Why We Do It Again, and Again (Frightened Rabbit)

Graffiti Alley by AshtonPal

"It's Christmas so we'll stop 

It's on with the lights to warm the dark 

- It can go elsewhere -

As the rot stops for today

Let the rot stop just for one day"

What if the incarnation doesn't happen this year? Not literally, of course, but in the secret ways we hope for: the change in perspective, the prayer answered, the possibilities fulfilled... the tangible ways in which we are desperate to feel God moving today, now. 

What if they don't happen? What if we don't feel anything and nothing changes? Why do this Christmas nonsense at all, then?

This is a deeply uncomfortable question, because I do believe that celebrating Christmas is more than just a nice ritual or quaint historical remembrance. I believe the incarnation of Christ has power to turn this world entirely upside down every single year. 

But no matter what I think, the fact is: there is ZERO evidence that this happens. Families fall apart, or beloved friends die, or things just stay as screwed up as ever. Meth labs operate on Christmas. People get raped on Christmas. Children get killed and terrible memories get made just like the nice ones.

And the day after, or twelve days after, we put away the tinsel and... nothing. Life goes back to what it was. 

Maybe I sound like a Christmas depressive, wanting to join Frightened Rabbit in both their hopes and prayers in this song to "let the rot stop just for one day" and then realizing that "the tree lights brightened the rodent's eyes." 

But here's the difference between this song and what I believe: I believe this song is 100% true (rats and all) and believe that the incarnation is right here anyway.

Do you hear it?

Frightened Rabbit - It's Christmas So We'll Stop

I didn't hear anything but sadness the first ten times I listened to this song, because on the surface of these lyrics, there are only dashed hopes. But when we live into the Incarnation -- I mean, not politely, but free fall, base jump, hang glide, deep plunge into the Incarnation -- we agree to go way past the surface of things and risk sounding a little unrealistic and a lot strange. We agree to give our hearts to nutso stories of God coming as a baby, and we agree to act like these are more than just interesting symbolic ideas. We agree to believe, in the face of all facts and reality, that the world has fundamentally changed because of God's drawing-near. We agree to live in trust that opportunity, transformation, and redemption lie behind even the most ugly, inhumane realities.

Because Incarnation happens in the ugliness. Incarnation happens in the lostness, and sin, and deepest, most bone-shattering grief we can imagine. And these places don't get fixed. They don't, maybe, even seem to change at all. And yet, Incarnation is there. 

This belief isn't just some self-reassuring treacle to make me feel better on Christmas morning -- in fact, this knowledge should make me more uncomfortable than ever. Can I really begin to perceive the world like this without trying to gloss over the pain of others, or become complacent to need? Can I live like this song is true and like God-made-flesh is true, too?

I don't know. Probably not, most of the time.

So this is why I practice. 

Every. 

Single. 

Year. 

I drag out the lights and sing the songs and make the food not because any of this is required, but because, within reason, these rituals force me to consider how important all this baby Jesus nonsense is to me after all. 

Is it worth doing again, this Christmas thing?

I say yes, and again: YES. Because I need this revolutionary story for myself as much as anyone, and because this is the core of how we Shine On. 

As Advent draws down into the particularity of Christmas, we Shine On into the world's unmet expectations and unclear hopes and unanswered needs with joy-filled defiance, with humor and clear-eyed hope. We Shine On with the bizarre and still totally passionate belief that this small being, this Christ child, is, for now and always, the fulcrum on which the whole world spins, is the only power that matters, and the only hope worth following. 

"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. ...For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things..." 

- Colossians 1: 15-17, 19-20

So I Shine On this Christmas. And onward again, until there is a time when I can hold this song and my Advent hopes together and do full honor to both (on any given day) and know that Christ is being born again in me right now, Incarnate, humble, divine.

May you radiate passion and compassion in these days, 

may you mirror the truth of the world and the Truth of God, 

may you shine onward with defiance and grace 

and a beautiful broke-down hope 

as you participate in this messy, gorgeous world 

and look beyond the surface 

for the Incarnation that holds it all together.

