of posts might be a cop-out. Like I just wasn’t creative enough to come up with something new.

But then I came across this on my Facebook feed:

And this…

And this…

And I began to feel that God was nudging me to continue thinking about finding Him in the midst of the mess, about how being honest about things feeling like a mess actually honours God (rather than pretending to be ok and have it all together), about how God takes our mess and makes something beautiful out of it.

So you know what? Sure, things are a bit messy right now. But God is here – with me in the thick of it, giving me courage to keep on going, turning the tough moments into beautiful things. Praise God!

This Advent, may you honour God with your honesty. May you be kind and patient with your fellow messy human beings. May you trust that God is making beautiful things out of the tough things. May you be blessed, and may you be a blessing.

In my last post I said that my beginning to Advent was a bit of a mess. Some years are like that. Some years, Advent comes and everything just seems to fall into place perfectly. But some years, things are just a bit out of step, discordant, and I feel like I’m chasing advent instead of experiencing it. Chasing it as it slips away from me – my hand out-stretched, and yet the season remains just beyond my fingertips.

This year is shaping up to be like that. It’s not that anything huge has gone wrong – it’s just that things are slightly out-of-time.

There have already been beautiful moments to celebrate: a great evening at the church during which we ate, decorated and sang carols; a quiet dinner with friends during which we had time to relax and share memories; a project that came out better than I could have hoped.

And yet….and yet, there are other things that just haven’t come together: I’m still trying to finish my own decorating at home (every day I think, “today’s the day!” And every day, the time gets away from me again); this is only the second blog I’ve written (I’d hoped to be at three or four published so far); I joined a group who are doing a devotional during the season and I have yet to begin the readings.

Some things are just – off.

And that’s got me thinking some more about how the Messiah comes in that midst of our mess. How Christmas comes whether or not we get all the things done that we hoped to get done.

I’m thinking of that glorious ending to Dr. Suess’ “How the Grinch Stole Christmas!”:

Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small
Was singing without any presents at all!

He hadn’t stopped Christmas from coming! It came!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!

And the Grinch, with his grinch feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling. “How could it be so?

It came without ribbons! It came without tags!
It came without packages, boxes, or bags!”

He puzzled and puzzed till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.

Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more!

And that is the hope that keeps me grounded in the messiness of a season that isn’t quite coming together: that this season isn’t about getting all the things done perfectly. This season is about God’s incomparable grace!

Grace that meets us in the midst of our mess, in the midst of our brokenness, and makes us a new creation.

This Advent, may you know THAT grace in a deep and personal and healing and hopeful way.

Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan. Sometimes everything falls apart and is a mess. That’s the sort of beginning that this Advent Season has had for me. In the last week alone, I’ve come down with a cold, my father has had surgery, and today – the first Sunday of Advent – was marked by a storm that brought freezing rain, ice pellets and snow to the area. Because of the ‘perfect storm’ of these events, my brother and I were not able to make the trip out to Belleville to celebrate my Mother’s birthday today.

And because of the realities of this season, I won’t get to celebrate Mom’s birthday with her until the end of the month.

Sometimes life is just like that: we make good plans, but other factors get in the way and mess it all up.

On the one hand, I don’t mind admitting to you that I’m frustrated and bummed out to have the beginning of the season messed up like this. On the other hand – I am reminded that our world has not been a perfect one for a very, very long time now. And yet – God hasn’t given up on us. It was into our messy, imperfect, dark world that Jesus was first promised, and then born. The messiah comes into our mess. He meets us here, as imperfect and messy and dark as we are, and he becomes the light that shows us the way.

This is the hope we have in Jesus.

This Advent, may you arise and shine, for your light has come. May you know that the light shines in the darkness and the darkness CANNOT put it out. May you be filled with light, even when the days are dark. May you know that Jesus is the source of that light and His kingdom is everlasting. Amen.

Easter Sunday begins early in these parts. The ministerial gets together to lead a Sonrise Service – a tradition that goes back 50 years, as of this morning.

We awake in the dark and make our various ways up to the top of Centennial Hill in Etobicoke. At the moment of the official sunrise, we begin the service – with readings, hymns and responses, we remember that our Lord lives. And the idea that that which binds us together is eminently stronger than that which separates us, is embodied in our shared worship.

It was a soggy morning on the hill, this morning (so much rain yesterday!!), but it was also so much warmer than last year. There was just the faintest touch of sunrise amidst the clouds at the horizon, but the light of Christ shone in our hearts and showed on the faces of those who gathered.

At 10:30am, at Graceview, we gathered for a joyful resurrection service. The hymns, the scriptures, the chocolate eggs hidden among the pews, the prayers and the joyful presence of faithful followers of Jesus combined for a wonderful, uplifting service (if I do say so myself!).

I cannot imagine what my life would be without my faith. I’m not going to tell you that life is always perfect and I easy – I struggle with difficult days just as much as anyone else. But the joy and certainty I have found in Jesus, the love that he showed by laying down his life for me, the reminder that because He lives, I too shall live… these things are beyond precious to me, and they give me the strength to face the bad days with the hope of better days to come.

My prayer is that you, too, would celebrate this day. That you would know that you are loved more than you could ever know, by someone who died to know you. And that the light of that love would shine, even on your darkest days.

He is risen! He is risen, indeed!

Happy Easter, and God bless you!

As hard as Good Friday is, the Saturday of that first Holy Week was harder. The disciples were in hiding. Their rabbi was dead. Everything they had worked for in the previous years a seemed to have crumbled to dust.

If they could remember, Jesus had told them that this would happen. That he would die, and then rise again. But even though they had seen him work miracles, even though Peter had declared him Messiah, the Son of the Living God, the trauma of his suffering and death was too much. They were overwhelmed and in despair.

They didn’t know the end of the story, the way that you and I do. They didn’t know that in a few short days, he would once again be having breakfast with them on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

We call it Silent Saturday because the scriptures don’t say anything about what happened on the Saturday. All we can do is imagine, and infer from what the Scriptures tell us about the Sunday.

For me, this Saturday has been far from silent. I have spent most of it in solitude (with my dog, whose quiet companionship is always a blessing), preparing for tomorrow’s Easter services. But I have noticed how the world was full of sound. It poured rain for most of the day, and the sound of tired hissing over wet pavement was constant. Around 5pm the rain stopped and we got a little bit of sunshine. Koski and I went for a short walk, and I heard the call of birds, something that always seems louder in springtime. I have noticed how the world is hoeing green again, and people are coming out of their winter hibernation.

The earth is coming back to life. And it is almost time for us to celebrate our risen Lord.

I fell asleep before I could get a blog written for Maundy Thursday. But that is ok. At Graceview we observe Maundy Thursday – the night of the Last Supper – and Good Friday in the same service.

We read through the entire narrative, beginning with the Last Supper and continuing until Jesus breathes his last. We take communion by intimation and at the end of the sermon, everyone gets up and comes to the cross. Last year we placed cards at the foot of the cross. This year, we brought crosses made from the palm branches we had waved on Palm Sunday.

We remembered that we are to weep for the disease of sin that made it necessary for Jesus to sacrifice himself to save us. Jesus is the remedy for our sin. Though his suffering tears at our hearts, we cannot regret what He did for us. We can only regret what we’ve done.

By his winds we are healed. Through his death we are given new and eternal life. Because he bore our sins in his body on the cross, we are forgiven.

Thanks be to Jesus. Thanks be to God.

(Because sometimes CS Lewis says it better than you could, anyway!)