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DECE MB E R

SOUTH MAIN BAPTIST CHURCH

ADVENT 2023 DECEMBER 3 – DECEMBER 25

ore than most any other, this time of year tends to be strongly tied to familial stories and memories. The Advent season often evokes the wonder and nostalgia of family gatherings past, but for many of us, family now isn’t what family always has been, as loss and messiness can pervade.

Thankfully, at this time of year, we are also called to remember and tell the story of a similarly messy family—a genealogy of sinners that led to a lowly birth in a dirty manger. And God used such a family to bring about the Savior of the world. We are called not only to remember this historically messy and miraculous family but also to be a part of a messy and miraculous family in the here-and-now: the family of God that is the Church. This book is full of family-favorite traditions, recipes, memories, hymns, and drawings, all from members of our South Main family. During this Advent season, we encourage you to use this book as a reminder of the family that is all around us, living fully into the words we will sing at the end of our worship services this month: Once upon a family, Messy and so lowly, Came a Child to be our King, Glorious and holy. Now the fam’ly’s all around. We are called together. Broken, mended, lost, and found, Loving one another.

THANK YOU Thank you to the Discipleship Committee for gifting our church family with this Advent book to guide our journey through Advent and deepen our celebration of Jesus’ birth.

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H opee Sunday F I R S T S U N D AY O F A D V E N T

ope. For such a short word, it’s a really complicated idea, at least for me. The word hope doesn’t imply certainty, but in our everyday vernacular it often insinuates something like a pipe dream. “I hope I get this job.” or “We can only hope everyone will be all right.” Only — there it is, the word that dangles hope as a last-ditch effort. “There’s nothing else we can do but…hope.” Every good, solid, tangible option is exhausted. Hope is all that’s left. Really? Should hope be relegated to a “Hail Mary” status? While the idea of hope may not reside on a bedrock of certainty, positioning hope as a do-or-die play doesn’t seem like the best image at the core of faith either. So, let’s revisit this picture of hope. What if our picture of hope were not an eleventh-hour fallback but a position to move towards or even to reside within? A destination filled with optimism and aspiration. If nothing else, this image moves hope from a fuzzy, intangible fallback position to a concrete destination. In 1 Peter 1:3, scripture says it best: “In His great mercy God has given us new birth into a Living Hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ.” Peter has given us a new understanding of how to be present in hope. We may not be born into certainty, but by God’s mercy we are born into a place filled with possibility–a place that is literally alive with hope. For me that’s a meaningful picture of hope that I can stand on. — J Hill Minister for Missions

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FAMILY TRADITION ART BY EMMA PASCHE (4TH GRADE) What’s your favorite family tradition from childhood?

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GO TELL IT ON THE MOUNTAIN

o Tell It on the Mountain, the beloved African-American spiritual, tells the tale of Christ’s birth that is inextricably tied to one of America’s darkest sins. Originally passed down orally from plantation to plantation, the spiritual was sung by the enslaved in the tradition of a long-awaited jubilee—the hope of emancipation. In 1907, John Wesley Work, Jr., published a collection of African-American spirituals and folk songs, and it became a staple of the Jubilee Singers from Fisk University in Nashville. The spiritual inspires both hope for better days and joy at Christ’s coming. Besides the spiritual, Go Tell It on the Mountain is the name of African-American author James Baldwin’s 1953 semi-autobiographical novel. Considered one of Baldwin’s best works, the novel chronicles the conversion experience of John Grimes, an African-American teenager living in Harlem during the Great Depression. It is a coming-of-age story that focuses on race, religion, sexuality, poverty, and family during a time when hope and joy seemed like an illusion. For many, Advent is a time of family and traditions, but there are those among us who struggle to balance the joy of the Advent season with a painful reality. Some are single, widowed, divorced, childless, or in a strained marriage. Others have suffered the death of a loved one,

unemployment, homelessness, or failing health. For many, the Advent season can feel like the slower, pensive verses of the hymn while others only hear the chorus of exultation that Christ has come. This season, pay attention to both, and extend kindness to those who may be in the valley instead of on the mountaintop. — Angela Bell

