Advent 2018

Belmont University

A DVE N T D EVOT ION AL GU IDE 2018

A DVENT 2018 It is my pleasure to offer to the Belmont University community our 15th annual Advent Guide. May we call out together, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!”

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. It is a time we long for release from our fears and to find our rest in God. Come, Emmanuel!

We hope these devotionals help all who read to prepare their hearts and minds 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 begin longing for Advent in September when they work on this guide. I am thankful for their kind and thoughtful participation. Join them now in longing for the coming Christ!

I am grateful to Thomas Burns, the Provost of Belmont University, for his annual support of this project. I also especially thank Tola Pokrywka, Assistant to the Dean for the College of Theology & Christian Ministry.

Tola concludes her third year with us during this Advent season and we are deeply grateful for her faithful service, love for students, and commitment to the work of the CTCM! Without her, this Advent Guide would not happen.

May all our hearts call out together this year for Emmanuel to come among us, heal our hearts, restore our land, and bring us close to God! May the Christ come to all of us this Christmas!

Blessings,

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

G U IDE TO D AILY PRAY ER OPENING P RAY ER O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel, That mourns in lonely exile here, Until the Son of God appear.

CONFESSION OF SIN Reflect quietly before God asking for forgiveness for 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

SC RI PT UR E L ESSON S 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.

P RAYER S The following is a suggested guide for prayer during Advent.

Pray for all Christians around the world and especially for those who endure persecution for their faith.

Pray for our nation and all those in authority.

Pray that Christ’s peace may cover the world. Pray for the end of conflict and war and the triumph of truth and justice.

Pray for all those who engage in the educational ministry of the Church and especially for Belmont University.

Pray for those who suffer and grieve.

As a closing prayer, read the words to O Come, O Come Emmanuel appointed for the week.

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WEEK ON E O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel, That mourns in lonely exile here, Until the Son of God appear.

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SUNDAY, D ECEM BER 2  Psalms 111, 112, 113, 146, 147  Isaiah 1.1–9  Matthew 25.1–13  2 Peter 3.1–10 Who is like YHWH our God, enthroned so high, you need to stoop to see the sky and the earth! You raise the poor from the dust, and lift the needy from the dung heap to give them a place at the table with rulers, with leaders of your people (Psalm 113. 5–8).

From all we know and love about Jesus, this God “enthroned so high” is the unmistaken giver of good news we celebrate this Advent. This God is self-humbled into human form. This God sleeps in caves, rides donkeys, eats with outcasts, heals the ostracized, empowers the powerless, and admonishes human actions that create oppressive divisions.

In a nutshell, this God offends those who would be offended by the poor eating at their table. To put it another way, this God offends these kinds of people by eating at the tables of poor people.

I can think of a lot of people like that; you probably can, too. I have been a person like that in my life. We all refuse to be Advent people at some point in our lives, some more than others.

My wife, Amy, is the executive director of Luke 14.12. Luke 14.12 is an ecumenical program through which persons of diverse faith communities join together in a common effort to address the needs of those who are inadequately fed. It has provided meals for the hungry and the homeless for 35 years. Its employees come from the people whom they serve.

Luke 14.12 is a form of our stooping God. It is a form of the selfemptying Christ. It is a form of the ministering Jesus. Advent people celebrate this stooping God. We hunger to be the hands of Jesus, stirring up justice.

Advent people join the “struggle for fullness of being, for liberation, and indispensable preparation of the kin-dom of God!” according to theologian Ada Maria Isasi-Diaz. She sees the kin-dom of God as the real community of the fullness of God, as a day-to-day reality in the world at large, one where we will all be sisters and brothers, kin to each other.

Be warned . . . if we are Advent people, then we have some work to do.

Especially those of us who are offended at the idea of the kin-dom of God, an everyday community of liberating solidarity lifting and raising each other in concrete works of justice.

Andy Watts Professor of Religion

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M O NDAY, D ECEM BER 3  Psalms 1, 2, 3, 4, 7  Isaiah 1.10–20  Luke 20.1–8  1 Thessalonians 1.1–10 I’ve always thought that faith should make us uncomfortable. Trying to have faith and keep it seems to push us into places where our questions can’t be easily answered, and when I reflect on these passages, I find myself identifying with the priests and the scribes. I have questions too. My questions cause me discomfort, and my hope is that discomfort encourages growth.

The religious authorities come to Jesus with an agenda, one they have throughout the Gospel. They want him to make a mistake, but the questions they are asking have a ring of authenticity. Who has given him authority? This seems like a question I might ask. Who made this rule? Why do I have to do it this way?

His teaching and the message that he brought must have baffled them.

Jesus brings a message that upsets order. It is one that questions social status and power and wealth. It is meant to disquiet and disturb.

What seems regular, the accepted status quo, will be turned aside in the kingdom that Jesus describes in Luke, and the irregular will become normative.

This is the reason Jesus seems to be continually pulled into conversations that are argumentative in the Gospel of Luke. Many cannot understand his desire to reverse what seems normal. I can relate. I find comfort in routine. I like to have a plan for my day. Why try something new if the way I’m doing things right now works? This causes me to wonder if I would have been more comfortable in the group listening to Jesus teach, or would I have found my place in the group that asked the questions?

While Jesus’ focus is to teach and tell the good news, he doesn’t ignore questions from the priests and scribes when they engage him.

He asks them questions in return. It makes me think that maybe he hasn’t given up on them, or on any of us. The questions that Jesus raises place the religious authorities in an uncomfortable position.

They aren’t able to win their argument with him; we may imagine he left them with further questions, frustrating questions.

This is the journey of faith that is so clearly communicated to us during the season of Advent. The journey is one of waiting and anticipation. It requires patience and demands that we acknowledge some questions may never be answered to our satisfaction. This journey is one that involves flexibility and challenges us to continually remain open to seeing and experiencing the world in new ways. Just as those who first believed had to reorder their thinking to accept that an infant in a manger was the awaited Messiah, we are challenged today to settle into our uncomfortable and unanswerable questions, and, then, we believe anyway.

