An “Ah-ha!” Moment at Epiphany

Do you feel the oddity of still seeing Christmas lights in people’s yards and homes?

Thursday evening my bride and I returned from dining out and swung by a church member’s home to view her exuberant display of Christmas lights and decorations. She lives in a townhouse complex and upon entering the property there was no doubt which house was hers! It stood out in joyful contrast to the drab darkness of every other residence. Blazing from her tiny yard were inflatables, flickering lights, running lights, colored lights, white lights, and flashing lights. A veritable feast of light in the darkness.

My friend assured me that just a few days ago the entire circle was full of lights and decorations but now the only ones shining are hers. Neighbors have asked her why and she has rightly replied, “Because the celebration is just getting started!” I’m sure her answer has brought skeptical looks and shaking heads, but I also imagine it has inspired children to peek through their windows one last time before bed.

The drive through town confirmed this oddity. Gone were the lighted trees on the square. The ginger bread men and the tin soldiers guarding the pharmacy were reassigned to duties in the storage room. The lights on the power poles lining our main street had already been taken down for another year. But wait! There stands venerable Siloam Baptist still bedecked for the season with the word “JOY” shouting out into the silence. But (sigh), right next door was the bank already returned to making loans, counting coins, and cashing checks with no adornment in sight. And then, turning into our driveway, we were greeted by Santa holding high a lantern and the flickering glow of battery powered candles in the windows, welcoming us and beckoning others to “see the light”.

Ephiphany is defined as “a sudden insight or intuitive understanding.” The strangeness of lights on houses that Thursday evening provoked this very response from me. I suddenly understood just how strange followers of Christ must seem to a world held captive in darkness. I also recognized how unavoidably attractive and confrontational this is. The contrast between my friend’s home and those surrounding her was undeniable and stark. Likewise the adorned doors and beautiful bows on the Baptist church sang a different tune than the rest of the town. The eye was immediately drawn to the joyful display. I believe the same is true for those who quietly, faithfully follow Christ.

Jesus said in Matthew 5:14, “You are the light of the world…let your light shine before others, so they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” The apostle Paul picks up this note in his letter to the Philippian church where he says, “prove yourselves to be blameless and guileless, innocent and uncontaminated, children of God without blemish in the midst of a [morally] crooked and [spiritually] perverted generation, among whom you are seen as bright lights [beacons shining out clearly] in the world [of darkness].” (Philippians 2:15, The Amplified Bible).

There is a bit of sadness for me today. I will not deny it. The lights will come down and boxes of decorations will be carried back up the stairs to their closet until Advent rolls around again. But, in an unintentional yet significant action, my bride will leave our flickering candles in the windows just because she likes how they look; I like how they remind me, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)

I leave you with this beautiful meditation on undecorating by my bride’s childhood friend, Dr. Daniel Potts.

UNDECORATING

It’s always a bit embarrassing.
Our tree stays up with a parched throat
‘til needles fly when the heat vent coughs
and neighbors’ trees lie out by the road.

I’m the reason for it, I think, still searching
with my gifts for the Child, expecting
an elusive Epiphany.

Some say Christmas has come.
I say it keeps coming.

In ways, taking down the tree means
packing up the party, throwing out the card,
muting the carol.

Eventually each finger lends its ring.
The dove’s song is silenced.
Elves go into hiding.
Every bell lays down its clapper.
Ribbon rolls up the red carpet
since the New Year has come.

Again I walk the stations of a child.
Nothing seems more sacred
than stories, sounds, and smells of home.

Each ornament is laid to rest
in a mausoleum of memories.
A tree is never known so well
as when it’s taken down.

As the last lid closes,
I think I hear a baby crying.

The Unwise Wise Man

As the decorations begin finding their way out of storage I am reminded of the year in which one of our wise men seemed to make a most un-wise choice. This accidental incident has become an annual exercise in examining my own soul and a sobering reminder of the serious business of standing before a feeding trough full of God.

This particular year found our nativity situated beneath our tree; a fitting place for a visual cue pointing us to the gift of Christ coming in flesh. There was Jesus lying the manger surrounded by Mary, Joseph, the obligatory angel bringing “glad tidings of great joy,” a few rag-tag shepherds with their rag-tag sheep, a donkey, and, of course, the wise men bearing their gifts. Every piece properly placed to show their rapt attention on the marvel in the manger. However, one of the wise men, during the course of placing our own gifts under the tree, or the chance swipe of a dog’s tail or cat’s paw, had turned his back on the Christ child and seemed to be hoarding his gift rather than offering it. The humor of the unplanned diorama quickly faded as I realized the all-too-familiar posture present in my own life.

How often has my intended act of worship become a self-absorbed exercise? How often have I made bold promises and made great sacrifices to bring my best to God only to find my self reluctant to follow through at the very moment I am confronted with the opportunity? How often have I mistrusted the abundance of God’s generosity and have, instead, foolishly trusted in a hoarded handful? The unsettling answer is plainly obvious.

Perhaps you too see the terrible truth in this unintended message from the manger in your own life. Allow me to invite you to join me in a simple, yet deeply meaningful, exercise as you set out your own nativity scene. Each year as I place the wise men, I purposefully turn one with his back to Jesus and leave him for a bit – letting the message once again find its footing in my own life – and then I join him in a repentant motion and turn him, and myself, once again to the manger. I like to imagine the relief and wonder washing over him as he finds in that lowly manger everything he has ever wanted.

Undecorating

It’s always a bit embarrassing.
Our tree stays up with a parched throat
‘til needles fly when the heat vent coughs
and neighbors’ trees lie out by the road.

