A New Way

For all my years of Advent reflections, I haven’t thought much about the difference between each Gospel writers’ Nativity account. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were all different people, with their own literary agendas and gifts of observation. But something I recently re-read in Kelley Nikondeha's The First Advent in Palestine drew my attention to one of God’s providential parallels.

Nikondeha argues that Luke’s Gospel account gives us a “window into the Advent economy and environment”—the Galilean world in which Mary, Joseph, the shepherds lived. On the other hand, “Matthew shows us what that economy looked like through an understanding of one person's rule: that of Herod.” (p. 100).

If you know anything about King Herod, he was essentially a puppet king. Probably not even Jewish by birth, he was appointed by Rome to preside over all of Judea. As such, his reign was marked with heavy taxation, for the sake of Rome’s infamous infrastructure and his own private coffers.

This is the economic and political power into which infant Jesus would be born. But before we get to that, Matthew paints a picture of another power structure—the patriarchs and revered forefathers of the faith, the ones whose lives all pointed as archetypes of Christ. Over and over again, God referred to these greats and said: One is coming who is greater than he. Greater than Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; greater than Moses or Joshua; greater than Joseph, Jesse, David and Solomon. And so much greater than Herod.

It had been millennia since God’s people walked solely by faith and trust in an economy of love and goodness. Not since the Garden of Eden had humans been free from transactional grace with God. But Matthew shows us that a Messiah is coming from the very line that began in Eden. Not only that, but He would come to make all things new. God’s people would not need to answer to the Roman/Herodian economy of tyranny and wealth as the highest authority much longer.

Not only was God’s plan to bring a new “ruler” into the mix, but the ways of connecting, encouraging, loving, and following Him were about to change.

Isaiah prophesied about it in chapter 43:

16 Thus says the Lord,
    who makes a way in the sea,
    a path in the mighty waters,
17 who brings forth chariot and horse,
    army and warrior;
they lie down, they cannot rise,
    they are extinguished, quenched like a wick:
18 “Remember not the former things,
    nor consider the things of old.
19 Behold, I am doing a new thing;
    now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
    and rivers in the desert.
20 The wild beasts will honor me,
    the jackals and the ostriches,
for I give water in the wilderness,
    rivers in the desert,
to give drink to my chosen people,
21     the people whom I formed for myself
that they might declare my praise.

We will talk more about the dashed Jewish expectations for the Messiah later, but for now I want to focus on the ways that Jesus courageously humbled Himself for the sake of God’s new economy. Indeed He made a way in the wilderness of death and decay—all for our sake. 

In his book, Low: an Honest Advent Devotional, John Pavlovitz quotes, “Jesus didn’t need to live here. He could have shown up, tossed out another stone slab or a rolled parchment filled with black-and-white religious do’s and don’ts, and then disappeared into the ether—leaving a neat and tidy, easily navigable religion to delineate our every decision. Instead, he chose to live life alongside flawed human beings, in messy and meandering trips into wheatfields and lepers’ homes and leaky boats.” (from Week 1 Tuesday: This is Not a Test)

Jesus, the antithesis of highly seated King Herod, came to the lowest of places, in one of the lowest forms, to show us a new way. A new way of loving God and others. A new way of living out our faith. And best of all, a promise that one heavenly day, all things would be made new.

 

Prepare the Way of the Lord

I don’t feel ready for Advent this year. Just a few short weeks ago I hadn’t even pulled my winter coat out from the back of the closet. I still see colorful leaves hanging onto their trees with determination. Yet however much I don’t feel prepared, here we are: the first Sunday of Advent.

It’s funny, when you long for something, but are still surprised by its appearance. Into the silent waiting, distractions (of every color and sort) have a way of making the expected slide in under the radar.

I wonder if this is how the Israelites felt after their exile in Babylon and then 400 years of prophetic silence. First on the community’s prayer requests was the arrival of a Messiah. Yet when He actually came, no one seemed ready. Much less prepared for a Messiah wrapped in a baby’s clothes and wails.

Only a handful of God’s people were still living in active, curious expectation for a Savior. For them, God’s plans and purposes were a mystery to unravel. For so many others, the oppressive life of being a Hebrew under the thumb of whatever empire was in control was all they would handle. Routines became the norm; waiting the ever-repeating refrain.

