Spreading hope

Hogmanay is filled with reflection
with nostalgic delights and longings
with friends old and new
giving thanks
noticing growth
and acknowledging loss
all with one common theme
- hope for the future.
Causing me to ponder
the privileged life I inhabit
where all of my friends
and contacts
near and far
can enter a new year
buoyed up with optimism
however fragile
and with the confidence
that the future
is, in some measure,
in our hands
and within our sphere
of influence.
In that realisation
comes awareness
that this is not
the experience
of so many
in our world
in our nation
and in our neighbourhood.
May our hope
and our power
and our privilege
bring responsibility
to broker change
to share the love
and to create opportunity
for all those
who enter a new year
with dread
or with the expectation
that nothing good
can come their way.
Blessings shared
are blessings multiplied.
May we light a beacon of hope
for others along the way.



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The slaughter of the innocents

Matthew 2:16-18
The Massacre of the Infants
When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:
“A voice was heard in Ramah,
wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

Survivor's Guilt
Warned in a dream
to escape the wrath of a king
who saw his evil tyranny endangered
his fragile tenure of power threatened
Gods son was bundled up
and smuggled to safety.
But as he grew
surely he and his family
must have encountered
other families
whose homes held a space
that could never be filled
whose hearts nursed a wound
that could never be healed.
Mothers glancing enviously
perhaps even resentfully
at a family complete,
not torn asunder
as was theirs.
Was that another sorrow
for the mother of God to bear?
The knowledge that the child she carried
and delivered into a hostile world
was the cause of searing loss
for others.
And did he learn, as a child,
that his infant body
should have been dashed on a rock?
And when he, too,
child of his mother's womb
endured the agony of a cross
did those families feel avenged?
Or did they know
that justice can never reign
while humans seek power
and while love is bartered
and sold for a pittance?
That the incomprehensible
wrongs of this world
can only be healed
by a divine love
beyond our imagining
Snatched from a manger
and hung on a cross.



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Out of chaos?

Children’s voices plaguing adults
to come and see
before it is even light.
Bleary eyes and befuddled heads
trying to keep track of gifts.
Piles of crumpled wrapping paper
ready for recycling.
Mere hints of the chaos into which
God birthed new hope for the world.
We praise you, O God,
that into a dark world
you birthed glorious light.
We praise you
that you did not delay
until conditions were favourable.
But chose to enter a messy world
not to bring order
but rather to bring love.
We praise you
that still we find you
in all our mess and chaos,
bringing the promise of light and hope,
fulfilled in the birth of a child.



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Christmas Day Worship

We’ve prepared food, unwrapped presents,
pulled some crackers, checked out the TV schedule.
Our day is planned,
busy or quiet,
and now we come to worship, to slot in the Jesus bit.
Then we can get back to our fire sides
and get on with our celebrations.
So accept this our worship, O God,
and make us feel good that we’re here—
for you know what a busy time this is.
Confront us, if you must,
with the reality of our privilege
and of our riches,
but let us put off until at least tomorrow
our desire to share what we have
with the hungry and the homeless
and the grieving and the lonely.
Because today,
we want it to be simply about you.

Pause

We simply can’t avoid it, can we?
Not even for a day.
Still on Christmas Day we find you
in the hungry and the homeless
and the grieving and the lonely.
Still giving yourself
and calling us to be giving too.
Make us midwives today,
birthing your love in the world.
Amen.


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A prayer for Watchnight

Tonight, we will not find you, God,
in high and lofty places,
not even in the heavenly choir of angels,
but instead in the straw of a manger,
kept warm by the breath of cattle,
lulled to sleep by the bleating of lambs.
We will not find you
in the tinsel and stars adorning our trees,
but in the torn and discarded wrappings
that litter our streets,
sleeping in doorways,
covered over by cardboard.
For you came not for the
high and the mighty,
but for the poor and the lowly.
May we stoop down
and look you in the eye,
take your hand and raise you up
and walk beside you through our world,
attuned to what you see
and how you love,
alert to serve you
in those we meet along the way.
Vulnerable God,
be born in our hearts this Christmas,
so that we too can reach out
with vulnerability
to serve our world with love.
Amen.


