As I prepared for last night's reflection group I decided to listen to the 'sing-a-long' CD from Merrily to Bethlehem (new edition!).  As I re-read stuff about the emergence of Christmas as a celebration linked to the Roman adaptation of the Persian 'Mithras', with Sol Invicta, just after the winter solstice, I heard a familiar tune, and instinctively started to sing along.  Alas I can't find a sung recording, but the music on an organ, can be heard here:

"Holy Child, how still you lie, safe the manger, soft the hay, faint across the eastern sky breaks the dawn of Christmas day..."

In my mind I was the nine-nearly-ten year-old child at a new school after a house move, who learned this song...

I'm a pretty unsentimental person - or so I like to think - but as I sang along, my voice cracked, tears flowed and I wondered what happened to that little girl...  Life has, on the whole, been good, and I am fortunate to be back in excellent health, with a fulfilling role, and many loving, supportive friends as well as strong family ties.  But forty years... where did they go?

That little girl was ever-so earnest, a stalwart rule-follower, an embryonic follower of Jesus, a model pupil, a big sister... so much has changed, and nothing has changed.

If I'm honest, I'm glad she could not know what her future held, both good and bad, happy and sad.  But in a way I almost miss her... she had an innocence now gone, a warm inclusivity that has been compromised, a sense of social justice lost along the way.

Forty years on, I want to care about (in)justice, I try, and fail, with inclusivity, my discipleship is still faltering and less than I would love it to be.  As for innocence, it feels long gone, facing one's own mortality strips away naivety (not the same as innocence) and forces reality and uncertainty and finitude to be accepted for what they are.

And yet, I still dare hope, still sing the songs, still trust that it is true...

"Holy child, whose birthday brings, shepherds from their fields and fold, angels choirs and Eastern kings, myrrh and frankincense and gold..."

Today it is my turn to post at the 25 Things for Advent blog and as life is busy, and as this is my rest day, I am cross-posting my words.  On this, my blog, I will then add a prayer.

Most mornings I use the Jesuit "Pray As You Go" devotions as a way of preparing myself for the coming day.  Cutting through the temptation to rush straight into the busy-ness of good and, arguably, hopefully, Godly work, it forces me to centre myself.  And it is a gift - someone else has done the work, all I have to do is receive.

I have a funny feeling we aren't so good at that - the receiving.  We are so conditioned that "it is more blessed to give than to receive" that we fail to bless others by allowing them to give to us.

Put like that, our pious endeavours are shown as selfish ambition.  God so-loved the world that God gave... Can we receive?  Will we receive?


If Advent heralds something that's topsy-turvy, maybe it is permissible to overturn a familiar scripture: "freely you have given, now freely received.."

What will I have the grace to receive today?  A compliment?  A smile?  An offer of help?  A conversation?  A hug?

Now here's the thing, God, you allow us to give to you

Faltering prayers and clumsy songs

You delight in our flawed endeavours to love one another

You receive generously are home-made, slightly skew-whiff, ill-drawn, over-glittered, glue-sodden, child-like praises we offer you...

Help us to receive,

First from one another,

Then from you

The beautiful, hand-crafted, personalised, thoughtful, generous, gifts born of love

AMEN

In yesterday's sermon (not one of my finest, it has to be admitted) I noted that in the lectionary gospel reading (Luke 21: 25 - 36) Jesus used a mini-parable in which he equated the new leaves emerging on a fig tree with the inbreaking of God's Kingdom.  I mentioned that throughout scripture plant and tree metaphors are often used in such a way.  As if by confirmation, in the evening service, we had two Isaiah readings (from chapters 11 and 60) each of which used 'tree' imagery.

This morning there is snow on the ground in Glasgow.  When we get snow the defiance of green shoots - the emerging leaves of spring bulbs - through the snow, the imagery becomes very apparent.  The signs are there.  The teeny weeny shoots are breaking through the dark earth.  New buds are forming on stark, bare trees.  The Kingdom of God is becoming... but as yet, you have to look carefully to see it, for its full bloom is not yet.

