Monday, December 1

Advent is a season of searching. You have heard of the promise of “God with us,” and so you set out to find Him. He is coming, and has asked you to meet with Him. This in itself is a strange request (what would God have with you?), one which comes in differing forms. At times He whispers in dreams, at times He writes His invitation in the sky. You have heard it, and have become a stranger on an unknown path, led by a call and a longing.

Take a rest on your journey to read these passages and ponder this question:
Genesis 12:1-4
Hebrews 11:6
Jeremiah 29:11-13
Matthew 7:7-8

In what ways have you heard the voice of God inviting you to set out and follow Him, or felt compelled to search after Him?


~lg

First Sunday of Advent - Strangers and Sojourners

How strange to find yourself in this place tonight. Round the fire, the men warm their hands and faces, pulling their coats tightly to their bodies to keep in the heat. They speak of the earth and the sky and the sheep sleeping nearby. They smell of sheep and of wandering. You are a wanderer too, a stranger in this land, searching for . . . the sound of footsteps catches your ear, and you turn your head quickly away from the fire, peering into the night. You see a robe rustling in the wind, in front of which floats a long stick, drawing the figure closer. Your eyes adjust and suddenly meet with those of an old man. He smiles and stretches out his hands to the fire. The shepherds nod in greeting; they have welcomed many weary travelers on nights such as these. You move over to let the man pass, but he settles onto the ground beside you, folding his limbs into his robe and laying the staff over his knees. He sighs and closes his eyes a moment. You steal a sideways glance at the man, not fully trusting his presence. He is bearded and wrinkled, his face showing the work and weather of many years. You wonder what brought him here, what purpose there could be for such an old man on such a cold night.

“Good evening stranger,” he replies, meeting your sheepish gaze. “What hope was mine when I saw the light on the horizon. I have been traveling many, many hours, and am not from these parts – though I have visited this countryside in years past. But that could have been another lifetime for all the changes I observe now. Are you a stranger here too then?” he asks, gesturing to your clothes and features.

“Yes,” you stammer, for you had not expected conversation tonight. You pause hesitantly, then continue, “I left my hometown some time ago. I was told I would find what I was looking for if I left. But I don't really know where I'm going...” you trail off and let the silence finish the thought.

You are surprised to find the old man chuckling to himself. “Neither did I, neither did I,” he says with a laugh. “I know what it's like to follow a promise, and nothing else. People think you're crazy. You leave behind everything you know and trade it in for a sackful of faith. I bundled all my hopes up on my back and went in search of the promise - an elusive thing to track down at times.” He pauses, gripping his staff in both hands. “But I had to go. Had to.”

You nod earnestly, murmuring in agreement. As one of the shepherds adds brush to the fire, tiny sparks leap into the darkness and then disappear. “What happened to your hopes?” you ask.

“I never lost them, though bandits and kings tried to steal them. They can't take something that isn't meant for their country. As long as I had them, I was different from the rest of those I dwelt among. They kept me a stranger. But as long as I had them, I knew I would keep looking for the promise. I took them from tent to tent, knowing that one day I would trade them in for an inheritance.”

You ponder his words, and though you don't know his story, something of his manner resonates within you. From somewhere in the blackness, a bird calls. Invisible, yet audible. Yes, that's what the call was like. There is no way to prove such a thing, but it grasps your being nonetheless, echoing in every footstep, every fear. It fills you with longing even now. It awakens the hopes that ache to rise up and fly.

The old man stirs beside you, as if with the same restlessness. Again you wonder what brings him to this hillside hollow. “Will you be sojourning here long?” you ask.

Stroking his beard, the stranger lifts his eyes to the sky. “Ah, I've learned I'm not the one to be answering that question.”


~lg

Abraham's Advent: Introduction

Advent is a season that has been celebrated by the Christian church for centuries. Advent means "coming," and in this season we await the coming of Christ, both his first and second advent. It is a time of preparation, expectation and anticipation. In all the busyness and consumerism of our modern Christmas, it is especially important to take a few moments away from the advertising and focus on the spiritual riches of this season. It is my hope that this devotional will be such a means of reflection.

Advent begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas - this year on November 30th - and each Sunday in the devotional is highlighted with a portion of narrative. There is a short thought and Scriptures to ponder each weekday, and a song to sing each Saturday. Even though Advent ends on December 24th, the devotional will run for a full four weeks, until Saturday, December 27th.

This devotional invites you to journey back in time to the hills of Bethlehem. Unpack your imagination and be prepared for a few surprises.

Advent blessings to all,

~lg

"The Color Green"

Another song by Rich Mullins, one I just discovered.

Coming soon to the blog...