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Call to worship

With mobile phone in hand
and contacts list at the ready
to share the good news
at the moment it happens—
come and be part
of the greatest Social Networking Revolution:
updating the Facebook status,
priming the Twitter Feed,
the text already written: “It’s a boy!”
It’s an old, old story
freshly edited for today’s world,
and you are part of the story tonight.
Upload your photos of your friends gathered here,
angels and shepherds for now.
Then break into song—
a flash mob right here—
with a message to share with the world:
“Peace on earth!
Goodwill to all.
Tidings of joy for today.
A candle of hope
to light up the dark
as we wait for a new Christmas Day.”



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Birthing God's son

For Mary the mother of God—
no shared moments
with other mums-to-be;
no antenatal classes,
no relaxation or breathing exercises,
no gas and air or epidural,
just the cold reality
of pushing a fragile life
into a hostile world
the way women have done through all the generations.
And what of Joseph?
Was he banished as men folk often are?
Or were his the only
helping hands available?
The only hands to catch the Son of God
as he was evacuated
from the safety of the womb
into a world unprepared for his coming?
And would it be any different today?
Or would God’s son still be born
round the back and out of the way,
visible only to those
who pause and ponder
and kneel down and worship?


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Angels we have heard on high

That rustle in the air?
That's the flapping of angel's wings.
They are gathering
from North and South
and East and West.
They are gathering
to do what angels do-
Carry messages
This message is one
that will change the world
A message that will delight and scare
encourage and threaten
"Unto us a child is born
who will bring
Peace on earth
Goodwill to all"
Today, as in the past,
there are those
who long for that message
to be fulfilled.
There are those
who fear the message
because it brings change.
And there are those
who in their indifference
will not even hear the angel voices.
The angels gather nonetheless
bringing their message
of hope for the world.
How will you hear it today?

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Joseph's song

Mary sings her Magnificat
But where is Joseph's song?
Joseph - portrayed as the quiet bystander
in so many Christmas illustrations
But to do as he did
took courage that wasn't quiet
but more like a roaring lion
protecting its cubs.
To protect Mary
from a harsh religious community
that would have watched her stoned
To protect mother and child
from a threatened regime
that would have them both slaughtered
demanded all the strength and wisdom
and obedience and faithfulness
that a man could possibly give.
A man, used to working with wood
carving out creations
functional and beautiful.
Gathering his tools
and crafting and shaping
with skill and patience
daring to make that first chisel
into raw material
and ploughing on
sure and determined
Such a man was needed by God
to provide a home and a hearth
for the Christ child.
Not a quiet bystander
But a man with a love and a passion
that would not be thwarted
Prepared to marry the mother of God
and father the Son of God.



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The Longest Night

The light shines in the darkness
In the darkness
when masks slip
and grief is allowed to surface
when the chill of loss
burrows its way
into fragile
and vulnerable souls
exposed and bereft
Light whispers:
Love lasts forever.
In the darkness
when memories taunt
instead of comfort
when regrets triumph
over achievements
Light whispers:
Love lasts forever
In the darkness
when confidence wanes
and hope takes flight
and faith is questioned
Light whispers:
Love lasts forever
The light of love
will carry us through
the longest night.

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Getting closer

Trudging along
with wearied step
The weight of the world
balanced on her slender shoulders
Noticing those
she passes
along the way
Other weary travellers
with washed out faces.
Making eye contact
sharing a smile
Small but transforming gifts
that change a day
in an instant
Costing little
but giving much
That gift lies
within us all
is ours to freely give
to make another's day.

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Babies grow up

We all know that parenthood
is about preparation
Preparing our charges
to stand on their own one day
Nurturing and encouraging
Coaching and cajoling
Directing but also leaving space
for choice or cussedness
for growth and distinction
Standing back
but all the while ready
to step in and pick up the pieces
- or not
if that's for the best
for learning comes in many guises
Discernment is tricky
but there is always a plan B
And no amount of preparation
can ever make us ready
to release our charges
into the care of others.
Mary, the mother of Jesus
had all this - and more - to contend with
All those human dimensions
But also the divine complication!
And no amount of warning
could ever guard her heart
to the life upon which
her adult son embarked.
As she gazed with wonder
at her newborn
did she dread the life
she sensed would be his
or did she know
that her son
had a huge part to play
in helping God
take on flesh
And convince the world
that love is born
And Mary, the one chosen to prepare
the Son of God
to bring light, love,hope and peace
into the world
thought every moment worthwhile.

