Advent 2016

Belmont University

Advent Devotional Guide 2016

Advent 2016 I am pleased to present the 13th annual Advent Guide for the Belmont University community. Even as the years have passed our longing for the coming Christ has continued to grow.

In days of discontent and violence, Advent is that season of waiting that carefully and purposefully helps us to realign our priorities and to glimpse, anew, our place and hope before God. Our humble hope is this guide helps people focus more fully on Jesus Christ through the Advent season.

Advent reminds us of the once and future visit of our Lord Jesus Christ. May the Christ come to all of us this Christmas! May these devotionals help prepare our hearts for the coming of Jesus.

Each day, please read the scripture and the accompanying brief devotion. Pause for a moment in your daily life and begin to make a space in your heart for the coming Christ.

This Advent Guide comes from faculty, staff and students who start thinking about Advent in September when they work on this guide. I am thankful for their kind and thoughtful participation. I am grateful to Thomas Burns, the Provost of Belmont University, for his support of this project. I also especially thank Tola Pokrywka, Assistant to the Dean for the College of Theology & Christian Ministry. Tola concludes her first year of service with us during this Advent season and this guide would not happen without her—all of what we do would not happen without her— all of us in the CTCM are deeply grateful for her faithful service!

May these reflections on Scripture help you walk each step of the Advent journey until you find yourself in the manger on Christmas Day!

Blessings,

Dr. Darrell Gwaltney Dean, College of Theology & Christian Ministry

Guide to Daily Prayer Opening Prayer Comfort, comfort your people, O God! Speak peace to your people.

Comfort those who sit in darkness and mourn, Forgive us our sins and end the conflict in our lives.

Confession of Sin eflect quietly before God asking for forgiveness for R all those things done and left undone that are unpleasing to God. Remember, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness.”

1 John 1.9

Scripture Lessons

Read the Psalms for the day.

Read the Old Testament passage for the day.

Read the Gospel passage for the day.

Read the Epistle passage for the day.

Prayers The following is a suggested guide for prayer during Advent. ray for all Christians around the world and especially P for those who endure persecution for their faith.

Pray for our nation and all those in authority. ray that Christ’s peace may cover the world. Pray for P the end of conflict and war and the triumph of truth and justice. ray for all those who engage in the educational ministry P of the Church and especially for Belmont University.

Pray for those who suffer and grieve.

As a closing prayer, read the words to Comfort, Comfort Ye My People appointed for the week.

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Week One Comfort, comfort, ye My people, Speak ye peace, thus saith our God; Comfort those who sit in darkness, Mourning ‘neath their sorrows’ load.

Speak ye to Jerusalem Of the peace that waits for them; Tell her that her sins I cover And her warfare now is over.

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Sunday, November 27  Psalms 111, 112, 113, 146, 147  Isaiah 1.1–9  Matthew 25.1–13  2 Peter 3.1–10 Some of the scripture readings for today seem rather out of step with the theme of this year’s Advent devotional, which is “Comfort my people.” The reading from 2 Peter 3, for instance, warns that there is a momentous, apocalyptic “day of judgment” approaching, and that its arrival will be swift and unexpected. Matthew 25, likewise, tells a parable of a consequential return—one that was long-delayed and the arrival of which was unforeseen. The passage then concludes with a stern warning: “Keep watch.” Neither of these seem like particularly comforting words of scripture! In fact, however, these sober warnings allow us to celebrate Christmas in a far richer and far more hopeful way than we might otherwise.

Elvis Presley once recorded a truly dreadful song called “If Every Day Was Like Christmas.” Maybe you know it. The chorus asks: “Oh why can’t every day be like Christmas? Why can’t that feeling go on endlessly?” Christmas, the song suggests, is a short reprieve from the way things really are; a 24-hour vacation from the nastiness and cruelty of the world and the way it is ordinarily run. The passages we read today, however, tell us that Christmas is not an anomaly, nor is it an eggnog-induced blindness to hard-edged reality. Rather the One who Rules the world “raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap . . . . He settles the childless woman in her home as a happy mother of children” (Psalm 113.7, 9). The kingdom of this Ruler is one in which “good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice;” in which “the righteous will never be shaken . . . . They will have no fear of bad news” (Psalm 112.5, 6, 7). They remind us that King who has come, the King who is coming, “is gracious and compassionate. He provides food for those who fear Him; He remembers His covenant forever”(Psalm 111.4–5). The promise of the swift and certain arrival of this King and this Kingdom is good news indeed.

The beauty and sweetness of Christmas, then, is not a Hallmark card fiction. Rather it is a window into the world God intends, and the world that God is surely bringing about. (Though the waiting, 2 Peter acknowledges, is hard, and seems long.) During Lent we celebrate the Good King who has come, and at Advent we likewise await with confidence and joy the coming of this same King, in the fullness of His Kingdom, to set all things right.

Steve Guthrie Professor of Theology/Religion and the Arts

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Monday, November 28  Psalms 1, 2, 3, 4, 7  Isaiah 1.10–20  Luke 20.1–8  1 Thessalonians 1.1–10 Advent is the great season of waiting. We are waiting for Christmas and the remembrance of our Savior coming as an infant. We are also waiting for Jesus’ return. But what are we doing while we are waiting?

We can learn at least some of the things to do while we are waiting by looking at our Advent text Isaiah 1.16d–17: [C]ease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.

What are we to do while we wait for Jesus during Advent? First, we are to cease doing evil (acting unjustly and even pursuing injustice, crushing the oppressed, leaving the orphan with no hope or defense, and abandoning the widow).

Next, we should learn to do good. What does this mean? What good should we be doing instead? Notice that the description of what is good is not passive. It involves seeking, rescuing, defending and pleading.

If we are going to seek justice, we have to be aware of the people who are being treated unjustly, and we have to look for ways to bring justice to the situation. This will be different for each of you. It may involve how you act with your friends and family; it may involve how to pursue your career; it may involve how you volunteer in your community.

If we are going to rescue the oppressed, we need to identify who is being oppressed. To rescue someone is a big effort. It may involve going into a world that is not our own, being around people with whom we are not familiar. It might mean recognizing that we might be one of the group of people who are causing the oppression.

And if we are going to defend the orphan and plead for the widow, we need to expand our ideas of family and community. This may include welcoming people in that we have formerly kept on the outside. It will definitely include a wider understanding of both love and reconciliation.

Advent is the great season of waiting. But perhaps, if we are learning to do good in all these ways, we do not have to wait for Jesus. Jesus is already among us.

Ann Coble Lecturer in Religion

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Tuesday, November 29  Psalms 5, 6, 10, 11  Isaiah 1.21–31  Luke 20.9–18  1 Thessalonians 2.1–12 Do we need Jesus Christ in 2016? This appears to be the easiest question in the world for a Christian. “Christ” is, after all, embedded in our name. The no-brainer answer is: “Yes, of course, we need Jesus!”

In fact, the whole point of Advent is that we are waiting for Christ to come more fully into our lives and the life of the world.

But it is one thing to say that we want to have Jesus more fully in our lives, and another thing to actually have room for Him. There have been many mean motives attributed to the first century innkeeper in Bethlehem, but the truth is that we have not the faintest idea why he did not accept Jesus. Or rather, we know only this one bare fact: “there was no room.”

Our lives can be so filled to overflowing that there is simply no more room for more of Christ’s life and work in our lives. No matter how earnestly you try, you cannot fill a bucket with more than it can hold.

So if our lives are full—maybe not full in a way that is satisfying to God or even to us, but full nevertheless—we simply have no room for anything or Anyone else.