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GRAVES FAMILY CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIE RECIPE ome of my first Christmas memories are tied to these chocolate chip cookies. o Every December, my parents and I made several dozen cookies for our church’s Hanging of the Greens service. My parents taught me how to bake on those Saturday afternoons. This recipe is how I learned to measure, chop, melt, and mix. Rachel and I only make these cookies during the Christmas season, and I am beyond excited to share this family tradition with Owen as he gets older. — Zach Graves INGREDIENTS ● 1 cup butter, softened ● 1 cup vegetable oil ● 1 cup sugar ● 1 cup firmly packed brown sugar ● 1 egg (use two for less crumbly cookies) ● 2 teaspoons vanilla extract ● 3 1/2 cups of all purpose flour ● 1 teaspoon baking soda ● 1 teaspoon salt ● 1 teaspoon cream of tartar ● 1 cup regular oats, uncooked ● 1 cup crispy rice cereal ● 1 (12oz) package semisweet chocolate morsels ● 3/4 cup of chopped pecans

INSTRUCTIONS ● Cream butter and oil; gradually add sugars, beating at medium speed on an electric mixer.

Add egg and vanilla, mixing well. ● Combine flour, salt, baking soda, and cream of tartar; gradually add to creamed mixture,

mixing well. Stir in oats and remaining ingredients. ● Drop dough onto greased cookie sheets. Bake at 375 for 10 to 12 minutes.

Cool on wire racks. Yield: 10 dozen

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UNSWERVING HOPE Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

always enjoyed Christmas, even before I was a Christian. I didn’t have to believe in God to enjoy the bright lights and good food, and people in December just seemed kinder or more hopeful than they did the rest of the year. After coming to know Jesus Christ as my Savior, my understanding of the holiday transformed. Lights shining in the darkness and family breaking bread around a table took on new meaning. I began to understand the foundation of the hope that the Christmas season seemed to inject into humanity. It wasn’t until I had a child of my own, however, that I began to really understand the beauty of Advent—a season of awaiting and welcoming a Savior who entered the world as an infant. There’s something joyful and hopeful about the birth of every baby. Babies are new beginnings and innocence. When Gabriel appeared to Mary, the mother of Jesus, and told her that the child in her womb would be the salvation God had promised, the hope could only have been sweeter. Gabriel told Mary that Jesus would be the fulfillment of God’s promises to His people: Jesus would be great, and He would be called the Son of the Most High. Jesus would receive the throne of David and reign over a kingdom without end. The Gospel of Luke tells us that Mary received this news and rejoiced in God her Savior, seeing at last Israel’s hope of salvation coming into the world. Despite this profound message and Mary’s belief in God’s promises, being the mother of Jesus must have involved a fair amount of confusion and difficulty. What is a new mother to make of shepherds sent by a heavenly host, wise men guided by a new star, a flight to Egypt to escape a blood-thirsty tyrant? Imagine her worry, losing the boy Jesus and then finding Him in the temple. Imagine her consternation when she found Him,

and He responded to her concern by wondering why she was looking for Him and telling her things she did not understand. The hope Mary felt when she heard Gabriel’s message must surely have taken a hit when Jesus’ ministry began to face public opposition and she sought Him out only to have Him distance Himself from her, asking, “Who are my mother and brothers?” Whatever hope Mary felt must have been nearly gone as she wept at the foot of the cross, mourning her first-born Son. His death was more than a personal tragedy to her. With Jesus dead, how could God fulfill His plan to make Jesus great and appoint Him to reign over a kingdom that would never end? I have a feeling, though, that despite the grief and uncertainty of the crucifixion, somewhere in a corner of Mary’s heart, she held onto the hope that seemed so strong while she was awaiting Jesus' birth. Through her tears, maybe she remembered the time more than thirty years earlier when she sang, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for He has looked on the humble estate of His servant,” and “He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name.” Of course, we know the story doesn’t end at the cross. Jesus did not stay in His tomb. God kept His word. Mary eventually saw the light that came into the world at Jesus’ birth was not extinguished by the darkness of the cross. Advent is an opportunity to reflect on Mary’s journey of faith and hope. I’m inspired to remember that even when things are at their darkest—when I’m struggling to remember my belief in God’s promises and trust in His provision—I can hold unswervingly to the hope of Jesus because He who promised is faithful. — Angela Spoede

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FAMILY TRADITIONS

dvent is a season of preparation and remembrance as we anticipate the birth of our Savior. It brings back memories of loved ones who once made this season so wonderful but who are no longer with us.

