Awake! Awake, Tziyon!
Clothe yourself with your strength!
Dress in your splendid garments,
Yerushalayim, the holy city!
For the uncircumcised and the unclean
will enter you no more.
Shake off the dust! Arise!
Be enthroned, Yerushalayim!
Loosen the chains on your neck,
captive daughter of Tziyon!
For thus says Adonai:
“You were sold for nothing,
and you will be redeemed without money.”
For thus says Adonai Elohim:
“Long ago my people went down to Egypt
to live there as aliens,
and Ashur oppressed them for no reason.
So now, what should I do here,” asks Adonai,
“since my people were carried off for nothing?
Their oppressors are howling,” says Adonai,
“and my name is always being insulted, daily.
Therefore my people will know my name;
therefore on that day they will know
that I, the one speaking — here I am!”

How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of him who brings good news,
proclaiming shalom, bringing good news
of good things, announcing salvation
and saying to Tziyon, “Your God is King!”
Listen! Your watchmen are raising their voices,
shouting for joy together.
For they will see, before their own eyes,
Adonai returning to Tziyon.

Break out into joy! Sing together,
you ruins of Yerushalayim!
For Adonai has comforted his people,
he has redeemed Yerushalayim!
Adonai has bared his holy arm
in the sight of every nation,
and all the ends of the earth will see
the salvation of our God.

Isaiah 52:1-10 (CJB)

Who believes our report?
To whom is the arm of Adonai revealed?
For before him he grew up like a young plant,
like a root out of dry ground.
He was not well-formed or especially handsome;
we saw him, but his appearance did not attract us.
People despised and avoided him,
a man of pains, well acquainted with illness.
Like someone from whom people turn their faces,
he was despised; we did not value him.

In fact, it was our diseases he bore,
our pains from which he suffered;
yet we regarded him as punished,
stricken and afflicted by God.
But he was wounded because of our crimes,
crushed because of our sins;
the disciplining that makes us whole fell on him,
and by his bruises we are healed.

We all, like sheep, went astray;
we turned, each one, to his own way;
yet Adonai laid on him
the guilt of all of us.

Though mistreated, he was submissive —
he did not open his mouth.
Like a lamb led to be slaughtered,
like a sheep silent before its shearers,
he did not open his mouth.
After forcible arrest and sentencing,
he was taken away;
and none of his generation protested
his being cut off from the land of the living
for the crimes of my people,
who deserved the punishment themselves.
He was given a grave among the wicked;
in his death he was with a rich man.

Although he had done no violence
and had said nothing deceptive,
yet it pleased Adonai to crush him with illness,
to see if he would present himself as a guilt offering.
If he does, he will see his offspring;
and he will prolong his days;
and at his hand Adonai’s desire
will be accomplished.
After this ordeal, he will see satisfaction.
“By his knowing [pain and sacrifice],
my righteous servant makes many righteous;
it is for their sins that he suffers.
Therefore I will assign him a share with the great,
he will divide the spoil with the mighty,
for having exposed himself to death
and being counted among the sinners,
while actually bearing the sin of many
and interceding for the offenders.”

Isaiah 53:1-12 (CJB)

“Arise, shine [Yerushalayim],
for your light has come,
the glory of Adonai
has risen over you.
For although darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness the peoples;
on you Adonai will rise;
over you will be seen his glory.
Nations will go toward your light
and kings toward your shining splendor. 

Isaiah 60:1-3 (CJB)

            Israel was waiting for a Messiah. He had been promised and they spent centuries trying to hold on to that hope. What they awaited was a king. Someone who would come in power to redeem His people. Someone who would make the nations tremble. What they got was a baby. 

            God often works in this way. When His people need Him, He sends a baby. He sent Moses and protected him in a basket in a river. He sent Joseph, born as a twerpy younger brother. He sent David, the little shepherd boy with the courage to face lions, bears, and giants. But I’m still not sure that is what Israel expected. 

            This December is like all the others before it. It is dark. It is too busy. It feels like a lot of pressure. There doesn’t seem to be anything special about this December. It is all so ordinary. Maybe it feels a little weird because the world seems to have halted and flipped upside down on us. But for the most part—this is just December. The tree, the lights, the songs—it can all start to feel very ho-hum. It can all start to feel less than magical. And that’s okay. Because God sent a Baby instead of an army. He chose Bethlehem as His hometown. He chose a poor family. He chose a manger. That all seems a little… less-than. Jesus comes in the ordinariness of time and space. He comes to a poor family in a stable. He comes to us in this ordinary December. 