The Psalms let us listen in on people who have come to a point in their lives when they are not full of themselves, or sated by the things of this world. King David in Psalm 5 pleads, “Hear my cry for help, my King and my God.” He is not running through a list of nonnegotiable demands and calling it prayer, nor is he resting content with a life distant from and undirected by God. Instead, David’s heart is broken, and he turns in anguish to the one true King who can hear him and help him. David knows he needs more of God, because he is convinced that only God can do what David desperately needs done.

So he cries out in Psalm 6, “Save me because of your unfailing love.”

A millennium later, the unfailing love of God will be shown most fully in the coming of Jesus, whose very name means “God saves.”

Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a King, Born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring.

Todd Lake Vice President, Spiritual Development

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Wednesday, November 30  Psalms 12, 13, 14, 119.1–24  Isaiah 2.1–11  Luke 20.19–26  1 Thessalonians 2.13–20 Nearly 40 years ago, I read Christ and Culture, written by H. Richard Niebuhr, one of the true heavyweights among 20th century theologians. This classic monograph, written at the midpoint of the 20th century, splendidly explores the interaction of Christian faith and the larger culture in which the faith exists. Niebuhr examines five classic approaches to the issues of Christian faith and culture: Christ against culture; the Christ of culture; Christ above culture; Christ and culture in paradox; and, Christ the transformer of culture. Sixty-five years after the publication of Christ and Culture, we seem to struggle mightily with the interface of Christian faith and the larger culture.

Our gospel reading today tells the story of an attempt to entrap Jesus by those who hoped Jesus would stumble over a political question around paying taxes that would surely put Jesus in a bad light with some people. However, Jesus, perceiving the evil intent of the question posed, skillfully avoided the trap of dualistic thinking that his detractors hoped would put him in a negative light. Jesus held the tension and He affirmed that we live both in relation to God and in relation to the society to which we belong.

Jesus having held that tension helps me in the season of Advent.

Outside of certain liturgically-oriented Christian circles, Advent has largely been steam rolled by the extravagantly commercialized American countdown to Christmas. Honestly, a part of me can become bitter and shrill about the popular celebration in December. However, another part of me is glad that even in the midst of the “too muchness” of it all, some of the sentiments that are aroused in the larger cultural display of Christmas touch on the better angels of our nature. While I’ll continue to be annoyed by the assertion that the Twelve Days of Christmas are the days leading up to December 25th rather than the traditional Christian notion that they are the days following December 25th leading up to Epiphany, I will not fall into bitterness thus robbing myself and others of the joy of the season.

I believe that we will continue to struggle to find our way as it relates to our Christian faith and cultural norms. I also believe we can find ways to reconcile the struggle that honor our faith and enhance joy.

Marty Bell Professor of Religion

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Thursday, December 1  Psalms 18.1–20, 18.21–50  Isaiah 2.12–22  Luke 20.27–40  1 Thessalonians 3.1–13 I’ve always thought of the Advent season as a way of remembrance. I figured it was a time for followers of Christ to reflect on the fact that Jesus Christ was born. HELLO. Our LORD and Savior manifesting Himself as both fully human and fully God! It makes sense that we would rejoice and remember this!

However, I did not quite know what I was talking about concerning the reason for this rejoicing. I knew Advent was a time to focus on the coming of the Lord as He came into the world as man, but it was never quite brought to my attention to focus on the future coming of the Lord in this season. I was reflecting on a God centered on the past.

In Luke 20, Jesus is teaching on the resurrection and the eternal life His followers have in God. In verses 37–38, he says, “But in the account of the bush, even Moses showed that the dead rise, for he calls the Lord the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. He is not the God of the dead, but of the living, for to him all are alive.”

I was reflecting on a God centered on the dead. I wasn’t reflecting on a God who is still the same God as these past super-powers in faith. No, these PRESENT super-powers in faith. We are alive in Christ. We have our eyes set on eternity in Him. It’s not just that the Christ was born, although that is HUGE. But, WE CAN REJOICE! This is about a God that will come again! This is about a God who loves us so much as to let us rest with Him in eternity! This is a season of rejoicing, not just in the Nativity, but in the coming Revelation.

He is not a God who stopped and walked away after the birth of Jesus Christ or the death of Jesus Christ, or the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Our God is one who is ever present, has not stopped working His miracles and allowing us to be shaped by Him. And He’s coming back!

God, thank You for the life we have in You. Thank You for your Son, for Your love, and for the hope we have grafted in You, Father. Let us not lose sight of that. Amen.

Haile Di Tieri Senior, Religion and the Arts

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Friday, December 2  Psalms 16, 17, 22  Isaiah 3.8–15  Luke 20.41–21.4  1 Thessalonians 4.1–12 To see Psalm 22 among our Advent readings may give some of us pause since it is a text more often associated with Good Friday for its cry of abandonment that Jesus utters on the cross in the gospels of Mark and Matthew. How can this Psalm, then, speak to us as we live through this season awaiting the birth of Christ?

Advent marks a time in our liturgical year when we watch and prepare for the festival of the Nativity. We walk through Advent’s darkness toward the joy and light of God being born among us. Advent’s movement from darkness to light is echoed in the entirety of Psalm 22, for as a whole it gives us both a lament of groans for God’s presence and also a rousing hymn of praise for God’s deliverance.

“You have rescued me,” prays the psalmist as he begins his crescendo into praise. Note that the psalmist does not mention any outward change of circumstances in his life. Still, he trusts that God now has heard his cry. Traces of his trust even run through the psalmist’s initial complaint of pain and God’s absence: from his past, he recalls God’s intimacy and tender care bringing him into life like a midwife and keeping him like a baby on its mother’s breast. Read during this season, the Psalm’s maternal imagery for the divine can evoke for us images of Mary and the Christ child.

“You have rescued me” may indicate that, in this moment, he seems to know his despair cannot take him beyond the reach of God’s love, and that confidence is enough to move him from deep distress to praise.

The scope of this psalmist’s praise is striking. His vow to glorify God in the congregation grows into a call upon different groups to join him in this hymn—Israelites, non-Israelites, the poor and rich, the unborn and even the dead. His invitation to worship God draws on all across space and time. Such an expanding celebration of God’s saving work conjures up images from John’s universalistic vision in Revelation of all creation singing praise to God. Psalm 22’s stirring end reminds us that in Advent we await not only the coming of God in Jesus’s birth but also the coming of Christ to redeem our fallen world.

Lord, you who come to save us, let us see this Advent as our preparation for your coming now and again. Let us see our ending and new beginning. Amen.

Cynthia Curtis Assistant Professor of Religion

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Saturday, December 3  Psalms 20, 21.1–7, 110.1–7, 116, 117  Isaiah 4.2–6  Luke 21.5–19  1 Thessalonians 4.13–18 There is a theme resonating in the readings today: a theme of hope and trust.

There is no doubt that this theme echoes from the very voices of the biblical authors to each of us reading these words today. It seems little has changed in our experience of living on this planet with our fellow humans; the news is saturated with more and more terror, fear and loss. I am not surprised that at the end of each national newscast there is one final story that breathes of hope. YES, they seem to say, the world is filled with tragedy and suffering, AND, there remain glimmers of hope to which we can hold. Glimmers, I believe, of a hope and trust that in the words of Julian of Norwich, not just one day far into the future, but also now, that “all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well” will be fully realized.

In today’s Psalm reading we find the evidence of this embedded hope and trust. We find it in the rhythmic language of “May he . . . ” As the Psalmist sings longingly, not fully sure, but committed to this sense that, “I hope it is true; I hope God will answer, and send, and remember, and give.” Maybe if we say this out loud to, and with, and for each other it will come to pass for us as well.

