2013 advent devotional web

Advent: Does faith live between memory and hope?

faces of ministry austin presbyterian theological seminary

Faces of Ministry

In Advent, we live in paradox between the first and second coming of the Lord. Between memory and hope, past and future.

So, too, do our seminarians. Here, in preparing for ministry, they take on the mantle of memory—church history, the Bible and theology. In this “set-aside” time, they reflect, work, learn, hear the word of God, and discern.

Looking ahead to their lives.

They all face the future: They have given their futures to God for the work of the Kingdom. They carry, in part, our hopes for the church and for all people. Hope for restoration of the wounded and the grieving, the promised justice of God’s new world. Hope to finally beat swords into ploughshares because the Prince of Peace has come.

Hope that the violent deserts of our inner cities will bloom because the Rose of Sharon has flowered.

We hope these Advent meditations enrich your Advent season and draw us closer to one another and to Christ as we reflect between memory and hope, God’s faithfulness and God’s promise.

Hope The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”

Jeremiah 33:14–16

December 1

Isaiah 2:1–5

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s winter begins, a star peeks over the hills, beckoning us to the horizon, beckoning us to Zion.

The night sky carries a lamp to light the way to Bethlehem. Forgotten promises will be fulfilled beneath its glow. Darkness yields to light, commotion breaks to stillness, and clamor gives way to peace. The star of Bethlehem rises above Zion tonight, and the scattered sheep will follow it home to the house of the Lord.

Jerusalem waits at Zion’s base. There Jesus died to teach us the Way, and there Jesus rose to send us the Word. The star rises to whisper the Word of the Lord, yet can we hear it?

Will the clash of metal and heated debate allow this sound to pass? Will the flashes of gunfire steal us from this light?

Do not worry, little flock. A single sound will disarm us and give the whole world pause. An infant crying to the mountains will wake us from our nightmares. A star will whisper reassurance that war will meet its end, for Jesus is coming! The star is rising, and peace will reign lightly from the night sky.

Loving Parent, may your face shine through the darkness to give us your light; may your longawaited Son bring us your peace; may our arms wrap lovingly around the Infant and our feet walk humbly in your justice, that our children will not come to know war. Amen.

– John Harrison Middler MDiv student

Psalm 124

December 2

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y family and I finally arrived at King’s Cross station. Famished, we were eager to catch the next train to Cambridge. During our wait, my daughter and I left briefly to buy some coffee. Just as we returned, my wife signaled to us that our train was boarding. In a crowd of eager passengers, we raced to our train’s platform.

We passed each railcar looking for seats. Our only chance of boarding was to separate. Walking away, I saw that my wife had not boarded. Suddenly, the railcar doors shut— leaving our two girls alone inside.

Terrified, I chased the train. I banged on windows and shouted, “I have two daughters going to Cambridge!”

I searched frantically for a security guard, while my wife and two other daughters stood by praying. As a father, it was hard not to image the worst—kidnap or sexual assault.

Walking back from the station’s security office, I noticed from afar that my wife was on the phone. It was our oldest daughter. Soon after, we arrived at Cambridge with our family reunited.

Indeed, I resonate strongly with the psalmist words, “If it had not been the LORD who was on our side.”

This train incident could have ended in tragedy. Yet, because of God, we avoided disaster. In the words of the psalmist, “Our help is in the name of the LORD, who made heaven and earth.”

From where does our help come?

Our help comes from the Lord, The Maker of heaven and earth, In Christ’s name, Amen – Gregory Lee Cuéllar, PhD Assistant Professor of Old Testament

December 3

Genesis 9:1–17

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housands of years ago—centuries before Abraham ever came on the scene—God’s heart was grieved because of humankind’s sinfulness. God saw the wickedness in their (our!) hearts and was sorry that God had ever created them (us!). God wanted a do-over. God wanted men and women who would take care of each other and the earth, and who would radiate God’s glory and love.

But instead of starting from scratch with a new Adam and a new Eve, God decided to stick with the creation He loved so much by taking Noah and his family and using them to save the human, and non-human, race. Into the Ark went Noah and his family and every species of animal, as the rains came and destroyed all other living creatures.

In our passage for today, God establishes a covenant with Noah and his descendants. God vows never to destroy the earth again with water, and states that the rainbow in the sky will serve as a sign of this covenant. This is all well and good, but the do-over with Noah and his descendants and the rainbow in the sky did not provide a full solution to the real problem, humankind’s sinfulness that leads to death. Sin was just as much a problem after the flood as it was before.

Destroying humankind (except for Noah and his family) was not a remedy for getting rid of sin. The remedy, the solution, would come thousands of years later when God would take on human flesh and would be born in a humble manger to a peasant girl.

The rainbow, for many, is a sign of hope, good luck, cheer, and beauty. And the manger scene that we set out weeks before Christmas is the same, with one wonderful difference: it is the remedy that brings life and peace to our hearts, knowing that in Christ we are found sinless and perfect before God our Father.

Gracious God, in your mercy you lowered yourself, taking on human flesh to live a perfect life and to conquer death and sin so that we can experience life and communion with you. Thank you for your patience when we fail to acknowledge the remedy for our thirsty hearts: your own Spirit.

