Usually at the beginning of the year, one thinks about resolutions for the New Year. This is not a bad thing, but it is not what I want to do with this post. I want to reflect back on the past year and think about all the people that have loved me or have loved my family. This kind of reflection is helpful in giving me a sound mind as I enter a new year, and it will give me good reason to celebrate love in this COVID world. 

The first person I would like to share about is the teacher/mother that lives down the road from me. We swam together quite a bit last fall. I did not have class on Monday unitl 12:00, so I decided to join her when she was talking about swimming pools this past summer. She took me a pool up in the hills that I remember going to years ago. We swam, and I fell in love with being in the pool. I love the water on my face, the not-so-strong smell of the chlorine, the other swimmers, and I love being around my friend. A number of laps of breast stroke puts me in a great mood. Love swims, so to speak.

I love that fact that she has a child that she mothers in a way I can relate to. In fact, we have gone on many outings with her child and my boys. Swimming, the zoo, movies in her home, chit-chats over coffee. I can relate to her in so many different ways. 

It may be the fact that she personifies Canadian Prairie hospitality, but really it is just her and her way. She is kind, loyal, and overly generous.

Another friend who has expressed love beyond measure is the person I make cookies with every winter close to Christmas. It is our annual tradition. It started years ago when we were in a Bible study together. Near the end of the study, she shared about an orphanage that she was volunteering at. She wanted to bake cookies for 40 orphans, and she thought she could do that in a little toaster oven! I was reflecting on my rather large kitchen in that moment and wanted to share it with people who would appreciate it. I offered to host a cookie baking party, she accepted, and the whole Bible study came over to my place to bake cookies that year. That was about 15 years ago. 

We still make cookies once a year, but the conditions are a little different. We are the only two of the original group who are left. Everyone else has moved out of the country for different reasons. We now bake for the Christmas pleasure of it. I love the smell of cinnamon and apples, banana bread, and cranberry and white chocolate chip cookies. Another important aspect of this is the chili I make for lunch. I have a special spice blend that goes into the chili that my friend appreciates, and she has tried to duplicate it. We eat the chili with my boys googling over warm buns and butter, and then we bake.
We have done other things in other seasons. One autumn day, I took the boys to Kongju (this means princess in Korean but it is the name of a town) and she showed us an art gallery in the woods. The boys had a great time visiting all different kinds of tree houses in this natural setting. We have also had meals in Kongju, visited parks, and have gone for walks. It’s a quiet place and very natural in its beauty. When I think of Kongju, I think of Lisa and her smile that brightens up a room.

I would also like to honor my Korean office mate, Chung Eun. She was hired about 10 years ago. I had a running joke at the time that her desk was cursed. There had been a number of English professors who had just not lasted, working from 4 months to a whole year. Chung Eun has an easy smile and a great disposition. She also loves to talk. We became friendly immediately. 

Right before COVID started, she congratulated me on the book that I had written, The Giver. She said that she thought it was impressive that I had written a book while working on a Masters in Education. I just smiled when she said that because I had not quite connected the dots the way she had. I knew I was extremely tired.

About two years later, right before Christmas, I was able to give her a copy of the book I wrote. She again said that it was impressive that I had written a book that was useful for Sunday School teachers, not about teaching English. Of course, for me, it all runs or comes together after a while.  

She gave me a lovely 3D Christmas card. The card sits at my desk. Santa Claus is sitting in his sleigh and the reindeer pop out. It is absolutely gorgeous!

When I took Justin, my oldest son, to university the other day, she was very kind. She bought him some coffee and a muffin. She said that he looked cool, and that he would be popular with the girls in university. I kind of laughed when she said that. 

Of course, I need to end this by talking about my family. The boys are great. They help me carry in groceries, give me hugs to keep me going, and say ‘I love you’ when I am exhausted. I love to see their smiles. 

My husband deserves an honorable mention as well. We went to Outback Steakhouse on Wednesday in honor of Aidan’s graduation from elementary school. With the COVID restrictions, social gatherings have been reduced to families of four, and you have to prove that you all live at the same address. My husband spent about 30 minutes arguing with the manager in Korean, and then with City Hall, attempting to get them to realize that this policy is unkind to foreigners and to large families. Justin spent a bit of time explaining President Moon JaeIn’s policies to me. I was just about to give up on the whole thing when we were called back into the restaurant. We had a good meal that day. Hansung celebrated by taking himself to the hospital in Daejeon to find the results from a blood test he had taken a few weeks before. I would have just slept when I came home, but I am not him.
​
Love is very diverse when you think about. It brings clarity and comfort. It can feel like a warm blanket covering you up in winter. Love can be full of activity, or it can be a moment when you realize that someone has gone out of their way to protect you. The bottom line is that love makes sacrifices for your benefit. 