            Right now, it may look dark, but the glory of God will arise. We will see His Light. The Light is coming soon! He came the first time to suffering that bore our shame and guilt and redeemed us from the darkness. He is coming again to make all things new. Today, ready your heart. Is your heart ready to see Him in the clouds? Are you ready for the night to end? The Son will soon arise—be ready. 

Today’s Song: Here with Us by Joy Williams

The post Untriumphantly: Who Doesn’t Love a Baby? appeared first on Notes From the Parsonage.

In the beginning was the Word,
    and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God.
    He was with God in the beginning.

All things came to be through him,
    and without him nothing made had being.

In him was life,
    and the life was the light of mankind.

The light shines in the darkness,
    and the darkness has not suppressed it.

There was a man sent from God whose name was Yochanan. He came to be a testimony, to bear witness concerning the light; so that through him, everyone might put his trust in God and be faithful to him. He himself was not that light; no, he came to bear witness concerning the light.

This was the true light,
    which gives light to everyone entering the world.

He was in the world — the world came to be through him —
    yet the world did not know him.

He came to his own homeland,
    yet his own people did not receive him.

But to as many as did receive him, to those who put their trust in his person and power, he gave the right to become children of God, not because of bloodline, physical impulse or human intention, but because of God.

The Word became a human being and lived with us,
    and we saw his Sh’khinah,
the Sh’khinah of the Father’s only Son,
    full of grace and truth.

Yochanan witnessed concerning him when he cried out, “This is the man I was talking about when I said, ‘The one coming after me has come to rank ahead of me, because he existed before me.’”

We have all received from his fullness,
    yes, grace upon grace.

For the Torah was given through Moshe;
    grace and truth came through Yeshua the Messiah.

No one has ever seen God; but the only and unique Son, who is identical with God and is at the Father’s side — he has made him known.

John 1:1-18

            When I was a kid, we went spelunking in Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. That is the closest to nothingness I have ever experienced. At one part, the lights that were in the cave and our flashlights were turned out so we could experience complete darkness. It was overwhelming. The absence of light made the darkness feel heavy, like you couldn’t possibly breathe. It was so disorienting. And that wasn’t nothing—it was just the absence of light. When the first flashlight flickered on, feeble as that one light was in the expanse of the cave, it felt like complete relief. Just the smallest bit of light, and everything was right again. You could breathe. You knew which way was up. You felt a weight lift. 

            That cave is a visceral example of what it feels like to find yourself in Christ, the Maker of all things. The darkness that feels alive, like it is swallowing you, just vanishes. It gives way to that spark of the Light of the World breaking in. The darkness hides. 

            The law gave us a path, one we could not follow. It was like trying to find your way through that dark cave. You couldn’t get far without falling on your face and bloodying up your knees. But there was hope, a Savior would come. A Savior did come and brought the light to us. Not to get rid of the path, but to light it up and show us the way. Our guide, our light—made known. 

            This Advent, as we walk in the dark of the season, we do so with Light. We celebrate the Word being made flesh. We wait for the King to return and make all things new. This heaven coming to earth—it is no small thing. It lifted the heaviness, the unbearable darkness, and gives us hope.  

Today’s Song: The Earth Stood Still by Future of Forestry

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But a branch will emerge from the trunk of Yishai,
a shoot will grow from his roots.
The Spirit of Adonai will rest on him,
the Spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and power,
the Spirit of knowledge and fearing Adonai —
he will be inspired by fearing Adonai.
He will not judge by what his eyes see
or decide by what his ears hear,
but he will judge the impoverished justly;
he will decide fairly for the humble of the land.
He will strike the land with a rod from his mouth
and slay the wicked with a breath from his lips.
Justice will be the belt around his waist,
faithfulness the sash around his hips.

The wolf will live with the lamb;
the leopard lie down with the kid;
calf, young lion and fattened lamb together,
with a little child to lead them.
Cow and bear will feed together,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
An infant will play on a cobra’s hole,
a toddler put his hand in a viper’s nest.
They will not hurt or destroy
anywhere on my holy mountain,
for the earth will be as full
of the knowledge of Adonai
as water covering the sea.