– Charlie Drozdyk Middler MDiv student

Matthew 18:23–35

December 4

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his story should have a happy ending. The servant’s debt has been forgiven! He doesn’t have to wake up every night, anymore, wondering how he is going to pay, worried that the debt collectors will put him in jail. He has been set free of everything that would keep him from enjoying life.

So why is he mean to the other servant? Why doesn’t he just forgive this other guy a small debt, when he has been forgiven so much? Maybe he is just greedy. But maybe he treats the other debtor this way because he can’t accept the truth of his own forgiveness.

Even the most beautiful truth cannot transform our lives unless we know it. God loves us whether we know it or not, and God forgives us whether we believe it or not. But it matters supremely that we DO know and believe. It is only when we realize the truth that we live our lives differently.

The glory of God is all around us, and we are sore afraid.

We are afraid because God’s glory comes after us and meddles with us. It enters into life with us, forgiving us, loving us, and inviting us to know ourselves as God’s glorious creations.

It is hard to know the truth of our forgiveness. To believe we are set free means the possibilities for who we are and what we can do are broken wide open. It is no wonder we pull back, living our lives in the same old mean ways. The question is: Will we muster the courage to leap into the freedom God gives us?

Gracious God, Convince us we are forgiven. Give us the courage to know it is true; make this truth the watchword of our lives. Show us who we can forgive today, that we might bear witness to your unrelenting, reconciling presence. AMEN. – Cynthia L. Rigby The W.C. Brown Professor of Theology

December 5

Isaiah 4:2–6

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hen I was a little kid, I loved the anticipation of Christmas. Naturally, the presents helped; however I relished the holiday primarily because I looked forward to a time when the (world as I understood it) would transform into an entire new world of possibilities and hope. People, situations, things which appeared to contradict one another on that sacred Christmas day happened to not only balance out, but transcend beyond space and time to something far more. It was like a glimpse into heavenly life. Among those who gathered to celebrate the day of Christ’s birth, there was a collective feeling of safety, peace, vulnerability, and hope.

As we all know too well, life continues, bringing its best and worst, causing us to show our best and worst selves. But every year this liturgical season reminds us that Christ’s coming is an event; an event that changes our relationship with God and all creation. Beloved Jewish communities, friends, aunts, uncles, grandparents, sisters, and brothers were all waiting in anticipation for the coming of the Messiah. Everyone expected that when the Messiah came the world would be forever changed. Literally everything would be made new and God would protect and guide the people of Israel always. Fortunately, and less stressful for us, we celebrate Advent knowing that Christ has already come. It is a symbolic celebration and reminder of God’s graceful gift of God in human flesh as Christ Jesus, helping to remind us—no matter what age in life or what we have gone through—there is still hope. Christ is the pavilion, the shade by day from the heat and a refuge and shelter from the storm, and rain continuing to make all things new.

Immaculate Creator, who has given us the gracious gift of Christ, help us to live in courage and hope during this Advent season, so we may build our spiritual strength for all that is in store for our lives. In Christ’s beautiful name we pray, Amen.

– A nnanda Barclay Senior MDiv student

Psalm 72:1–7, 18–19

December 6

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t is a truism to say that the world is not fair, that people suffer and that this suffering is all around: The poor of the people are not yet defended; there is still no deliverance for the needy; and especially noticeable is the lack of rescue of those were are oppressed by various groups, be it governments, tyrants, or other authorities.

Indeed, as I write this, the United States is once again thinking of war with another nation led by a leader who is responsible for the murder of his own people; and a recent news report states that 80% of Americans face near poverty and unemployment. It is not difficult to find a lack of righteousness in the world.

Indeed, Advent can sometimes remind us how distant the realities of this world that we live in are from the hope expressed and made real through and in the Easter event. Where is this king who will judge the people with righteousness and the poor with justice, who will bring prosperity and righteousness, and defend the poor, needy, and oppressed! What happened to that promise?

Another way to think about the dissonance expressed in this psalm, however, is that it reveals to us why the world so desperately needs such a king. It expresses the deep longing for the arrival of Jesus and expresses the desperate need for the completion of the event that began with his birth and death—a desire that this son of a king will finally fill this imperfect world with righteousness and justice.

Lord we eagerly wait your coming justice and righteousness in the world. As the psalmist pleads: may your presence be like rain that falls on the mown grass, like showers that water the earth.

Amen.

– Suzie Park Assistant Professor of Old Testament

December 7

John 1:19–28

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hat if your pastor, your choir director, and your Sunday school teachers came to your house to ask the question “Who are you?” What would you say? That is what happened to John. He could have said, “I am John the Baptist, the cousin of Jesus!” but instead, John talked about who he was not.

The priests and the Levites thought John was a familiar character in the story of the Jews’ relationship with God, maybe Moses or Elijah. John says, “No. That is not who I am.” He reminds the men about another character in their story who had been predicted long ago—the voice crying in the wilderness to prepare for the Lord. “That’s me,” John finally says, “and now the time has come for me to play my part.” His part is to set the stage for the best character yet to enter the story.

As we move through Advent, Jesus has not been born yet, but the story is well underway. Who are you in the story? You have a part to play that is just yours—not your preacher’s, your mother’s, your friend’s part. It is the part in God’s story written in just for you.