Traditions are time capsules into which we put memories of people and events. Some of my fondest memories come rushing back each year during Advent and most of these involve my mother. Over the years I have come to understand she had a passion for Christ and for Christmas that spread across two generations who never knew her. One of Mom’s hobbies was making ceramic figures and decorations. My collection includes a host of figurines, dogs, and dishes, but the most cherished are the ones she made for Christmas. Every year, we unpack a nativity with “Edna ‘54” painted on the bottom of each piece. This creche receives a prominent place on the mantle above the fireplace for us and any visitors to enjoy.

Over the years, the placing of Joseph, Mary, and Baby Jesus, wise men, shepherds and sheep (including one little black sheep) has provided opportunities for discussion and for sharing feelings, stories, and memories. Mom’s love for this season has been passed to each member of my family through these objects and traditions. When I was 18, my mother died suddenly. At that time one of my chief regrets was that she would never see me enter college. Nearly sixty years have passed, and there have been so many things she wasn’t there to see. I graduated from college and grad school, got married, had children and grandchildren, and had a successful career. Over all of that time, she has been with us through the traditions she started. They have become an important part of our family holiday celebration. During Advent every year her passion for this season keeps reminding us of the true meaning of Christmas. — Bob Peck

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CHICKEN AND DRESSING ome people call this Cornbread Dressing, but my family calls it Chicken and Dressing. You can substitute duck, hen, or turkey for chicken if preferred.

INGREDIENTS: BREADING: ● 1 large cast iron skillet of cornbread made from scratch – use white cornmeal – do not add sugar to the cornbread. ● 3–4 slices of dried white bread – pulled apart into small pieces – take the bread out of the bread packaging and set on a plate one day ahead of making the corn bread. You don’t want the bread to be moist.

This recipe was handed down to my mom, Patricia Mason, from her mother and her mother’s mother. This was not just a holiday meal; it was a year-round side dish served most Sundays and sometimes throughout the week. It is filled with love, warmth, and family history. It’s my mom’s favorite dish. It’s also one of my favorite dishes…when my mom makes it. My mom made this dish without a recipe. However, I told her I needed measurements when she tried to show me how to make the dish. You can season to your taste. I hope you find it as enjoyable as my family has throughout the years.

EGGS: ● 6 uncooked eggs (scrambled in a bowl – do not cook eggs)

● All ingredients need to be at room temperature.

BROTH: ● 24–32 ounces of chicken broth made from the chicken you boiled.

● Cook your cornbread the day before and allow it to sit on the counter with a towel over it. You want it to be a drier cornbread…not cakelike or very moist. ● After you boil your poultry you will need to set aside about 1 cup of the boiled water for any gravy you might make. — Tricia Mason

MEAT: ● 1 boiled and fully cooked hen/duck/chicken/turkey breast – pulled off the bone – boil the poultry in 32 ounces of chicken broth. Season with salt and pepper to taste. **Alternatively, you can make this dish without meat. Just be sure to use 32 ounces of chicken broth to add moisture to the dressing. VEGETABLES: ● 4 stalks of celery (diced) ● 2 large onions (diced) SEASONING: ● Salt and pepper to taste ● 2–2.5 tablespoons of sage ● 1 teaspoon of poultry seasoning - don’t overdo it

PREPARATION: ● Break the bread apart inside of a roasting pan. ● Add meat, vegetables, and seasonings. ● Stir bread, meat, vegetables, and seasonings together gently. ● Add room temperature chicken broth and stir everything together. ● Add uncooked scrambled egg to mixture and stir. BAKE: Cook, in the oven, for one hour at 400F degrees. Turn the temperature down to 350F degrees for the last 15 minutes of cooking. You may need to cook it longer if it is not finished cooking. You will know that it is finished cooking when the middle of the dressing is firm and does not shake.

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J oyy Sunday S E C O N D S U N D AY O F AD D V ENT

hat brings you Joy?

Getting in the car with friends and hot chocolate and driving around town looking at Christmas lights. Staying up super late waiting on my grandparents to pull into our driveway. Only listening to Christmas music from the day after Thanksgiving to Christmas Day. Baking Christmas goodies. Christmas Eve service with my family where I grew up. Then, after the service, having an appetizer dinner while watching everyone’s (well everyone except my mom’s) favorite movie, Christmas Vacation. These are just a few things, when I think about the Christmas season, that bring me joy. Maybe you’re like me and thinking about Christmas traditions makes you smile. And maybe your Christmas traditions today look different than what they did as a kid. That is also true for me. Maybe the holiday season is hard and thinking about traditions is not something you like to do. I’ve been there and had those seasons too. But throughout every season I have experienced, and hopefully this is true for you too, there is always a constant thread of joy that I can pick up even in the smallest of things. On the day Jesus was born, shepherds were keeping watch over their flock. An angel appeared to them and proclaimed to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news. It will bring great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you. He is the Messiah, the Lord.” (Luke 2:10-11). The birth of our Savior, the presence of our Lord, God with us, Emmanuel. This is what joy is. No matter what is happening around us or in our lives, we know the good news that God is with us, and in Him is where our joy is found. — Alyssa Carter, Minister to Children

