Today, December 20

Today was supposed to be a Day Of Christmas Cheer. I had the day off and was going to drink peppermint coffee, relax, and enjoy the simple pleasures of the season.

But soon the morning found me, fuming, crying, and marching in the pouring, cold rain to retrieve my car which had been towed by the vindictive and heartless Vanderbilt Traffic and Parking. How's that for cheer?

The day improved, though I still have that headache I always get whenever I cry.

I popped some popcorn on the stove and went to the historic Belcourt Theater, where a few friends and I enjoyed Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire in Holiday Inn. I baked Christmas cookies and am now heading to sing Christmas carols with the sweet community I get to call brothers and sisters. Tonight I will be celebrating "Roommate Christmas" with an abundance of gifts and Italian food.

It just struck me that the beauty of Christmas is displayed today not by the seasonal things I love, not in the singing or peppermint or classic movie.

I prayed as I walked over to retrieve my sad little Volvo--prayed that I would calm down, that I would have compassion for the officers, that I would be forgiven for my rude anger. I prayed that God would be with me.

And that, dear friends, was the beauty of Christmas. That was the unspeakable mystery of Christmas coming into my hard heart. Emmanuel. Jesus, help me, forgive me, be with me.

"You are my witnesses": Lord, have mercy

This is the haunting lined engraved on the marble wall greeting you when you walk in the Holocaust Museum in Washington, D.C. "You are my witnesses." (Isaiah 43: 10) Oh Lord, have mercy.

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As I walked in, I was handed a small booklet. (USHMM #4253)

Frieda Greinegger was born on October 19, 1920 in Michaelnbach, Austria.

"Frieda was the fourth of five children born to strict Catholic parents. She had one brother and three sisters. Frieda grew up on a large farm near the village of Michaelnback in northern Austria. The farm had cattle, horses, pigs and poultry, and the children worked long hours helping their parents on the farm. At age 12, Frieda left school to work full time on the farm."

Each visitor to the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum is handed a card with the true story of someone who was affected by the holocaust. As you walk through the chronological levels of the museum, you can follow along with the events of your person's life.

"1933-39: Germany annexed Austria in March 1938. When war broke out in September 1939, my brother was drafted into the German army. Because we were short of help, my father filled out an application to get farm workers from Poland. Two Polish laborers arrived in December, an older man and a young man named Julian. We taught them German and what to do on the farm. Julian was a fast learner and very friendly."

The first level corresponds with Hitler's rise to power--Germany's economic and social devastation following the First World War and vengeful Treaty of Versailles, the political instability and impotence of the Weimar regime, and the attractiveness of Hitler's strong leadership, vision and personal charisma. You see Hitler's transformation from an unknown soldier in the German Army to a power-hungry, radical politician who ruthlessly eliminated dissent.

"1940-1944: Julian and I fell in love. My father objected--it was against the law for us to be friendly with Poles. To protect him, I agreed to move to another farm, Though we risked arrest, we kept meeting. When I found that I didn't like working on that farm, I applied for a factory job. But my boss found out and got angry. He told the gestapo about me and Julian, and we were arrested. In November 1941 I was deported as a political prisoner to Ravensbruck, a concentration camp for women."

The second level of the Museum deals with Anti-Semitism throughout Europe and the brutality of Hitler's Final Solution. It's honestly difficult to describe the methodical, calculated nature of this genocide. While the war was certainly devastating, the camps lacked the chaos of war. Rather, it was a carefully planned execution of evil, seemingly devoid of emotion or repentance. Men momentarily usurping God's place, taking into their hands the power over life and death.

"Frieda was released from Ravensbruck in August of 1943. Reunited after the war, Frieda and Julian married on April 24, 1946. They emigrated to the United States in 1948."

The third and final level discusses the end of the war, the liberation of the camps, and the return to life--full of sorrow and joy. Some of the stories end in mass graves of the tortured, some, like my dear friend Frieda, end with a happy reuniting, and some simply end with vacant eyes staring back through the ages, reminding us of humanity's devastating potential for cruelty but also its hopeful endurance.

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The day that I visited the museum, two Holocaust survivors were there, graciously answering the questions of visitors--that day, mainly curious high school girls. I hung back, listening, but I didn't know what to say. What would I say to these people who have seen and survived the unimaginable? To military servicemen and women, I could thank them for their service. To profesional athletes, 'good game.' To celebrities, 'nice outfit.' But what can one human being say to another who has seen the evil we are capable of? What could I possibly offer by way of apology for their suffering and delight at their continued life?

Lord, have mercy.

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There was one artifact that I saw that continues to burden my heart and mind.

A beautiful wooden doorframe covered in rich green paint greeted visitors to a synagogue in Nentershausen, Germany. On it was inscribed in gilded letters these words in Hebrew: "Know before whom you stand." A certain reverence, an awareness of the holiness of the true and living God, this verse reminded the faithful as the entered the place of worship to humble themselves in His presence. On Kristallnaucht, that darkest of nights in 1938, the Nazis scratched these words out, resolutely and defiantly denying that God's authority and instead asserting their own. It was not to be His way, but theirs. Not the Creator but the creation was now to be exalted. This ends in death.