                                                                                    -- Anna

Come As You Are (Man Man)

"Hold on to your heart
Hold it high above flood waters
Hold on to your heart
Never let nobody drag it under...
Hold on to your heart
Never let nobody take it over 
Ever take it over 
Ever take it over from you"

Christmas is not a "feel good" time. Any good Blue Christmas service will remind us of this, but it bear repeating: Yes, there is joy at Christmas. Wonder. Delight, even. But "happy?" "Feel-good?" Not requirements.

The only real 'requirement' of Christmas is that we show up at the stable. That's it. It's a pretty come-as-you-are day, actually. If we really, truly believed this, maybe more of us would arrive in tears, or yelling our heads off, or totally confused and wondering if we took a left-turn somewhere around Damascus. Instead we (I) tend to turn up like fake-smiling robots, maybe trying to get presents wrapped in time or trying to get kids to smile during the pageant or trying not to blow up at Aunt Margaret or trying not to say too much about how our life feels like its fraying at the edges... So, really, we don't show up at Christmas at all - our game-face does, but not us. 

We have a shadow-side (which we don't like to talk about) that keeps us from being fully present to life, others, God... even at Christmas. What I love about Man Man's "Head On" is that it acknowledges and owns this shadow side that so terrifies us, without anxiety, without giving in, and with a great deal of compassion.

"Are you dreaming of death?
Are there ghosts in your chest?
Are you always so restless?
Yes, you are --
Is that hard?

Hold on to your heart..."

Lyrics HERE

When we Shine On during Advent, though, we show up for life and accept our shadows, even at the stable of Christ's birth. We acknowledge pain and disillusionment, grief and fear... and we give our hearts to the world anyway. We give our hearts for and with each other, and we hold the hearts of others with care. We live with courage -- full heart.

"Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart...We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed..." 

- 2 Corinthians 4: 1, 7

To be full-hearted, we confront the shadows within us that cast themselves long over this season of short days. We hold on to our hearts; we persevere in love and trust. We agree to be vulnerable to grief and hope, to pain and confusion, and we consent to bring these strange riches right into the manger on Christmas and lay them at Jesus' feet. 

Because, after all, that infant is Jesus, who was the most full-hearted person ever to have lived. His deeply humane, rich, compassionate, authentic life could be an invitation: to live into the shadows and the light of Christmas fearlessly, head-on, and with joyful defiance of our cultural norms for a feel-good, 'picture-perfect' Christmas. 

And in the end, we do this because we know that what matters most at Christmas is that you and I are actually there, in-the-flesh, in-the-heart.

May you be brilliant in the truthfulness of your life, with others and with God. May you Shine On in rebellion against all that would stifle your heart. May you remember the God who invites you to the stable in love and in truth.

                                                                                    -- Anna

Un-Boxed (Ben Howard)

 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

- Matthew 6: 27 

So here's the flip side of our theme this week: sometimes speaking our needs during Advent can make us brood. And more than brood: worry. 

This isn't just the high-strung holiday worries of 'did I remember all the gifts?' or 'will we need more stuffing?," it's the BIG STUFF worry, like "that I'm losing the ones that I hold dear." 

Taking time to wonder about the big stuff can be productive, but when it turns into worry, running around in the same tight mental loops, then it can make us feel so small: "just a blade in the grass, spoke unto the wheel." Worse, we can convince ourselves that everything we've ever done is wrong and that we'll "become what [we] deserve."

This feeling may be more familiar to some of us than others. Some of us mask these doubts and worries with constant activity or with ego-blustering that hides our groundlessness. Nonetheless, we've almost all had that moment when we recognize the true depth of our brokenness and neediness and think: I really am a terrible mess. Maybe this is what I deserve.

The Fear by Ben Howard. Lyrics HERE.

Fear of our own unworthiness is much different than knowing that we do nothing to 'merit' God's love and grace. Fear of our unworthiness is a small room with peeling walls, a life lived with worry keeping us intdoors. Most critically, fear of our unworthiness is un-Christian, even though so many of our theologies and churches use this as a tactic to convince us of other things: that we must act a certain way, say certain things, or believe in just the right balance... otherwise God's love will be revoked.

The truth is that Christ came to hang out with the screw ups. He surrounded himself with good but flawed friends, loved them past their betrayal, and hasn't given up on this crazy world since. We have been promised that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus, and yet we live our days acting like it might not be true.