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AN UNEXPECTED GIFT

rowing up in a family with four siblings in West Texas, my parents always managed to make memorable Christmases. Along the way, and somewhat accidentally, they created a family tradition that carries on to this day.

One Christmas, my older sister, Beth, decided she wanted to give her own gift to each member of the family on her own. She bought and wrapped each person’s present herself, making sure to take into account everyone’s interests and requests. For what was sure to be our brother, Bill’s, favorite gift, she had secured a plastic army helmet he had been requesting for months. The problem is, in the time before gift bags were ubiquitous, there’s not really a great way to wrap a plastic army helmet and maintain any semblance of mystery about the gift. Bill immediately announced to the entire family that he knew the contents of the package under the tree. Beth was beside herself. Her perfect surprise was ruined. There would be no Christmas morning shock, just a smug “I knew it” from Bill. My mother, in an attempt to restore some peace in the house, tried to quiet him. “You don’t know that’s an army helmet. That could be anything.” “Oh, yes, I do. That’s my army helmet,” Bill insisted. It was then that my mom said the first alternative she could think of, in words none of us would ever forget. “For all you know, that’s underwear in a bowl,” and we all giggled at the idea, knowing that was beyond ridiculous. My mother was steadfast, “Yep, I bet that’s underwear in a bowl.” Maybe it was the look of sadness on her daughter’s face. Maybe it was the smugness of Bill, having figured it all out. Maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason, on the day before Christmas Eve, after all the kids had gone to bed, my mom executed her plan. She took the army helmet, carefully unwrapped it so as not to tear the paper, then took that wrapping paper and wrapped up a cheap plastic bowl with a fresh pair of Fruit of Loom inside, placing it back under the tree before going to bed that night. She said nothing the next morning and let Bill revel in his final moments of gloating. Christmas came and, despite the size of my family, we always took turns unwrapping gifts, one at a time. No need to unwrap the army helmet, first, thought my brother. He had that one figured out. He wanted to uncover the mystery of the other gifts. Finally, at long last,

he came to the “army helmet.” My sister was ready to skip it, but my mom stopped her and said, “No, let’s see what it is.” The shock on my brother’s face was only surpassed by the confusion on my sister’s as he did indeed unwrap underwear in a bowl. After the chaos died down, my mother produced the army helmet, one that has remained at their house for years, and that my own kids have played with. Since that Christmas, it’s become a tradition, when my siblings get together around Christmas, that one of us will get underwear in a bowl. The bowls are usually nicer, and the underwear is always still in the package, but it’s just as funny each time. Whenever one of us got married, and that first Christmas came around, our new spouse would always be confused at the references to “underwear in a bowl” and the strangely wrapped packages on Christmas morning, but then we would tell them the story. They’d get to laugh along and want to participate the next time. In the same way, when Advent and Christmas come around, our jargon can be strange to an outsider. We speak about a God-King who came to conquer the world, born to poor parents and laid in a stable on his first night. We sing songs about astrologers coming from afar with strange gifts. We tell our children of the mad king who sought to kill hundreds of baby boys in a small village. Rather than exclusionary, though, these practices and stories are meant to invite people in, to be part of the story, and to share in the joys against the backdrop of cold and bitter winters. Not only to be the family in a home, but to come together as a family to light Advent candles on Sunday mornings and sing hymns as we walk out into the night before Christmas. At the center of it all is the unexpected way God would redeem His creation from the disease of sin. When the prophets foretold of one who would be King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, no one could have predicted it would start with a scared young girl, a stable birth, and shepherds as the first heralds of the Good News. God is all about the unexpected. —Trey Medley