When we elevate ourselves, whether under the insidious face of Nazism or the deceptive guise of triumphant humanism, be sure that evil lurks. Only when God is understood to be the Holy One, the Redeemer, the Almighty can humanity exist in goodness and peace. Oh Lord, please, have mercy.

The Royal Son, Deliverer of the Afflicted

This Advent reading is pure poetry. The last of David's psalms, it reads like a benediction to me, full of hope and promise- 'May there be righteousness and justice, may the poor be helped and wicked punished, may there be peace and rain.' King David also exalts the Lord- "may He be praised, may he have dominion, and his name endure forever." But right in the middle of the psalm, it describes this one, the Royal Son, the Great King as one "who delivers the needy when he calls, the poor and him who has no helper." The one enthroned on the praises of men and angels who dwells in unapproachable light has pity on the oppressed, scorned and needy. Jesus, the Lord of Heaven, the Word, comes near to us, is Incarnate among us. He redeems us from our sin and sorrow and, as David knew even before His coming, and "redeems [our] life, and precious is [our] blood in his sight." That this one Jesus would leave the splendors of heaven and come in such tenderness and humility is such a mystery of love. How could the Royal Son be the Deliver of the Afflicted? Indeed, in a depth of compassion and love unmatched he considered our blood to be of such worth that he shed his own. I can only echo David in saying "Blessed be his glorious name forever, may the whole earth be filled with his glory! amen and amen!"

Psalm 72:

"Give the king your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to the royal son!
May he judge your people with righteousness,
and your poor with justice!
Let the mountains bear prosperity for the people,
and the hills, in righteousness!
May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,
give deliverance to the children of the needy,
and crush the oppressor!

May they fear you while the sun endures,
and as long as the moon, throughout all generations!
May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
like showers that water the earth!
In his days may the righteous flourish,
and peace abound, till the moon be no more!

May he have dominion from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth!
May desert tribes bow down before him,
and his enemies lick the dust!
May the kings of Tarshish and of the coastlands
render him tribute;
may the kings of Sheba and Seba
bring gifts!
May all kings fall down before him,
all nations serve him!

For he delivers the needy when he calls,
the poor and him who has no helper.
He has pity on the weak and the needy,
and saves the lives of the needy.
From oppression and violence he redeems their life,
and precious is their blood in his sight.

Long may he live;
may gold of Sheba be given to him!
May prayer be made for him continually,
and blessings invoked for him all the day!
May there be abundance of grain in the land;
on the tops of the mountains may it wave;
may its fruit be like Lebanon;
and may people blossom in the cities
like the grass of the field!
May his name endure forever,
his fame continue as long as the sun!
May people be blessed in him,
all nations call him blessed!

Blessed be the LORD, the God of Israel,
who alone does wondrous things.

Blessed be his glorious name forever;
may the whole earth be filled with his glory!

Amen and Amen!"

And He shall be called...

My dear friend Ellie Holcomb is about to embark on a few weeks touring with the wonderful Neighbors. So some of us in the women's bible study decided to make Ellie some cards to encourage her on the road.

I wrote a relatively normal note on one of my cards.

On the other, I drew what was supposed to be a Christmas tree. Underneath it, I was going to write a verse. I was envisioning the one that lists out what the Messiah will be: "And he shall be called..."

"Hey Britt," I said to my gorgeous, godly, Scripturally-knowledgable friend Brittany Cooper, who was busy making her own card, "what's that verse about Jesus?"

"You know, like Wonderful Counselour, Mighty God, Prince of Peace, Lord of Lords...." I rambled.

"I don't know exactly," she sweetly replied. "I think it's in Isaiah."

"Yeah it is," I said, distracted drawing some holly trim.

A few minutes later, Britt and I handed our cards to our dear friend Maeven to deliver. Looking at my pathetic little card, they started laughing.

Turns out, too lazy to actually go find a Bible, I had simply written, "And he shall be called... Jesus."

Of course, Brittany knew the verse (and an accompanying song, actually) but thought I was just asking for the reference. I let it stand.

I mean, he was called Jesus, right?

Advent-Holy One and Resurrected Redeemer

I think Advent is a beautiful word.

It may be because it has lovely letters in it.

It may be because it sounds a bit like Avett.

But it really is because Advent signifies a time of somber, sweet expectation.

Of joy longed for, but not yet seen. Of the coming King. Of hope.

For Christians, Advent is the reality in which we always live--the now and not yet--as those redeemed from the penalty and power of sin, but not yet its presence, as my pastor says. We have been ransomed from the grave, yet we still live in a fallen world. Christ has come, but He is coming again. And we wait expectantly for that day, even as we rejoice in His finished work.