I hear it too in the future hope of the prophet as he pines for what God is and may be doing in this catastrophic loss that Israel has experienced. This deep, longing hope and trust that whatever God is up to will serve as a shelter and shade, and a refuge and hiding place. “Please God, make something out of this,” I hear him say. And I hear myself say it too. And I have heard you say it in ways known and unknown.

What I do not hear in either of the writers is an abdication of their lives as they are. They plead for God to bring something into this time and place, rather than solely putting all their chips on some future promise that will help them escape how hard now is. No question that there is the promised hope and, alongside that, is the deep hope and trust of God’s presiding presence, the Emmanuel, right here; right now.

Blessed be the name of the Lord!

Dane Anthony Lecturer in Religion

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Week Two Hark, the Herald’s voice is crying In the desert far and near, Bidding all men to repentance Since the Kingdom now is here.

Oh, that warning cry obey!

Now prepare for God a way; Let the valleys rise to meet Him And the hills bow down to greet Him.

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Sunday, December 4  Psalms 114, 115, 148, 149, 150  Isaiah 5.1–7  Luke 7.28–35  2 Peter 3.11–18 In the preaching of Jesus, the kingdom of God is greater than us all.

In this Advent season, we rejoice at the coming of the King to claim His kingdom. We celebrate this joyful message of redemption and the fulfillment of God’s merciful promises. This should be a cause for great joy, not criticism. In Luke 7.28 Jesus compares His contemporaries to sullen, spoiled little children who would not receive His words, no matter how joyful they were. He played a happy song, but they sat in the corner and pouted.

Jesus also corrects them for rejecting the preaching of John the Baptist. The content of John’s preaching was simple—turn away from your sinfulness and avoid the wrath of God. It was a rough-and-ready message of coming judgment. It was a dirge, a song sung at a funeral to mourn the dead. Yet they sat stone-faced and tearless.

They not only rejected the message, but they also personally rejected the messengers. John the Baptist lived the strict life of a Nazerene— that is, he drank no wine and did not have anything to do with anything that came from a grape vine. He roughed it in the wilderness.

The soft, educated classes would have very little to do with this wilderness prophet.

Jesus fully lived out the joy of the gospel. He showed us that happiness and fun is not just for the next life, but that life on this earth is a gift to be enjoyed. Jesus ate and drank, and He loved it. For that, they said He was overindulgent and a sinner. It turns out that there really is no pleasing some people.

This Advent, let us be humbled by the greatness of the kingdom without for one second tempering the joy of living in the kingdom.

Adam Pace College of Pharmacy

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Monday, December 5  Psalms 9, 15, 25  Isaiah 5.8–12  Luke 21.20–28  1 Thessalonians 5.1–11 Growing up in Indiana, there were always distinct signs that Christmas was coming soon. The first flurries powdered the ground soft and white. Winter clothes and ornaments appeared from dark closets, ready to warm bodies and decorate trees. Music filled the air with joyous anticipation and reminded us of the reason for the season.

Now that I am older, the signs that were so apparent to me as a child have slowly faded into the background. Work, school, and “business as usual” try to steal my attention, and they often succeed if I am not aware.

In the scriptures, Paul encourages us to be “awake and sober” (1 Thess. 5.6), so that we do not miss the fullness of God’s promises. In the same way, the coming of Christ asks us to be aware and mindful of what we see happening around us (Luke 21.20–28).

But why must we be aware of Christ’s coming? Why pay attention to these signs and seasons?

The Psalms tell a story of justice and mercy for those who seek the Lord and put their trust in God. When Christ comes, He restores community, loosens the chains of spiritual bondage and establishes righteousness on the earth. Christ invites us to enter into His Kingdom, and we must be ready to respond.

We must have eyes that see and ears that hear the good news.

As we look to the coming of Christ this Advent season, let us prepare ourselves to receive the good news—that we can participate in bringing God’s Kingdom into our lives and our communities. Let us prepare a place for Christ in our lives and in the lives of others.

Having eyes that see and ears that hear, we can be fully aware this Advent season. We can turn our attention from the machine of progress to the peace of Christ.

So however God reminds us, whether through freshly fallen snow, time spent with loved ones, a Christmas hymn or Charles Dickens, may we respond with joy and gladness to the Gospel, the good news of Jesus’ coming.

“When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near” (Luke 21.28).

Draw near to us and to our community, O Christ, even now. We welcome you here. Amen.

Dean Adams Senior, Biblical Studies 13

Tuesday, December 6  Psalms 26, 28, 36, 39  Isaiah 5.13–17, 24–25  Luke 21.29–38  1 Thessalonians 5.12–28 Summer is my favorite season; it always has been. While I appreciate the structure of the academic year, summer provides a certain kind of freedom that I don’t find in the other seasons. It’s a time when the rhythm of life slows a bit for me, and I can let my guard down. Thus, this parable from the Gospel of Luke, where Jesus uses the summer season to illustrate a need for watchfulness, seems counterintuitive to me.

Jesus tells this parable in a context of expectation. In the Gospel of Luke, the reader is told to expect the destruction of the Temple and of Jerusalem, and to also expect the coming of the Son of Man. Here we are offered a warning alongside a word of hope. Luke warns of dire consequences on the horizon, while offering hope with a challenge to be transformed.

With the coming of the Son of Man, the world begins to evidence the presence of the kingdom of God in a new way, just as the sprouting leaves of a fig tree provide evidence of the coming of summer. The evangelist directs the reader to remain aware and to be always on alert, as the kingdom of God is near. The idea is that one could miss something.

Scholar Huston Smith, in his study of religion, noted that there exists a focus on the significance of history within Abrahamic religions that is unique. History is the field of opportunity where humanity interacts with Divine. Opportunities may be missed and missed forever, so the significance and importance of history cannot be overstated.

In Luke, history also provides the context in which a follower of Jesus may be changed, even should be changed. Following Jesus demands a radical reframing of one’s perspective on life. This parable commands us to pay attention, and if we do, we will be forever changed. It is then that the promise of hope overshadows the warning of impending destruction.

In this season of Advent, we reflect on how the world waited, with a sense of expectation, for the birth of Jesus. There were signs, as angels sang and a star led the way for wise men. Those who paid attention, those who were alert, found Christ.

This year during Advent, may we also pay attention and be open to transformation as we wait and work for the kingdom.

Sally Holt Professor of Religion

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Wednesday, December 7  Psalms 38, 119.25–48  Isaiah 6.1–13  John 7.53–8.11  2 Thessalonians 1.1–12 As I write this devotional, I’m sitting at a coffee shop, hunched over my notebook, bleary-eyed, scribbling away in the midst of my exhaustion. I’m tired, tired to my bones; my mind is muddled, my heart is overflowing with joy. A muddled mind, bleary eyes, and joy do not often go together, but I am a new father. So, this is the terrain I am walking with my wife at this point, three weeks into our new journey as parents of a baby boy.

Just as Advent is a time of anticipation and hope, as we wait together for the arrival of Christ, so too my wife and I have recently been in our own time of anticipation, waiting with hope for our baby boy to be born. In those months of waiting, our hearts were being prepared for the arrival of our son, Aidan Russell McAbee, who joined us September 12th of this year.

As I held Aidan in my arms that first night, I said to him over and over, this bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh, “You are a child of love; you are a child of God. You are a child of love; you are a child of God.” As I looked at him, I thought to myself, if God loves me like I love this little boy, then I am more loved than I have ever known. And of course, that is true; I know that in my mind, but to know ourselves, to know in our bones, that we are loved by the majestic God of this universe . . . what a notion.