On that day the root of Yishai,
which stands as a banner for the peoples —
the Goyim will seek him out,
and the place where he rests will be glorious.
On that day Adonai will raise his hand
again, a second time,
to reclaim the remnant of his people who remain
from Ashur, Egypt, Patros,
Ethiopia, ‘Eilam, Shin‘ar,
Hamat and the islands in the sea.
He will hoist a banner for the Goyim,
assemble the dispersed of Isra’el,
and gather the scattered of Y’hudah
from the four corners of the earth.
Efrayim’s jealousy will cease —
those who harass Y’hudah will be cut off,
Efrayim will stop envying Y’hudah,
and Y’hudah will stop provoking Efrayim.
They will swoop down on the flank of the P’lishtim to the west.
Together they will pillage the people to the east —
they will put out their hand over Edom and Mo’av,
and the people of ‘Amon will obey them.
Adonai will dry up the gulf
of the Egyptian Sea.
He will shake his hand over the [Euphrates] River
to bring a scorching wind,
dividing it into seven streams
and enabling people to cross dryshod.
There will be a highway for the remnant of his people
who are still left from Ashur,
just as there was for Isra’el
when he came out from the land of Egypt.

Isaiah 11:1-16 (CJB)

            We live within a world that is looking for happy. We’re looking for the quick fix, the easy way, a happy passing moment. If you were to sit down and make a list of how you could be happy, you’d have no shortage of ideas. And none of them would really work—not for long. Happiness is fleeting. Happiness is an emotion. Joy is a mindset. It is the difference between sadness and depression. Happiness isn’t all there is, and it isn’t all that can be. It isn’t even worth chasing—it passes so quickly, and we’re more likely to find it when we stop chasing it. We’re looking for a shallow emotion when what we really need runs much deeper. 

            The people of Israel were awaiting a Messiah. They were awaiting a coming King who would save them. But what they got wasn’t exactly what they were expecting. They were looking for a king, and they got a baby. They thought that belt of justice would be, well, a little bigger and more menacing to their enemies. They were looking for a solution to their shallow problems, not knowing how deep their problems ran. What they got was deeper. 

            During Advent, we celebrate the first coming of the Messiah and eagerly await His second. I’ll be the first to admit the season is weird. It isn’t just about that manger. It is about a King returning on a white horse. It isn’t just about the Baby born long ago in a manger but about the coming day when a baby can put his hand in a viper’s nest. It is about all things being made new. You and I and this world—we’re all still in the middle of this Advent story. The end hasn’t made itself known yet. We’re still waiting for the deeper, the Act 2. 

            This Advent, don’t waste time searching for happiness. Take the time to invest in the deeper aspects of the season, and in those depths, you’ll find joy. Take the time to prepare yourself, to ask, “Have I lived a life that reflects the Messiah? Have I lived this Advent as if I look forward to all things being made new? Am I letting Him remake me now as I await His return? Am I doing all I can to share the love and joy of Christ with us? Am I being a light in this darkness? Will I be ready when the Son rises?”

Today’s Song: Arrival by Hillsong Worship

The post Untriumphantly: Deeper Than Happy appeared first on Notes From the Parsonage.

You have enlarged the nation
and increased their joy;
they rejoice in your presence
as if rejoicing at harvest time,
the way men rejoice
when dividing up the spoil.
For the yoke that weighed them down,
the bar across their shoulders,
and their driver’s goad
you have broken as on the day of Midyan[’s defeat].
For all the boots of soldiers marching
and every cloak rolled in blood
is destined for burning,
fuel for the fire.

For a child is born to us,
a son is given to us;
dominion will rest on his shoulders,
and he will be given the name
Pele-Yo‘etz El Gibbor
Avi-‘Ad Sar-Shalom
[Wonder of a Counselor, Mighty God,
Father of Eternity, Prince of Peace],
in order to extend the dominion
and perpetuate the peace
of the throne and kingdom of David,
to secure it and sustain it
through justice and righteousness
henceforth and forever.
The zeal of Adonai-Tzva’ot
will accomplish this.

Adonai sent a word to Ya‘akov,
and it has fallen on Isra’el.

Isaiah 9:2-7 (CJB)

            Advent is the beginning of the liturgical year. I know I’ve already mentioned this fact, but it bears repeating. This dark season of waiting is how we begin the year. I know everyone around us is just counting down the days to the end of this year. But as the Church, we stand and say, “This is the new beginning.” It might seem odd to begin a new year with waiting, but we often begin things with a season of waiting. When we’re getting married, we typically preface that with a season of engagement—the time of waiting to be married. When we’re having a baby, we must first be pregnant for what seems like both the longest and the shortest nine months on the planet. We begin by waiting. When beginning a new job, there is the interview process, which then turns into the days before we begin our new path—a time of waiting. When we begin college, we first apply and decide which college we’ll choose, and there is also a time of waiting before that first class begins. Waiting is a common way for things to begin. 