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MEME’S TRIFLE RECIPE

t’s been a little over a year since my 99-year-old grandmother, Meme, went onward and upward to her “party” in the heavens, as she would say. She was my sassy, British grandmother who loved to laugh, enjoy wine and cheese or the occasional Hershey’s bar for dinner, and epitomized the power of positivity in life. Having survived the Blitz during World War II, she had a keen sense of what was truly important. For her, it was faith, family, forgiveness, and finding joy in every day. She was a beloved, marvelous person, and I’m so grateful Everett and Bryce knew her so well. (Please ask Bryce to expound upon how she used her cane to merely press the elevator buttons at her assisted living community and routinely achieved a full squat to recover it from the floor without any imbalance or need for assistance. He loves to brag about this!) Every Christmas Day afternoon, my family living in Houston would meet for dinner at her townhome on North Post Oak Lane. Each family would bring a dish to share, but she always provided the main course and the pièce de résistance: her Raspberry Trifle. The main course would vary over the years, but we could always count on a splendidly layered mix of sponge, vanilla custard, fresh raspberries, chopped pecans, a touch of cream sherry, and fresh whipped cream for dessert. More than the savory sights and smells, I remember how easy it was to be in Meme’s presence and her home. Ever a gracious host, she was a soft place to land for all of us. After an early morning of opening presents and a full afternoon of playing with them, Christmas dinner was a time to truly relax with one another. We enjoyed popping English Christmas crackers, wearing the paper hats and telling the jokes that were inside, and savoring the final hours of Christmas. God, thank You for being a safe place to land. Help us to rest in You, gain clarity and wisdom from Your presence despite the busyness of the season, and remember Yours is a gift readily available to us every day. — Erin DuBroc

Please enjoy Meme’s Trifle recipe adapted from the version published in the Daughters of the British Empire (DBE) in the State of Texas cookbook. INGREDIENTS: Gather pre-made ladyfingers (or bake a yellow cake in a jellyroll pan and cut into squares), fine raspberry jam, one pint of Bird’s custard prepared according to package instructions, fresh raspberries, finely chopped pecans, lightly sweetened whipped heavy cream, and cream sherry, if desired. Meme didn’t overthink the amounts for everything, so neither should you! DIRECTIONS: Using a glass or crystal trifle bowl, layer the ingredients in generally equal proportions beginning with sponge. If using cream sherry, lightly drizzle or brush a couple of tablespoons over each sponge layer. Follow with a sufficient spread of jam, then custard, a few berries, chopped pecans, and whipped cream. Repeat as many times as possible. Finish with a thick layer of whipped cream decorated with remaining pecans and raspberries. Chill overnight before serving.

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THE ARRIVAL OF SANTA PAWS group of players mentioned in our Christmas songs but often overlooked in our memories of Christmas are the animals: “The cattle are lowing-the baby awakes…” “The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum,” “Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, had a very shiny nose.”

During the years our kids were teenagers a decision was made to start including our family pet, Brutus, our male Boxer, in our family Christmas celebration. Actually, it was not a “we” decision, it was a “me” decision. I decided to surprise the family by adding Brutus to our Christmas festivities. Our Christmas family tradition was for the four of us to gather on Christmas Eve, read the Christmas story (a tradition Mary’s mother had established in their home growing up), then open the presents we had selected for each other. After the presents, we would go out to eat then to our church for the 11:00 PM candlelight service. It was decided that Brutus would make his appearance when gifts were being exchanged. So, on the appointed Christmas Eve before gift exchanging began, I slipped out and prepared Brutus for his big appearance. On cue during the exchange, I called for Brutus and out he came wearing a red and green set of reindeer antlers and sporting a single sleigh bell attached to his bobbed tail. Like most dogs when Brutus was excited, he wagged his tail, so his appearance was accompanied by the ringing sleigh bell. And he was pulling a wagon that bore on it a new wooden treasure box that was Brutus’s gift to Mary—actually it was a gift from all of us to Mary. When Brutus appeared I said, “Well, here comes Santa Paws!!” Brutus was a smash hit as Santa Paws. As subsequent Christmases approached, the kids would ask, “Is Santa Paws going to come?” Also, at subsequent Christmases under the Christmas tree, presents would appear that were addressed “To Meredith” or “To Nathan” or “To Mom” from Santa Paws. And, of course, there would be gifts addressed to Brutus. Brutus never had to worry about doing his Christmas shopping each year. The gift he gave us as Santa Paws was more than enough. And the gift of God’s Son we receive each Christmas is more than enough. — Mike Stedham

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ART BY WYATT SMITH (2ND GRADE) What is your favorite Christmas time activity?