Sally Holt Professor of Religion

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T UESDAY, D ECEM BER 4  Psalms 5, 6, 10, 11  Isaiah 1.21–31  Luke 20.9–18  1 Thessalonians 2.1–12 “Dispel the shadows of the night and turn our darkness into light” (John Mason Neale, O Come, O Come Emmanuel).

In a world of such heavy darkness, the idea of something bringing light seems near impossible. How are we actually to believe that there is something that can be so full of light that we have a chance to inhale deeply again? How can we even imagine what it is like to experience breath in light and experience the day in a new way that is removed of the synthetic air that we are currently taking in behind the walls we hide?

On this day in Advent, the first three passages of scripture discuss a heaviness that comes from being in a world full of suffering. The passage in 1 Thessalonians then brings this breath of fresh air that shows us an example by which we are supposed to live. Paul talks about how we are to be gentle and caring. We are supposed to work so as to help ease the load for someone else. We are to be pure in intent as we strive to share our authentic selves and our light with others. It is in this vein that we can enter a whole and true relationship with one another despite our differences.

During this season of waiting for what is to come, we need to remember that waiting is an action verb. Waiting is something in which you actively participate. Figure out how you can be active in this waiting with an integrity and vulnerability that Paul discusses. What can you do while you wait? How can you prepare for the coming of Jesus?

How can you care for others and offer your light to others in order to offer them a breath of fresh air? Find peace, find solitude, find stillness.

During this season, take time to find peace, solitude, and stillness in the foundational truth that Jesus taught: Love your neighbor, put them before yourself. Love well, love deeply, love with urgency in this world that is in such desperate need of a big, deep inhale of fresh, loving air. When things are moving too fast, think of a way that you can bless someone else instead of complaining about all that you have to do. This world is so full of people in need of love. Be that person. Be the light.

Brianna Bradshaw Program Assistant, CTCM CTCM Alumnus (2015)

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W E D NESDAY, D ECEMBER 5  Psalms 12, 13, 14, 119.1–24  Isaiah 2.1–4  Luke 20.19–26  1 Thessalonians 2.13–20 Christ and Culture, written by H. Richard Niebuhr had a powerful impact on me as a seminarian many years ago. Many consider the book one of the most important theological works of the twentieth century.

Niebuhr outlined five historical options regarding the question of how Christian faith interacts with its cultural context: Christ against culture; Christ of culture; Christ above culture; Christ and culture in paradox; and Christ transforming culture. The first time I read the book, and for a number of years afterward, I thought the weakest of the positions that Niebuhr outlined was the Christ and culture in paradox position.

The idea that we have obligations to two kingdoms, the kingdom of God and whatever social and political system in which we are citizens presented a troubling dualism to me. I have now revised my thinking regarding my initial take on the book. Niebuhr identified Martin Luther as the quintessential proponent of the Christ and culture in paradox position. Because my major academic field is the history of Christianity and historical theology, I have explored the life and work of Martin Luther from a number of angles. Currently, I view him as a man who struggled profoundly with the central paradox of being responsive to the claims of the Gospel and being a good citizen in a state that could never fully embody the claims of the Gospel.

Our readings from the prophet Isaiah and from the Gospel of Luke reflect the tension we often feel in living in between two claims for allegiance in our lives that do not coexist with ease. Isaiah offers us hope by reflecting on an end game scenario where weapons designed to kill other humans are transformed into implements for feeding other humans. Yet we do not experience that now. Jesus gives wisdom for the present by recognizing that we have to figure out how to make our way in a world that does not easily reconcile competing values—give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and give to God what belongs to God. Advent is a time for us to ponder paradox and recognize that the etymology of paradox—beyond opinion—gives us encouragement to enjoy both the quieter and gentler spirit of Advent and the more festive cultural accretion of popular pre-Christmas celebrations. Enjoy that which lies beyond opinion.

Marty Bell Professor of Religion

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T H U R SDAY, D ECEM BER 6  Psalms 18.1–20, 18.21–50  Isaiah 2.5–22  Luke 20.27–40  1 Thessalonians 3.1–13 Isaiah is a popular prophet around Advent and Christmas, but Isaiah 2.5–22 is not one of the usual readings. Today’s passage is an oracle of judgment, calling the people out for two major issues: idolatry and arrogance. The refrain that’s repeated twice reads this way: The haughtiness of people shall be humbled, and the pride of everyone shall be brought low; and the LORD alone will be exalted on that day (Isaiah 2.11, 17).

There is no beating around the bush, and no one is left out of this judgment. What does this text mean as we read it in the light of Advent?

In the person of Jesus, God doesn’t just command that we humble ourselves. Through the Incarnation, God actually demonstrates it for us: the very being of God chooses to take the form of a vulnerable human infant. If that is what God chooses to do, then what should that inspire and empower us to do? What haughtiness can we give up? What power and privilege do we possess to offer up in service to the marginalized and vulnerable, to create a world where the reign of God can flourish, so that “they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and . . . nation shall not lift up sword against nation” (Isaiah 2.4)?

At the same time as I was writing this devotional in late September, I was also writing the following letter to one of my senators, at a time when we, as a country, had to judge whether we loved survivors of sexual assault more than we loved power: “I urge you tonight to consider your legacy. I dearly hope that I will be able to remember you as a senator with whom I disagree about certain issues, but one who put the good of the country before partisan politics. Will we remember you as one of the few with enough of a moral compass to do the right thing? Or will you be remembered as just another politician who loved his own power more than he cared about the people he is supposed to serve, and more than he cared about credible allegations by multiple women? I hope that I can remember you with admiration, Senator.”

What will be our legacy, as followers of the Christ who showed us how to beat back the demons of our own ambition and arrogance?

Amanda C. Miller Associate Professor of Biblical Studies

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F R I DAY, DECEMBER 7  Psalms 16, 17, 22  Isaiah 3.1–4.1  Luke 20.41–21.4  1 Thessalonians 4.1–12 David’s prayer, found in Psalm 22, has long been read as a prophetic commentary on the death of Christ. In Psalm 22.1–2, David prays: My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish?

My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest.

Similarly, in Matthew 27.46, we read of the last moments of Jesus’ life: About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”)

I do not believe David nor Jesus were crying out in despair in these moments, but I believe their identical prayer of “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” was a prayer of lament. Despair is defined as, “the complete loss or absence of hope.” Lament is “a passionate expression of grief or sorrow.” The moments leading up to the feeling of forsakenness were covered in suffering and sorrow, but never was there an absence of hope.