During Advent, we can practice learning our own part; that is, we can practice being true to what it is God has prepared for each of us to do in making the world ready to receive God’s love. The stage is set every day for Love in the form of Jesus, the best character yet, to make its entrance.

Who are you?

Holy Creator of all true stories, We pray this day for curiosity to discover where you have written a part for us. We ask for clarity about who we are not, patience as we practice becoming who we are to be, and forgiveness when we make mistakes. Help us prepare the way for your love to enter the story, every day, always new. In the name of Jesus, Amen.

– Melissa Wiginton Vice President for Educ ation Beyond the Wall s

Peace And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins. By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Luke 1:76–79

December 8

Romans 15:4–13

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t is so easy to get caught up in the excitement of the birth of the Christ child that we forget that the glorious Advent story is the continuation of God’s steadfast and enduring love for all his people. Paul tells the Roman church that the birth of Christ does not abolish the scriptures (which for him would have been what we call the Old Testament), but that the steadfastness and encouragement displayed by the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph is the same steadfastness and hope proclaimed to all through Jesus Christ. The message of Jesus Christ is not the beginning of a new exclusive religion, it is the manifestation of the love of God for all God’s people—including Jews and Gentiles.

So, what does Paul expect from Jews and Gentiles alike?

He expects that they will find a common bond in the love of God and will live in harmony. Paul states that they should “with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.” In response to this passage, John Calvin said an amazingly modern thing: “There is no reason, therefore, for anyone to boast that [they] will glorify God in [their] own way, for God sets so high a store on the unity of [God’s] servants that [God] will not allow [God’s] glory to be sounded amid discord and controversy. This one thought ought to be sufficient to subdue the excess of dispute and controversy which occupies the minds of many at the present time.”

May we enter this Advent season with the goal of living in harmony and proclaiming the message that Jesus came to fill all the world with joy, peace, and hope by and through the Holy Spirit.

Lord of all, grant us the ability to see each other with your eyes, that we might be able to praise you with one voice. In Jesus’s name, Amen.

– Gordon Blackman Senior MDiv student

1 Thessalonians 4:1–12

December 9

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Thessalonians was Paul’s first letter, one written in a spirit of joy and relief. Paul was persecuted while preaching the gospel, and he was concerned that the nascent church’s faith would be diminished upon hearing this news. To offset this, Paul sent Timothy. Timothy, however, returned with good news; the young church had not abandoned the faith. What a compelling wonder, especially as witnessed during a moment where even our most established congregations are afflicted.

I think we find a clue to the church’s resilience in chapter four, where Paul remarks on sanctification and love.

He begins by exhorting them toward sanctification; such is a sign that one knows God. Paul’s remark on love, however, is qualitatively different—they are exhorted toward sanctification, but “as to the love of the brothers and sisters, you have no need for anyone to write to you … for indeed you do practice it toward all.” Sanctification is necessary to pleasing God, but it was the bond of love that sustained the early church’s faith and enabled them to endure news of affliction.

It seems that nowadays, the church has little trouble with sanctification. Indeed, much of current ecclesial angst may be traced to competing understandings of sanctification: traditionalist or mystic, biblicist or naturalist, gay or straight. These concerns will always be important; in these ways we believe ourselves to follow God’s will. Nonetheless, we should not confuse the role of sanctification with that of love. Sanctification transforms our character; love enables us to recognize the universality of God’s image in others of different character. Sanctification transforms our values; love illuminates the divinely endowed value of others.

Sanctification may curb our vices, but only by love are we redeemed. Surely, love has limits, but some things are possible only through love; even the perseverance of faith through affliction.

God, in this season of uncertainty and affliction, enable us to live out sanctified lives in humility, reminding us that even during our most lasting seasons of virtue, we are redeemed by your love rather than our own purity. Enable us also to love others, for indeed, love is the highest virtue. From it flow all others, and all others are forms of this one.

– A sante Todd (MDiv’06) Instruc tor in Christian Ethics

December 10

Psalm 21

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everal years ago, I sat with Sally in a nursing home. Her father was dying, her mother lived in an Alzheimer’s unit, and she had children at home who needed her. As she shared stories about her father, memories of God’s faithfulness emerged, and they became a source of hope for her as she anticipated the challenges that lay ahead.

Sally was in a threshold space—one of those inbetween places that cause us to look forward and back simultaneously. That’s also where we find the king in Psalm 21, as he remembers his past while looking toward his future. He remembers with thanksgiving that God gave life, provided rich blessings, and remained a constant source of strength. He also looks forward with confidence, trusting that the steadfast love of God he has known in the past will continue to provide for and protect him in the days to come.

In this season of Advent, like Sally and the king, we, too, are in a threshold space. We can look back on times when we have experienced God’s presence in our lives while facing our own adversaries and dark forces. We struggle to balance the demands of work, school, church, and family, and our responsibilities often pull us in different directions.

Sometimes we experience fatigue, loss, and loneliness. Yet, in faithfulness and hope, we journey on, and it is our trust in God that gives us faith that our modern-day enemies and obstacles will be overcome.

