“When have Christians been promised physical security? In the early church it is evident that they did not even expect it! Their security, their true life, was rooted in God; and neither the daily insecurities of the decaying Roman Empire, nor the organized persecution which followed later, could affect their basic confidence. In my judgement, the description which Christ gave of the days that were to come before his return is more accurately reproduced in this fear-ridden age than ever before in human history.…When God decides that the human experiment has gone on long enough, yes, even in the midst of what appears to us confusion and incompleteness, Christ will come again. This is what the New Testament teaches. This is the message of Advent. It is for us to be alert, vigilant and industrious, so that his coming will not be a terror but an overwhelming joy” (J. B. Phillips, Watch for the Light).

It seems that in just about every age it has been dangerous to be a Christian. In many parts of the world it still is. To have Christianity accepted and popular is an anomaly in the history of the world. So why is it that we think that God wants us to be safe all the time?

What God promised was that He would be with us, regardless. Jesus promised that we would have hard times, that not every day would be roses and sunshine, even that we would suffer. Not potentially or possibly, but eventually, we will suffer.

The only way to avoid suffering and hardship is to compromise away your convictions and beliefs so the world will like you more. The only way to truly fit in with a sinful world is to become sinful. The only way to be able to exist comfortably in a maladjusted world is to become maladjusted.

But if we follow Jesus, we can expect the same as Jesus. He was misunderstood and mocked. He was scorned and spat upon. He was abandoned and eventually He was murdered. He said that if we follow Him and do what He says, the same could happen to us. He said we would 100% definitely see trouble and pain.

But still the promise of Advent remains. He will be with us. He will strengthen us to endure whatever He allows us to undergo. And one day He will return to restore all that we have sacrificed and lost, and He will make everything right. All that we have suffered for will finally come to pass and God’s love and mercy will win in the end.

The joy in the end will be so much more than worth any pain or loss we endure along the way.

I don’t know if any other hymn encapsulates the real spirit of Advent and Christmas than this. Let this bit of truth sink in — Jesus gave up absolutely everything for you and for me. It seems foolish to argue about tithing off of the gross or the net income when Jesus gave 100%. It seems silly to talk about which parts of my life belong to God and which parts belong to me when Jesus left nothing on the table but surrendered every bit of who He was and what He had for love’s sake. It’s borderline sacrilegious to get caught up in the frenzy of the season and miss the heart of the season, Emmanuel — God with us.

It’s hard to believe that for as long as Kairos has been around, they’ve never had a Christmas Night of Worship . . . until tonight.

There’s just something special about a night of worship. Adding Christmas into the mix makes it infinitely better.

It’s amazing how you can come into a place of worship full of worries and leave in peace because the songs you’re singing remind you of who’s really in charge. The Object of your worship is fully able to take care of the worshipper.

We sing so much about how good and great God is. Sometimes when we sing the same words enough, they become rote and lose meaning, but a tragedy or stressful week can revive their power to speak into your soul. You can be reminded that it is well and that you will be well because one day that trump shall resound and the Lord will really descend. You can be reminded that because of one silent night, you can have peace. You can be reminded that because Jesus was able to break the seal and open the scroll, He is worthy and able.

Sometimes singing is just you preaching the gospel to yourself set to music. It doesn’t matter if you can sing worth a lick or not, because the Bible tells us to make a joyful noise — not necessarily a joyful symphony. All that matters is that the words of the songs are prayers and declarations to the God who is exceedingly abundantly able to do above and beyond that you ask or think.

We sing because we forget and the words remind us of who God really is and what He can really do. And everybody needs a reminder from time to time.

“Christ was born a martyr. He found a Golgotha, where he was crucified, even in Bethlehem, where he was born; for to his tenderness then the straws were almost as sharp as the thorns after, and the manger as uneasy at first as the cross at last. His birth and his death were but one continual act, and his Christmas day and his Good Friday are but the evening and morning of the same day. And as even his birth is his death, so every action and passage that manifests Christ to us is his birth, for Epiphany is manifestation. Every manifestation of Christ to the world, to the Church, to a particular soul is an Epiphany, a Christmas day” (John Donne).