In the prayer found in Psalm 22, the language shifts from a feeling of forsakenness to a posture of praise, almost as if David knew the time of suffering was nearing an end. David speaks of the piercing of hands and feet (v.16), and the division of garments amongst those who mock him (v.18); both offer a clear representation of what was to happen to Jesus in the events leading up to the crucifixion. Jesus' cry was honest, but as He quoted the words of David in His last moments on the cross, He knew He was fulfilling the will of His Father all along. His suffering for was a greater purpose. On the cross, He was forsaken for our sake.

As Christmas Day approaches, we begin to offer up our own prayers of lament. For some, this season is marked by the absence of the joy, peace and love that is often promised to us by Hallmark movies or the local Christmas radio station. Holiday seasons can sometimes be filled with long to-do lists, memories from the past, dissatisfactions, unmet expectations, and overwhelming amounts of responsibility; but I pray that we don’t get stuck in these feelings of forsakenness. The Christmas offered to us by the world doesn’t even come close to the deeply satisfying joy, peace, and love offered to us by the coming of the Lord.

Have hope in the victory of the birth, life and death of Jesus Christ, and trust in the greater purpose of this Christmas season.

Katy Wurm Senior, Religion and the Arts 9

SAT UR DAY, D ECEMBER 8  Psalms 20, 21.1–7, 110.1–7, 116, 117  Isaiah 4.2–6  Luke 21.5–19  1 Thessalonians 4.13–18 When we read through the pages of scripture we quickly see that the people of God have spent a lot of time waiting. The prophets of the Hebrew Bible speak of the “Day of the Lord” when the Messiah will come and all will be set right. The stories that we find in the latter half of the Old Testament are those of people who are waiting for God to arrive on scene, making right the injustices that the people of Israel have faced. Though he was not received by all people as the answer to God’s promises of a Messiah, Jesus came into a world of chaos and oppression and spoke of a new kind of kingdom. The kingdom that he ushered in was a kingdom of freedom, liberation, and sacrifice for the sake of the other. Those who followed him believed that their waiting had come to an end.

All too soon, however, the long-awaited Messiah hung on a cross and the people of God again became a people of waiting. Today’s passage from 1 Thessalonians gives us a glimpse into a community of Christians trying to make sense of Jesus' promise to quickly return.

The New Testament witness shows us a people who expected that Jesus' return was imminent—they believed that many among them would not die before the second coming. When that happened, they would be with the Lord forever.

As we know, these expectations have not come to fruition. Those who originally wrote and read the New Testament epistles have been dead for almost two millennia, and we are left with the question of what it means to be the people of God in waiting. How do we wait for something when we do not know when it will happen? How do we keep the faith? How do we encourage each other as we wait? First, we remind one another that God is always with us. By the gift of the Holy Spirit, God is with us in our waiting. In times of celebration and sorrow, God is with us. We are called to proclaim that for each other and for a world in need of the Good News. Second, we continue the work begun in Jesus. We are called to be those who love God and love neighbor with all that we are. As we live our lives, we proclaim and participate in God’s kingdom.

As we celebrate this Advent season, our texts today remind us that our waiting is not in vain. God is faithful. Christ will come again.

Heather Gerbsch Daugherty University Minister

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WEEK T WO O come, thou Dayspring, come and cheer Our spirits by thine advent here; Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

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SUNDAY, D ECEM BER 9  Psalms 114, 115, 148, 149, 150  Isaiah 5.1–7  Luke 7.28–35  2 Peter 3.11–18 The Psalms for today admonish us to praise the Lord for the sake of his steadfast love and faithfulness. The psalmist gives us numerous reasons to glorify the name of the Lord. Among these many reasons to sing a new song to our God, the psalmist reminds us that God: makes us his sanctuary (Psalm 114.2), is our help and shield (Psalm 115.9), created the universe by speaking (Psalm 148.5), and takes pleasure in his people, adorning them with salvation (Psalm 149.4). We pour out praise because we see the goodness of God in who he is and what he has done. This Advent, we anticipate receiving of the greatest reason to praise God—the gift of Jesus.

Isaiah 5 gives us the metaphor of a vineyard that God has made perfect for cultivating his beloved people into lovers of himself. Still, his people have become like “wild grapes” (Isaiah 5.4) and have not become who God created them to be. The gift of advent, Jesus of Nazareth, became the fruit that God was proud of, and he came as a human to live a perfect life for us.

Jesus’ words about John the Baptist in Luke’s gospel are shocking: “Among those born of women none is greater than John. Yet the one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he” (Luke 7.28).

Jesus is saying that John is the greatest because he points to Jesus and recognizes him for who he is. Yet, we see that John is not as great as any who have come into the glory that Jesus made possible. Thinking to the passage in Isaiah, Jesus makes us into the beautifully cultivated garden that we formerly refused to become—more beautiful than you or I can imagine.

This Advent, as we consider Christ’s first coming and his return (2 Peter 3.12), meditate on who Christ came to be on our behalf and who he is turning us into. The natural reaction will be singing praise! Praise him with trumpet sound, with lute and harp, with tambourine and dance!

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord!

Taylor Brown Senior, Christian Leadership

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M O NDAY, D ECEM BER 10  Psalms 9, 15, 25  Isaiah 5.8-17  Luke 21.20–28  1 Thessalonians 5.1–11 At times, the world can feel too heavy to behold. It is easy to become overburdened by the brokenness of humanity (Isaiah 5.8; Luke 21.20– 28), but in this time of Advent, we have before us an opportunity to rest as we renew our minds and bodies, and prepare for the coming of Christ. Psalm 9.9 reminds us, “The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble.” Lately, for me, trouble has felt like it is woven into the fabric of human existence; it seems inevitable and inescapable. However, we can find comfort in recognizing two important aspects of this season: the first is that Christ is coming. God has not abandoned us. This is not an eternal exile.

Kabod is truly around us if we look for it. Second, we must recognize that we are not alone in our waiting if we are to make it meaningful.