Psalm 21 invites us to reflect with thanksgiving, anticipate with confidence, and look forward to the blessed future God has promised us all. As we anticipate the coming of the Christ child this season, may we remember the steadfast love of God in which we are all grounded.

Eternal God, who is with us in all times and spaces, thank you for your steadfast love.

May we remember everything you have done and feel your presence today, as we look to the future that you have promised us. Amen.

– Jill Boyd Senior MDiv student

Genesis 15:1–18

December 11

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on’t be Afraid” God says this to us all of Advent.

It is important to know that we are able to be courageous. Sometimes God asks us to do or dream big, huge things. Like in this story. God tells Abraham he will be the leader and father of a great nation.

That’s pretty scary. Then God takes Abraham out under the stars. If you have ever looked at the stars, you realize how small we all are. And how BIG God really is.

Do you ever go outside and count stars anymore? It takes patience and stillness to count the stars. You can’t have lights on, your eyes have to adjust to the dark. Sometimes we forget how wonderful God’s creation is.

God’s promise to Abraham is to make his descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky. How long do God’s promises take? Abraham had no children at the time of his talk with God, but God was saying he would have a huge family. Abraham needed to have faith in God to understand.

Faith to be patient. Faith to trust God all the way until God’s promise came true.

How many stars have you counted? 100? 1000?

100,000,000? Even more than all the stars you could ever count, God has more promises for us. And that is great news for a courageous people! DO NOT be afraid! Our God is with us, and the promises of a future and a hope abound this Advent season!

Oh, wonderful Lord. We give thanks this night, under the awe of your beautiful creation. So big and so great you are, God, and so small are we. But you promise us that you are with us. And your promises are like the stars in heaven, beautiful and lighting up the darkness.

– J.D. Herrera Senior MDiv student

December 12

Ruth 1:16–18

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he story of Advent starts long before the shepherds and wise men. You can make the case that it starts on the plains of Moab, with two widows trying not to starve.

According to the story of Ruth, Naomi, her husband, and two sons move from Bethlehem to Moab to escape famine. The sons marry two Moabite women named Orpah and Ruth. But famine follows the family; the men die, and the women are left to figure out how to survive in a world uniquely hard on widows. Naomi suggests that her daughters-in-law go home to their fathers, and Orpah agrees … but not Ruth. Instead, Ruth makes a promise: “Wherever you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people will be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16). In the moment, it looks like foolishness; two women starve faster than one. But in fact, Ruth’s promise becomes the pathway to salvation. It isn’t easy, and they avoid starvation only because Ruth ekes out a living gathering excess wheat around the edges of the fields.

But she never gives up, never reneges on her promise to Naomi. In time, Ruth marries Boaz and bears a child, and she and Naomi find safety and a place among the people of Israel. Because of Ruth’s promise, they have a future.

Advent is God’s promise of a future: “the wolf shall live with the lamb; they shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain” (Isa. 11:6). Through all the years and despite all evidence to the contrary, that promise still stands, still offers its future. It seems a foolish thing to believe in, but whenever we observe Advent, we celebrate the power of God’s promise that things-as-they-are are not things-asthey-will-be. Advent is about believing in the possibility of a future, made possible by a promise.

By the way, Ruth’s promise does more than save herself and Naomi. Ruth and Boaz’s great grandson is David, the King of Israel.

Sometimes a baby is God’s way of promising a future for a whole people.

O God of Promises, teach us to hope, even when it seems most foolish. Amen.

– Paul K. Hooker Associate De an of Ministerial Formation and Advanced Studies

II Peter 3:11–18

December 13

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he writer of II Peter warns the Christian community to be careful lest we be led astray by false and twisted teachings. In this season of Advent, why do writings about twisted teaching and lawlessness show up? Shouldn’t we be getting excited? The Christmas carols are playing, the peppermint cocoa is beckoning. Brightly wrapped gifts are placed in our cozy homes. We know this story, after all. We know how Christmas morning looks.

Can you see it? It is exciting to anticipate Christmas.

Reread the scripture, though. Pause, listen, pray. This letter is more correct than we can admit. Is Christmas really about wrapping paper and joyful Christmas carols? All around us, even in our churches, this is the story we tell.

We ignore the truthful story of our Christian call. We twist the story to fit our own truth.

As we wait for Christmas morning, we hope not the cocoa, carols, and crinkled Christmas paper. The writer reminds us of the real story: Our Christmas preparations are about hoping for the advent of a new heaven and earth. The writer reminds us how Christmas morning looks: righteousness is at home.

We remember that once, long ago, righteousness did come home. God joined us in God’s world—our world.

So we hope, in our holy and godly ways, to make every morning Christmas. Over and over again, our story is about replacing the twisted demands of this world with righteousness. Our story is about welcoming God home.

Can you see it? It is exciting to anticipate Christmas.

God of Hope, remind us to tell your hopeful story.

Help us speak truth and godliness, and make a place for righteousness in our homes. May we grow in your grace and knowledge, glorifying your incarnate Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

– Sarah de la Fuente Senior MDiv student

December 14

1 Samuel 2:1–8

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n this day last year, a small community experienced an unthinkable loss. A young man named Adam Lanza shot and killed his own mother at their home and then went on to kill 20 children, six staff members, and then himself at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

There were then, and even now, no words of consolation for this haunting act of violence and tragedy.