It is the beginning of Advent.
Advent is Latin.
It means coming.
Who is coming? 

Jesus is coming.
A baby born to save the world. A baby who is God.
He shows up in a fetal ball.
He who carved out the universe curved Himself into a fetal ball in the dark. He tethered himself into the uterine wall of a virgin, and let His cells collide, light splitting all white.
He gave up the heavens that were not big enough to contain him and let Himself be held in a a hand.
Thi is a mystery.
He became a baby so small, and an infinite God became infant.

The Giver becomes the Gift.

He has a a heart beating in the chest cavity of a held child.
His hearts beats hope, change, love - the whole planet has been spinning round waiting for Him.

Advent. 
Jesus is coming. 
When you open the Bible and read of his coming,
you first read of His genealogy. 
The gift starts to upwrap itself.
You know the stories of Christ’ family tree.
You need His geneaology.
The branches of His family, the love story of His heart
that has been coming for you since the beginning.

And you think about your own family.
Family matters.
Family gives you context and origin gives you understanding.
The family tree of Christ gives you hope.

There are women in His family tree.
Four broken women who felt like they were outsiders.
Women who were tired of being taken advantage of.
Who wants to go unnoticed, uncherished, and unappreciated?
Women who thought about giving up. 
Christ claims that those who are wondering
and wandering and wounded are His. 
Christ grabs you into His family tree, His line, His story, His heart,
and he gives you His Name, His lineage, his righteousness.
Christ gives you grace.
Is there a greater gift?

This is a love story unlike any other.
It’s a love story that has been coming for you since the beginning of time. 
You can miss it.
You can brush past this gift.
You can rush through it.
You can not see how it comes for you over the edges of everything.
Every page in Scripture has been waiting, reaching, coming for you.
You could wake up on Christmas
and only see
that you did not take the whole of the Gift.
Christ gives you grace.

Advent. 
Jesus is coming. 
Christ gives you grace.

Waiting for the coming of the Lord in the manger
who made himself bread for us who are starved.
Watiing for the Savior in swaddling clothes who later wears clothes of Righteousness for those who are worn out.
Christ brings in Christmas.
Without rushing, without pushing.
He is here.
Mark this waiting.
Mark this art in your life.
Mark Advent with a counting.
It’s a way of staying awake and not missing anything. 

The first Sunday of Advent I read of covenant keeping, promise-keeping God. 
“Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot -
yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root…
Is that the day the heir to David’s throne will
become a banner of salvation to the world.
The nations will rally to him,
and the hand where he lives
will be a glorious place” (Isaiah 11:1, 10).

It changes us.
It changes our hearts. 
Out of the stump of hearts…
Miracles will grow within, open slowly, bear fruit. 
Our hearts will make time and space for Him
to come to a beautiful, glorious place.
A place of sheer, readiant defiance
in the face of the world careening mad and stressed.

Advent. 
Jesus is coming. 
Christ gives you grace.

We will listen to Old Testament stories.
We will imagine the branches of the family tree of Christ
all the way back from Adam.
Each story points to Christ, the relief, the incarnation of God.

Advent. 
Jesus is coming. 
Christ gives you grace.

He is the exquisite gift cut and given for us.
Broken.
He is the Gift who hung on a tree for us.
The Gift who was pierced for you,
wounded and willing. 
He unfolds himself on the tree
​of your endless, greatest Gift.
​

Advent is here! We are waiting for God to come down and bear witness to the world. We are waiting for God to heal a broken world with his love and grace. We are waiting for God to pick up the pieces of our lives and and make something beautiful out of it all.

Advent really is a curious season. Originally, it was intended to slow us down. It was supposed to parallel Lent with its build up to Easter. In Lent, we become more somber, reflecting on how we are not worthy of the gift, and yet, he comes! Advent is like that. We are supposed to slow down, reflect, and enjoy each other’s company. Yes, we are supposed to slow down.

How can we do it? How should we slow down? I have three children, a full-time teaching job, and blog on here at least once a week. I also have a number of invitations that will keep me more than busy this Advent season. But I will slow down. 

