by Christie Purifoy | Dec 10, 2013 | Advent, Church, Home, Jesus, Stories, Uncategorized, Waiting
On the first day of Advent, our church sanctuary was draped in evergreen.
Bare evergreen.
There were no shiny ornaments. There were no red or green ribbons. I looked at those unembellished greens and heard them say, “Not yet. Not yet.”
Our home looks much the same. Undecorated, except for the white pumpkin still sitting on the front steps.
It wasn’t intentional. Thanksgiving turned so quickly to Advent, all in a rush of visiting friends and family, that I couldn’t quite keep up. I found the advent wreath in the basement. The boys circled it with greenery. And that was all.
*
*
The world outside our walls has thrown on the glitz and made room for the glitter and every other year I have been right there keeping time with that fast Christmas beat.
Not this year. Not yet.
For more than a week, I’ve sat with bare branches, four candles, and a pile of Christmas books. Every other year I have rushed to fill in the gaps, to embellish the plain, and to pile on more. This year the Advent cry Come, Lord Jesus, Come has echoed in bare corners and across empty tabletops.
And I have heard something in those echoes. Something that frightens me.
I have heard as if for the first time the story of how God came and his own did not recognize him. Of how he appeared in a story crowded with a greedy empire, an oppressed people, and long-whispered promises of deliverance and restoration. A good story. A true story. And yet …
Living within the density of their story, God’s own people were unprepared for the ways in which God himself would turn the story inside out and upside down. They were unprepared to meet the Truth face to face.
And this is what I have heard echoing in the empty spaces of my house: who am I waiting for? Will I know him when he comes?
*
Year after year, I have rushed to fill the empty space of my fireplace with stockings. I have moved quickly to cover bare branches with ornaments. I have penciled in the calendar; I have filled the closet with gifts.
Year after year, I have greeted the Christmas season with everything I already know and all that I have figured out. I have said Come, Lord Jesus, Come to a face I find comfortingly familiar. A face with no more power to shock.
This year should have been the same, but a severe mercy and a difficult grace intended differently.
Without meaning to, I have decked these halls with empty space.
My prayer today remains the same. Come, Lord Jesus, Come. But this time, emptiness has made way for echoes. Bare corners have left room for the unknown and unseen.
And I prepare to have my world turned upside down by the King whose name I call.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
by Christie Purifoy | Dec 9, 2013 | Advent, Books, God, Jesus, Poetry, Uncategorized
I’ve mentioned this book before. I’m keeping it close this Advent season.
I find it incredible how an old, old form can open my eyes to everything New.
Here is a poem for this, the second Monday of Advent.
O Emmanuel
O come, O come, and be our God-with-us,
O long-sought with-ness for a world without,
O secret seed, O hidden spring of light.
Come to us Wisdom, come unspoken Name,
Come Root, and Key, and King, and holy Flame,
O quickened little wick so tightly curled,
Be folded with us into time and place,
Unfold for us the mystery of grace
And make a womb of all this wounded world.
O heart of heaven beating in the earth,
O tiny hope within our hopelessness,
Come to be born, to bear us to our birth,
To touch a dying world with new-made hands
And make these rags of time our swaddling bands.
– Malcolm Guite, from Sounding the Seasons
by Christie Purifoy | Dec 8, 2013 | Advent, Food, prayer, Uncategorized
The word for this second week of Advent is … prepare.
Let the master of the house wash your feet and hands. Let him wrap you in fine clothes.
He has invited us to feast.
A prayer for the second Sunday of Advent:
Most merciful Lord, your love compels us to come in.
Our hands were unclean, our hearts were unprepared;
we were not fit even to eat the crumbs from under your table.
But you, Lord, are the God of our salvation,
and share your bread with sinners.
So cleanse and feed us with the precious body and blood of your Son,
that he may live in us and we in him;
and that we, with the whole company of Christ,
may sit and eat in your kingdom.
Amen.
(a traditional Anglican prayer)
by Christie Purifoy | Dec 7, 2013 | Advent, Books, Family, Uncategorized
Saturdays are reserved for a peek at the bookshelves which fill so many rooms in this old farmhouse. Books live everywhere here.