            Waiting in the dark of December often doesn’t feel like a new beginning. For me, August feels like the beginning of a new year. Those sharp new pencils just scream “new beginning” for me. Dead trees, long nights, sometimes cold temperatures—none of those things says “new” to me. But this is how it is. 

            A seed begins by sleeping. It is just a seed as it waits. It waits to be buried, fall apart completely, and sprout up something new and green. But that seed—that’s the beginning. By the time we see that little plant above the ground, so much work has already been done. 

            In Isaiah, we find this expectant waiting. He knows the Redeemer is coming. He knows God always fulfills His promises. He waits. Something is happening. Something is coming. This waiting is part of the beginning. The Child born so long ago for us—that is the beginning. These days waiting to the second coming—this is also the beginning. Jesus is making something new—not just for Israel, but for me now. Jesus is making me new. As I wait in the darkness, as I fall apart completely, something is growing—something new.

Today’s song: We Three Kings (We Are Not Lost) by Rend Collective

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It was at that time that Yeshua said, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you concealed these things from the sophisticated and educated and revealed them to ordinary folks. Yes, Father, I thank you that it pleased you to do this.

“My Father has handed over everything to me. Indeed, no one fully knows the Son except the Father, and no one fully knows the Father except the Son and those to whom the Son wishes to reveal him.

“Come to me, all of you who are struggling and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

One Shabbat during that time, Yeshua was walking through some wheat fields. His talmidim were hungry, so they began picking heads of grain and eating them. On seeing this, the P’rushim said to him, “Look! Your talmidim are violating Shabbat!” But he said to them, “Haven’t you ever read what David did when he and those with him were hungry? He entered the House of God and ate the Bread of the Presence!” — which was prohibited, both to him and to his companions; it is permitted only to the cohanim. “Or haven’t you read in the Torah that on Shabbat the cohanim profane Shabbat and yet are blameless? I tell you, there is in this place something greater than the Temple! If you knew what ‘I want compassion rather than animal-sacrifice’ meant, you would not condemn the innocent. For the Son of Man is Lord of Shabbat!”

Matthew 11:25-12:8 (CJB)

            You won’t find this as part of any productivity lecture. Resting in Jesus isn’t about being your best you. So often, when we talk about Sabbath and rest, we talk about the practical applications and advantages, rather than just looking at it as a command we are to obey. While it is true that you cannot pour from an empty cup, this isn’t about that. And while it is true that all work and no play make Jack a dull boy, this isn’t about that either. This is about resting in Jesus and seeing things how He sees them. 

            I find it profoundly interesting that Jesus is talking about coming to Him and resting and then immediately begins discussing the Sabbath laws. We’ll get to the Sabbath laws in a minute, but I want to first point out that connection. 

            Jesus says to come to Him, take up His cause, and His cross. We read “come to me all you who are weary and I will give you rest” and think more of something like a spa day than what Jesus is really talking about. He says to take on his yoke. Know what a yoke is? Yeah. A harness for animals so they can pull a burden of some sort. Jesus isn’t promising a life of ease as that flobbit in “Lord of the Beans” fondly dreamed of. Jesus is asking us to take up His cause, His burden—to put ourselves willingly into His yoke and pull His burden. That isn’t a spa day. But that is a sort of rest. 