In the Scripture we read for today, from Isaiah 6, the call narrative of that ancient Israelite prophet whose name the book’s title bears, we hear the angelic creatures in temple singing, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.” How beautiful our Lord, that he comes to us high and lifted up, that he comes to us in our very human loves, that he comes to us each year again as the Christ child. May the love of God be felt in your heart and in your bones this season, in your muddle-mindedness, in your exhaustion, and may in the midst of it all, your heart overflow with joy. Amen.

Donovan McAbee Assistant Professor of Religion and the Arts

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Thursday, December 8  Psalms 37.1–18, 37.19–42  Isaiah 7.1–9  Luke 22.1–13  2 Thessalonians 2.1–12 When I was a little girl, my dad built my two sisters and me a swing set in our backyard. It had three swings, one for each of us, with three different lengths of chains to accommodate our differences in height.

This is part of what made it so wonderful—it was something all our own, designed specifically for us by our dad. As could be expected, it was used in moments of joy with my sisters when we were all in elementary school. Even after I graduated to the tallest swing and my sisters outgrew the toy all together, I found a sort of sanctuary on it. In middle school, when girls were mean and boys were gross and everything felt wrong, I could calm myself down by swinging. The rush of wind and the repetitive movement helped me to find peace in a way that, ironically, solid ground could not.

Our scriptures today point us to a similar experience. In 2 Thessalonians, we hear a warning about the “lawless one.” In this description, we hear words like “destruction,” “wickedness,” and “perishing.” It is an image of fear and evil. We hear still more about the wicked in Psalm 37 in words that are equally forceful. Yet, amidst the discussion of evil, we are told that God’s children will “delight themselves in abundant peace.” How can we exist with such evil, and yet also know the peace of God? Our answer is found in the Gospel Swing Set. As Christians, we live in the tension between the presence of evil in the world and the presence of Christ in our hearts. We exist, in a sense, suspended between two realities that seem ever at war. This suspension, however, need not be a place of discomfort and fear. Instead, suspended by secure cords of Grace, we are called to embrace the tension and learn to swing. The Gospel Swing Set is a place built just for us by our Father, a place that acknowledges the tension of the world and yet uses that tension as a vehicle for joy and peace. Today, my prayer is that we will hop on, embrace the tension and learn to soar.

Julia Crone Junior, Biblical Studies

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Friday, December 9  Psalms 31, 35  Isaiah 7.10–25  Luke 22.14–30  2 Thessalonians 2.13–3.5 Both Psalm 31 and 35 reveal a human personality caught in the movements of great stress. In pleas, praises and declarations, in promises and admonitions, the poems display the undulating emotions of a person struggling to make sense of his or her situation.

Two lines from each Psalm put the writer’s suffering in perspective. In Psalm 31 the writer calls out to God, “Incline your ear to me” (v. 2). In Psalm 35, the writer pleads with God, “Do not be silent!” (v. 22) Spiritual writer Belden Lane writes of the “indifference of God” in The Solace of Fierce Landscapes. God is, in scripture, often a silent God. Silent even as the vast expanses of creation shaped by wind and water and fire speak for God, as Elijah experienced.

It is in this silence, he writes, that God’s love is encountered.

He describes leaning out over the edge of a canyon grasping a tree, watching the hawks circle in the air currents. He is at the same time fearful and wrapped in love. How? The indifference of the rock, flora and fauna to his fate if he fell—this silence that renders us vulnerable to the mystery of God—brings intimacy with himself and the creator’s silent word of love.

We do not know much about the psalmist and the enemies at the gate, whether they are real or perceived. What we do know, however, is that the emotions expressed are real, for us. And like the psalmist, we need someone to hear us, and for them to confirm they hear us.

Lane reminds us that people of wilderness faiths—faiths formed by mountains, desert, and rough terrain—celebrate, oddly enough “a sense of God’s indifference to all the assorted hand-wringing anxieties of human life.” The embrace of this void undercuts an incessant selfabsorption that preoccupies our minds, he says.

We want God to incline God’s ear to us . . . to break silence and get involved in our lives. To worry about what we worry about, whether real or perceived. Perhaps, however, the assurance of God’s love is found in God’s refusal to feed into our anxieties.

Should we be grateful that God is often silent in the never-ending tragedies and calamities of human life? Is this why we sing, “Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by?” Perhaps the silent night of long ago assures us of God’s presence.

Andy Watts Associate Professor of Religion 17

Saturday, December 10  Psalms 32, 42, 43  Isaiah 8.1–15  Luke 22.31–38  2 Thessalonians 3.6–18 For what may be the first time in my life, I find myself trying my best to avoid the news at all costs. Whether it is new shows and websites or my Facebook and Twitter feeds, I do not know how to handle what I see.

Violence and hatred, fear and war, hunger, famine, and despair are all around us. The episodes of violence, protests and deaths of innocent people are no longer isolated incidents that shock and terrify us, but are becoming commonplace, everyday occurrences. People cannot figure out how to actually talk to each other, but instead argue with and insult one another. I find myself desperately wanting to believe that God is at work, hoping that the God I know will not abandon us—but that is harder than it once was.

When I read Psalm 42, I think that the psalmist was experiencing a little bit, or perhaps a lot of, what I feel these days. The writer had experienced God in life. The psalmist has seen God at work in the world and in the local community. Now, even knowing all of that, the psalmist is finding it hard to know where God is, how to see God at work, to trust and hope that God is still there, still cares for and about what is happening to them. The psalmist wants to believe, but is not sure how.

Into this kind of darkness, doubt and uncertainty comes the good news of Advent—God is with us. And in Jesus, Emmanuel—God with us, God is no longer just an abstract concept out there somewhere, but fully human, like us. Jesus intimately knows our experiences of pain and suffering, has deeply felt loss and abandonment and stands in solidarity with us.

There are times when the world around us, and experiences in our own lives are overwhelming. There are days when no matter how deeply we long to experience God, we feel God absent from us. Sometimes it seems like all we can do is echo the words of the psalmist, crying out to God and hoping that God can hear us. Advent is a reminder to us that God can, and indeed has heard us in Jesus Christ. We need not despair, for God is with us—we are not alone.

Heather Daugherty University Minister

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Week Three Make ye straight what long was crooked, Make the rougher places plain; Let your hearts be true and humble, As befits His holy reign.

For the glory of the Lord Now o’er earth is shed abroad, And all flesh shall see the token That His Word is never broken.

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Sunday, December 11  Psalms 63.1–8, 98, 103  Isaiah 13.6–13  John 3.22–30  Hebrews 12.18–29 Once again the joyous season of Advent has arrived! The psalmist invites us to “Make a joyful noise to the Lord and to break forth into joyous song and sing praises!” (Psalms 98.4) Advent begins with the fourth Sunday before Christmas and culminates in Christmas morning, when we arise to meet a special new dawn.

Advent is a time of deliberate preparation to receive a deep and abiding blessing; it is a time of longing for something that cannot quite be put into words, a time of spiritually sensing that something is in the air, something is about to happen that is going to be beyond ordinary experiences.

Advent is a time to be full of hope, joy and good will as we once again ponder God’s gift of love, manifested in a small baby, born in a lowly estate so very long ago and so very far away. Who would have ever expected God would come in this way—taking the form of a little baby, born to the most humble of parents, born in an out-of-theway place in an impoverished land? Who would have expected this little child would grow up to change the world forever? What a gift of the ages! Yet that gift is ever new and fresh—very present, very near and yet timeless.