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Plumbing the depths

Black and white
is never quite as it seems
Always there are shades
blurred lines
hidden depths
Stories behind stories
Lives behind headlines
And the glare of light
picks out only a taste
of all that is hidden
beneath the surface
The dangers that lurk
The life that teems
Life rushes past
without pause
Few stop to look
beyond what is visible
to scrape away
the carefully constructed facade
Perhaps fearing what might be discovered
Perhaps already having concluded
that it is of little worth
And so jewels remain
buried deep
concealed
unloved
unappreciated
And we are the poorer
who fail to see
the riches
that are also
a part of
God's marvellous creation.

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Unpredictable

The angels disappear in little groups
to visit the toilets
and compare outfits
just for a change of scene.
The wise men exchanged gifts
with each other
deciding the baby wouldn't need them.
The shepherds, tired of hanging around,
find other uses for their crooks.
And the donkey-
You don't want to know
what the donkey got up to!
Joseph wandered off some time ago
while Mary sits serenely, rocking the crib.
And the twinkling stars are all twinkled out.
Just another Nativity rehearsal!


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In the bleak mid winter

In the bleak midwinter
Syria's children flee
No warmth
No food
No shelter
No aid while under siege
And on and on wars rage
amidst the winter chill
While politicians posture
the children suffer still
King Herod slaughtered innocents
to rid his world of threat
Once more the children
pay the price
their fragile lives beset
with fear and struggle
none should know
God's kingdom not come yet.
And still the Christ Child enters
once more a refugee
crouched down among the children
in the cold and misery
and cries to God in heaven
what difference did it make
to take on flesh
and live on earth
to do this for love's sake.
But with the birth of God's own son
came hope and peace and love
and light to shine in darkness
that has to be enough.
That baby left the manger
and grew in every way
demanding that we follow
and share the love today.
Wherever children suffer
God's right there at the heart
calling all of us
to step up and play our part.


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Advent longings

Transformation

We built a house of dreams
and tiled its roof
with prayers and wishes
dreams and longings
hopes of our hearts
for the world.
Those hopes and dreams
and prayers and longings
join the petitions
of God's people
echoing through
the long corridors of history.
Our House of Dreams
is being transformed
into a stable.
Our prayers are overlaid
with the prayers of God's people
through the ages.
It seems an impossible burden to carry.
It seems as though darkness reigns
in the world today
as it did then.


But then a star appears
shining faintly at first
becoming stronger
dispelling darkness in its path
bringing light into the world
rekindling hope
promising peace
proclaiming that this is the place
where Love will be born.

Right at home

Wouldn't Jesus feel right at home
in our world today?
Being born into a world of darkness
Where people are made homeless
because of war
and oppression
unemployment
and benefits cuts
Where people are hungry
and Food Banks multiply
Where soldiers roam city streets
Where families become refugees
fleeing violence
and corruption
and injustice
Where people long
for something different
for a miracle
that will bring light
into all the darkness
and hope
into despair
and peace
where there is none
and love
that will overcome.
Come, Lord Jesus, Come.


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Along the way...

Half way through Advent,
how much more prepared are we
to welcome the Christ child?
Is there any room
for love to be born?
Can God take on flesh
in our lives?
Or is it better to remain
a theory
kept at a safe distance
for fear of
disrupting our ordered lives?
To be sure
there is danger in the manger
best kept there
out of harms way.
It takes more than a season
to prepare
for such upheaval.
If Gods people were not ready
after centuries of prophets
what makes us think
that we can possibly
be prepared?