I guess I don’t get as hung up on “Merry Christmas” versus “Happy Holidays” as I used to. I don’t get offended when store employees don’t say Christmas. I get that not everyone is a believer and that the day of Christmas may not mean as much to them as to me. Also, there are better ways to honor the spirit of Christmas,

I love the idea that me manifesting Jesus to the world can make any day into a Christmas day. Any time I can somehow reflect Jesus so that people can see Him in me and are drawn to Him, then that moment is a kind of Epiphany.

You truly put the Christ in Christmas not by being obnoxious about making other people say “Merry Christmas” or spelling it out with all caps but by living it out. You honor the spirit of Christmas when you honor Jesus words that whatever you have done for the least of these you have done for Jesus. You honor Christmas when you look and act and speak like Jesus. You honor Christmas when you’re always ready to give a reason for the hope that Jesus has brought you.

When Christmas becomes less about presents and more about presence, then you honor the season. When Christmas is less about shopping and consuming and more about worshipping and adoring, then you honor the season. When you seek to serve rather than to indulge, then you capture the essence of the Christ child who came to give His life as a ransom for many. Then you make good your Christmas.

So I did a thing. I splurged an bought myself a ticket to the Behold the Lamb of God concert that’s held annually at the Ryman. Andrew Peterson and cohorts did not disappoint. Whatever I paid was not wasted. I even bought a vinyl to take home with me.

In a world where few things remain as good as they were in the past, this one actually has improved. The entire concert from start to finish was entertaining and uplifting. It may just get added to my list of yearly Advent traditions.

The highlight, as expected, as hearing Jill Phillips sing “Labor of Love,” a song that really captures that night when Mary gave birth to the infant Jesus, Indeed, it was not a silent night.

I might possibly regret staying up late on a work night, but again, it was worth it. I definitely caught the spirit of the season tonight.

Note: this could possibly be a repeat, but I’m too tired to spend time checking to see if I’ve posted it before, so enjoy (again):

“O Lord, how hard it is to accept your way. You come to me as a small, powerless child born away from home. You live for me as a stranger in your own land. You die for me as a criminal outside the walls of the city, rejected by your own people, misunderstood by your friends, and feeling abandoned by your God.

As I prepare to celebrate your birth, I am trying to feel loved, accepted, and at home in this world, and I am trying to overcome the feelings of alienation and separation which continue to assail me. But I wonder now if my deep sense of homelessness does not bring me closer to you than my occasional feelings of belonging. Where do I truly celebrate your birth: in a cozy home or in an unfamiliar house, among welcoming friends or among unknown strangers, with feelings of well-being or with feelings of loneliness?

I do not have to run away from those experiences that are closest to yours. Just as you do not belong to this world, so I do not belong to this world. Every time I feel this way I have an occasion to be grateful and to embrace you better and taste more fully your joy and peace.

Come, Lord Jesus, and be with me where I feel poorest. I trust that this is the place where you will find your manger and bring your light. Come, Lord Jesus, come.

Amen.”

Right now, a little log cabin in the middle of nowhere sounds delightful. I could use a break from all the insanity happening all around us. But I also confess wifi would be a plus. That way I could stream classic Christmas movies or music.

I think my log cabin should definitely have a fireplace, a warm bed, and a cat. The rest is negotiable, but those three are not. Plus I suppose I’d need a stocked pantry if I plan on an extended stay.

I almost forgot. A front porch is a must. So I need a front porch, a fireplace, a warm bed, a cat, and a stocked pantry. That should do it.

“What is soon to God seems late to our longing” (St. Augustine).

Wow. So much said in so few words. The best have a way of expressing themselves without an overabundance of words. I think these 10 words reveal the state of most of our hearts these days.

In The Lord of the Rings, one of the main characters, Gandalf, says that a wizard is never late. He always arrives precisely when he means to. And hopefully without sounding sacrilegious, we can say the same of God. He’s never late. He arrives at always exactly the right time.