Throughout His life, Jesus proclaimed God’s grand purpose for us—to be loved of God and to love others as He loves us—so simple and yet so profound! All can easily grasp it, from the most unsophisticated to the most learned. Whatever other purposes we set in life, the ultimate purpose is to realize God’s transforming love and to translate that love into acts of human kindness towards others. What a wonder it is, too, that we are connected through God with all creatures who have gone before, who are living now and who will come after we pass from this earthly scene into the Larger Life of God’s eternal kingdom. This joy is forever dawning on all of God’s people in the eternal now, as it dawned on the humble shepherds of old. We are one with them.

May we, through all the moments of our lives, take joy in discovering God’s gift of love, spiritual in nature, and brought to full fruition in Jesus of Nazareth.

Ernest Heard Lecturer in Religion

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Monday, December 12  Psalms 41, 44, 52  Isaiah 8.16–9.1  Luke 22.39–53  2 Peter 1.1–11 Right before Christmas Day it is easy to become stressed and overwhelmed with last minute shopping, decorating, baking and getting all those last minute holiday pieces put into place. It seems everyone is in a hurry, traffic around shopping centers is worse than awful and many people become grouchy and forget the purpose of the holiday. I admit I am guilty of this myself and it is easy to lose selfcontrol and place blame on the holiday itself rather than focusing on the coming of Jesus at Christmas.

When I find myself stressed and frustrated, I think about Jesus and reflect on how he might act in my place. Jesus was placed under stress many times yet he focused on the importance of his future purpose.

For example, Luke 22.39–53 details the time when Jesus was betrayed

by Judas with a kiss. Despite the fear, anger and upheaval surrounding him, Jesus stopped the violence and maintained peace and righteousness. Jesus knew the events to come were more important than the current stressors and showed love even in tumultuous times.

The scripture further discusses the importance of maintaining goodness, self-control and love for those around us. 2 Peter 1 says we should: Add to your faith, goodness; and to goodness, knowledge; and to knowledge, self-control; and to self-control, perseverance; and to perseverance, godliness; and to godliness, mutual affection; and to mutual affection, love (2 Peter 1.5–7).

So as I am out in traffic, standing in line at registers, decorating and making sure everything is as I want it to be this year, I plan to focus on what is really important. My focus will be on the coming of Christ at Christmas and the resurrection and future coming of Christ.

Let us all remember to be great examples of Christ and show kindness and compassion to one another despite all that is happening around us this season.

I plan to do this even in traffic this year.

Merry Christmas!

Janet Hicks Director, Mental Health Counseling

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Tuesday, December 13  Psalms 45, 47, 48  Isaiah 9.1–7  Luke 22.54–69  2 Peter 1.12–21 The Apostle Peter is a famous denier as well as a famous cutter-offer of ears and a famous walker on water. Faced with Jesus, a years-long friendship with Jesus and the privilege of being an eye witness to the miracles of Jesus, we might think a disavowal of Jesus under threat of arrest is a temptation many of us could hope to resist. But to presume as much is to miss the witness of today’s readings, taken together, and to ignore the deep sense in which Peter’s context bears certain similarities to our own.

The passage from Isaiah evokes a messianic expectation we know from our memory of any number of Christmas songs: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Prince of Peace. But like Isaiah, Peter’s hope is in a final righting of human disorder, and that hope is expected to take the form of solid, facts-on-the-ground, social reordering, a shuffling of the fates that leads to everyday thriving for the people of Israel. The true king will break the bar placed upon the shoulders of Jewish people

by Rome and the rod of every oppressor (9.4), burning the boots of tramping warriors (9.5) and uphold the throne of David with justice and righteousness forevermore (9.7). Like the elders and scribes who demand a stronger showing of power of anyone they are expected to take seriously as a messiah, Peter is understandably dismayed by the idea of meekness inheriting the earth (not just figuratively but also literally) and he can perhaps be forgiven for wondering how getting arrested and suffering state execution could be part of a plan for reversing the endless degradation of human beings in the here and now.

The psalmist attributes to God qualities that Jesus and Peter and the elders would perhaps all affirm: “You love righteousness and hate wickedness” (45.7). Similarly, they could all agree that Jerusalem is to be a “holy mountain” which is also “the joy of all the earth” (48.2).

But how God’s righteousness is to be realized among us was and is a complicated question we are often prone to answer in powerfully unrighteous and even wicked ways with our thoughts, words and practices. God reigns, we are assured throughout the biblical canon, but rightly discerning this reign is a difficult task requiring new and unexpected feats of attentiveness on the part of the God-seeking community. True power and wisdom, we are made to see, are contrary to what we have been prone to credit as worthy. What unworthy conceptions of greatness will we need to put away in the days to come.

David Dark Assistant Professor of Religion and the Arts

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Wednesday, December 14  Psalms 49, 119.49–72  Isaiah 9.8–17  Mark 1.1–8  2 Peter 2.1–11 Listen, everyone, listen.

Remember.

Watch closely.

Pay attention.

Slow down.

Focus on one thing.

What do you see?

In our world, in our culture, slowing down and paying attention to one thing is quite rare. Walking through the Advent season, even when we are working to anticipate the coming of the Christ child, we find ourselves moving faster and faster. Our “to do” lists run to the next page and while we dream of sitting and enjoying the season, sometimes we find ourselves instead simply falling asleep anytime we slow down.

The psalmist and the gospel writer beckon us to listen, to slow down, to ponder taking the long view—of what our lives are worth and of what God might be up to. In Psalm 49 we are asked to take a step back and see how living hungry for wisdom is different from living only for oneself. It compares hunger for wisdom and honor with hunger for property and power. Clearly the first is the better path but neither path keeps us from death, from the fragility of life. Some call this pessimistic. But I wonder if there is not deep wisdom for daily living in all these texts. What if we lived with a looser grip on so much of to which we have given importance?

The Gospel of Mark helps us with these questions by pointing us to the “great anticipator,” John the Baptist. He got himself worked up on a regular basis trying to get folks ready for the One who was coming along behind him. And he never seemed to lose track of the fact that this one who was following him belonged in front of us all.

Each year as we walk toward the coming of the Christ child into our lives in fresh and new ways we pray that our hearts and minds will be open to the transforming power of the incredible and creative One who dreamed up such a plan—to send His Son to live as a human and show us how it is done, how one could live, connected to God, fully alive, open hearted even when broken hearted. May it be so in our hearts today.

Judy Skeen Professor of Religion

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Thursday, December 15  Psalms 33, 50  Isaiah 9.18–10.4  Matthew 3.1–12  2 Peter 2.10b–16 At my home church, the season of Advent was always one of my favorite times to be in church. It’s a time filled with Christmas music, where the sanctuary is decorated with Christmas Trees and wreaths, and the warmth and comfort is palpable. The best moment, without rival, is the Christmas Eve service. On that night, the sanctuary is filled and together we conclude the service with a candle-lit singing of “Silent Night.” Nothing says “Christmas” to me quite like that moment.

All the Christmas songs and decorations are good things in their own right, of course. I find great theological and spiritual comfort when in church during Advent more than any other time of the year.

However, as is prone to happen, sometimes the true beauty of the Christmas season can become over-shadowed by the pageantry and performance. It becomes easy to let the image of Christmas override the substance which we are called to celebrate.

The Pharisees and Sadducees, some of the most tragic figures in Scripture, were guilty of the very same thing. These teachers and leaders of the Jewish faith, when they encountered the very God they devoted their lives to worship, couldn’t see past the image they had imagined. When Christ had compassion on the Sabbath and healed a man, they were more worried about him breaking the Sabbath. They valued an image of faith over the true object of their worship. For this, they were condemned as a “brood of vipers” (Matt 3.7–10).