I’m the reason for it, I think, still searching
with my gifts for the Child, expecting
an elusive Epiphany.

Some say Christmas has come.
I say it keeps coming.

In ways, taking down the tree means
packing up the party, throwing out the card,
muting the carol.

Eventually each finger lends its ring.
The dove’s song is silenced.
Elves go into hiding.
Every bell lays down its clapper.
Ribbon rolls up the red carpet
since the New Year has come.

Again I walk the stations of a child.
Nothing seems more sacred
than stories, sounds, and smells of home.

Each ornament is laid to rest
in a mausoleum of memories.
A tree is never known so well
as when it’s taken down.

As the last lid closes,
I think I hear a baby crying.

—Daniel Potts

Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord – Cyril of Jerusalem

We preach not one advent only of Christ, but a second also, far more glorious than the former. For the former gave a view of His patience; but the latter brings with it the crown of a divine kingdom. For all things, for the most part, are twofold in our Lord Jesus Christ: a twofold generation; one of God, before the ages; and one, of a Virgin, at the close of the ages: His descents twofold; one, the unobserved, like rain on a fleece; and a second His open coming, which is to be. In His former advent, He was wrapped in swaddling clotes in the manger; in His second, He covereth Himself with light as with a garment. In His first coming, He endured the Cross, despising shame; in His second, He comes attended by a host of Angels, receiving glory. We rest not then upon His first advent only, but look also for His second. And as at His first coming we said, “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord,” so will we repeat the same at His second coming; that when with Angels we meet our Master, we may worship Him and say, “Blessed is He that cometh in the Name of the Lord.”

Cyril of Jerusalem (AD 313-386), Catechetical Lectures, Lecture XV

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The Elixir by George Herbert

Teach me, my God and king
In all things Thee to see,
And what I do in anything
To do it as for Thee.

A man that look on glasse
On it may stay his eye:
Or if he pleaseth, through it passe,
And then the heav'n espie.

A servant with this clause
Make drudgerie divine:
Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws
Makes that and th' action fine -

This is the famous stone
That turneth all to gold:
For that which God doth touch and own
Cannot for lesse be told.

Vespers

“Vespers” by Sergei Rachmaninoff is a part of my Advent preparation each year. It’s towering “Alleluia’s” and it’s astonishing basso profundo passages play on my inner sound track right up to the dawning of Christmas light. This piece of Russian Orthodox music grips my soul and draws me to worship. Using only the human voice (it is entirely accapella), Rachmaninoff communicates explosive and irrepressible joy as well as profound and nearly inexpressible sorrow. Completely in Russian, the only words I understand are the “Alleluia’s,” but I comprehed the message and I am moved.

I invite you to get to know this magnificent work inspired by the work of God among us. It will require some effort but you may find an unlooked for treasure by the investment.

You will want the following:

• You can listen to the complete piece on Youtube here. If you can find the performance by the Robert Shaw Festival Singers I commend it to you. In my opinion it is the best of the recordings.
• The only translation/transliteration I have found is here. This aid will help you to enter the message as well as help you to envision the movements of worship.

“O give thanks to the Lord for He is good. Alleluia! For His mercy endureth forever. Alleluia!”

O Emmanuel

by Malcom Guite

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.

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Advent Ponderings and Gleanings

The Lowly Hear First

Jane Tyson Clement

He who has come to men
dwells where we cannot tell
nor sight reveal him,
until the hour has struck
when the small heart does break
with hunger for him;

those who do merit least,
those whom no tongue does praise
the first to know him,
and on the face of the earth
the poorest village street
blossoming for him.

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Christmas by Lieut. Col John B. Beall

Christmas 
by 
Lieut. Col John B. Beall 


Again we greet thee, hallowed Christmas day,
 Another milepost on old Time’s highway.
 A weary way, but why turn back to see 
 The thorny maze through h which our paths have led?
 Let those look back who will; it seems to me
 More wise to “let the dead past bury its dead,”
 Nor view the past with aught of vain regret;
 The night comes not until the sun has set.

 Thus far upon the journey we have come,
 And life and love and joy yet survive;
 The future is before; what though, to some,
 Dire anguish it may bring? To all who live
 Remains the dear prerogative of hope;
 We have the eternal now, and need not grope
 For what is hid behind the veiling clouds;
 Peace lurks in lower vales, life is most fair
 In safe seclusion, far from striving crowds
 Where Hope lies bleeding, stricken by despair.

 To-day lift up the fallen, give good cheer
 To him whose sorrow marks the dying year,
 Recalling how, as shepherd watched by night,
 Behold, a heavenly glory round them shone;
 An angel, pausing in his aerial flight,
 Proclaimed the glorious news – a Saviour born.

 What marvel if the vaulted sky was riven,
 And hallelujahs filled the courts of heaven?
 Glory to God most high, good will to man!
 ‘Twas the blest annunciation ran.

 Ye murmurings of Earth at day’s decease,
 Ye breezes soft, from out the deepening shade,
 Proclaim again the day, bright day of peace,
 And let its spirit all the earth pervade.

From, In Barrack and Field: Poems and Sketches of Army Life, Lieut. Col John B. Beall, 1906

“But now, we had a place.”

This vulnerable bit of storytelling is poignant. Worth the 15 mins to listen.

https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cDovL2ZlZWRzLnRoZW1vdGgub3JnL3RoZW1vdGhwb2RjYXN0/episode/cHJ4XzI0XzlkZjc5ZWE4LTg2NWYtNGZmMy1hZGI3LWUyZmRlNjMzNzQ0Mg?ep=14