Luckily, during Advent, we are called back to ourselves. Not the ego-self of "I'm just fine, okay!" and not the shame-self of "I'm unworthy." We are called to the true Self, which God created and loves, which is already whole and free. The fierce glow of that Christmas star cast a new light on all who sought it out: it revealed that life should not be lived in the confines of fear, and that our worries can't change the beautiful intentions which God has for Creation.

How will you say your need, trusting that even in your brokenness and neediness you are also beloved and whole?

May you enter Advent remembering that, individually and communally, we are freed from the stiff confines of fear, doubt, worry and shame by a God who lavishes us with love beyond our imaginings.

                                                                                                                        - Anna

Say the Need (Mavis Staples)

This year, the Advent Music Project is thinking about how we "do" Advent in our lives. How does Advent become more than a description of a season, and become a verb that we use to move, grow, and shape not just this moment, but our way forward as well? If Advent and Christmas don't transform us, bit by bit, through the years, we're missing out on their biggest power.



This first week of the Advent Music Project, we'll think about how we SAY THE NEED. How is Advent a time for "pausing in life's pleasures and counting its many tears?"

As we've said before, Advent isn't Lent. Yet both of these seasons are about telling the truth about our lives and the world. As Jan Richardson says,

"Advent beckons us to remember that even as we anticipate birth, we are challenged to let go; to make way for what is coming, we give up whatever would hinder us from receiving it. Sounds a lot like Lent. And sounds a lot like our whole lives. One of the gifts of the liturgical seasons is that they invite us to give particular focus to the stuff that surfaces all along our path."

So even though there are times in this season when our "voice would be merry, but 'tis sighing all the day," we can hold both realities in tandem: our struggle with what IS, and our hopes and longing for what COMES.

Mavis Staples, perf. Hard Times Come Again No More. Lyrics HERE.

A sign that Advent is growing among us is when the truth of our lives meets our trust in God's salvation.

So,"Hard times come again no more," we say. We say our need, and we hold our yearnings in our hands as we live deeply into this season of flickering light, long nights, and rising hope.

May you hunger for the newness of this season, and may hope and honesty meet one another in your life, and kiss. May patience and longing meet; may your focus and your faith kiss one another; and may you enjoy the rich feast of reflection and renewal they offer.

- Anna            

Thurs Dec.29 Lightwork (Lupe Fiasco)

But now, says the LORD—
the one who created you, Jacob,
the one who formed you, Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name;
you are mine.
-Isaiah 43:1

          The self-reflective nature of this song is resonating with me today. Beginning with Ellie Goulding’s opening lines “I had a way then, losing it all on my own. I had a heart then, the queen has been overthrown," moving to Lupe’s jolting entrance with “So, what are you going to stand for?” He proceeds to answer the question of himself while reflecting on the history and culture that inform his choices. The song is packed with allusions and commentary, which may or may not ruffle your feathers.

         Regardless, for me, the model holds. This is the time of year when we reflect, look at our lives, spare a moment for a little critical analysis. For me this is less than comfortable territory and, many years, gets relegated to the minutes that elapse between some party-goer asking about my New Year’s resolutions and me shoving food in my mouth to buy thinking time. But what if that wasn’t it this year? Can I take some moments to look at myself and assess honestly? What has been overthrown in my life? What is calling me home? What do I see that needs to be illuminated? And what am I wrestling? Maybe these aren’t even my questions but they are an entry point.

 Lupe Fiasco (feat. Ellie Goulding and Bassnectar)

**Some strong language

One way we hope forward is to summon the courage to question ourselves.  

          Though it is not the case for our friends in the southern hemisphere, I do frequently reflect on the placement of Christmas (and in fact celebrations in many religious traditions) during winter months.  In the short, dark days when we become sedentary and quieted and ruminative, comes a celebration, a hope, a light. It is that light of Christmas that illuminates my reflection, that hope that gives me courage to question and boldness to look honestly at myself.  For when Christ , Divine Love, was born into the mess and poverty of a stable, it meant that Divine Love could dwell in the mess of my life too; and if God’s grace is great enough to hold the world in a reparative embrace, then that grace can also surround all that I discover within myself.

So, I am taking some moments this week to live into that love and grace and ask some questions-

Where am I?  How am I? What am I standing for? How am I affecting the lives of others? How are others affecting my life?

 -as I hope forward into the New Year.

May we question courageously, secure in the hold of God's grace.

-Lindsey