Now of course, there is nothing wrong with the wonderful Christmas services and traditions in the church, and they can serve a valuable purpose in directing our focus to the coming Christ. But it is a dangerous temptation to let these traditions become the be all and end all for Advent, because in them we can find a great deal of comfort. Psalm 50 reminds us that if our customs are empty, they mean nothing to God compared to our obedience to him. It is not by ceremonies and traditions that we find our salvation, but rather in the all-encompassing love and sacrifice of Christ Instead, this Advent season let us find comfort as Christians not in holiday rituals alone, but in what these traditions remind us. They remind us of a Savior who came to preach a gospel of compassion for the needy, love of enemies, forgiveness of sins and who would ultimately give up all so that we may be reconciled with God. This is the true comfort of Advent; a savior is coming who will offer to us a better life than the world ever could.

Kyle Minardi Senior, Faith and Social Justice

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Friday, December 16  Psalms 40, 51, 54  Isaiah 10.5–19  Matthew 11.2–15  2 Peter 2.17–22 Isaiah 10 recognizes an enormous problem with the way the book has characterized world events up to this point. The previous chapter presents the eighth century Assyrian invasion that devastated Israel and much of Judah as divine punishment for the sign of “pride and arrogance” (9.8). How does it make sense, though, for an enormous empire to destroy these tiny nations for a sin that is so characteristic of empires? The divine voice in Isaiah 10.5 claims a military alliance with Assyria: Ah, Assyria, the rod of my anger—

the club in their hands is my fury.

The idea that God would use the powerful to punish the weak is shocking, particularly in a season in which we like to celebrate the reversal of power, the downfall of the mighty and the lifting up of the oppressed. The only other option for a defeated ancient Israel was to claim that their God was still on their side, but they were destroyed anyway, but this move would have produced a weak God who would never have the power to save them. So, weighing the theological costs, they chose to believe their God had turned against them and fought for their enemies, but would someday turn and attack those enemies in an act of revenge on their behalf.

It would be comforting to think that our modern understanding of geo-politics places us beyond the need to consider such theological bargains, yet our language is still sprinkled with their implications. We desire a world divinely controlled, and for our benefit. As we approach this Advent there is an uneasiness about the world. Despite statistics that tell us the world is safer than it has ever been, the horrors of violence are on vivid display for us every day. We can say with the singer of Psalm 40, “I delight to do your will O my God” (v. 81), but it seems too hard to know what that is. The other day, amidst all the heated political rhetoric, a little boy read his letter to the president, about another little boy, injured in the Syrian conflict. “We will be a family and he will be our brother.” This child’s expression of love and acceptance asks no guarantees of safety, and does not seek to make any deals. He opens his arms and welcomes the world, bloody, dirty, and afraid.

Mark McEntire Professor of Biblical Studies

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Saturday, December 17  Psalms 55, 138, 139.1–17  Isaiah 10.20–27  Luke 3.1–9  Jude 17–25 Well. Those are some interesting Scriptures to read in the midst of “the happiest time of the year.” There is no getting around it, today’s selections have a lot of death, destruction and judgment. But the one that stuck out to me is Luke 3.1–20, the proclamation of John the Baptist. Luke starts with all the rulers of the day, from Rome itself, down to Jerusalem and its local elites. But it is out in the wilderness, far from the centers of power, where Luke’s narrative lingers. There, John speaks God’s word, “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Luke 3.4).

Now, John the Baptist was the kind of preacher perfectly willing to call his crowd a “brood of vipers” (3.7) if he thought they needed it! But the kicker to the repentance and forgiveness he proclaims is that it has to have results: “Bear fruits worthy of repentance,” he says (3.8–9). Do not rest on your comfortable insider status and Abrahamic privilege—get out there and do something!

All John’s fiery rhetoric of judgement comes down to a simple challenge: love. When the people ask what they should do, he is straightforward.

If you have two coats, share one with someone who is cold. If you have some food, share it with someone who is hungry. In your business dealings, treat people with justice, honesty, and kindness (3.11–14).

As I have witnessed the conflicts of our world over the past year, I have struggled with hopelessness. I have wanted to give up and cry or, at times, to shout down fire and brimstone upon it all. But the truth is, we are locked, as always, into the eternal battle of love versus fear. And I think we have been shown pretty clearly where God stands. Particularly as we anticipate the birth of Emmanuel, God with us, who came into the world as the most vulnerable of human beings: a helpless infant born into a poor family, who soon became a refugee, his family fleeing for their lives from a ruler seeking to cement his power through violence.

Love versus fear: that is the sum of it. Which do we choose to guide what we do? That choice, our choice, shapes the world. “Whoever has two coats . . . Whoever has food”—may we, this Advent and always, choose love as freely as the One whose coming we await.

Amanda C. Miller Assistant Professor of Biblical Studies

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Week Four Comfort, comfort, ye My people, Speak ye peace, thus saith our God; Comfort those who sit in darkness, Mourning ‘neath their sorrows’ load.

Speak ye to Jerusalem Of the peace that waits for them; Tell her that her sins I cover And her warfare now is over.

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Sunday, December 18  Psalms 8, 24, 29, 84  Isaiah 42.12  John 3.16–21  Ephesians 6.10–20 I have often said, as I look at a room full of students on the first day of class, “There are 24 of us in this room and that means there are 24 different worlds in this room. Each of us carries an entire world of particularities within ourselves: memories, understandings, desires and hopes.”

This passage, John 3.16–21, has these phrases: not condemned, fear deeds will be exposed, coming into the light, what has been done has been done through God. We all know what it is like to carry an inner world marked by condemnation and fear because of failures and scars. Like Nicodemus who stealthily moved about at night, we all know what it is like to live in avoidance. Academia, the world of books and theories and gowns and titles, is a perfect hiding place.

We wait for a light to arrive that carries no condemnation. Frederick Buechner, as a little boy, carried a world of fear when his father committed suicide. Buechner walked around for years fearing important people would abandon him and fearing he was responsible for the happiness of those closest to him. In middle-age, a therapist told him to write out an imaginary dialogue with his father and these words of healing gushed from that imaginary father: “There is nothing to worry about. That is the secret I never knew . . . it is all good.”

A Benedictine monk who was a mentor once told me, “When you wake up, drift into consciousness with a light of gratitude for the Accompanying Presence. After a while, the Presence dominates all else.”

The final verse in this passage is, “so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.” A young boy watched an old man on a park bench carving a stick. The boy asked if the old man had ever seen God. The old man replied, “Son, it’s getting to where I can hardly see anything else.”

In Advent, a season of darkness, what would it look like for our inner worlds of condemnation and fear to begin to take in the light of the Christ-child at Bethlehem? God so loved the world; God so loves our inner worlds.

Ben Curtis Professor of Religion

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Monday, December 19  Psalms 61, 62, 112, 115  Isaiah 11.1–9  John 5.30–47  Revelation 20.1–10 For many of us, the season of advent is a fun and festive time of year filled with laughter and joy. It represents a time to buy and exchange gifts; a time to eat, drink and be merry; and a time to celebrate traditions, old and new, with family and friends. It is, as the psalmist says, a season of singing praises for the blessings of wealth and riches that come to those who fear and delight in YHWH (Psalms 112.1–3).

But for some of us, nothing could be further from the truth. For some of us, this may be a very challenging time of year; a time of mourning the loss of a loved one; a time of personal struggle with depression; a time of social unrest and uncertainty; and a time of realizing that things are not right or always as they appear. It is instead, as the psalmist says, a season where the heart is faint (Psalms 61.2), a season where the words of the enemy prevail (Psalms 62.3–4), and a season of waiting for God in utter silence and solitude (Psalms 62.5–6).