As the nation witnessed the devastating death of young, innocent lives at the hands of a troubled 20-year-old, our hearts ached and wrestled with the feeling of helplessness, anger, and sorrow. Undoubtedly, the parents, grandparents, relatives, friends, and those who knew, loved, and cared for these victims have spent this past year weeping bitterly as Hannah did for her child (1 Sam. 1:10).

The sense of love and longing for one’s child, born and unborn, reaches into the core and very essence of one’s being. This love drives Hannah to pour out her soul before God. This love compels God to answer her prayers and to provide more than she desired. Hannah’s prayers of anguish and grief are now prayers praising God’s sovereignty and care for the poor, the needy, the hungry, the barren, and the feeble.

In this season, for many, their prayers remain prayers of anguish and grief. Let us continue to pray these prayers, for there is no one, no Rock, who is as moved with sorrow and compassion as God, the Mother and Father of us all.

O God of life and death, comfort those whose hearts remain in anguish and sorrow for the loss of loved ones. We cry out for your healing for the Newtown community and for all of our brokenness.

Strengthen us in hope in the days to come. Amen.

– K athy Lee Middler MDiv student

Joy Surely God is my salvation; I will trust, and will not be afraid, for the Lord God is my strength and my might; he has become my salvation.

With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation. And you will say on that day: Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known his deeds among the nations; proclaim that his name is exalted.

Isaiah 12:2–4

December 15

James 5:7–10

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ometimes patience seems impossibly out of reach.

I think we have all mumbled the prayer, “Lord, give me patience, NOW!” at one time or another. The tricky thing about patience is that sometimes you really do have to wait. Cultivating patience is like growing a garden.

It begins with a seed. With careful tending, nurturing with the waters of diligence and the sunshine of dedication, it will bloom in time. Patience takes time and focus and faith.

We have faith that the seeds that we cannot see beneath the soil will turn into plants in due time. We have faith in our Lord. Every Christmas we remember and celebrate the birth of Jesus. Our Advent purpose is to practice patience in anticipation of Christ’s arrival. These verses from James remind us that, like a farmer, our patience has purpose and will yield harvest when the season is right.

If patience is an act of self-discipline, strengthening our hearts suggests an outward component for our preparations. The writer is inviting us to exercise tolerance with each other. It is not just how we accept limitations and disappointment within ourselves that needs reflection and improvement, but also how we accept one another. The fruits of tolerance and patience are greater understanding and joy.

Are we ready to greet our Lord when he comes? We can practice the peace of the kingdom that the prophets have foretold, and in this way prepare ourselves for the joyous arrival of our Savior.

Gracious Creator, who is both compassionate and merciful, bless us with patience and tolerance, that we may love each other as you so graciously love us, through Jesus Christ, Amen.

– Michele R. Goff Middler MDiv student

Psalm 42

December 16

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t seems incongruous to be reading a psalm of lament and longing during an Advent season filled with wonder and praise. And yet it is all too appropriate because we are broken people living in a broken world. The lament of the psalmist, expressed in a passionate cry of grief and sorrow, is more familiar to us then we want to admit. Psalm 42 is part of a group of psalms, those prayers to God and Words from God, whose cry to God is brutally honest and open. Why have you forgotten me?

We connect to the image of a deer, thirsty and desperate for water. We are reminded of our longing, yearning, and pleading for the life-sustaining help of the face of God. The psalmist is discouraged and filled with sorrow but continues to praise God through prayer.

Our psalmist knew that the act of singing does something to us. People who sing regularly in church choirs know this, too. Our inner experience is given voice. Songs give greater meaning to our words and express our sorrows and emotions. In song we can shout Behold! Here is God. The Austin Seminary community experienced this in September when we gathered to honor K.C. Ptomey, a beloved professor whose recent death had left us filled with sorrow and grief. So we sang. We sang with passion.

Many of the songs had six and seven verses. The notes and voices filled the chapel with tears of joy for the resurrection of K.C. and the resurrection promised to us all.

And so, even in this season, let your salty tears of lament and hope roll down your face as you sing and shout your praise to God, with God. Shout out your confession of faith with the confidence that God loves you. And … Behold!

Sing the song of the Lord, the Gospel, that is with us even in the deepest waters and the darkest night.

May you have the deep peace of the living God. May you behold the deep peace of the face of God. And may you sing the song of Christ. Amen.

– Laureen Suba Senior MDiv student

December 17

Ezekiel 47:1–12

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zekiel describes a sacred river flowing from the temple, the throne of God (see Ezek. 43:7). It is a vision of abundant, life-giving water. Beginning as a trickle from the temple, the water gradually rises to a point where Ezekiel is unable to cross its breadth. A new paradise is created through its lavish and extravagant beauty.

Wherever the river flows there is life— trees flourish along the banks, brackish water becomes fresh, and creatures swarm with life. Other important eco-systems, like salt marshes, are left intact (salt being a precious commodity).

There is food for all. Trees bear fruit monthly, not just annually. The sea teams with fish. Even the leaves of the trees have medicinal properties.