f Cornish (English) origin, The First Nowell was likely composed during the early modern era (c. 1350-1800). The song tells the story of the angels, who announced Christ’s birth, and the shepherds and wise men who came to adore Him. The birth of Christ—the first Nowell—was exclaimed from the heavens and settled over shepherd’s fields and spread to the Far East where the magi lived. Overcome by joy, they traveled to see the Christ Child and pay Him homage. Over 2000 years have passed since that first Christmas night, and God’s gift to humanity remains powerful and awe-inspiring. This Christmas, let us remember the final verse of this hymn: Then let us all with one accord sing praises to our heavenly Lord who hath made heaven and earth of naught, and with His blood mankind hath bought. Born is the King of Israel! Praise be to God for the gift of Jesus and the joy that comes from salvation. — Angela Bell

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THE FIRST NOWELL

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MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS FEASTS

he very first South Main Christmas service my family attended was 30 years ago. Looking back, the amount of time passed, the relationships deepened, and the consistency of the church in my life is, of itself, something to be cherished. During my childhood we would arrive early with the Geary clan, my maternal cousins, to save as many seats as possible. We were large in number with the additional attendance of grandparents, aunts, and uncles. The seats glistened in their lush red velvet and ornate iron mechanisms allowing just enough room to squeeze into the folding chair. I remember gawking at the Christmas casual fashion as the Sanctuary filled with attendants adorned in red, green, white, and the occasional fancy black. The affair itself was a spectacle beyond the seasonal message and for a young girl looking around, the magic of Christmas filled the air. After Silent Night was sung and we loaded back into the baby blue Suburban to head home, the real excitement began for my brother and me. For us, the Christmas tradition continued around the supper table and finished with a single gift to open. The feast was always the same, never changing, which added to the reflective nature of the meal (24-hour teriyaki marinade grilled pork tenderloin, twice baked potatoes and Caesar salad). Gathering around the supper table was a normal occurrence. We were blessed to have two parents who made every effort to facilitate family time each night.

However, Christmas Eve felt different. The overhead lights were lowered, Mom laid out the Christmas plaid tablecloth, candles burned in the silver candlesticks, and the Christmas china made an appearance. The ambience itself facilitated a reverent attitude, and we embraced the moment to reflect on the past year. The sweet reminisces of travels shared, lessons learned, and new friends made always seemed to carry more gravitas as we slowly ate, never rushing to finish. To this day, one memory sticks out the most from all the years (20 at least) we had the same tradition. It will always bring a smile to my face and chuckle to my heart. Dad was in an especially introspective mood, deep in thought and grateful for the family he had in us. The joy on his face and the twinkle in his eye is a sweet memory. Dad gazed into the candles and sighed “This is my favorite meal of the year.” Without looking up from his plate, my ten-year-old brother replied “Yeah! And you don’t even need ketchup!” We all instantly fell into laughter at the pure-hearted reflection of my brother in a way that perfectly mirrored his sweet spirit. May we all come into this Christmas season cherishing the memories of yore with a childlike wonder and a hopeful openness to new traditions shared. — Ginny Hightower

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Lovee Sunday T H I R D S U N DAY O F A DV E N T

ohn of the Cross was a Carmelite monk from the sixteenth century best known for his reflections on spiritual formation. His book, Dark Night of the Soul, explores how our trials and struggles are an opportunity to be formed into people who understand and practice love for others and love for God. John of the Cross argues that this process of formation is how we experience union with God. Or, we might say that our trials are an opportunity to learn God’s heart more intimately.

Love, according to John of the Cross, is less a feeling and more the actions of our lives offered in relationship. Love is a choice and a behavior. John of the Cross outlines the stages of love’s formation in three movements. First, we begin by loving others and loving God for our own sake. In this movement, we learn how love offers us genuine joy. In this movement love is about what we receive. Then, if we continue to love, we learn to love for the other’s sake. As love forms in us, our life moves outward from the self toward willing and acting for the good of another. Love in this stage is not about what we receive but about seeking the good of another. Finally, when we persevere in enacting love we learn to love God for God’s sake alone. In this final movement of love’s formation in us, we learn to offer our lives to God and God’s purposes, regardless of what we receive in return. Faithful action amidst our trials and struggles is necessary for love to form in us and through us. Such faithful action moves us away from what we believe we deserve, outward for another’s sake, and ultimately results in entrusting the self fully to God and God’s desires. This is no easy road when we find ourselves in the midst of trials, confusion, or pain. Read Matthew 1:19-25. Can you imagine the confusion Joseph felt? The pain that bubbled up inside his heart? In quiet moments did Joseph cry out to God demanding what he was owed? As you read this text, can you see the three movements of love’s formation in Joseph’s life? Despite feeling the pain of possible betrayal, Joseph behaved himself toward the three movements of love’s formation in him and through him. Joseph acted for Mary’s good, and ultimately entrusted himself and his fledgling family to God for God’s sake and for God’s purposes in the world. Joseph shows us that love is a family tradition to which each of us are called. — Matt Walton, Minister for Discipleship

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ART BY HENRY ROLLINS (1ST GRADE) What is the best present you’ve ever given someone?