First, I will light a candle. Don’t you love the light that the candle gives? It’s just enough in a dark room. It glows, giving off a warm, inviting light. It’s my invitation to slow down.

Second, I will read. I will read scripture to my boys. We will read it together as a family and I will tell them what it means. This is our family bonding time in the early evenings, and it forces us to slow down. We take in the words, and they learn new vocabulary. It will give them a vocabulary of faith. We are mysteriously joined with other people of faith and with the many people who came before us. Shared faith. It slows us down.

Third, we will hang an ornament on the tree each evening. The ornaments represent different Bible stories. This week we did the creation of the world, mankind’s sin, the Tower of Babel, and other Old Testament stories. These stories are the stories that will being healing. Eventually, we will get to the reading about Christ’s birth and all that it means. This slows us down. All those pictures will be a mosaic on our tree that points up to the star on top. The star that represents God telling us about the birth of his son. A complete picture. A slowing halt to the true story. 

Fourth, we will read again. Not scripture, but Christmas stories. We have many and the boys will pick one every evening that is carefully wrapped up. I want them to know it’s a treasure they will unfold. A slowing down to notice the beauty in a story. Thee boys will listen to the words which all highlight some part of the Christmas story. The Christmas Miracle of Jonathon Toomey and Song of the Stars both show aspects of slowing down and noticing. I look forward to the stories. I look forward to slowing down.

Fifth, we will say a little prayer. God loves to hear from us. And I love to hear from him. Listening to God is what we all want in this season. I want to feel wrapped in his love. I want to feel and know He is God. I want to know He holds everything in the palm of his hand.

Advent is about Christ. It’s about Christ’s coming. It’s about slowing down, waiting for the baby, and understanding those same stars that we all sleep under are the same stars He made. It’s waiting and knowing that He comes as a baby to feel and understand everything we go through. It’s about God’s love for us.
​

Pastor Graham Higson spoke of God with us in church this month. We know God is with us and we take it for granted. He said that the idea of God with us should thrill us to our toes. It got me thinking about the Christmas story again. Here it is from the Angel's perspective...

To say that His birth was opposed is to touch the limits of mortal language.  The mighty one has been hated since the pride of the bright one led many away. Your world war comes close, but even then, believe me, you have no idea.

We sang that night as we had never sung before. Those shepherds believed they were the primary audience. True, they were important — the Mighty One has always favored the lowly. But there was much going on that night. The other reason we sang in the fields was to hallow the ground where Rachel would weep over her sons. There the graves would be dug, the graves for the little boys of Bethlehem. 

Herod’s rage soon stripped dozens of firstborns from the breasts of their mothers. Those so fresh from heaven, so quickly silenced. Slaughtered like animals. So much blood...

The town had no room for Mary, and Herod’s heart had no room for another king.  He would not share his glory.

Although we do not exist in time, there are moments when the affairs of earth are hard to endure. Even Angels desire vengeance. 

“Vengeance is Mine,” declared the Mighty One. “Justice is coming. I need you to sing.”

And so we sang. What the shepherds heard as an anthem the innocents would hear as a lullaby. We sang as we had never sang before. A song to bring Him safely into the world, a song to guide them safely from it, and a song to help Mary endure it:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,                            
Fly, fly to the breast of the Father,                                    
This wrong will be righted,    
Jesus is here,                     
Peace to all men and women on earth                              
who please Him.                  
Rest, rest in the arms of the Father,                                 
His fury remembers,               
His love holds you dear.  

Many do not sing of this horror at Christmas. That is understandable; it was an unspeakable deed. But I remind you that His birth was opposed. You have no idea.

(Adapted from Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas by John Blasé)

The winds were scornful,
Passing by;
And gathering Angels
Wondered why
A burdened Mother
Did not mind
That only animals
Were kind.
For who in all the world
Could guess
That God would search out
Loneliness.
~Sr. M. Chrysostom, O.S.B. “The Stable” from Mary Immaculate: God’s Mother and Mine Marist Press, 1946.