Such a vision for our day! Here in central Texas, a historic drought has continued unabated for several years. It’s one of the worst in the region’s history. Meteorologists use words like “severe” and “extreme” to describe the conditions. Water levels are drastically low. The earth is dry and parched. The famous peach orchards of Gillespie County are threatened. The leaves on my backyard trees are curled and brittle. The drought is persistent, unrelenting— the occasional shower does little to help. Creation is undergoing major ecological stress, and there seems no relief or healing in sight.

Called an “oracle of restoration,” Ezekiel’s vision of the sacred river points to the promise and power of God to make all things new, including the restoration of creation.

Ezekiel beholds a revelation of creation that exudes ecological health and prosperity. The land, the water, and the creatures are all blessed. Creation is grace-filled. There is abundance for all, and scarcity for none. The sacred river is an image of healing and hope and very appropriate for this Advent season.

Lavish God, your grace overflows into creation and into our lives. As we prepare for the coming of Christ and his return, may we look forward to that great day when both heaven and earth rejoice.

Amen.

– K ristin Saldine Associate Professor of Homiletics

Zechariah 8:1–17

December 18

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echariah was a prophet and priest, possibly born into the time of the Babylonian Exile, a time of great uncertainty for the people of God. He is writing to the Jewish people after they are released from captivity.

What a time that must have been. No longer slaves to their Babylonian captors, the people now are presented with the challenge of new freedom, returning home and rebuilding their homeland, God’s temple, their very own lives.

The challenges of uncertain times are not limited to political captives that have been freed; they affect us all, for times are always changing; and threats can be written into that change. All such challenging times beg for hope as they find people in deep need of reassuring guidance, the kind of hope and wisdom that is found in Zechariah’s writing.

The central theme of the book of Zechariah captures this hope of God and God’s promise to bring his people back to the streets of Jerusalem. This claim is one of passion, jealousy of God for God’s people with the promise of blessing grounded in hope.

As we enter this Advent season, let us remember that it is a season of waiting, waiting for the fulfillment of promise, the arrival of hope in the birth of Jesus. In him is hope that does not disappoint us. In him is the promise of deliverance and restoration for us all, declared by angels to be “good news of great joy.”

Loving God, your grace and hope are always present, even when we are not aware. As we celebrate this Advent season, remind us of the gifts of grace and love that you bring to us in Jesus Christ, and help us to share that love. For it is in your son’s name that we pray, Amen.

– David Watson Middler MDiv student

December 19

Galatians 3:23–29

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od’s promise to Abraham and Sarah was made in the context of a divided and alienated humanity.

Abraham and Sarah (and their descendants) are chosen to have a relationship with God that will become a blessing to other families. They would be blessed so that they, in turn, would be a blessing to all families of the earth.

In Advent we await with expectation the One who is the fulfillment of that promise, the One who brings together into God’s own family those living under the Mosaic law and those considered strangers.

In Advent we wait in hopeful anticipation for that time in which all the barriers that separate God’s people from each other will finally be overcome.

In Advent people of faith wait patiently for the One in whose baptism we participate as we die to what separates us from God and are raised to a life of newness and unity in Jesus Christ.

What a blessing it is to know that all human beings have been chosen in Jesus Christ to be reconciled to God and to one another. What a blessing it is to value, to respect, and to embrace everyone we meet as God’s precious child, a member of our very own family.

May this Advent season be a time of prayer and discernment as we prepare for Christ’s coming into the world that God so loves. May Christ’s coming find us striving for justice and inclusion on behalf of all God’s people. May we be blessed as we wait and labor for the establishment of God’s reign in our midst. And may we extend God’s blessing and welcome to all those who belong to Christ, those with whom we are co-heirs according to the promise.

We thank you, gracious God, for all our families.

Grant us your love to welcome one another as Christ has welcomed us. And strengthen us on our journey of faith as we seek to do your will working in unity with all our sisters and brothers in Christ.

– Lemuel García-Arroyo Direc tor of Alumni and Church Rel ations

2 Samuel 7:18–22

December 20

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he word Advent comes from the Latin word adventus meaning “coming.” The Latin word is the translation of the Greek word parousia. There have been many studies done on this one single word, but for now, let us translate it as “the coming of Christ.” What is present in both of these words is excitement and wonder. There is a mystery about what the future holds. And we hear this anticipation in David’s voice when he prays, “Who am I, my Master God, and what is my family, that you have brought me to this place in life? But that’s nothing compared to what’s coming, for you’ve also spoken of my family far into the future, given me a glimpse into tomorrow, my Master God!” (The Message). David’s message is one of both hopefulness and thanksgiving. What a fitting message for this Advent season. Jesus’ coming is one event that we should absolutely be excited for! With it comes great joy and hope for the future. As David makes so clear, who are we that God has brought us so far in this life? Who are we that God has blessed us so much? We are so thankful that Jesus came to be with us; to show us how to act and be in a broken world. We are not worthy, and yet we still have a God who loves us enough to be with us. So as you think about this Advent season, this coming, what are you excited for? What do you have to be thankful for?