Oftentimes, waiting is understood as a meaningless precursor to some big event. In this case, we wait for the birth of our Lord and Savior. Jesus does offer hope and redemption, but notice that he is born into the same brokenness as you and I, and this brokenness does not vanish upon his birth, death, or even his resurrection.

It is 2018, and people still hurt. There is still hunger, disease, persecution, and institutions of oppression. In many ways, the world has not changed much since the time of Jesus' life, but Christ’s birth, like his life, reminds us that God is Immanuel—God is with us in the devastation. God is with us. God dwells in the brokenness of humanity. Regardless of your theology, you live your life in a state of waiting. Advent is an opportunity to remember why we choose to wait together. In this waiting, we see kabod in one another, and we are able to “give thanks” (Psalm 9.1) and keep moving. Jesus' life teaches us that waiting is not passive; it’s a verb requiring action. In waiting, we search for God. In searching, we grow nearer to God. We look for kabod, and what we find is each other. Friends, this is the gift of Advent. Jesus is coming, but the Kingdom of God is already here.

Katie Rosenson Senior, Philosophy of Religion & English

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T UESDAY, D ECEM BER 11  Psalms 26, 28, 36, 39  Isaiah 5.18–25  Luke 21.29–38  1 Thessalonians 5.12–28 I put a lot of pressure on Christmas. I toggle back and forth between the fantasy of the winter wonderland and the reality of the chaos, exhaustion, and end-of-year pain.

The Christmas Season confronts us with the messiness of lived experiences. Christmas is beautiful. There are the lights. The decorations.

The delicious smells. The abundance. The beautiful songs. The greenery.

The celebrations and the parties. The traditions. The extra cookies. The travel. Being with loved ones. Carefully considering gifts for individual friends, neighbors, and family members. Even the dog gets a bone.

Christmas can be a wonderful time of joy, community, and celebration.

However, there are also the electric bills. The old boxes and the tangled strings. The burned pies, the forgotten ice, and trips to the crowded and angry grocery store. The creeping anxiety for each unfunded purchase on the credit card. The children’s home kids with no tree in the corner. The seething silence and uncomfortable stillness. The starkness of winter. The bitter, deep, and unrelenting loneliness. The failed family dinner. The forgotten card. The shame of privilege. Christmas can be a time of heaviness; a reminder of scarcity; a memento of not-enough.

In the recesses of our hearts, Christmas is the both celebration of birth and the foreshadowing of death. It pulls back the curtain on our imaginary worlds and exposes the clutter of relationships, brokenness, laughter, and community. And when our experiences do not match our hopes, we find ourselves doubting the goodness of God (Psalm 26) and desperate to compare ourselves to others who are worse than we are (Psalm 36). We become spun, anxious, and exhausted, and we find ourselves bent low in this season of celebration. We beg God not to forget us in our sadness while the parties roar around us (Psalm 28).

Our lyrics simply don’t match the music.

When I am still, though, in the chaotic heart of Christmas, Jesus shows up. He is the rambunctious baby—both loud and gentle. He is the Christmas card, the dinner invitation, or the large tip at dinner.

Jesus arrives as the unexpected moment of grace. He reminds us to put down our expectations, our demands and our either/or thinking. He implores us to always rejoice and to give thanks in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5.16–18). He reminds us that we reflect him to one another.

The Christmas season reminds us of both the joy and pain of birth. The abundance and the scarcity. Jesus arrives in the messiness of it all and when we take a moment to rest between the dreams and the dark, we find the true blessing of the one who came to save us.

John Delony Associate Provost/Dean of Students 14

W E D NESDAY, D ECEMBER 1 2  Psalms 38, 119.25–48  Isaiah 6.1–13  John 7.53–8.11  2 Thessalonians 1.1–12 I recently attended a professional conference where the keynote speaker, a highly respected professor from a top-ranked university, began her remarks, not with tables and graphs depicting the emerging data that I expected but with a description of a general theory of love.

What? Can you imagine the surprised looks and hear the soft whispers that skittered across the room?

She paused. And when she resumed, the transition to more familiar territory was quick. A couple of line charts and a Venn diagram appeared, but the message was sobering. Life expectancy is declining in America, and the “diseases of despair,” strongly linked to loneliness and social isolation, are major causes.

An exercise was next. Think about the people who helped you get where you are today. I couldn’t help but think about my parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles and more friends than I could count. Like me, previous generations had as many as 5–6 adults “looking after” them. Today, households are smaller and more likely to be headed by single, working parents. One adult cares for 6 toddlers in our daycare centers, and kids ages 11–14 spend an average of 9 hours a day in front of a screen.

What a turn of events! We’re more technologically connected yet more lonely and alone in the presence of other people than ever before. So where is the good news?

Back to that general theory of love. Safe, stable, loving relationships are directly linked to health and well being at every age. As Christians, we know that God is a constant loving presence, that our love for Christ and our actions can inspire hope, offer comfort, and bring peace to those in need. It is through Him that we bring light, joy, and goodness to others.

In this Advent season, I will consider God’s love from a broader perspective than I have before, not only as a commandment and a promise, but as a therapy sorely needed in today’s world.

Cathy Taylor Dean, College of Health Sciences

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T H U R SDAY, D ECEM BER 13  Psalms 37.1–18, 37.19–42  Isaiah 7.1–9  Luke 22.1–13  2 Thessalonians 2.1–12 The voice of the psalmist calls us to lay aside our fretting, to look beyond what we see and hear, to trust what is not always visible, to consider the hand of God at work in the midst of wickedness and righteousness.

As people walking through Advent, might it be time to pause, to look beyond what is readily visible, to the power of the unseen?

We live in a time of stimulus coming at us every moment . . . unless we shut it off. I recently heard a conversation about censorship and walked away wondering if it might be time to broaden our notions of censorship. Systems beyond us are choosing what we hear about, news we receive, and even our access to news of our friends.

Our attention is the latest desire of the market—the currency of profit making. Perhaps it is time to consider censoring ourselves, cutting off the never-ending information stream. Perhaps this isn’t all that new?

Ancient wisdom reminds us the way to life with God has always been about our focus, our hearing and seeing beyond what is right in front of us?