Maybe we should take a moment today, in the garden, in the park, even at the plant on the window sill, to seek out the tiny signs of emergent growth.

Maybe, too, we should look around us, for the other signs of God's Kingdom - glimpses of grace, mercy and love...

It's hard, Lord God, to spot the signs of new growth

New life

New hope

Hard because we have become so accustomed to looking for

Neon signs

Flashing Lights

Writing on walls

Supernatural intervention

Religious experiences

Open our eyes

Open our minds

Open to hearts

That we might spot

Just one green shoot

Just one tiny bud

And in it, glimspe more of you

Amen.

It has already been a demanding and busy weekend, and in roughly three hours time I lead worship for Advent 1.  To add to my (self-imposed) pressure, I have made a practice of blogging through the penitential seasons of Lent and Advent.  As my cat woke me for the third time this morning (5 a.m., 6 a.m. 7 a.m.) I groaned, rolled out of bed and half wished I was a 'normal' church member who could just dip in and out.  So there you go, that's honesty for you!  Having to come up with some words for today - why, oh why, did I say I'd do this?

Advent Sunday is the beginning of the new liturgical (church) year.  In those churches who use liturgical colours, the green of 'ordinary time' makes way for the purple or violet of the 'penitential' season.  In may churches, Advent wreathes or rings appear, with candles coloured according to diverse scheme... purple, pink & white, red & white, white & red.  We way even begin to set up nativity scenes with Mary and the angel, as a means of building tension and anticipation.

So there is a snese of irony that in many preaching schemes, Advent 1 focuses on the second coming, the eschaton, the end of time (other schemes may centre on 'God's people' or ''the Patriarachs') which is where we will looking today.  Scary, apocalyptic readigns that really ought to disturb rather than comfort us, not because they speak of God zapping the bad guys (I don't think they actually say that) but because they remind us of our own meld of frantic busyness and Kingdom inertia.  Anticipation is not merely 'looking forward to' rather it carries a sense of 'pre-empting' - in the here and now, as the Kingdom slips in by stealth, we are meant to be the signs of hope, of joy, of love, of grace.  Which is flipping hard work when we are racing around doing the stuff of Christmas.

So today, I will force myself to stop, if but for a few moments, to start at the end and think backwards.  because 'end' is not just 'finish', end is also 'telos' or 'goal'.  If we are honest when we pray 'your Kingdom come', then this is the end that shapes our beginning this Advent.

Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as is heaven...

This is the goal, the aim towards which we live and work

This is the fulfillment for which we wait, more of less impatiently

This is the bewildering, mysterious, wonderful, beautiful

Demanding, terrifying, beguiling hope that inspires us to follow you

Lord Jesus Christ.

Maranatha!  Come Lord Christ, and make all things new

AMen.

This afternoon we delivered our knitted sheep to their assorted homes for the next two weeks, but first we visited a nursery who had been invited to join in, so that we could meet the children and show them some of our sheep.  It was amazing!  Really enthusiastic staff who motivated and encouraged their charges, and were as excited as us about the sheep trail.  Around 30-40 children will complete the trail just through that one contact... not counting their older siblings and parents/carers.

Then we began delivering the sheep to the shops.  The ever-so sophisticated young staff young people who worked there became as little children as they selected and fell in love with the sheep they were to host.  Names were chosen (some excellent names it has to be said), posters and trail guides supplied and smiles and laughter all round.  It was evident that they had been waiting all day for this moment!  Indeed, one venue had phoned me to ask when their sheep would arrive!!

I really hope lots of people take part in the trail and have lots of fun.  I hope the shops find it worthwhile.  But this much I know for sure - we have broken down some barriers and built some bridges already.  Every venue participating is thrilled to have been invited to be part of this event, and I like to think that we have shown something of the love of Christ along the way.

As we walked along, my colleague observed "who would have guessed the power of a little knitted sheep"... sentiments not so far removed from the mystery of a God who chose to be born as a peasant child in an outpost of the Roman Empire.

There will be photos - we did get some of the flock before it dispersed (and I suspect will never be restored as a few venues are depserate to keep their sheep permanently!)