God, we are excited for your Son to come into the world! And we are thankful that you have brought us this far in our lives. Help us to remember what is really important this Advent season. Amen – Molly Atkinson Senior MDiv student

December 21

Psalm 80:1–7, 17–19

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tir up your might and come to save us!” (Psalm 80:2). For centuries the church included this verse in a collect prayer during Advent. In some older liturgical manuscripts is the first line of that prayer each of those Sundays—all through Advent, four Sundays in a row—the people were led to pray, “Stir up your might and come to save us!” They are strange words for each Sunday of Advent, especially the Sunday closest to Christmas: Don’t we know that the nativity of Jesus Christ means God has come to save us?

In my Bible this Psalm is titled “A Prayer for Israel’s Restoration.” It is a Psalm of lament, communal lament.

It is the people Israel’s cry after a national calamity. Psalm 80, whether read on its own or as a lectionary-appointed sung response to Isaiah 7: 10–16, puts words of lament and petition in our mouths in these days so close to Christmas.

We beg God for God’s might and restoration, not only in our lives but for our nations and world. We call upon God not only for personal matters but for matters of state and nation and cosmos. Even this close to Christmas, we make laments and petitions of grandiose proportions, calling out all that is not yet right with ourselves, our lives alongside neighbors, our world.

In the northern hemisphere we meet the longest night of the year tonight. On the cusp of seasonal change we still watch and wait for cosmic change. We can be honest about all that is not yet right in and around us even as we prepare to keep the Nativity Feast, because the Feast proclaims what is and what will be: God who comes among us for the salvation of the world.

Stir up your power, Lord God, and come. By your merciful protection awaken us to the threatening dangers of our sins, and keep us blameless until the coming of your new day; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

– Jennifer L. Lord the dorothy B. Vickery Professor of Homiletics and Liturgic al Studies

Love The Lord your God ... will rejoice over you with gladness; God will quiet you with divine love like a child upon the breast. The Lord will exult over you with loud singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

December 22

Romans 1: 1–7

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n school, we learned how to write letters. We learned that there were personal letters and business letters.

We learned that we should sign personal letters “Love,” even to people we didn’t know, and business letters “Sincerely yours,” whether or not we were sincere.

We learned to start letters with “Dear” and someone’s name, except that we should start business letters with “Dear Sir,” whether or not the person to whom we were writing was a Sir. We would not have received a gold star on our schoolassigned letters if we had started them the way Paul started his letter to the Romans: with his name, his claim to be an apostle, and a short summary of the entire gospel before he even got to the inside address.

To understand this rather convoluted passage, you have to look at the verbs. “Paul … called … set apart … to bring about …” Paul was convinced that God had chosen him for a purpose: to carry the news about Jesus Christ to the world. He was called. The people to whom he carried that message were also called: called to be saints. The one who was called carried the call to those who were called.

We also are called. We have heard the call from those who were called, whether they were parents, pastors, teachers, friends, or total strangers. We in our turn will call others: children, neighbors, friends, total strangers. That is how the word travels. We all were set apart for each other, for the gospel of God, very old and always new.

Gracious God, help us to hear our call and answer it with love and faith. Help others hear their call through us. Let us always realize that we are a part of something magnificent: transmitters of the grace that we have received. Amen.

– David W. Johnson Assistant Professor of Church History and Christian Spiritualit y

Genesis 17:15–22

December 23

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ould it be fair to say that Abraham was the “inventor” of faith? What I mean to say is, I believe that Abraham is the archetype of a life lived in faith. Abraham does two things in this passage that teaches us something about the life of faith. He laughs at God and God’s promise to him, and he petitions to God for God to act justly.

Laughter is contagious, and Abraham’s laughter is a mocking laughter, that is quickly adopted by Sarah later in the story. In short, it is a human rejection of God’s will.

We are not foreign to this laughter, because sometimes even we may laugh when we realize that God has a plan for us. Abraham’s laughing and then questioning himself presents this “inventor” of faith, as the one who is acting unfaithful and unable to trust the promise made to him.

He then petitions for an alternative.

Earlier God’s promise to Abraham is to first “walk before me, and be blameless.” Here we see Abraham trust in this aspect of God’s promise to him, that he will be able to come before God and ask for mercy and justice to be shown toward his son Ishmael. Abraham teaches us that a life of faith is lived with unbelief at times, and that we will be able to approach God in prayer and appeal then as well.

As another Advent season nears the anticipated birth, we look back and remember the birth of our Lord, and look forward to his coming reign. We are reminded how our faith longs to understand the promise of a baby swaddled in a manger who is Emmanuel, God with us. Our own humanity laughs with incredulity at the human reality of God with us. The laughter scandalizes our hearts, however, and we follow the light of a star. A star surely in Abraham’s constellation. A light that illumines the promise that God has made in an “everlasting covenant” with humanity.

A promise that moves us to trust what God has already done for us in Christ Jesus, whom we meet as a baby and carry to the cross.

Articulate God, you have broken into a broken world to bring us peace. Our faith is not perfect as we turn to you. Amen – Len Carrell Senior MDiv student

Christmas Eve

Luke: 1:67–80

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e must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30). These words from John the Baptizer close a series of events that included Jesus and him spending time in Judea with the disciples and practicing baptisms. John’s pronouncement recalls the time before his own birth, which our passage from Luke considers. His father, Zechariah, filled with the Holy Spirit, pronounced a blessing on his son; traditionally called the Benedictus. In doing so Zechariah recalled God’s promises made to Israel (2 Sam 7:8-16), namely, to redeem God’s people and to provide them a savior (Luke 1:69). Zechariah also made two of his own declarations that remain timeless for Christian persons to heed. First, Jesus is Lord and savior; and second, the calling of Zechariah’s son, John, as “prophet of the Most High,” centers on a ministry of preparation. His calling, his ministry, is to prepare the ways of the Lord.