But to our deep longing, God seems late. To our anxious hearts, He hasn’t shown up soon enough. In my own experience, my own longing has sometimes blinded me to seeing God at work, especially in my present life. I miss what He’s doing right now for looking down the road to a future where I hope He will act a certain way for me.

I have such a myopic view of how I think God will act that when He does move outside my field of vision, I don’t see it. I ascribe these actions to anything and everything but God. Yet often, God acts contrary to my desires not because they are too big, but because what I want is too small and God is giving me something greater.

When I let go of my fear and hold on to faith, then I see God. I see God’s bigger plan for me. I see God’s better gifts for me. I see God’s timing was never late but exactly right on time.

“Every year we celebrate the holy season of Advent, O God. Every year we pray those beautiful prayers of longing and waiting, and sing those lovely songs of hope and promise. Every year we roll up all our needs and yearnings and faithful expectation into one word: ‘Come!’ And yet, what a strange prayer this is! After all, you have already come and pitched your tent among us. You have already shared our life with its little joys, its long days of tedious routine, its bitter end. Could we invite you to anything more than this with our “Come”? Could you approach any nearer to us than you did when you became the ‘Son of Man’? In spite of all this we still pray: ‘Come'” (Karl Rahner).

I’ve never thought about it before, but it is a bit odd that we pray, “Come, Lord Jesus” to Immanuel, God already with us. Why are we praying for someone to come who has already arrived? How can anyone be closer who already lives in the hearts of all who have called on Him in faith?

Maybe it’s that we want to see Jesus manifested in the world like He is in our own lives. We want to see Him show up in a way where the leaders of the world sit up and take notice. We want Jesus to arrive as the Coming King to inaugurate His kingdom and to set every wrong to right and to wipe every tear from our eyes and to bring an end to evil, sin, and death.

Possibly it’s because we grow weary of the “now but not yet,” where we’re saved but still struggling with the old nature. We see glimpses of who we’re becoming by the transforming grace of God, but we also still see the sinner full of lust and selfishness and greed and all other sorts of toxic traits. We still do what we don’t want to do, and don’t do what we know is good for us and that we should do.

When Jesus truly comes back, we’ll see the original design restored and finally know what it means to be everlastingly alive. All those old hymns and Bible promises we’ve sung and longed for will be fulfilled. Best of all, we’ll all finally be home.

“So King Darius signed the law.

But though Daniel knew about it, he went home and knelt down as usual in his upstairs bedroom, with its windows open toward Jerusalem, and prayed three times a day, just as he always had, giving thanks to his God” (Daniel 6:9-10, The Living Bible).

Essentially, the law that King Darius signed made it illegal to worship any other god other than the king. Disobedience meant punishment by death. Death meant being thrown into a den of lions to be torn apart and eaten. No one was exempt.

But Daniel did as he had always done, threw open the windows toward Jerusalem, and prayed to the one true God anyway, just as he had always done. His was a personal, but not private, faith.

One of the chief arguments against Christianity is the fact that churches are full of hypocrites — people who talk one way, and live another. They present one face at church, another at home, and yet another at work. But Daniel was a man of integrity. That meant that he was the same when no one was watching as he was when all eyes were on him. He wasn’t perfect, but his walk matched his talk.

It occurred to me that Daniel could very easily have continued to pray and evaded being caught if he had simply closed his windows. No one could have looked in on him during his intercession with God. No one would have been the wiser.

But Daniel chose to pray in the open. He didn’t parade his faith like the Pharisees of Jesus’ day, but neither did he hide it. He didn’t make a show of his prayer life, but neither did he keep it a secret.

When we say we follow Jesus, it should show up in our lives. We should be different — not obnoxious and arrogant, but also not identical and undistinguishable from the world around us.

But will we still pray when it becomes illegal? Will we still give to the church when it becomes non-tax deductible? Will we still follow Jesus when it’s no longer socially acceptable to hold His exclusive claims?

Brennan Manning once said, ““The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians: who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.”

The greatest witness we can give is simply living out what we profess to believe and not being jerks about it. When we live out our faith, regardless of the cost, people will see Jesus and be drawn to what they see.