St. Charles Borromeo, a sixteenth century bishop in Milan, wrote of Advent:"This is the season that the Church has always celebrated with special solemnity. We too should always observe it with faith and love, offering praise and thanksgiving to the Father for the mercy and love he has shown us in this mystery. In his infinite love for us, though we were sinners, he sent his only Son to free us from the tyranny of Satan, to summon us to heaven, to welcome us into its innermost recesses, to show us truth itself, to train us in right conduct, to plant within us the seeds of virtue, to enrich us with the treasures of his grace, and to make us children of God and heirs of eternal life." I am prone to forget that the beauty of Advent, of Christmas, is this same story. The familiar, miraculous truth that God, in His inexplicable, infinite love sent Jesus to redeem the lost and make them sons and heirs of righteousness and glory.

Often, for me, the false 'joy' that my culture and own mind offers is one of peppermint coffee and red sweaters. I get lost in Big Crosby's nostalgic crooning and my deep affection for evergreens, in notions of home and rest and celebration. And these are all wonderful things. But there's a real joy that endures beyond the returns and exchanges line on December 26, beyond a conflict with a family member, beyond the hassle of crowded travel. And that joy is in who God is and what He has done. In that precious refrain, my soul finds rest and can truly delight.

In an effort to remember this, I'm trying to consciously walk through the Advent readings provided by my local expression here in Nashville, City Church of East Nashville. Today, December 5, we are reading Psalm 22, The One Forsaken by God.

Psalm 22:

"My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?

O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,

and by night, but I find no rest.

Yet you are holy,

enthroned on the praises of Israel.

In you our fathers trusted;

they trusted, and you delivered them.

To you they cried and were rescued;

in you they trusted and were not put to shame.

But I am a worm and not a man,

scorned by mankind and despised by the people.

All who see me mock me;

they make mouths at me; they wag their heads;

“He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him;

let him rescue him, for he delights in him!”

Yet you are he who took me from the womb;

you made me trust you at my mother's breasts.

On you was I cast from my birth,

and from my mother's womb you have been my God.

Be not far from me,

for trouble is near,

and there is none to help.

Many bulls encompass me;

strong bulls of Bashan surround me;

they open wide their mouths at me,

like a ravening and roaring lion.

I am poured out like water,

and all my bones are out of joint;

my heart is like wax;

it is melted within my breast;

my strength is dried up like a potsherd,

and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

you lay me in the dust of death.

For dogs encompass me;

a company of evildoers encircles me;

they have pierced my hands and feet—

I can count all my bones—

they stare and gloat over me;

they divide my garments among them,

and for my clothing they cast lots.

But you, O Lord, do not be far off!

O you my help, come quickly to my aid!

Deliver my soul from the sword,

Save me from the mouth of the lion!

my precious life from the power of the dog!

You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen!

I will tell of your name to my brothers;

in the midst of the congregation I will praise you:

You who fear the Lord, praise him!

All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him,

and stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!

For he has not despised or abhorred

the affliction of the afflicted,

and he has not hidden his face from him,

but has heard, when he cried to him.

From you comes my praise in the great congregation;

my vows I will perform before those who fear him.

The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied;

those who seek him shall praise the Lord!

May your hearts live forever!

All the ends of the earth shall remember

and turn to the Lord,

and all the families of the nations

shall worship before you.

For kingship belongs to the Lord,

and he rules over the nations.

All the prosperous of the earth eat and worship;

before him shall bow all who go down to the dust,

even the one who could not keep himself alive.

Posterity shall serve him;

it shall be told of the Lord to the coming generation;

they shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn,

that he has done it."

In unmatched poetry, the psalmist describes a harrowing scene of one who knows of God's faithful covenant to His Fathers but is abandoned by God. He is one afflicted, abhorred, despised. He is one who we now know to be Jesus.

The psalm begins with those haunting words that echo from age to age, "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" As the wise Tim Keller teaches, when Jesus is on the cross and utters this phrase, it is the only time in Scripture that He addresses God with a title other than "Father." Jesus was with God in perfect Trinitarian unity and relationship from before time began, Father and Son. But on the cross, he was broken for our sakes and, in taking our sin upon Himself, experienced for the first time in all of eternity, separation from God, crying out not as a beloved Son, but as a condemned sinner, "My God." As Craig Brown teaches, Jesus momentarily abandoned His place as Son, so that we could inherit His righteousness and Sonship. He called out "my God" so we could cry out "our Father."

I also love the last line of the Psalm, that what God had done shall be told to "a coming generation" that His righteousness shall be proclaimed to a "people yet unborn that He has done it." To me, to you, those unborn in antiquity when King David penned this psalm, it is recounted. He has done it.

"It is Finished."

Advent is about the Coming of this One in perfect humility, obedience and love. He was broken so we could be restored. He was forsaken so we could be reconciled. He brought about peace by the blood of the cross. He brought life from death. God became Flesh and dwelt among us. Though we were far off, we have been brought near. We were enemies of God, now his children.

Amen and Amen.