This month, this Advent month, I’ll be sharing some of our favorite books for the season. Advent books. Christmas books. Wintery and snowy books. These are books that live most of the year in two big boxes in a third-floor closet. I lug these boxes down two flights of stairs before I ever even look for the Christmas decor.
Mostly, these are books for kids. Or the kid in each of us (a self we simply must indulge this time of year, in my opinion). Quite possibly, these books are loved more by me than by any child in my house. Although, considering the state of it, Jan Brett’s Gingerbread Baby
is well loved by all.
(You can find my full series of book recommendations here, including more information about my personal book review policy and a disclaimer about affiliate links.)
I love Luci Shaw’s Accompanied by Angels: Poems of the Incarnation
year round. I love it especially at Advent.
Shaw’s poems hit that magic mark for me. They are conversational yet lyrical. They are accessible, but they do not give up all of their secrets with one reading. These are poems to return to year after year.
This is a season of serial visions, and a bodily God, / and a sword in the heart. – Luci Shaw
Astrid Lindgren is the Swedish writer best known for her books featuring Pippi Longstocking. Christmas in Noisy Village (Picture Puffin)
, part of a series of picture books about the “noisy children,” is a family favorite. Really, this is the Holy Grail of children’s literature: a book that pleases parents, toddlers, early readers … even my soon-to-be “tween.”
This is a fairly straightforward telling of a child’s Christmas in rural Sweden, but there is magic in realism like this. Gingersnap pigs, an early-morning sleigh ride to church, and gifts of skis and skates.
We have bigger books, funnier books, more spiritual books, but, this time of year, we probably read this book more times than any other. (Bonus recommendation: Lindgren’s The Tomten
is a wintery classic. One of our all-time family favorites.)
‘Everything is so beautiful and Christmasy that it gives me a stomach-ache,’ said Anna.
I’m sad to see that this third recommendation appears to be out-of-print. However, it looks like you should be able to track down a copy without too much trouble. Little One, We Knew You’d Come
is a sentimental favorite of mine. This is the story of the nativity, yes, but it is also a lullaby and a love song for every parent and child.
Sally Lloyd-Jones is well known for The Jesus Storybook Bible: Every Story Whispers His Name
. This is a quieter, more poetic take on the story of Jesus. I’m not sure my children even know it is a book about Jesus. They each think it’s a book about them. And they are right.
Lloyd-Jones beautifully captures the longing and love parents feel for their children. It is the longing felt by all creation for her redeemer.
And every year, we remember you, / Our miracle child, our dreams come true. / Oh, how we thank Heaven for you, / And the day that you were born. – Sally Lloyd-Jones
Lastly, I have one bonus recommendation: Sounding the Seasons
by Malcolm Guite. I’ve mentioned my love for these poems before, but, if possible, I love them even more this time of year.
by Christie Purifoy | Dec 5, 2013 | Advent, God, Music, Uncategorized
A hymn for this, the first Thursday.
“See the Lord of earth and skies; / Humbled to the dust … .”
GLORY be to God on high,
And peace on earth descend!
God comes down, he bows the sky,
And shows himself our friend:
God the invisible appears!
God, the blest, the great I AM,
Sojourns in this vale of tears,
And Jesus is his name.
Him the angels all adored,
Their Maker and their King.
Tidings of their humbled Lord
They now to mortals bring.
Emptied of his majesty,
Of his dazzling glories shorn,
Being’s source begins to be,
And God himself is born!
See the eternal Son of God
A mortal Son of man;
Dwelling in an earthly clod,
Whom heaven cannot contain!
Stand amazed, ye heavens, at this!
See the Lord of earth and skies;
Humbled to the dust he is,
And in a manger lies.
We, the sons of men, rejoice,
The Prince of peace proclaim;
With heaven’s host lift up our voice,
And shout Immanuel’s name:
Knees and hearts to him we bow;
Of our flesh and of our bone,
Jesus is our brother now,
And God is all our own.
– by Charles Wesley