Today’s scripture passages call for our focus. The psalmist invites us to be still before the Lord, reminding us to “fret not” and clarifying that to fret is to open the door to being destroyed bit by bit. Isaiah speaks the ancient call to pay attention, “Take heed, be quiet, do not fear, and do not let your heart faint” (v. 4).

Believing the biblical witness of who God is and what God is up to has always been an invitation to believe in what cannot be seen, or more clearly, to believe that what we see is not the whole story.

The spiritual disciplines of solitude, silence, and prayer are ancient, and newly needed in the face of constant stimulus. Perhaps it is a greater challenge to be still in a world full of invited and uninvited stimulus.

If we are honest we also admit how quickly we seek distractions from the deep work needed to be still and see beyond what is easily visible, to believe that love is stronger than hate in a newsfeed full of hateful actions, to believe that those who appear to prosper on the backs of others who suffer won’t have the final word.

Judy Skeen Professor of Religion

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F R I DAY, DECEMBER 14  Psalms 31, 35  Isaiah 7.10–25  Luke 22.14–30  2 Thessalonians 2.13–3.5 Immanuel—God with us—the name holds for me special significance.

As the congregation sings, “O come, O come Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel,” my heart echoes, yes, Manuel, Emmanuel, God is with us, God is with me. The solemn joy of the church echoes across my given name, and I enter this season of spiritual awakening with a thankful and waiting heart.

As I pray over the readings for today, I am taken aback by the complicated and ambivalent context in which my beloved “Immanuel” first appears. Ahaz, King of Judah, is doing his best to keep his nation out of violent conflicts against the regional superpower of Assyria, foreign conflicts which are beginning to spill over the border into Judah. Tempted to buy the safety of his people through allegiance to the Assyrians, God sends the prophet Isaiah with a simple message— Trust in the Lord (not in Assyria)! “Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as ‘hell’ or high as heaven.” Ask and I will show you.

I will protect my people from the depths of the grave and into the heavens. Surprisingly, Ahaz says no! “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.” He rejects God’s invitation, and then sugarcoats the rejection with pious speech, parroting God’s command to not put God to the test. Undeterred by this rejection, Isaiah speaks out: “The Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the maiden is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him ‘God with us.’” Yet, it becomes clear that the coming of this God-child is no silver bullet, neither for Judah nor for us today.

As it was in the time of Isaiah, so it was in the time of Jesus, and so it is today. In our times of personal and social turmoil, we fail to trust in the Lord, and when the invitation and promises of God reach our ears, how often is our answer “no thanks” with a side of empty piety?

Praise be to God who does not heed our foolishness, but instead displays divine foolishness by sending us a child to be God with us in our present troubles. Let us take this infant divinity into our lives, and let us nurture the Christ into the fullness of its growth and glory in our world.

Manuel A. Cruz Assistant Professor of Religion

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SAT UR DAY, D ECEMBER 15  Psalms 32, 42, 43  Isaiah 8.1-15  Luke 22.31-38  2 Thessalonians 3.6-18 The initial thrust in verses 1–2 of this Psalm is powerful.

We often romanticize these verses—slapping them on coffee mugs and t-shirts with corresponding artwork, but in reality there is unbelievable unrest in the countenance of the Psalmist. If we take a moment to reflect on this picture more deeply, we see the depth of longing underneath. The picture we might imagine is one of a starving, dehydrated animal longing desperately for water. Perhaps a river that was once overflowing is now dried up, leaving those that might benefit from its nourishment in despair. The writer is saying that in the same way an animal gasps for water, so his heart and soul gasp for the presence of God. If you’ve ever been in a difficult emotional, spiritual or physical time, you might understand where the writer of the text is coming from. If you’ve ever cognitively known the “right” answers about how to act or respond to a situation, but felt helpless to actually live that way, you can most assuredly relate to this text. We’ve all experienced this phenomenon—discord between our heart and our mind. You can almost hear the writer screaming out, trying to muster up words to pray: “Why are you cast down, O my soul?! Why are you at turmoil within me?! Hope in God! Trust in God!” He’s not at a place of intimacy or of trust with God, but he intensely desires it. This theme of longing is found all throughout the Scriptures.

Indeed, many of us have been desperate for the presence of God to be richly present in our lives in the midst of pain and of struggle.

So what does this have to do with Christmas? This is a season with which we more readily associate happiness and joy than pain and longing.

However, we may also recognize that we long for Christ to be present in the difficult situations we encounter just as the whole world longed for Christ to come. As we are present with this feeling of longing, we tap into what the Advent season is all about—the fulfillment of our deepest longings in Jesus. Throughout this Christmas season, no matter your circumstances, cry out with longing to our God who has come in Jesus Christ—the living water that will satisfy our thirst.

Larkin Briley Director of Missions and Outreach

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WEEK TH REE O come, thou Wisdom from on high, And order all things far and nigh; To us the path of knowledge show, And cause us in her ways to go.

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SUNDAY, D ECEM BER 16  Psalms 63.1–8, 98, 103  Isaiah 13.1–13  John 3.22–30  Hebrew 12.18–29 The season of Advent is traditionally about waiting and expectation, and the assumption is that we are waiting for something good. The practice of giving gifts that has become central to Christmas in American practice serves to highlight that kind of expectation. This makes it jarring to find a text like Isaiah 13 among the readings for a day in the Advent season. Isaiah 13 is at the head of a collection of poems usually called “Oracles Against the Nations,” because they announce God’s approaching battle against nations other than Israel.

In this case, the target of God’s pending warfare is Babylon.

See, the day of the LORD comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the earth a desolation, and to destroy its sinners from it (Isaiah 13.9).

How can this be what we are waiting for with great expectation? One solution might be to imagine ourselves as part of God’s avenging army, and the ones who are about to suffer the cruel wrath of God are our enemies.

For many of the oppressed people of the world, looking for a powerful God who will come to deliver them is a necessary means of survival, but I am not among them. I am powerful, comfortable, and privileged.

History holds too many examples of what happens when people like me decide we are in God’s army, and that God wants our enemies to be vanquished. This struggle arises in the Gospel text in John 3. While most ancient manuscripts of John report a confrontation between the disciples of John the Baptist a singular Jewish person, a few of them use the plural “the Jews,” presenting a collective enemy readers might be tempted to identify in their own time.

