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

Fri Dec. 9 - Eyes Wide Open (Iron and Wine)

In [Jesus] all things were created... he is before all things, and in him all things hold together."
                            -- Colossians 1:16-17 selected

At a young age I realized this eternal truth about great pop music while listening to Paul Simon's Graceland album: a truly great song is one where I can mishear the lyrics and love both the true and false versions equally well. This is true of most Iron and Wine songs, and Walking Far From Home is one I particularly love precisely because there are so many delightful and thought-provoking things to mishear.

The delicious mystery is what keeps my eyes and ears open, not just to this song, but to the world.  I have no idea what the ultimate meaning of the song is, but I sense that it has something to do with awareness, loving the broken and the lost, and hope.  These are all ideas that remind me again of our theme for this week: what helps?  What helps with our longings and our brokenness?  What helps with the waiting?  Iron and Wine reminds me that what helps is keeping our eyes truly open to what's going on around us, taking in the grace and the grime.

Walking Far From Home is like a lullaby for the world as I'd want it written: sad and gorgeous, compassionate and hopeful, tragic, honest and humane.  For me, it speaks of our essential identity as wanderers in this world, and yet of the ways in which we are ultimately drawn back together in God's embrace.  It invites us to open our eyes and celebrate the beauty of Creation, even in its broken state.

The lyrics are worth reading HERE, but it's also good just to "mishear" the first time around... what do you hear?

This song invites us, in the words of Mary Oliver, to be "a bride married to amazement,/ ...the bridegroom, taking the world into [our] arms."  Or, to take the challenge further, as Mother Francis Dominica states, to remember that "Nothing in your life is so insignificant, so small, that God cannot be found at its center."  This song challenges me to look for beauty and meaning (manifestations of God) in all places, even the strange and painful, the outcast and despairing.  I may not see God immediately, or even at all, but at the end I will have looked with my whole eyes and my whole Spirit, and maybe in that way will have embodied God's presence in that space.

I like to think that Jesus' healing ministry began with his unflinching gaze upon the rejected, the sinners and the lost that acknowledged their deep humanity beyond their brokenness.  Conversely, any of us who have sat at the side of a stranger who was ill or dying, or a friend who had become lost in their own despair knows that sometimes the only possible response is to look, to look with love and grace and peace into the mystery of this one human life which touches all human life... and with that look acknowledge that life is more than just the meat of things; that there is an awe-ful beauty at the heart of our lives, and it is there, sometimes, where we are able to fall back into God's embrace.

Saw a wet road

form a circle

and it came like a call, came like a call

from the Lord.
                                 - Iron and Wine

May we allow ourselves to look fully and deeply at the things we love and the things that hurt in these days, seeking God at the center and knowing peace along the way.

                                           - Anna

Fri Dec. 2 - Living in the Paradox (The National/Simon & Garfunkel)

"Why are you downcast, O my soul?  

  Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God,

  for I will yet praise him,

  my savior and my God."

                         - Psalm 42: 5-6a

Here we are in Advent, and the world goes on around us.  Things are the same, but we want to feel different.  We celebrate God breaking into Creation's history, and yet God seems to not be working nearly as fast as we need.  This first week of Advent, the A.M. Project has been thinking about how we long for God, and why we need God's presence.  But during this, "most wonderful time of the year," how do we balance the equation of God's good intentions for the world with the mess things are now?

The National's music steeps itself in this delicate mathematics/acrobatics of paradox: the crumbling grandeur of Matt Berninger's voice, lyrics and orchestration often belie the emptiness and desperation of some of the stories.  Despite the bleakness, there is beauty in the world of these songs, or what passes for it this side of heaven.  We may live 'half awake in a fake empire' but if "hope" isn't the word to use, then maybe it's the awareness of our yearning for something more: beauty, happiness, fulfillment...

Our yearnings for More, for Different, for Better do not always get answered in a way that makes sense to us.  Sometimes we just have to live in the terrifying gorgeous mess of the world as it IS, knowing its discordance with God's promise of what it is BECOMING.  Our vision doesn't reach far enough, and so we stand between the places of hurt and the places of promise, trying to hold them together and speak honestly about things as they are:

The good news (thank God) is that we're ultimately not the ones in charge of holding it together.  The paradox has been around since before we were born and will carry on until all things are wrapped back into Godself.  Until then, God is the one who holds the paradox for us, and Jesus' ministry of reconciliation through solidarity and even suffering shows us that God lives into that paradox right along with us.