Jesus is God’s wounded healer: through his wounds we are healed. Jesus’ suffering and death brought joy and life. His humiliation brought glory; his rejection brought a community of love. As followers of Jesus we can also allow our wounds to bring healing to others.
Our own experience with loneliness, depression, and fear can become a gift for others, especially when we have received good care. As long as our wounds are open and bleeding, we scare others away. But after someone has carefully tended to our wounds, they no longer frighten us or others….We have to trust that our own bandaged wounds will allow us to listen to others with our whole being. That is healing.
— Henri Nouwen from Bread for the Journey

Home, it's said,
is the weightiest word
in any language--
one syllable with a density
impossible to deny
or quantify.
 
You, Jesus,
chose displacement
that we might know
at- home-ness--
chose absence from
your joy of Three
that we might
have it, too.
 
You left your home
to build for us
a home that cannot 

be destroyed:
peaceful...
protected...
permanent...
true.
 
All praises be to You.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons.
Galatians 4:4-5 ESV

Merry Christmas and a beautiful winter season!  May you see Him everywhere!

Happy Advent and Merry Christmas!

I came across this quote by G.K. Chesterton in blog post I was reading earlier this week. 

A mass of legend and literature, which increase and will never end, has repeated and rung the changes on that single paradox:

that the hands that had made the sun and stars were too small to reach the huge heads of the cattle.

Upon this paradox, we might almost say upon this jest, all the literature of our faith is founded...

I mean that all the eyes of wonder and worship which had been turned outwards to the largest thing were no turned inward to the smallest...

It is true that the spiritual spiral henceforward works inwards instead of outwards, and in that sense is centripetal and not centrifugal.

The faith becomes, in more ways than one, a religion of little things.

- G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man

We are about half through Advent and it really is a religion of small or little things. I think Chesterton should have added that it is about difficult things. It's about celebrating the difficult choices. God came down. Mary said yes. Joseph said yes. The shepherds went to find Him. The Wise Men went to find him. It is beauty in the midst of chaos. It's subversive.

There are Christmas lights shaped like a tree around Jochiwon train station. The squalor and dirt are there but so is this tree shape. This defiant shape stands in contrast to its surroundings. It's beautiful in the midst of Jochiwon traffic and the swarms of moving people. 

I want to be like that tree. I want to be a light in a dark place. I want to be like Mary and Joseph who said yes to the difficult and miraculous thing put before them.

In a world where people choose self-centered lives, where ugly things happen, where sin seems to spread unchecked, where daily assaults take their toll, we need to be able to point to the defiant beauty of a selfless life. We need seek the kingdom of God first. We need to put others first. In this way, we can proclaim the transcendent truth of something great than ourselves. 
​
We need to do more than just say Merry Christmas...

We need to say Merry Christmas and remember what the words actually mean. We’ve forgotten the weight that those words carry. We are saying we also unite with him in his death, his resurrection, and his call to make disciples.

If we really mean “Merry Christmas,” it will cost us something. It may cost us everything.

But am I really willing to make myself uncomfortable for the sake of the gospel?

I say “Merry Christmas,” yet I turn against Jesus again and again, forgetful and unrepentant, and twisted in my thinking. I lose my focus at Christmas. I spend more time with books than with Scripture. Don’t forgive like I should. Demand my own way. Stomp my feet. Get really bossy with God. Doubt. 

Man, have I doubted Him.

Christmas is not a greeting at the store.

Christmas is not a political platform.

Christmas — real Christmas — is not a political party, a certain set of traditions, a tree, a pile of gifts.

​It is not a happy little feeling for an hour at the church.

Christmas is all about Jesus. And it’s positively dangerous. in that we are owning the name associated with a holy God and His only Son. This alone should cause me to kneel — or fall flat on my face.

Here’s what Christmas really is:

Christmas is pick up your cross and follow,
and spend yourself on behalf of the hungry,
and act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with your God.
It is The Way of the contrite and broken.
It is not my will, but Thine be done.
It is “blessed are the poor in spirit,”
and a rejoicing in our suffering.

It is salt and light and fruit of the Spirit.

It is "prepare him room!"

It’s a cup and broken bread.

It is the belief that Christ is our only hope, that heaven is our future home, and that we get to do His work right here, today, before we go there, someday.

Christmas is not a word for your greeting card, but a way to wrap your whole life around a cup and a cross.

It’s not an empty promise for prosperity, but investing our very lives in each other because of an empty tomb.

Merry Christmas is happily agreeing to “love your neighbor as yourself” — even when your neighbor looks an awful lot like your enemy, or someone who doesn’t believe the same things you do. Christmas also commands this: “Go and make disciples.”