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O COME, ALL YE FAITHFUL

Come, All Ye Faithful (Adeste Fidelis), likely written in the mid-eighteenth century, is a triumphal carol that urges us to gather close to Christ for the sole purpose of adoring Him. We are urged to come first to Bethlehem, Christ’s birthplace, where the angels sing in exultation on the happy (Christmas) morning. Besides the familiar refrains in our hymnals, O Come, All Ye Faithful also includes four verses in Latin that are less well-known. As expected, the shepherds, magi, and angels are each afforded individual verses, but Baby Jesus is the focus of two others with the following lyrics: We shall see the eternal splendor Of the Eternal Father, veiled in flesh, The infant God wrapped in cloths. May we warm Him, needy and lying on hay, With our pious embraces: Who does not love Him who loves us thus? The last line comes from 1 John 4:10 that says, “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” God is love. Because of that, we are loved beyond measure and cared for by a benevolent God who offered His Son in our place. This Christmas season, let us adore Him, and let the love God has lavished upon us spill out of us to others. Let our love become infectious and fill the world with happiness and light. — Angela Bell

W E DN E S DAY, D E C E M B E R

PAPA’S CINNAMON ROLLS

y Papa (maternal grandfather) was, among many things, a baker. All year long, but especially when we were visiting at Christmas, we were treated to his pancakes, biscuits, and cinnamon rolls. In later years, he became unable to bake, so while the family had all the recipes, his pancakes (or hot cakes) were the easiest to make. When he passed away in 2017, I decided to try making Pa’s cinnamon rolls myself. My Uncle Dewayne pointedly said I couldn't do it which only stiffened my resolve. Shortly after we returned from Lazbuddie, I gathered the necessary ingredients and took out the recipe. It was a short paragraph missing some key steps. With the help of my mom and the internet, we pieced together the full recipe from memories of holidays past. The next Christmas we spent with my mom’s family. I printed out the recipe with detailed instructions so everyone had the recipe. I also showed my Aunt Mechelle how to make them. Now, they have become a part of our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day traditions. — Sarrean White INGREDIENTS ● 1 pkg active yeast ● ¼ C warm water ● 1 C scalded milk ● ¼ C & 2 tbsp shortening ● 1 tsp salt ● ¼ C & 2 tbsp sugar ● 3 ½ C sifted flour ● 1 egg CINNAMON MIXTURE INGREDIENTS ● ½ C sugar ● ¼ C melted butter ● 1 ½ tsp cinnamon ICING INGREDIENTS ● 2 C powdered sugar ● 2 tbsp milk

INSTRUCTIONS Soften yeast in warm water. While yeast is softening, combine scalded milk, sugar, shortening, and salt. Cool to lukewarm. Add 1 cup of sifted flour to mixture. Beat egg (in separate bowl or container) then add to yeast. Add yeast and egg to mixture. Gradually add remaining flour and mix until dough ball forms. Put dough on a clean lightly-floured surface and knead for 10 minutes or until dough is smooth. Put dough in a large bowl and cover with a small kitchen or hand towel. Set in warm place for 1 ½ to 2 hours. Dough should double in size during this time. Once dough has risen, turn out on lightly-floured surface. Make sure it is rectangular shaped. Spread cinnamon mixture on dough. Roll dough lengthwise, then cut into rolls. (Using a serrated blade works best when cutting the dough.) Put cut rolls onto greased pan and let rise again for 35 to 45 minutes. Place fully risen rolls into the oven at 325 degrees and bake for 20 to 30 minutes or until lightly brown. Remove rolls from oven and immediately spread icing over them. Let cool and enjoy. CINNAMON MIXTURE: Melt ingredients together on the stove ICING: Mix ingredients together—add milk if thick, add sugar if thin.