The Scripture readings for today offer an important reminder, no matter our circumstances and perhaps even despite our circumstances, to embody trust in YHWH (Psalm 62.8; 115.9–11). That is, the psalmist urges us to physically rely on the LORD with all of our senses and with every fiber of our being. For the God of Israel is not mute, blind or deaf like the gods of the nations who have mouths, but do not speak; eyes, but do not see; and ears, but do not hear (Psalms 115.5– 7). These idols, like those of high estate and low estate (Psalm 62.9), are hevel—a momentary breath that appears for a short while and quickly disappears.

Rather, the God of Israel is the ruach adonai—a mighty wind that was present over the face of the deep at creation (Genesis 1.2) and is present through the shoot of Jesse (Isaiah 1.1). This ruach adonai embodies the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and fear of YHWH (Isaiah 1.2). May we be comforted with the scent, sight and sound of the ever present ruach adonai during this Advent season (Isaiah 1:3).

Gideon Park Lecturer in Religion

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Tuesday, December 20  Psalms 66, 67, 116, 117  Isaiah 11.10–16  Luke 1.5–25  Revelation 20.11–21.8 The Bible bears witness to the truth that the Holy does not tend to show up in convenient ways or at convenient times. God consistently appears in or as an unexpected interruption to what a particular person or community considers ordinary.

In the Hebrew texts God chooses unlikely leaders and prophets, and proceeds to make terribly inconvenient requests of them—God’s choice of Moses, for example, is a disruption of the expected, since, among other things, Moses is not recorded as having possessed the typical qualities of a leader. The “I AM” communicates with Moses in a way that defies the typical operation of natural patterns at the burning bush, then asks him to leave his quiet, predictable life of shepherding in order to defy a Pharaoh.

In Christian scripture, God’s presence as Jesus or Spirit enters unexpected spaces in surprising ways, perhaps the most shocking of which is this: God is understood to have been birthed into the world through the body of an unmarried teenager. The divine presence repeatedly disrupts whatever is the status quo.

In today’s reading from the Gospel according to Luke, we are given another example of this divine disruption. God’s angel appears to poor old Zechariah, who seems to be simply trying to live out the rest of his years in relative peace, faithfully performing his priestly duties, leading a quiet life. The news Gabriel has for Zechariah is of the disruptive sort: Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, both very old, can expect a bundle of joy. Understandably incredulous, Zechariah expresses confusion, only to be rewarded with temporary muteness!

This is not really how God is supposed to show up. I can imagine Zechariah thinking, “This is terribly inconvenient!”

Perhaps Advent can be a time to practice once again the habit—that we might have lost sight of throughout the year—of looking for the presence of God in the most unexpected places and people. In what person, in what place, in what event is it difficult for me to see the Holy? Then that is precisely where I should look.

Beth Ritter-Conn Lecturer in Religion

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Wednesday, December 21  Psalms 72, 111, 113  Isaiah 28.9–22  Luke 1.26–38  Revelation 21.9–21 “He will reign over Israel forever; His kingdom will never end!” Luke 1:33 I have never been disappointed on Christmas morning. Not once. Not a single time. For the past fifty-six Christmases, there has always been a little something under the tree for me. I remember the glorious days of childhood when there were packages both great and small with my name on them. I remember toy trains and footballs and bikes to ride.

As I grew the gifts changed a little, but there was never an absence of a gift. As a teenager, it was all about electronic gadgets or the latest clothing style. Even now as an adult, there are wonderful packages waiting for me to unwrap.

I have also noticed how the way I think about Christmas has changed through the years. I used to think that it was all about receiving gifts on Christmas morn. Now I find great joy in being the giver of gifts. I love to watch the excitement of my granddaughters gently opening their gifts or seeing my grown kids eagerly open the ones I have purchased for them. There is no greater joy than seeing the excitement of a wellchosen gift gratefully received.

And somewhere along the line I have also come to realize that I do not even have to find a single gift under the tree to be amazed and excited about Christmas morn. The deeper meaning of the day always finds its way into the dark places of my heart that need a little joy.

Everything about the day . . . the tree, the lights, the gifts, the laughter . . . all remind me that the day is one of great celebration. We gather to celebrate the fact that the Great King has been born. There will be no end to His Kingdom and no limit to His grace. We are loved, accepted, healed, forgiven, restored, and redeemed through the gift of Christ born into our lives. The joy of Christmas is not found in any number of gifts under the tree, but in the receiving of the One true gift from the Father.

You may or may not get all that you hope for this Christmas, but you will receive all that you need. How can you ever be disappointed?

Jon R. Roebuck Executive Director, Center for Innovative Faith-Based Leadership

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Thursday, December 22  Psalms 80, 146, 147  Isaiah 29.13–24  Luke 1.39–48a, (45b–56)  Revelation 21.22–22.5 The meeting of Mary and Elizabeth celebrates the joyful coming of a God, whose holy and life-giving Spirit brings life into those places of our lives where renewal, joy and hope lay beyond the pale of what was humanly imaginable.

The virgin Mary—a life and body too young and vulnerable to bear the life of another. The barren Elizabeth—a life and body too worn and exhausted for new life. Empty and devoid of the hope of life, their life and bodies are sacraments of the wilderness, for what hope of life can come out of the wilderness. There is between them the further matter of grace, or rather disgrace. In a culture that honored the life and body of women who bore life, Mary and Elizabeth stand together at the far margins of disgrace.

A life without hope of grace or joy is not the life that God has chosen for these women. It is not the life that God has chosen for any of His children, for any who stand joyless at the margins of cultural disgrace, for any who fear that they are too vulnerable, too weak to hope in the strength of their own bodies—the widow, the orphan, the immigrant, the sick—the most vulnerable in our society. Who might these be for us today? Pause a moment and begin to think.

The Spirit of God enters the lives and bodies of these women, for whom the frailty, prejudice and indifference of the human community shut out joy and hope and life. The Spirit is the Power of Life, the Power that gives life, life where there should be no life, joy where only sorrow was imaginable, hope where despair had long been a constant companion. The Spirit transforms the desolate wombs of these women, empowering them to become vessels of divine Life, for it is not simply babies that inhabit these wombs. It is John, the Voice of one crying in the wilderness. It is Jesus, the flesh of the Lord God Himself. The joy of Mary and Elizabeth invites us to experience how God can use the frailty of our life and flesh to bring His unfathomable Life and Power into the world. May the meeting of these two women, so full of life and hope, become an icon of the communal joy and life that salvation offers us this Advent season.

Manuel A. Cruz Assistant Professor of Theology

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Friday, December 23  Psalms 93, 96, 148, 150  Isaiah 33.17–22  Luke 1.57–66  Revelation 22.6–11, 18–20 O sing to the Lord a new song; sing to the Lord, all the earth.

2 Sing to the Lord, bless his name; tell of his salvation from day to day.

3 Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples (Psalm 96.1–3).

1

As a child and still as an adult the season of Advent is by far one of my favorite seasons. As a child it was in great anticipation of presents, Christmas songs and family. As I have grown older I still anticipate those things but it also causes me to consider how the end of the year marks the beginning of something great. Each year I am reminded of the blessings that God has bestowed on me and the promise of new blessings that a new year brings.

While all of us are considering the last few days of the year, there is also the hope and excitement of a new year. The time of Advent is one of great preparation and peace, in anticipation of the birth of Christ.

However, while there is a great deal of preparation during the time of Advent we should be thoughtful of God on a daily basis.

While the birth of Christ is an extraordinary celebration we must remember that celebration every day after. Each day that God gives us is a blessing and He is to be praised on a daily basis for the gift He gives us. So as a reminder, may the praise of the Lord always be on our lips not only during Advent but all throughout the year.