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Contrasts

Hotfooting it from a hospital bedside
to a coach load of excited school children
on their way to the pantomime
(Oh no I wasn't - Oh yes I was!)
Singing carols sedately with seniors
then ramping up the tempo
for a Christmas jingle rock
Writing funeral services
and Nativity plays
Reflecting on the donkey and the angel
Being caught up in the mystery
and the romance
the sanitised version of the Incarnation
and the darker reality that needs a PG certification
Planning menus
and food bank donations
Bearing the grief
and spreading the joy
All in a days work
The work of Advent



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Growing pains

For all the distress and upheaval
For all the shunning
and disgrace she incurred
When Mary pushed her son
from her womb
into the waiting arms of the world
in all its darkness
and neediness
was her heart heavy
and her throat tight
and her eyes full of unshed tears?
Especially with her sense of premonition
confirmed by wise men and women
that this boy child
was destined
for a traumatic life?
Did she smile sweetly
and let others share her joy at his birth
while her heart was breaking into pieces?
Did she know that she would travel
from the pain of stigma
through the agony of labour-
(make no mistake
God did not have that covered!)
Did she endure those pains
only to be confronted
with the trauma of a son
who left home early
to be about the business of God,
a son who did not return weekly
with his laundry
or looking for a good feed
but who took to the road
and kept on going,
because Gods business was
a business that involved
itinerant living
hanging out with those labelled losers
and upsetting the institutions of the day
and, ultimately,
involved dying on a cross.
So much more than the normal pain
that assails those who mother a son.
Would she have changed a single thing?
Or is pain and loss simply a part of mothering?


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Fit for a king?

God if you chose today to send your son
where would he be born?
Would it be in the splendour of the city chambers?
The sanitised crèche set up in the square?
The boutique hotel on the corner?
Or the board room in the penthouse suite?
Where would he be born?
Would it be round the back of Gregg's the bakers
just by the refuse containers?
Or on the steps of the railway station
next to the free newspaper stand?
Where would he be born?
And who would see him first?
To whom would you proclaim the good news?
And by what means?
Would the Big Issue sellers
announce it to weary commuters?
Or would the news peal out across the city
from steeple to steeple?
Perhaps the night time revellers in the city
would hear the news whispered
as they wind their way home
and make the detour to worship?
But more than likely, today your people
would be too harassed
and insufficiently interested
to register your birth
and would simply
carry on regardless.


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A time for loss...

"Loss seems so much worse at this time of year.."
Folk often comment in that vein
But I wonder...?
In this advent season
when we long for the light
that comes gently into the world
the light that has never been put out
Isn't this a time when loss
can be accompanied
by hope and peace
and yes - even joy?
The quiet way God
entered the world in love
breathes a warmth
that wraps its way around
our hurts and longings
and reminds us
that still we can know
God with us
in all the darkness
of our world today.



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The peaceable kingdom

Isaiah 11:6,9
The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them...
They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.

This kind of kingdom just seems like an impossible dream in today's world. But this is the season of miracles. Of believing in the impossible.
If we can promote the notion of Santa Claus, why can't we believe in the notion of God's peacable kingdom?
Many have found their own way to make Advent hope and dreams come to fruition - there are encouraging stories of folk using the season to perform miracles of love for one another, to make dreams come true. Peace will come in the same way, when we all bring moments of peace into homes, neighbourhoods and communities.
One of my favourite seasonal films is Polar Express - and these lyrics from its soundtrack:

Children, sleeping.
Snow is softly falling.
Dreams are calling,
Like bells in the distance.
We were dreamers,
Not so long ago.
But one by one, we
All had to grow up.

When it seems the magic slipped away...
We find it all again on Christmas Day.

Believe in what your heart is saying,
Hear the melody that's playing.
There's no time to waste,
There so much to celebrate.
Believe in what you feel inside,
Give your dreams the wings to fly.
You have everything you need, if you just believe.

Trains move quickly
To their journey's end.
Destinations...
Are where we begin again.
Ships go sailing,
Far across the sea.
Trusting starlight,
To get where they need to be.

When it seems that we have lost our way...
We find ourselves again on Christmas Day.

Believe in what your heart is saying,
Hear the melody that's playing
There's no time to waste,
There so much to celebrate.
Believe in what you feel inside,
And give your dreams the wings to fly.
You have everything you need, if you just Believe.

If you just believe.
If you just believe.
If you just believe...just believe...just believe.