If Advent is about waiting, then it must be about living on the edge of something, and Isaiah 13 puts me on edge. I am caught between the vengeance against evil I enjoy watching in movies and the hope that there is another way, one that does not require God’s “weapons of indignation.” In the past I have only caught fleeting glimpses of such a thing, so I will need to start watching very carefully.

Mark McEntire Professor of Biblical Studies

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M O NDAY, D ECEM BER 17  Psalms 41, 44, 52  Isaiah 8.16–9.1  Luke 22.39–53  2 Peter 1.1–11 How do we respond in seasons of waiting? What do we say in the gap between a promise and its fulfillment? The people of Israel were waiting in agony for a Savior to ransom them from their sorrow and darkness. After such a long period of silence, the hope of the Messiah seemed hard to grasp. Was He still coming? Had God forgotten about them?

When we find ourselves feeling abandoned by God because His promises have not yet been fulfilled, our response is a choice. Like Jesus before his coming death, we can plead with God and ask for His action, but if God chooses not to alleviate the suffering just yet, we can still choose to trust Him as Jesus did. When we trust Him, when know that our hope outlasts our circumstances and that He is not finished yet. May the prayer of Isaiah 8.17 be the prayer of our hearts in periods of waiting: “I will wait for the Lord who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in him.”

We can hope in God because He has fulfilled His promises before, and He will fulfill them again. For Israel, the waiting was long, but the reward was great. God answered by sending His own son as the Messiah to ransom them. By doing this, God joined them in their suffering in order to turn their hurt into joy again. Jesus fully joined himself to our flesh so that we can be fully joined to his divine nature and glory. This is no small act of love! This knowledge of God’s love and care allows us to have peace as we wait.

The season of Advent is a time of waiting, but it carries with it a sense of expectancy. We are expectant of God to do what He always does: He keeps His promises. He has not forgotten about us. During this time of waiting for Christmas: “May grace and peace be multiplied to you in the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord” (2 Peter 1.2). Amen.

Hannah Kerr Senior, Christian Leadership

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T UESDAY, D ECEM BER 18  Psalms 45, 47, 48  Isaiah 11.1–9  John 3.16–21  Ephesians 6.10–20 "A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse, from his roots a Branch will bear fruit" (Isaiah 11.1). Excitement generates in me as I read this scripture and recognize that the first coming of Christ was Isaiah’s message in this scripture.

Advent reminds us that we are not to forget that Christ came and that He will come again. This makes the season of Advent not only a reverent time, but also a time of excitement as we prepare for his arrival during the Christmas season.

Years ago, I knew that Advent was a special time during Christmas because I could see that in church we would light different colored candles each week symbolizing the “coming of our LORD.” It was always a solemn event: The priest would light the first candle the first week, the second candle the second week and so on. I was always just anxious to get the last candle lit because then I knew we were close to Christmas and the opening of gifts.

Now at this stage of my life, I understand the message of Advent from a different perspective: Isaiah spoke to the coming of a Messiah for the people of Israel, as we also wait for the return of the “Christ.” I feel a mixture of emotions during this time of Advent: I reflect on the birth of Christ as he is placed in his crib and I reflect on the patience that the people of Israel had in waiting for his birth. I reflect on my own limited abilities to wait with patience; I sometimes cannot even wait for the stop light to change, that is how hurried my life is. I recognize my humanity during Advent and how daily I return to Jesus for guidance and truth.

It is during this time of the year that we are given an opportunity to remember what the true meaning of Christmas is: a time to reflect, a time to express joy, a time to return again to Jesus as we patiently continue to wait for his return.

Isaiah 11.2 states, “The spirit of the LORD will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirt of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the LORD." During the Advent season, as we wait patiently, this scripture gives me comfort because through Christ I, too, can rest in the Lors, and seek wisdom and understanding and the counsel of God. The joy in this thought is that all who know Christ can have this comfort, too.

May this year’s Advent season bring the joy and love that is constantly given to us as we remember the following: "O come, O come, Emmanuel!"

Mary G. Mayorga Associate Professor of Mental Health Counseling 22

W E D NESDAY, D ECEMBER 1 9  Psalms 49, 119.49–72  Isaiah 11.10–16  John 5.30–47  Revelation 20.1–10 The Christmas season always seems to lend itself to an occasion of hustle and bustle. In this time, busyness and chaos can swiftly take over our lives. Difficulties arise when we begin to mistake busyness for fruitfulness.

It is my hope for this Christmas season to be different. May we, more than ever, be enlightened to the joy, hope, peace, and beauty that comes from the birth of Christ. While Jesus was on earth he said, “For I seek not to please myself but him who sent me” (John 5.30), a phrase full of power and conviction. Who are you seeking to please this season? Are we overawed by earthly riches and splendor that will one day decay (Psalm 49)? For these things are utterly ephemeral, yet we can so easily become entangled by them, particularly during this time of the year.

In the midst of the madness, may we find time to be still. The background noise of life, especially around the holiday season, can make His voice so hard to hear. I encourage you to intentionally pursue moments of peace, find rest, take a breath, and seek your silent night.

As you listen for God and dwell in His word, you will find true life through Jesus. This is our hope that has saved the world.

Christmas is our tangible annual reminder that the Lamb of God triumphs over all things (Revelation 20) and He is the truth that sets us free. I hope and pray, this December, we are blessed with a profound understanding (Psalm 49). We will receive this understanding when we grasp the truth of the celebration of Christmas—this is something that will last forever (Psalm 49). Jesus is where you will find your abundance and He is the greatest and most remarkable gift we could ever receive.

May you have a very restful, fruitful Christmas season!

Elisabeth Bordulis Senior, Faith and Social Justice

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T H U R SDAY, D ECEM BER 20  Psalms 33, 50  Isaiah 28.9–22  Luke 1.5–25  Revelation 20.11–21.8 The Christmas season, people sometimes say, is all about children, but Luke’s account of the nativity begins with a pair of senior citizens. The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is delightful, and indeed, delight is at its center. The angel Gabriel tells Zechariah: “There will be joy and delight for you, and many will rejoice at his birth” (v. 14). Even before John’s arrival, we see this promised, joyful beginning. Elizabeth exclaims: “The Lord has done this for me. He has looked with favor in these days to take away my disgrace among the people” (v. 25).