Mary Clark Director, Bridges to Belmont and Office of Multicultural Learning

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Saturday, December 24  Psalms 45, 46, 89.1–29  Isaiah 35.1–10  Luke 1.67–80  Revelation 22.12–17 I am writing this piece on October 3, 2016, the 23rd anniversary of the Battle of Mogadishu, remembered by most of us through the book and movie Black Hawk Down. When I awoke this morning I had no recollection of this anniversary, but I wound up spending this morning talking with one of the survivors of that battle, one of the Army Rangers who slid down a rope from a Black Hawk helicopter into the streets of Mogadishu that afternoon 23 years ago. Those were 18 perilous hours. 18 perilous hours during which 19 of his buddies lost their lives. He told me, “It was only 18 hours. But those eighteen hours have shaped every minute of my life since then.” One of the things he remembered was that they never lost hope that someone was coming for them, that they were not alone or forgotten.

Isaiah lived in perilous times as well. St. Luke lived in perilous times.

John the Seer lived in perilous times. And their messages of hope are clear. We are neither alone nor forgotten in days of peril. The Mighty One of Israel is coming to rescue us from the dangers of this world.

We live in perilous times as well. Sure, for many of us in the Belmont community it is the peril of too much privilege, but for some of us it is the peril of broken and dysfunctional families, or the bondage of addiction. For others it may be the peril of living in a society that considers us worthless and expendable. For all of us there is the peril of succumbing to the spirit of our age that whispers continually that we are nothing more than commodities.

During Advent we are reminded of the importance of our hope.

When times are dark and our whole world seems to be falling down around us, we lean with hope on the promise that we are neither alone nor forgotten.

As the psalmist says, God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult (Psalm 46.1–3).

Tom Knowles-Bagwell Associate Director, Mental Health Counseling

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Sunday, December 25  Psalms 2, 85, 110.1–5, 132  Zechariah 2.10–13  John 3.31–36  1 John 4.7–16 I think I have wished for everything one could wish for on Christmas morning and I have been blessed so often with what I have received.

Over the years there have been bicycles and chess sets and clothes and books and Cardinals caps and gadgets and the heart’s desire of that particular year. This year I have had a very simple wish. I have been wishing for love and human decency toward each other.

We have to work at loving each other because it seems there is something within us that puts us inevitably in conflict. John writes about this when he says “the one who is of the earth belongs to the earth and speaks of earthly things” (John 3.31).

We have seen this human leaning toward conflict played out all too well in this calendar year. Acts of terrorism, expressions of racism, and the noise of politics have conflicted us internally and with each other.

We are all of us a little broken, maybe even more than usual.

All Advent we have longed for Christmas and the coming of the Son of God, Immanuel, God with us. We have longed for Him to comfort us and speak peace to us! We need it badly this year.

Comfort, comfort ye my people, Speak ye peace, thus saith our God; Comfort those who sit in darkness, Mourning ‘neath their sorrows’ load. Speak ye to Jerusalem Of the peace that waits for them; Tell her that her sins I cover, And her warfare now is over.

On this Christmas morning may we claim the words of 1 John 4 where we are encouraged to “love one another, because love is from God” (v. 7). “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent His only Son into the world so that we might live through him” (v. 9). He continues, “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we ought also love one another” (v. 11).

May we all be comforted this Christmas morning by the love of God that comes to us in the Christ child, Jesus, Lord of Heaven and Earth, Prince of Peace, Immanuel, Heart of God’s Heart, Wonderful Counselor and Hope of the World.

May the love of God made known to us in Christ calm the hearts of those inclined to terror, give sight to those blinded by racism, and open the ears of those who lead.

Blessed be the name of the Lord the one who loves us more than life itself and comes to us this Christmas morn!

Merry Christmas!

Darrell Gwaltney Dean, College of Theology & Christian Ministry 35

College of Theology & Christian Ministry Vision

The College of Theology & Christian Ministry seeks to be a premier academic community that nurtures a living faith in God, reflects critically on its discipline, develops skills for Christian ministry and distinguishes itself through its emphases on contemplative spirituality and social justice.

Purpose

The purpose of the College of Theology & Christian Ministry is to provide student-centered, academically challenging religion classes to the diverse student body of Belmont University and to provide a foundation of religious studies for students preparing for congregational ministry and advanced theological studies.

Goals

1. T o provide all Belmont students with a solid foundation in biblical and theological studies.

2. T o teach courses for religion majors and minors in the following areas: biblical languages, biblical studies, religion and society, theological and historical studies, practical studies, seminars and special studies. To offer professional education courses in practical ministry.

3. T o offer continuing education opportunities to ministers and laity.

4. T o integrate contemplative spirituality and social justice into the curricular and co-curricular program.

Belmont at a Glance

Belmont University is a student-centered Christian community providing an academically challenging education that empowers men and women of diverse backgrounds to engage and transform the world with disciplined intelligence, compassion, courage and faith.

Ranked No. 6 in the Regional Universities South category and named as a “Most Innovative” university by U.S. News & World Report, Belmont University consists of more than 7,700 students who come from every state and more than 25 countries. Committed to being a leader among teaching universities, Belmont brings together the best of liberal arts and professional education in a Christian community of learning and service. The University’s purpose is to help students explore their passions and develop their talents to meet the world’s needs. With more than 90 areas of undergraduate study, 19 master’s programs and five doctoral degrees, there is no limit to the ways Belmont University can expand an individual’s horizon.

Accreditation

Belmont University is accredited by the Commission on Colleges of the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools to award baccalaureate, master’s and doctoral degrees. Contact the Commission on Colleges at 1866 Southern Lane, Decatur, Georgia 30033-4097 or call 404.679.4500 for questions about the accreditation of Belmont University.

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Faculty and Staff Mrs. Tola Akhom-Pokrywka, Assistant to the Dean Mr. Dane Anthony, Lecturer Dr. Marty Bell, Church History Dr. Robert Byrd, Greek & New Testament (Emeritus) Dr. Ann Coble, Lecturer Dr. Manuel Cruz, Theology Dr. Ben Curtis, Pastoral Care & Spiritual Formation Dr. Cynthia Curtis, Practical Theology & Spiritual Formation Dr. David Dark, Religion and the Arts Dr. Steve Guthrie, Theology & Religion and the Arts Dr. Darrell Gwaltney, Dean Dr. Ernest Heard, Lecturer Dr. Janet Hicks, Mental Health Counseling Dr. Sally Holt, Christian Ethics Dr. Tom Knowles-Bagwell, Mental Health Counseling Dr. Donovan McAbee, Religion and the Arts Dr. Mark McEntire, Hebrew & Old Testament Dr. Amanda Miller, Greek & New Testament Dr. Gideon Park, Lecturer Dr. Beth Ritter-Conn, Lecturer Dr. Steven Simpler, Theology (Emeritus) Dr. Judy Skeen, Biblical Studies & Spiritual Formation Dr. Andy Watts, Christian Ethics

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1900 Belmont Boulevard Nashville, TN 37212 BELMONT.EDU

Belmont University is a Christian community. The university faculty, administration and staff uphold Jesus as the Christ and as the measure for all things. As a community seeking to uphold Christian standards of morality, ethics and conduct, Belmont University holds high expectations of each person who chooses to join the community. Belmont University does not discriminate on the basis of race, sex, color, national or ethnic origin, age, disability, military service or sexual orientation. Inquiries or complaints concerning the application of these policies to students should be directed to the Dean of Students, Beaman Student Life Center Suite 200, 1900 Belmont Blvd., Nashville, TN 37212, deanofstudents@belmont.edu or 615.460.6407.

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