Abraham's Advent

A daily devotional for the season of advent, starting Sunday November 30th.
It's something I started writing a few years ago, and this year have finally finished it!

~lg

"If I Stand" (Rich Mullins)

This is a great Rich Mullins tune. There is more out there than meets the eye...

There's more that rises in the morning than the sun
More that shines in the night than just the moon
There's more than just this fire here that keeps me warm
In a shelter that is larger than this room
There's a loyalty that's deeper than mere sentiment
A music higher than the songs that I can sing
The stuff of earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that You will pull me through
And if I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You
If I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
But if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home

There's more that dances on the prairies than the wind
More that pulses in the ocean than the tide
There's a love that is fiercer than the love between friends
More gentle than a mother's when her baby's at her side
There's a loyalty that's deeper than mere sentiment
A music higher than the songs that I can sing
The stuff of earth competes for the allegiance
I owe only to the giver of all good things

So if I stand let me stand on the promise that You will pull me through
And if I can't let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You
If I sing let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs
But if I weep let it be as a man who is longing for his home

Surprised by Cheerfulness

Nope, not joy, just plain cheerfulness. I'm surprised because a simple choice to be cheerful really does make a difference. It doesn't necessarily come from a deep place of joy or anything else profound, but choosing to put a smile on my face, not be grumpy at the grocery store and just make the most of the good stuff certainly makes my day (and everyone else's) go a whole lot better. You don't even have to feel particularly cheerful to start out. Like scales, it's something you can practice, and the more you do it, the easier it gets and the better you sound. Like the old proverb goes, A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones. Cheerfulness is just a nicer way to live.


~lg

how i write

A pumpkin spice candle burns next to my desk. Cold autumn rains wash away the last of the yellow leaves, drum drumming on the roof as background music to my writing. The cat has resumed her sphinx position on the arm of the couch. It is as close as I let her get to the scattered notes on my desk. (In truth, she would be satisfied with nothing less than sprawling out across the keyboard.) The dishes sit dirty on the counter, but I am focused on this screen, imagining a world half a lifetime away, typing words which bring passions and pain out of the past and into my consideration.

FOCUS
i m a g i n e
write
.

~lg

waiting for the snow

I am searching the skies
for the mercy I've found
in the cool winter blanket of snow on the ground

The autumn is fading
and with it the brown,
and the things that I'm tired of hanging around

The power of snow
is one I love best
Its strength is in silence, its beauty in rest

I am searching the skies
for the flurry of white
for the covering of scarlet on a soft winter night

~lg

book list!

When I have finished writing the book I am currently working on (hopefully the first draft will be complete within the next 2 weeks!), these are the books I'm looking forward to reading. They are either books I have bought but haven't got around to reading yet, or textbooks I only got the chance to skim through at Wycliffe :)

• For the Life of the World (Alexander Schmemann) - skimmed through most of this for a systematic theology course, interested in the sacramental theology
  
• At the Heart of the Gospel: Suffering in the Earliest Christian Message (by Wycliffe professor Ann Jervis) - because who doesn't wonder about this?
  
• The Way to Christ (Jacob Boehme) - apparently this was the key to a pneumatology course I took... should have read it a little more closely!
  
• On the Incarnation (St. Athanasius) - just because I loved it and it's a good Christmas read
  
• Mysterious Apocalypse (Arthur Wainwright) - on the way from abebooks!
  
• The Selected Journals of L. M. Montgomery Vol. IV - fascinating look into the life of Canada's most famous authoress

This should make for some good winter reading ahead!


~lg

sifting sands

Abraham, I’m tired. Tired of not knowing, still keeping going, no roots for growing. My roots lie back in the boreal forest, but it’s unlikely I’ll ever return. I’m a tree who hasn’t been planted yet, trying to stay warm in a brown burlap covering. The desert is like a sieve for the soul. All my delusions of grandeur have been sifted through the sand. I have a handful of dreams and ideas, but I don’t know what to do with them anymore. Pack them away in the saddle bags for awhile I guess. I’m afraid they’ll break out here.

And, no offense, but you’re not always the best conversationalist. I’m a little lonely. I envy the Berean caravans that pass by, just out of earshot. Sometimes I talk to the sheep, just so I remember I have a voice. They listen politely, but have a bad habit of wandering just when I get to the good parts. Maybe you could introduce me to some of your friends?


~lg

Redeemed (a short liturgy)

Covered only in shame he cries out
The weight of a thousand offences bending and bruising
And he is redeemed.

Prayers like tears slip from the concentrated anguish
He is alone in his darkness and must be unloved
And he is redeemed.

He shudders at the altar, cold to his crawling skin
Dreading the recognition of self by the holy
And he is redeemed.

Accusations crawl like flies upon the offering
Elijah’s water soon will drown them
And he is redeemed.

