Advent 2012 (Third Saturday)

off on a bike ride

 

Christmas Bells

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along the unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head:
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth he sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

Till, ringing singing, on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men!

 

–          Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

 

Advent 2012 (Third Wednesday)

yellow bus

 

I met Amy at The Festival of Faith and Writing in Michigan last spring. During a five minute chat, we discovered we’d attended the same college, attended the same college-town church, majored in English lit., and had recently found ourselves at home in episcopal churches. Needless to say, we kept in touch.

I’m delighted to share this advent story at Amy’s place today:

 

I know that Advent should include repentance. In fact, repentance is supposed to be an integral part of any advent observance. The idea, I think, is that we must prepare ourselves to receive Christ.

I’ve mostly avoided thinking about it.

I far prefer to meditate on ideas like wonder or anticipation.

If I think much about sin at all it’s to imagine the sin out there. For instance, the dark injustice of human trafficking or the world orphan crisis.

I’d rather not confront the darkness in my own heart.

Until the parents of twenty first-graders walked into a nightmare.

You can read the rest of the story here. While you’re there, check out Amy’s own beautiful advent series. Like me, she’s posting every day this season.

Advent 2012 (Second Friday)

DSC_7467_1bw

 

“When God seems silent and our prayers go unanswered, the overwhelming temptation is to leave the story – to walk out of the desert and attempt to create a normal life. But when we persist in a spiritual vacuum, when we hang in there during ambiguity, we get to know God.”

– Paul E. Miller, A Praying Life

 

Explore the growing collection of Advent imagery here.

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Advent 2012 (Second Tuesday)

in lancaster county, pa

 

I drive around and keep hearing these words from Christina Rossetti’s Christmas poem: “in the bleak midwinter.” They seem to fit the landscape this time of year.

Bare trees. White barns. Grey silos. Black laundry flapping on the clothesline at every Amish farm.

I’m trying to figure out why I love it so much. Why does this place feel like home when the palm trees and turquoise water of a backyard-pool never did?

I love the melancholy, the shadowy, the bittersweet. Hot tea, dark chocolate, sad songs. Always have.

It may sound as if I love darkness, but I don’t actually think that’s the truth.

I love the light, but light always shows up best in a dark room. Candlelight. Starlight. The light of a full moon. It is as if we must have both light and darkness together, side by side, in order to glimpse the Story.

“In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:4-5).

That is a very good story (and I love a good story most of all).

 

Explore the growing collection of Advent imagery here.

Click here to subscribe to There is a River and here to connect with There is a River on facebook.

 

 

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