These verses also reveal something of the distinctive character of Christmas joy. It is, first of all, the delight of surprise. It is the arrival, not simply of the eagerly awaited blessing. It is the arrival of that blessing long anticipated; hoped for; and then finally, after years of disappointment, abandoned. What was impossible has become actual. It is the joy of those who have fully recognized the distance by which their hopes exceed their ability to realize those hopes, and then who—against all hope—find them realized nevertheless. It is the kind of joy that only an elderly couple could appreciate fully.

It is clearly meant to echo the Old Testament story of Abraham and Sarah. As a story that leads to Jesus, God is bringing about a people and a future, not by human strength and power, but in the place of human weakness and shame. This is the character of Christmas joy and the character of Jesus' work. In Jesus, God makes possible what in our own strength was impossible. In Jesus, God meets us at the point of our weakness and hopelessness, and so, brings joy—particularly to those who have been declared weak and beyond hope.

However, it is not simply “to those who have been declared weak.”

Elizabeth says, “The Lord has done this for me.” This is the second distinctive dimension of the joy at the center of this passage. We could ask, is the Christian message: “Yes, Jesus loves me”? Or is it “He’s got the whole world in His hands”? Here we see both. The angel tells Zechariah: “There will be joy and delight for you, and many will rejoice at his birth.” God is at work bringing delight to the one and the many; answering needs at both the cosmic level and the personal level; bringing “joy to the world”—and to an elderly couple who had given up hoping for a child.

Steve Guthrie Professor of Theology/Religion and the Arts

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F R I DAY, DECEMBER 21  Psalms 66, 67, 116, 117  Isaiah 29.9–24  Luke 1.26–38  Revelation 21.9–21 I recently visited my hometown in North Alabama. I ran into a familyfriend while I was there. She greeted me in her congenial Alabama drawl, and without much small talk, she said that she heard I had a “college accent” now and wanted to hear it for herself. I laughed uncomfortably. “A college accent?” I asked. She explained that my Southern dialect had been replaced by a proper and clean “college accent.” I lightheartedly played down her comment, knowing that my freshman-year self had consciously erased my Alabama twang. In the moment, though, I felt exposed. A void seemed to grow between us.

Did she think I was hiding a part of myself? Did my speech betray a part of my identity?

Isaiah 29.13 says, “This people draw near with their mouth and honor me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me” (ESV). The people of God were familiar with the deceptive power of language.

They spoke with a spiritual dialect that betrayed reality: their hearts were far from God. “Who sees us? Who knows us?” they asked, as they held their control issues behind their back (Isaiah 29.15, ESV). The people of God projected a spiritual image in hopes of keeping their hearts' issues out of view. Does that feel familiar? I often find myself whitewashing my accent with the language of God even when my heart is aching in fear, guilt, and shame.

In the season of Advent, we observe that God has made himself known in the Word and true Image of God, Jesus. Isaiah 29.22 says, “Jacob shall no more be ashamed, no more shall his face grow pale” (ESV).

In Jesus, we are called out of the self-deception that circulates our shame and fear. While we hide behind spiritual dialects and religious facades, God calls us out and kindly exposes us: “I heard you have a spiritual accent now,” he says. However, instead of condemning us, He frees us from our false reality.

In Jesus' coming, our fear is calmed by His strong and tender hands.

Our guilt is quietened by His righteousness. Our shame is silenced

by His unwavering acceptance. He pulls our heavy hands out from behind our backs and removes the idols that grieve us. In the Word of God, we regain our honest voice. In the Image of God, our self is freed from its hiding.

Koby Langner Senior, Religious Studies

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SAT UR DAY, D ECEMBER 22  Psalms 72, 111, 113  Isaiah 31.1–9  Luke 1.39–48a (48b–56)  Revelation 21.22–22.5 Christmas at Belmont recently featured Kathy Mattea singing: Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?

Mary did you know that your baby boy would one day rule the nations?

She did know, but how?

Mary knew because she was part of God’s people, Israel. She said, “God has remembered His servant Israel . . . just as He promised our ancestors.” She also knew that God had been “mindful” of her! The God of the universe is also the One who is intimately involved in her individual life (and each of our lives) for the good of the world.

In Mary’s case—and in the case of her son Jesus—what is good for the world was not in their short-term best interests. She is pregnant but not yet married, and her fiancée is pondering how to “divorce her quietly.” She does what many young women do in such a situation: leaves town to stay with a relative who lives in another place.

Her situation is bad, but in the midst of it she says to Elizabeth, “My spirit rejoices in God my Savior . . . for the Mighty One had done great things for me.” Why the happy talk about this tough situation being “great”? Is she in denial? In a spiritually healthy sense she is in denial, in that she denies that her immediate circumstances and happiness are more important than being a part of God’s plan to save the world through her Son. She knows that she is part of God’s work in the world. In fact, she is so certain of its being accomplished that she speaks of it in the past tense: “God has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things, but has sent the rich away empty.”

It is understandable that we want to ensure a comfortable life for ourselves and our immediate happiness, but that can sideline us from being part of God’s working through us most fully. God has big dreams for our lives, and invites us at Advent to say “yes” to God’s wild and risky plans for the future good of all the world.

Only one life, twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Dr. Todd L. Lake Vice President for Spiritual Development

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WEEK FOUR O come, Desire of nations, bind All peoples in one heart and mind; Bid envy, strife, and quarrels cease; Fill the whole world with heaven’s peace.

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SUNDAY, D ECEM BER 23  Psalms 80, 146, 147  Isaiah 33.17–22  Luke 1.57–66  Revelation 22.6–11, 18–20 It’s sometimes helpful to think of the Bible as a collection of human longing, a chronicling of the songs, complaints, letters, histories, and memories of a centuries-long caravan of asylum seekers and their testimonies concerning the God who promises them healing and homecoming. In this sense, the Bible doesn’t say any more than Queen’s Greatest Hits Volume II says. It’s a collection that testifies in myriad ways and traces a trajectory of tragedy and thriving and the forecasting of a great restoration, a healing game already underway and still to come.