Blood spilled before the foundations of the world
A torrent of timeless mercy defeats moments in sin
And he is redeemed.

Sweet purging fire you fell before his cry
You were glory in his darkness
He is redeemed.

~lg

morning poem

The sun makes its way over meadows of hay
And the golden light scatters like rain
The light-thirsty ground welcomes day as it rounds
Past the moon that is starting to wane

Morning calls to wake up and I reach for my cup
Of strong coffee that fires my veins
It gives me a shove t’ward the call from above
And I lift up my eyes once again

There out in the field the secrets concealed
By the night now are shouting my name
The meadow is waking and mine for the taking
Are mercies that brush away shame

I fling open the door and breathe in some more
Of the brilliance that cannot be tamed
Under heaven’s expanse I delight in the dance
That the dawn-drunken sparrows proclaim

A new day is here and there’s nothing to fear
In the sapphire sky there’s no pain
But an endless horizon of hope that is rising
And the golden light scatters like rain

~lg

what is love?

Love is one of the scariest and most difficult teachings of the Christian faith. If you think that talking about love is wishy-washy or warm and fuzzy, then you’re not really talking about love, not God’s kind of love. God’s love is defined by the cross – self-giving till death with no guarantee that you get anything back. And this is how we’re supposed to love each other. Love should be so self-defining to the Christian that the Bible says if you don’t love, you don’t really know God. If you don’t love the way Christ loves, how can you call yourself a Christian? But have you met the other people in my life? I can hardly stand to listen to some of them for more than 30 seconds, let alone lay down my life for them. This is a hard teaching.

The kind of love we’re asked to give to others really is impossible, it’s superhuman. And last time I checked, I’m just a mortal. Ah, but that is the point. This love can’t possibly come from within me. I am incapable of producing it, we all are. Much of the sinfulness of this world comes from this inability. In the absence of love, selfishness takes over, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get to the top, even if it means trampling over others like lemurs on the march. Others are there to serve us, to benefit our plans for a wonderful life, to make us feel important and significant, or at least to get out of our way. This is the darkness in our hearts.

But God tells us real love comes from Him. Love is who He is. And when we encounter and embrace the love of Christ, something new is birthed in us. Our ability to receive is directly related to our ability to give. When love is freely given to us, when it abides in us, it casts out the darkness and fear of our selfish existence. We are freed to love, because we know that even death cannot hinder love’s power.

It is not enough to sing Jesus Loves Me. God’s love is not perfected in us until we love each other. If we claim to follow Christ, we must follow his path. The path of love is always down, its shape is always cruciform, it is always given away. This is how God’s love is completed in us. We don’t understand God’s love by hoarding it. God does not rest satisfied in His own flawless fullness. He rips His very heart out and offers it to us, bleeding on the cross. We learn love by living love.

Many days I am an unwilling pupil. I just don’t want to make the effort. I’d rather stay home and sit on the couch, thank you very much. Love is hard work! Thankfully, the same writer who says if you don’t love others, you don’t know God, also says that if we claim to be without sin we deceive ourselves. Love’s perfection takes practice. And on the days our love falls short, we fall back on God’s unfailing love.

Of course, we are still uneasy about this whole sacrifice thing. Seems a little self-destructive, don’t you think? What if I’m taken advantage of? What if I get burned, or burned out? So far, I haven’t been able to find a passage that says to love only if certain conditions are met, or that we can opt out based on certain well reasoned excuses. Sometimes you will have to love till your heart bleeds, till your hands are blistered, till your head is spinning.

But the beauty of the life of love is that it is designed to be shared. The Christian community should be a well spring of love, where giving and receiving flow naturally so that all are carried on its waves. If we are all loving deeply, we can all drink deeply. This is what true Christian fellowship is all about. This is how we share God’s love, this is how we are perfected as His bride. This is where we find rest for our souls and provision for our needs. This is where daily bread is shared because people are willing to be broken for the sake of their brothers and sisters.

This is also how the world will know we are Christians. If the people in your community were asked to define the Christians in it, would they say that Christians are the people who really love each other? If not, we have a problem. Our love inside the Christian community is directly related to our influence outside the Christian community.

To our selfish hearts, this is scary stuff. But this is real love and real life. This is real God.

~lg

my October

my October

winter's appetizer with the end bitten off
dull and dry
poplar boneyards rattling in the front yard
darkening days

I sat at the window
glass eyes
mourning brown grass

But you came in russet silk
A kiss on the sweet sour wind
You knocked on the back door
And lit the pumpkin lanterns

We roasted the seeds in auburn smoke
Drank cider crushed beneath dancing feet
And slept on a bed of saccharine decay
You gathered love into

my October


~lg