Let the Darkness Gather, We’ll Make a Home There
Reimagining Advent :: Week One
Hi friends,
I’m so glad you’re spending part of your Advent here with me. It’s been a few years since I did an Advent-specific devotional series so I’m looking forward to re-entering this space with you all.
A word of warning: I’m not a liturgical purist by any stretch of the imagination. There are a lot of folks who can geek out about this Advent stuff at a frequency only Anglicans can hear but I am of the sloppy, low-church, make-it-up-as-you-go “tradition” so adjust expectations accordingly in regards to traditional themes, passages, lectionaries and the like.
Many churches observe the Sundays of Advent together but this devotional is designed for you to use personally or with your folks.1 I’ll do my best to have it to you near the end of each week in order to make room for all time zones to have this in time for the Sundays of Advent.
All right, let’s begin…
Secret Field Notes Podcast Alert
You can listen to me read this essay for you as part of The Secret Field Notes Podcast, Episode 31. (This is a private podcast feed of occasional Field Notes essays for paid subscribers.)
Introduction
This is the first part in a series of Advent Sunday night meditations for paid subscribers to Field Notes. It includes scripture selections, a brand new meditation, practices to consider, and reflection questions for conversation or journalling. Advent is the Church’s way of observing and remembering, of marking the truth we believe that God came to be with us once, and God is still with us, and God is coming again to set all things right. Tonight Christians all around the world – in churches and in homes, in refugee camps and on the streets, alone or together – light the first candle to open Advent.
Opening Prayer
Creator, Saviour, Spirit, here we are.
We’re trying. We’re showing up. We’re hoping that you will meet with us here or we’ll notice where you’re already at work. We’ve bringing so much with us: exhaustion, anger, doubt, weariness, hope, joy, faith, sometimes all at once. And together we’re going to sit down for just a minute. We want to rest in your love. We want to believe. We want to experience that elusive thrill of hope again - or maybe for the first time. Crack open the locked doors in our hearts for the fresh wind of your Spirit to sweep in again. We’re open to being surprised. We think.
Help us to open our hands and our hearts. Help us to bear witness to your steadfast love. Help us to know your grace and goodness, your welcome and your hope. Help us to turn towards the light. Help us to not grow weary in doing good. Help us learn how to dance in the darkness, to wait well, and to hear the thrum of love under all the tasks and tragedies of our days.
Basically God, help. Help, help, help.
As we enter into this space, we light this candle for Hope.
May your stubborn hope catch light in our own hearts tonight.
(inhale and exhale, light your first candle, sit in silence for a moment)
“I’m homesick—longing for your salvation; I’m waiting for your word of hope. My eyes grow heavy watching for some sign of your promise; how long must I wait for your comfort? There’s smoke in my eyes—they burn and water, but I keep a steady gaze on the instructions you post. How long do I have to put up with all this? … but I haven’t relaxed my grip on your counsel. In your great love revive me so I can alertly obey your every word.” - excerpted from Psalm 119:81-88, The Message paraphrase
“But God’s not finished. He’s waiting around to be gracious to you. He’s gathering strength to show mercy to you. God takes the time to do everything right—everything. Those who wait around for him are the lucky ones.” - Isaiah 30:18