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Telling the story

Donkeys, camels, shepherds,sheep
Wise men, inn keepers, angels, stars
All the pieces we've gathered together
to tell the story
It's a story that needs
little embellishment
Amazing as it is
But, somehow, we feel the need
to disguise the starkness,
to dress up the poverty
For the reality
is too much to handle
To see the Christ child born
among the poor
and the oppressed
hidden in the hovels
of today
demands that we confront the reality
that in 2000 years
little has changed.
Today's world needs
God with us
more than ever
And so we continue
wherever
however we can
to tell the story
of God born
among us today.


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Revisionists?

How quickly we rewrite the stories
How completely we "clean up" the memories
Is it a case of not speaking ill of the dead?
Or is it that good deeds and influence
cancel out other misguided actions?
Perhaps it's even forgiveness prompting forgetfulness
Whatever underlies our cleaning up of memories
or our revision of history
we have an amazing ability
to focus on the feel-good
and gloss over
all that is less comfortable.
How often history is rewritten
during Advent
when we glamourise the starkness
of a child born into a dark
and menacing world
When we ignore how difficult
the pressures of the season
become for many estranged families
and isolated people
When we turn a blind eye
to the unreasonable demands
that ensuring Christmas is Merry
places on those grieving
or journeying through unfamiliar
and frightening landscapes.
Whether it be the story of a world leader
or the story of the Incarnation
neither need cleaning up
For both bear testament to Redemption -
The ability of God
to confront the murkiest reality
with the power of love
bringing goodness out of evil
Lighting up the dark
with incredible hope.
Bringing peace against all the odds.
Advent is a time for revision.


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Messy advent

Creativity is not wrought
in well ordered surroundings
or in regimented tidiness
but in chaos
and upset
and mess.
God does not wait
until we have tidied the study
or cleaned up the house
ready for the decorations.
God comes
into the midst
of our upset
and disarray.
And if we dare to imagine
that we can achieve the right conditions
and stop and wait expectantly
Still God will surprise us.
An unmarried mother
A little known town
An out of the way stable
Don't those things teach us anything?
God likes surprises!

Black and white and grey

The landscape of loss looms starkly
draining colour from everything around
Leaching the very soil
Mirrored in sea and sky
It brings a weariness
that is hard to shake off
but burrows in
like a parasite
sapping energy
feeding on melancholy
choking life
out of the brief intervals
of forgetfulness
or distraction
It gathers like a mist
weaving its tendrils
in and around
a city street
Building, building
until obscurity reigns
For a time
For a long time
vision is restricted
to a very narrow horizon
But, eventually, the view is expanded
and, as other shapes hove into view
the landscape begins to take on colour
slowly, gradually,
slightly out of focus.
And a creeping warmth
dispels the chill of loss
like the sun shining softly on the ocean.
The penetration is not complete
but it does make a difference
on the surface
loosening the grip
and softening the blow
until pain recedes
enough to imagine
seeing in colour again.


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The journey

Looking back
into the distance
glimpsing in the wake
the detritus of the ocean.
Imagining in the turmoil
the depths only hinted at
in the churning froth.
Every journey
is filled with discovery -
treasure yet to be uncovered.
lying in wait
for the one who takes the time
to dredge beneath the surface.
to sift the visible
and unearth what is hidden.
The wise leave early
allowing time
to savour the journey
arriving better prepared
at their destination.
But even those of us
who are by nature
last minute voyeurs
are still afforded brief insights
that linger long after
journeys end.


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Waiting

In quiet, subdued anticipation
God is
In frenzied impatience
God is
In joyful, building excitement
God is
And in sinking dragging worry
God is
The agony of waiting
- be it joyful or dreadful
Demands the presence
of the God of infinite wisdom and patience
Who waits beside us
and accompanies us through
every moment
matching our steps
carrying us through
with joyful swoop
or careful compassion.
In every waiting
God is.


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Finding light

The deeper the darkness
the brighter the light shines.
For love refuses
to be extinguished
by despair.
Resilience and hope
cannot be quenched
while the light of love
burns steadily,
fuelled by courage
and by compassion.
Look for the light
and there you will find love.

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