This Eve, that marks a celebration of the Savior’s birth, offers all of those who follow him an opportunity to reflect on our own callings, and especially in light of the Baptizer’s calling. We enjoy God’s promises. God has looked favorably upon us. We have been redeemed by the Savior. Therefore, it is appropriate to remind ourselves of what God calls us to do, and of how God calls us to live, as we follow the Baptizer’s example and make our own preparations on behalf of God in Jesus Christ.

The Baptizer’s preparations were focused on calling people to repentance. He urged a turning away from their sins and a turning toward the God who had redeemed them. Though our preparations may also include calls to repentance, our preparations will extend beyond those the Baptizer made. Historically, we live on this side of the life of Jesus and we know more of his story than the Baptizer knew. This means we have more of that story to share. We live as those redeemed by virtue of this Savior. We have the opportunity to live accordingly and to invite others, through our witness, to do the same.

One way we may live involves heeding the wisdom to decrease even as we look for Jesus to increase. As we consider our callings we can begin to focus more on ourselves than on the one who has called us. Evidence for this misguided focus comes in the way of an expressed concern for our plans for our ministry. An alternative (a corrective) involves reminding ourselves that our plans and our ministries—our callings—always involve “pointing toward another,” namely Jesus, as we prepare the way for him and his redeeming grace to be made known to the world. “He must increase, but I must decrease.” Let us prepare the way of the Lord!

Make us those who prepare your ways, O Lord, as we point to you and to your love in all that we do.

– A llan Hugh Cole Jr. Ac ademic De an Professor in the Nanc y Taylor Williamson Distinguished Chair of Pastor al C are

Christmas Day

Hebrews 1:1–12

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n Christmas morning, we reach longingly across the miles and the ages to touch the baby that is born in that manger. In our imaginations, we smell the straw and the donkey and the oil with which this newborn has been anointed. We see him grunting and wiggling against the womb-like protection of soft swaddling clothes, and, for a moment, in the immediacy of this humble setting, we are transported to a Bethlehem stable.

In some other place, some other age, Handel is composing his opus Messiah: “Glory to God, glory to God, glory to God in the highest! And peace on earth…”

Johann Sebastian Bach is putting the finishing touches on a new hymn, based on Isaiah 9: “This child, now weak in infancy, our confidence and joy shall be, the power of Satan breaking, our peace eternal making.” St. John is tuning his own words to private music as he writes his own opus: “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” Half a world away, people in the Cameroon beat their drums and dance jubilantly as they sing: He came down that-we-may have love, He came down that-we-may have love, He came down that-we-may-have love; hallelujah, for-ev-er-more!”

Artists and musicians around the world and back and forth through time do their best to capture their own encounter with that child in the manger.

And so do theologians! One of the most elegant offerings in all of the New Testament comes from the author to the Hebrews, and he writes down his own encounter with Jesus.

“Long ago,” he writes, “God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, through whom he also created the worlds. He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word.”

That wiggling baby—the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being! In every way, he is like God. And, in every way, he is like us. And all of that is worth singing about on this Christmas morning, until we, too, become reflections of God’s glory—today, tomorrow, and every day of our lives.

Christ, whose glory fills the skies; Christ, the true, the only light; Sun of Righteousness, arise; triumph o’er the shades of night; Dayspring from on high, be near; Daystar, in my heart appear. Amen.

– Theodore J. Wardlaw President and Professor of Homiletics

Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary For the glory of God and to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ, Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary is a seminary in the Presbyterian-Reformed tradition whose mission is to educate and equip individuals for the ordained Christian ministry and other forms of Christian service and leadership; to employ its resources in the service of the church; to promote and engage in critical theological thought and research; and to be a winsome and exemplary community of God’s people.

Theodore J. Wardlaw, President

Board of Trustees Thomas L. Are Jr. Chair Karen C. Anderson Claudia B. Carroll Elizabeth Christian Joseph J. Clifford James G. Cooper Marvin L. Cooper James B. Crawley Katie Cummings (MDiv’05) Consuelo Donahue (MDiv’96) Jackson Farrow Jr. G. Archer Frierson Richard D. Gillham Walter Harris Jr. John Hartman Rhashell Hunter Roy M. Kim James H. Lee (MDiv’00)

Trustees Emeriti

Michael L. Lindvall Jennifer L. Lord Lyndon L. Olson Jr. B. W. Payne David Peeples Jeffrey Kyle Richard Lana Russell James C. Shaw Lita Simpson Anne Vickery Stevenson Karl Brian Travis John L. Van Osdall Sallie Sampsell Watson (MDiv’87) Carlton Wilde Jr. Elizabeth Currie Williams Hugh Williamson III

Stephen A. Matthews, John McCoy, Max Sherman, Louis Zbinden

A shoot shall come out from the stock of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.

Isaiah 11:1–2

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