            It is a rest from our overscheduled suburban life. It is a rest from trying to fit everything in and always missing out on the most important, eternal things. As a pastor’s wife, I can assure you that I have heard just about every excuse for missing church that exists. I’m not shaming anyone right now, just giving perspective, so bear with me—this isn’t to guilt you into going to church. “It’s the only day we really have as a family.” “The soccer season ends soon, and we’ll be back in church.” “It is so hard to get up with little kids on Sunday morning.” “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” “It is so hard to sit through church with a wiggling baby.” “It is so hard to sit and listen in church with my child.” “We decided to head out a day early for our vacation.” “Our family scheduled a family reunion that morning. They don’t go to church.” All these excuses are really just that: excuses. It becomes very easy for our excuses to just become our “regular”. As one thing after another vies for our Sunday morning attention, it can be easy to say, “I can talk to Jesus anywhere, anytime. There is nothing special about going to church.” The problem, of course, is that you won’t talk to Jesus anytime, anywhere unless you’re in crisis. You won’t raise a family and establish the habit of “the strong start on Sunday”, to quote Kanye. Soon, our excuses define our lives—not Jesus. You’ve put a yoke on yourself (and your family if you’re a parent or spouse) that isn’t the yoke of Jesus. You’ve taken up causes that aren’t His. And you’ll find yourself heavy. You’ll become burdened. Meeting together with other believers to celebrate our risen Lord each week isn’t just another thing to add to our to-do list. It is a way of ordering life that says, “I’m putting Jesus first.” First day of the week (the day of the Resurrection, not the Sabbath)—I’m putting aside for meeting with God and His people. We’re starting the week strong. We’re taking on Jesus’s yoke. Know what happens when you do that? You can’t get yourself into another yoke. You can’t burden yourself with lesser things. Seek the Kingdom first and you’ll find that your entire direction is toward the Kingdom. You do yourself and your family a great disservice when you let lesser things become first things. That altar of soccer, ease, even family—it isn’t one that will be light or easy. And it isn’t one that will save. That is a path to destruction. I don’t want that for you. Jesus doesn’t want that for you. You don’t want that for those you love. 

            Now, we get to the Sabbath. Jesus tells his disciples to find rest in Him and take up His cause. Then in a turn of the chapter, it flips to Jesus seeming to flick away the Sabbath. What gives? The Sabbath laws were intended to help the people of Israel, but they became a burden to them instead. Why? They didn’t understand the point. God wants mercy from us, not sacrifice. So, in your quest to end busyness, make sure you leave room for rest and mercy. One reason to resist filling your schedule and living a busy life is so you’ll have room for the cause of Jesus, room for other people. You may say, we rest on Saturday. But if a friend calls and needs you to come and have coffee and talk and pray with them, we don’t say, “Sorry, today is my rest day.” We’ve made the room for precisely this thing! This Advent, as you make room for rest, make room for mercy with it. Make room at your table for those who may be alone or struggling this holiday season. Make room to prepare an extra meal to help someone else this season. Take up the Kingdom’s cause this Advent. 

Today’s song: The Hope of Christmas by Matthew West

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Concerning love for the brothers we do not need to write you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other; and you do love all the brothers throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, brothers, to do it even more.

Also, make it your ambition to live quietly, to mind your own business and to earn your living by your own efforts — just as we told you. Then your daily life will gain the respect of outsiders, and you will not be dependent on anyone.

Now, brothers, we want you to know the truth about those who have died; otherwise, you might become sad the way other people do who have nothing to hope for. For since we believe that Yeshua died and rose again, we also believe that in the same way God, through Yeshua, will take with him those who have died. When we say this, we base it on the Lord’s own word: we who remain alive when the Lord comes will certainly not take precedence over those who have died. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a rousing cry, with a call from one of the ruling angels, and with God’s shofar; those who died united with the Messiah will be the first to rise; then we who are left still alive will be caught up with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and thus we will always be with the Lord. So encourage each other with these words.

1 Thessalonians 4:9-18 (CJB)

            This is a dark season. I’m not just talking about this year. In general, Decembers are dark. The days are short, the night is long. For many people, they begin to feel the effects of diminished vitamin D and seasonal depression can set in. Specific to this year, we may be missing some normalcy. We’re missing our trips, our shopping, and our parties. It’s just dark. It’s perfect for Advent. 

            Advent marks the beginning of the liturgical calendar. It is how we, as Christians, kick off our new year. That’s right! You don’t have to wait until January 1^st to ring in the new year. It starts now. There is so much hope in a new year. We make New Year’s resolutions because we want to be better this year than we were in the last. This year, most people are excited to be leaving behind the dumpster fire that was 2020. We’re hopeful that this new year will bring with it something better. 

            But for Christians, this new year, this hope—it isn’t in what is around us. We’re not people with hope because of a vaccine, the government, or the media. I’m not saying we don’t care about and aren’t involved in those things; what I am saying is that is not where our hope lies. Our hope lies in Jesus. And during this season where we wait for His coming, our hope is in Emmanuel, God with us.