"By day the LORD directs his love,

at night her song is with me-- 

a prayer to the God of my life."

Psalm 42:8

Where do we feel God in the paradox with us in these coming days?

As we work and wait with hope in the paradox for God's work to be fulfilled on earth, may we feel God working with and for us always.

                                                                      - Anna

Wed Nov. 30 - What's Gonna' Sing Now? (Delta Spirit)

'The years are not coming the way I thought they would

I'm hoping and waiting for something to sing

Like the angels in heaven, the bones on the street,

Hoping for love to find a new voice,

The song that needs singing has already been sung before

                 - Delta Spirit, "People Turn Around"

I love it when the lyrics of a song surprise me.  Sometimes I listen just enough to think I know what a song is about, but just like realizing as a teenager that Salt n' Pepa's "shoop" was not a dance move, there are songs that aren't as obvious as they seem.

People Turn Around by Delta Spirit

I have been sure for years that this Delta Spirit song was a call to repentance.  'People turn around' sure sounds like Biblical-style repentance to me, but that's only part of the story.  Certainly there's brokenness, desperation, drug-use and violence in this song, but there's also suffering and loss, terrible surprise and loneliness.

'The bones on the street' is the line that catches me off-guard.  The speaker is 'hoping and waiting for something to sing' and looks to angels and bones for the cue. It makes me wonder: There is terrible violence that occurs in our streets every day; if the bones of the victims were left in their place, would they begin to "speak?"  To sing?  What if hymns of truth-telling or praise began to pour from the bones in mass graves now hidden beneath layers of time and our determination to forget?  

The call to "turn around" in this song isn't just a call to repentance, it's also a call to listen.

It makes me think, too, of our own bones, their aches and longings: we are all 'hoping for love to find a new voice.'  In this time of Advent, we remember and await the Love that definitively came in Jesus, but it can be hard to hear that love in our daily lives.

"Then [God] said to me: "Son of man, these bones are the people of Israel.  They say, 'Our bones are dried up and our hope is gone; we are cut off.' ... This is what the Sovereign LORD says: My people, I am going to open your graves and bring you up from them; I will bring you back to the land of Israel... I will put my Spirit in you and you will live..."              - Ezekiel 37:11-13

We rightly search for ways in which Love continues to find a new voice among us.  Maybe it will be the bones of the dead, the silenced and the forgotten, who first teach the words.  Maybe it will be the broken stones in the street, the moss in the shadows and the abused, abandoned lands that carry the harmony.  And maybe we will be surprised by the humming of our own bones in response.

Hey, People, turn around: did you hear that?  What's gonna' sing now?

May our ears be sharp and our feet be drawn toward the voices that are singing us back from the precipice of loss and violence -- the voices that are singing us home.

                                     - Anna

Mon Nov 28 - All We Can See Is... (Black Star)

Maybe Advent is best understood at night, sitting with the streetlit world, hearing ambulance sirens as we watch and pray. Likewise, maybe the story of Advent is best understood starting not with the promises of Isaiah, but with its anguished cries to God:

"Your sacred cities have become a desert... and all we treasure lies in ruins.  
After this, O LORD, will you hold yourself back?

Will you keep silent and punish us beyond measure?"        

Isaiah 64:10-12

'Respiration' by Black Star feat. Common:        (lyrics: here)

**Advisory: Some strong language. Clean version and pretty sweet orig. music video HERE

'Respiration'  is about telling the truth from your corner of the world.  I especially love its intro about taggers (graffiti-ers) talking about their aerosol work: on two cars they've written,

"ALL YOU CAN SEE IS... CRIME IN THE CITY."

On this end of Advent, our job is to tell the truth about the world and cry out to God about a Creation gone terribly awry.  As Kara Root, preacher at Lake Nokomis Presbyterian, stated this week: "Advent begins with a great cry of disappointment."  Disappointment in ourselves, certainly, but also in the world and even in God.  

During Advent we boldly name our disappointment and pain, knowing that God is NOT ultimately absent or unmoved.  God is here - even as God is still coming.  Because of this, as Kara stated, we can "stand bravely with our broken hearts and the broken hearts of the world... waiting to be mended."

How do we speak our broken hearts in these coming days?  What do you see even from your limited perspective that still needs voice and naming?

In the darkness of a very real night, may we boldly tell the truth about our world and hold out our lives to God.

                                                 - Anna