Today’s passage from Revelation invites us to discern a continuum between what John the Revelator has described concerning the Tree of Life in Genesis, appearing here again in the visions of last book of the biblical canon, its leaves available and essential for the healing of nations, and the words of the prophets. The giver of these visions, John is assured, is “the Lord, the God of the spirits of the prophets” (22.6).

When we turn to Isaiah, we can see that something like the asylum of healing John envisioned in the Tree of Life now available in the New Jerusalem is the realization of a legacy of longing handed down and lyricized anew over the years. The Jerusalem Isaiah sketched for his hearers was also a kind of impossibly impenetrable space akin to the camps to which they were accustomed but somehow enduring in spite of its transitional appearance: “Your eyes will see Jerusalem, a quiet habitation, an immovable tent whose stakes will never be pulled up, and none of whose ropes will be broken” (33.20). The land on which this paradoxically stationary tent sits is “a place of broad rivers and streams” inaccessible vessels of armed people who might disturb their peace.

For those of us who haven’t fled violence or known the vulnerability of living in refugee camps, becoming better versed in these hopes will require entering into relationship with (and receiving the witness of) the beleaguered people among us for whom Jesus announces the good news of an enduring asylum to come. Let us receive an education in their righteous longing in this season and make that longing our own.

David Dark Assistant Professor of Religion and the Arts

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M O NDAY, D ECEM BER 24  Psalms 45, 46, 89.1–29  Isaiah 35.1–10  Luke 1.67–80  Revelation 22.12–17, 21 In today’s reading from Luke, Zechariah finally recovers his lost voice.

He is bursting into a song of thanksgiving and praise for God and his newborn son, John the Baptist. For the past nine months, he has lived in silence. Zechariah’s silence seems to be a punishment, a sort of grown-up “time-out.” “I am an old man,” he said, grumpily, to Gabriel who told him to expect the unexpected child. “Look here, I am Gabriel,” the angel retorted. Unlike Mary who faithfully responds to her Annunciation, Zechariah’s attitude is one of incredulity. He is rendered voiceless as a shaming for his own doubt in Gabriel’s proclamation.

Luke doesn’t describe that time between Zechariah and God, but I wonder if this incubation period of silence was really an invitation.

Perhaps Zechariah was too talkative, too taken with his own opinions.

Here is a privileged male leader from Israel’s ruling priestly class learning what it feels like to have no voice. Something of the frustration and isolation. The limited power. The feeling of being forgotten and having few, if any, places to appear as a full member of humanity. In his mute state, Zechariah is being given the chance to learn not only how marginalized persons may feel but perhaps also to trust the authority of unlikely persons who, in Luke’s gospel, are the ones giving voice to God’s reality in the person of Jesus.

Luke and his readers would have known something about the experience of voicelessness. He composed his gospel shortly after the Roman Jewish War. The ongoing occupation of Israel by the Roman Empire gives the “darkness” and “the hands of the hated enemy” in Zechariah’s song an immediate relevance.

Something shifts for Zechariah in his silent waiting for the birth of his son. When he finds his voice, he can now sing joyfully of a God who has “remembered” him with a “tender mercy” that will break open darkness with the “light of dawn.”

In Advent, we wait for the birth of the Christ. We wait for God’s tender mercy, in Jesus, to give voice to those rendered voiceless in our world.

Cynthia Curtis Assistant Professor of Religion

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T UESDAY, D ECEM BER 25  Psalms 2, 85, 110.1–5, 132  Zechariah 2.10–13  John 3.31–36  1 John 4.7–16 Are you listening this Christmas Day? What has your attention? What does your mind turn to in the quiet moments of this most special of days?

Maybe you are alone or feeling alone because you are missing someone you wish so deeply could spend the day with you once again. Maybe you revel in the chatter of children playing with new toys and take joy in the laughter of family and friends telling stories.

Are you listening, though?

The Psalmist reminds us to listen to what God the Lord will speak because God will speak peace to God’s people, to those who turn their hearts to God. For in that moment, righteousness and peace will kiss each other (Psalm 85.8–10). We are to listen for God because God will come among us when He speaks.

Are you listening?

The Gospel of John tries to remind us that God is speaking to us.

John writes, “He whom God has sent speaks the words of God . . . “ (John 3.34). What is He saying to us, though? To whom should we be listening on this Christmas Day? We get a clue about whom we should be listening to in 1 John 4.7. In these verses we are encouraged to love one another because 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” (1 John 4.9).

When we remember John beginning his gospel with the powerful reminder that the Word became flesh and lived among us (John 1.14) we suddenly can hang the final ornament on this tree of this Christmas Day. To whom are we listening? What are we trying to hear? We listen for Jesus and the healing words that He loves us all.

Merry Christmas! Be loved this day by the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ!

Darrell Gwaltney Dean, College of Theology and Christian Ministry H. Franklin Paschall Chair of Biblical Studies and Preaching

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COLLEGE O F TH EOLOGY & CHR IST IAN M IN ISTRY 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 consistently named as a “Most Innovative” university by U.S. News & World Report, Belmont University is home to more than 8,300 students who come from every state and more than 36 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, more than 25 master’s programs and five doctoral degrees, there is no limit to the ways Belmont University can expand an individual's horizon. For more information, visit www.belmont.edu.

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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COLLEGE O F THEOLOGY & CHR IST IAN MIN ISTRY Faculty and Staff Dr. Darrell Gwaltney, Dean Ms. Tola Akhom-Pokrywka, Assistant to the Dean & Budget Manager Ms. Brianna Bradshaw, Program Assistant 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 (Emeritus) Dr. Cynthia Curtis, Practical Theology & Spiritual Formation Dr. David Dark, Religion and the Arts Dr. Steve Guthrie, Theology & Religion and the Arts Dr. Ernest Heard, Lecturer Dr. Janet Hicks, Mental Health Counseling Dr. Sally Holt, Christian Ethics Dr. Tom Knowles-Bagwell, Mental Health Counseling Dr. Mary Mayorga, Mental Health Counseling Dr. Layla Bonner, 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, Belmont Fellow 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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