It is a walk on water, hyssop on the lips, and a belief that Christ is the central figure of the most radical story to hit planet Earth.

Christmas believes that an enemy prowls, but that a King wins – that the battle isn’t over, but the war is already won.

I won’t deny it: Christmas People believe in crazy things. We believe that God’s Son descended from Heaven to Earth, not so we can have a party on December 25. But so He could die a horrific death and carry people’s sins away.

It’s scandalous, isn’t it?

Scripture whispers that scandalous truth that Jesus wants our ragged, rule-breaking hearts, these hearts that have spurned Him. There’s a word for it: grace. These are the foolish ways of the Christmas People. And so, then, I shall be a fool among them.

Today, I say to you with all the boldness I can muster: “Merry Christmas.”

And when those words cross my lips, I don’t even know the half of it.

​I don’t really know how much it cost my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Someday, I will.

Until then, I’ll say it to you, and I’ll say it out loud for the sake of the gospel:
Merry Christmas.

The Light of the World stepped down into our darkness.

And that changed everything.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

I have been counting gifts for over two years now.  I started this on Christmas day two years ago after reading Ann Voskamp's '1000 Gifts'.  With my whole heart, I endorse both reading her book and counting your own gifts over the next year.  Let's celebrate life and all of its beauty together.

Highlights from this month's list of gifts have been very special.  I saw some birds sitting on a snow covered tree singing praises (similar to the picture above).  My sons smiling and laughing are always good to boost my spirit.  My husband's thoughtfulness of a hot water bottle on my aching back.  Playful 'talks' with the baby.  Good meals with family and friends.  

Have you noticed that these things are not big?  These gifts are small things that warmed my heart, caught my attention, and let me notice the beauty in the everyday things.  What richness!

This is not to say that life is always good.  Sometimes I am amazed and paralyzed by my inadequacies, weaknesses, and attitude.  But isn't this the point?  When I can only see myself, I need to look around me to see goodness, light, love, and God.

Christmas day is a yearly reminder that God is with us.  He was born in a barn filled with mud, muck, hay, pigs, and other animals.  He reaches down into our messy, mud-filled lives and does His best to get our attention.  

The beauty of this that I don't fully grasp is that He has chosen me.  Me?  My shame and inadequacies as a mother, wife, teacher, lover, friend, writer, cook, and occasionally, an artist, He knows me very well.  He changes me.  As I count gifts, as I become more and more grateful for life around me.  He transforms me.  He is filling me with love, light, patience, and grace.  He is with me.

Isn't that the point of Christmas? God is with us.

He is with me as I count gifts, struggle with students, interact with my kids, talk to my husband, bake muffins, take walks, and live life!  He is with me.  Just. Waiting. For.  Me.  To.  Notice. Him.  He is here.

He is.

To say that His birth was opposed is to touch the limits of mortal language.  The mighty one has been hated since the pride of the bright one led many away.  Your world war comes close, but even then, believe me, you have no idea.

We sang that night as we had never sung before.  Those shepherds believed they were the primary audience.  True, they were important — the Mighty One has always favored the lowly.  But there was much going on that night.  The other reason we sang in the fields was to hallow the ground where Rachel would weep over her sons.  There the graves would be dug, the graves for the little boys of Bethlehem. 

Herod’s rage soon stripped dozens of firstborns from the breasts of their mothers.  Those so fresh from heaven, so quickly silenced.  Slaughtered like animals.  So much blood.

The town had no room for Mary, and Herod’s heart had no room for another king.  He would not share his glory.

Although we do not exist in time, there are moments when the affairs of earth are hard to endure.  Even Angels desire vengeance. 

“Vengeance is Mine,” declared the Mighty One.  “Justice is coming.  I need you to sing.”

And so we sang. What the shepherds heard as an anthem the innocents would hear as a lullaby.  We sang as we had never sang before. A song to bring Him safely into the world, a song to guide them safely from it, and a song to help Mary endure it:

Glory to God in the heavenly heights,                             
Fly, fly to the breast of the Father,                                     
This wrong will be righted,     
Jesus is here,                      
Peace to all men and women on earth                               
who please Him.                   
Rest, rest in the arms of the Father,                                  
His fury remembers,                
His love holds you dear.   

Many do not sing of this horror at Christmas.  That is understandable; it was an unspeakable deed.  But I remind you that His birth was opposed.  You have no idea.

(This version of the Christmas Story has been adapted from Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas by John Blasé)