            I think it is funny that Paul gives us the secret to “the happy life”, as a youth once said to me. Live quietly, mind your own business, and earn a living with your own hands. We aren’t just milling about and getting through life because we are not a people without hope. We have hope. Jesus was born. Jesus died. Jesus was resurrected. That is why we have hope. We can encourage one another, knowing that we don’t have the grieve like the rest of the world. Our hope is in Jesus.

Today’s song: What A Year for A New Year by Dan Wilson

The post Untriumphantly: A People of Hope appeared first on Notes From the Parsonage.

Around this time, Emperor Augustus issued an order for a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This registration, the first of its kind, took place when Quirinius was governing in Syria. Everyone went to be registered, each to his own town. So Yosef, because he was a descendant of David, went up from the town of Natzeret in the Galil to the town of David, called Beit-Lechem, in Y’hudah, to be registered, with Miryam, to whom he was engaged, and who was pregnant. While they were there, the time came for her to give birth; and she gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped him in cloth and laid him down in a feeding trough, because there was no space for them in the living-quarters.

Luke 2:1-7 (CJB)

            This time of year, there is so much hype. As a mother, I feel it acutely. It is up to me to create some magical, memorable holiday for my family. If I fail, they’ll miss out on some magic that everyone else got to have. There is all of this pressure, and most of it, if I’m honest, comes from me. Yet, year after year, I find myself not really feeling it. I find it hard to “get into the Christmas spirit”. Why is this holiday so hard to really get into? Maybe because I’ve been going about it all wrong. 

            Look at the story we’re celebrating here in Luke. (I’ve given it to you in the Complete Jewish Bible translation to make it feel less familiar on purpose.) It all starts with a census. How boring is that? We then have a road trip. This isn’t some fantastic Instagram-worthy vacation. They’re going to a small town to visit family. Again—boring! Perhaps the start to a Hallmark Christmas movie, even when they find no place to stay, but the giving birth to a baby and putting him in a feeding trough definitely veers off the Hallmark movie path. Where is the drama? This isn’t even a memorable birth story! Babies are born every day, and the only “out of the ordinary” thing about this birth is that feeding trough bit—since we don’t usually put our babies in feeding troughs. (Though it does sound hipster to make a crib from a feeding trough.) There is no tinsel. There is no pomp. There isn’t even really much drama. This is just an ordinary kind of story. 

            So with an ordinary kind of story, why has the holiday become so bloated? Why all the pressure to make magic?  I get it. This isn’t just any baby—this is the Word-made-flesh. This isn’t just any birth story—this is the story of God-with-us. But God interjected himself into his masterpiece in such a common, ordinary way. 250 babies are born every minute! That is pretty common! 

            This Advent, I’m issuing a challenge to you and to me. Let’s be ordinary! Let’s not fret about the perfect decoration for the tree. Whatever is in the box is okay. Let’s not wring our hands over those perfect gifts. We give what we give. Let’s not try for magic. Let’s try for ordinary! Let’s try for an ordinary family spending time together reading this ordinary story of a Baby born with the animals who saves us now and tomorrow. Let’s stop trying to make the holiday into something fantastic. Let’s just let it be ordinary and see if God doesn’t speak to us through the simple. I have a feeling we’ll find more meaning in the manger without all the pressure, the sparkly, and the drama. 

Today’s song: A Stick, A Carrot, and A String by mewithoutYou

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This Advent devotional is written for you, for me. It is a personal devotional for the season of Advent. Advent includes the four Sundays leading up to Christmas. Once Christmas arrives, we’re on to the 12 Days of Christmas—like the song. While I usually write family devotions, this one is intended to be personal; although, you can use it however you like. I’ve intentionally chosen a translation of Scripture that I think you’ll be a little unfamiliar with; I wanted it to read like something new. Sometimes our familiarity with Scripture makes us deaf to what it is saying. If you don’t enjoy the translation I’m using, feel free to look the verses up and read them in your own Bible. I’ve also included a song for each day. I’ve carefully chosen them specifically for each devotional, so I do hope you’ll choose to take the time to listen to them. It is my prayer that in embracing the ordinariness of the season, we’ll find ourselves looking down into the manger and seeing something new in the face of the Baby who came to save us. I pray we’ll not jump ahead to the cross but, instead, sit with our infant King for this season. I pray that this ordinary start to the cycle of the liturgical calendar will be a grounding experience as we move into a new year as His people. Instead of trying to be simple as an apology, I want to embrace it. This is an ordinary December. I’m an ordinary mom. And Jesus still came to save me, and He will meet me here.

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