How wonderful that we serve a God who does not leave us alone to our own devices. The whole of human history is marked by sign-posts pointing the way to the Messiah.

The gospel of Luke could have begun a lot of different ways. Matthew chose to jog his reader’s memories by recounting thousands of years of family genealogy. But Luke likes the reader to do some of the connection work, and opens with a story of a man named Zechariah.

Luke 1: 5-25
5 In the days of Herod, king of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah,[a] of the division of Abijah. And he had a wife from the daughters of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. 6 And they were both righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statutes of the Lord. 7 But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were advanced in years.

8 Now while he was serving as priest before God when his division was on duty, 9 according to the custom of the priesthood, he was chosen by lot to enter the temple of the Lord and burn incense. 10 And the whole multitude of the people were praying outside at the hour of incense. 11 And there appeared to him an angel of the Lord standing on the right side of the altar of incense. 12 And Zechariah was troubled when he saw him, and fear fell upon him. 13 But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard, and your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John. 14 And you will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, 15 for he will be great before the Lord. And he must not drink wine or strong drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit, even from his mother's womb. 16 And he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, 17 and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared.”

18 And Zechariah said to the angel, “How shall I know this? For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.” 19 And the angel answered him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I was sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. 20 And behold, you will be silent and unable to speak until the day that these things take place, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time.” 21 And the people were waiting for Zechariah, and they were wondering at his delay in the temple. 22 And when he came out, he was unable to speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the temple. And he kept making signs to them and remained mute. 23 And when his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

24 After these days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she kept herself hidden, saying, 25 “Thus the Lord has done for me in the days when he looked on me, to take away my reproach among people.”

After 400 years of prophetic silence, God chose to sneak up on a priest and strike him voiceless when he didn’t make the immediate connections.

I do not want to be like Zechariah. I may not feel ready for Advent, but I want my heart and mind to remain curiously open to God’s mysteries. The miracle of the Incarnation is just as relevant for us to today as it was for a family living in the Judean countryside roughly two thousand years ago. May we have the eyes to see it.

Isaiah 30:3-5
3 A voice cries:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord;
    make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
4 Every valley shall be lifted up,
    and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
    and the rough places a plain.
5 And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed,
    and all flesh shall see it together,
    for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”

Welcome to Advent

Dear friends (and those who may have stumbled upon this blog),

If you've joined me for any of the past fifteen years, then you are probably familiar with Advent. If you are a new reader, this will serve as an introduction:

In Latin the word "adventus" means "coming." Within the context of western Christianity, Advent is the season of four weeks leading up to Christmas—the celebration of Christ's birth. It is a time of joyful expectation and preparation. The four weeks are marked by the four Sundays, on which the candles of the Advent wreath are lit.

The first candle is traditionally the candle of Hope, followed by Peace, Love, and Joy. However, with so many church traditions comes a variety of names for each candle. Usually, they are organized around characters or themes as a way to unfold the story and direct attention to the celebrations and worship in the season. So, the sequence might be Prophets, Bethlehem, Shepherds, Angels; Expectation, Annunciation, Proclamation, Fulfillment; or Prophets, John the Baptist, Mary, the Magi.

Last year, I let Isaiah 9:6 be my guide and named the four Advent candles Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, and Prince of Peace. This year, I am trying something new. I will be using the broad theme “All things new” to direct my reflections, breaking the four weeks into the following micro themes:

1.    Mystery and Courage (waiting on the unknown)
2.    Rejection and Refinement (closed doors and open windows)
3.    Radical Intersections (the most unlikely participants)
4.    Curious Expectations (seek, and you will find)

For four short weeks every year, we stop and see—with amazing clarity—God’s miraculous hand shaping the trajectory of human history. I have a hard time seeing this kind of perspective in daily life. Even with God’s sustaining grace, I am so often numb to the repercussions of Christ’s advent in my own life. This blog is an attempt to peel back the layers of those truths and meditate on the everlasting love God showed when he sent us His son. And as we do that together, may our hearts be directed towards the greater Advent still to come.

Let us enter this season with expectation, ever blessed by those who have paved the way. I’m glad you have chosen to join me on the journey!