Faint and fleeting, one of the rainbows I witnessed this morning as I walked to and from the univeristy chapel (where it was my turn to lead prayers).  This one I photographed because I had to turn round to see it, and that seemed somehow fitting - a sense of intentionality rather than happenstance.

Perhaps one aspect of the Advent journey is the 'about face,' the choosing to turn and look in a different direction in the hope of glimsping something more.

Among my favourite words in any hymn are these from 'O love that wilt not let me go...'

O joy that seeks for me through pain,

I dare not hide my face from Thee,

I trace the rainbow through the rain,

And feel the promise is not vain,

That morn shall tearless be.

There's a lot of pain in the world at the moment, a lot of hurt and hurting people, a lot of need for hope and glimpses of a brighter tomorrow.

Now, of course, the rain has all dried up, the sky is blue and it's a glorious day... a high speed version/vision of the hope of the rainbow and the hymn, I guess.

I wonder what you make of the image above?  I think these sculptures or babies inside uteri are beautiful.  Created by artist Damien Hirst, and installed at a women's hopsital in Qatar thet are controversial.

A bit like the incarnation, really.

Today, the study guide moves on into what it terms "The First Coming" and focusses on the annunication to Mary.

Here's the prayer offered:

Christ Jesus, as you grew in the womb of Mary, the incarnation began to come about.  As I contemplate the significance and importance of thisd act, expand my understanding of your stepping out of glory, and of your willingness to step into this feeble, restricted form.  Amen.

OK, so today starts with a confession - on my walk nothing really caught me eye, and I was almost home without a photo.  However these pink signs that have recently been added to litter bins always make me smile, if only because they are faintly ridiculous.  "People make Glasgow cleaner" implies that without people it'd be dirtier - which patently isn't true, because it's the people who drop the litter we are gently being told to put in the bin.

Am I permitted to admit that nine years ago I was horrified by the levels of litter I saw in Glasgow?  We have certainly come a long way since then, and people are working to make the city a cleaner place.

Advent as a time of 'cleaning' or 'cleansing' then... identifying and disposing of litter, the detritus of another year, literal or metaphorical, consigned to a bin.  And perhaps a sense of ongoing cleansing too - the practice of binning stuff (poo or paper!) that otherwise spoils our everyday lives.  For me it's an ongoing effort not to internalise 'rubbish': the negative thoughts, feelings and occasionally comments that so readily 'cling'. 

Perhaps I'm back to Hebrews 12 again, and the injunction to rid ourselves of the sin (with the 'softer' definition of shortfalls and missed-marks) that clings. 

Into the bin with negativity - a good sermon to self for a Monday!

Today the reflection on the Lindisfarne gospels Chi Rho image moved out from the detail of the letters to the names written around it, names that are found in the Matthew genelaogy of Jesus.  Cue spooky muisic - I had already planned to do my Advent preaches (and indeed on into the Christmas Season) based on the stories of the women in this genealogy.  The image above is the front cover of a book I bought way back in my Dibley days, and used as a basis for sermon series, and which I will return to this year.  Always good to know that Sophia is active before, around and within me!

Today's prayer:

Cosmic Christ, as I prepare to enter the story of your incarnation, help me to draw to mind those of my own spiritual heritage who inspire me. Thank you for the lives which have been lived for you in the past, and may I live a life of inspiration to others.  Amen.

This afternoon I set of on my walk and realised en route that I hadn't picked up my phone.  I still took the route I had intended, and went to Kelvingrove arriving just in time to nip into the shop to buy a few postcards before the organ recital.

If there was a word for today I think it was 'remembering.' Remembering a childhood visit more than 40 years ago.  Remembering that this was somewhere my Mum and her friends would come.  Remembering other times and other visits with friends of my own.

Advent is also a time of remembering... whether it's our own memories, or the stories that inform our lives, or a mix of the two.  It's about looking back, and about looking forward.  So perhaps a little bit of a nostalgia trip was no bad thing.