|
Dear Friends,
The leftovers have been stuffed into Tupperware, relatives have dispersed, and the tryptophan-induced naps are over. We wake up to a new day and a new season—my favorite one. Christmas cards will start rolling in soon, and I’ll resume my cherished tradition of sitting on the couch, opening each one, and delighting in your matching sweaters as my children rip my living room apart. Many of us will spend this weekend hauling down boxes of lights, trekking to tree markets, and creatively repurposing leftover stuffing. And of course, we’ll all join in the annual chorus: “How is it December already? I am not ready!”
And truly—none of us are.
Not ready with the lights, which will inevitably be tangled.
Not ready with the cards, which might arrive sometime around Valentine’s Day.
Not ready with the tree, which may lean precariously no matter how many times you twist it in the stand.
And on a deeper level, we know the world isn’t ready either. We haven’t done “enough” to mend broken hearts, to feed neighbors, to untangle injustice, or to build peace. If readiness were the criteria for Christmas, we’d be in trouble.
But here comes Advent—reminding us (again!) that God does not wait for us to be ready. God comes because we are needy. This season, we’ll read from Madeleine L’Engle’s poem First Coming, which beautifully insists on this truth. You’ll find it below.
This Sunday we’ll explore God’s hopeful promise in Luke 1:26–38, where hope breaks into the life of someone who is decidedly not prepared. We’ll sing songs that steady our hearts, light candles whose small flame can brighten a whole room, and trust that even a glimmer of God’s hope can transform our world.
Come join us—bring a friend or someone who needs a spark of hope this season. Ready or not (and mostly not), Advent is here.
First Coming
Madeleine L’Engle
He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!
Grace
| 