T H U R S D AY, D E C E M B E R

LOVING HUMILITY rowing up, my immediate family celebrated a rather traditional Christmas. We gleefully tore open packages and gifts on December 25 and ate the traditional Christmas spread of foods. With extended family, however, Christmas looked a bit different.

My Granny and Papa knew that once their boys got married and started having kids, Christmas would have to take a different shape in order for various family schedules to align. They decided the best way to get the whole family together for Christmas would be to gather during Thanksgiving week. On Thanksgiving Day, we would get together to participate in the classic Thanksgiving traditions, but on Black Friday, we would celebrate Christmas! Now Christmas in Jasper, Texas, wasn’t just a turkey supper and some mashed potatoes but a full-on cajun shrimp boil. Plates and silverware weren’t even a thought as we spread trash bags and newspaper over the tables and dumped the steaming shrimp, potatoes, and corn down the middle of the table. As a child, I assumed this was how every child celebrated Christmas with grandparents, but I soon learned this was not the case–that my grandparents had set aside their preferences in order to provide grace and space for their sons, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. Instead of having to run “hither and yon” during the busy December Christmas season, my family got to spend time together at an alternative time that made sense for everyone. I am struck by this loving humility shown by my grandparents and extended family, reflecting Jesus’ words to His disciples: “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35). As I enter this Advent season, my goal is to find ways to love others in unexpected ways. I hope to recognize when others are in the midst of busy or tumultuous times and give them grace and space the way my Granny and Papa did with all of us. — Kelsey Cogliano

F R I DAY, D E C E M B E R

ART BY CARL ROFF (3RD GRADE) What is your favorite Christmas tradition?

S A T U R D AY, D E C E M B E R

irst performed on Christmas Eve in 1818 in a small town in Austria, Silent Night (Stille Nacht) is a staple of the Advent season. Peaceful, serene, and awe-inducing, this carol provides a glimpse into a quiet night when God’s gift to humanity was realized. A woman gave birth to her firstborn, and Christ became flesh to dwell among us. Today, Bethlehem, Christ’s birthplace, is anything but still. Located in the Palestinian West Bank, Shepherd’s Field and the stable where a baby was swaddled have been witness to continuous and endless conflict. Peace seems distant and untenable despite our fervent prayers. Each Christmas Eve, South Main’s service ends as light is shared from person to person and spreads throughout the Sanctuary. The choir processes outside as the congregation joins in singing Thomas Coker’s arrangement of Silent Night. This year, as we take our light to the front steps and beyond, let us pray for peace—in our hearts, in Christ’s birthplace, and throughout the world. — Angela Bell

SILENT NIGHT

DECE MB E R

Peace Sunday F O U R T H S U N DAY O F A DV E N T

For to us a Child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6 (NIV)

he Greek word for “peace” (pronounced as “eirene”) is rooted in the Hebrew concept of shalom. The Hebrew word “Shalom” (peace in English) means to bring completeness or to restore. Israel as a nation was chosen by God to be the harbingers of God’s shalom throughout all of creation. God called the people of Israel to bring restoration and hope, as they stood as a testament to God's reconciling work throughout the world. However, with Israel's history of judges, kings, and rulers, they were far from bringing such a ruling of God's kingdom. This is why the prophets, particularly the prophet Isaiah, looked forward to a future King—a Messiah—who would be known as a Prince of Peace (i.e., "shalom”). The birth of Jesus, then, was the beginning of a transformative peace that would be brought into the world. Peace was no longer just a concept or idealized civilization but became incarnate and dwelt among humanity. As Jesus set out to proclaim the Good News about the Kingdom of God throughout the surrounding regions, He brought a message that said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27). This Advent season, the peace of Christ is available to us all. While the holiday season can oftentimes seem like anything but “peaceful” (with errands to run, gifts to buy, deadlines

to meet, meals to prep, and travel plans to book), Paul writes that an essential part of the fruit of the Spirit is “peace.” That is, peace is something that is initiated and given solely by the Holy Spirit. The peace of God shouldn’t be understood as a sort of care-free attitude or apathy towards anticipating the future. Instead, the peace of God is knowing we are safe and secure within God’s care. It’s knowing that whatever difficulty might come our way, God is aware of our situation and holds us tightly within His loving arms. Advent is a time for us to be reminded: to know God is to know peace. With no God, there is no peace. In addition, while the peace of God is for us, it is also meant to be shared with our neighbor. Reflecting on the mission of Israel in bringing shalom to their foreign neighbors, our calling today is to be harbingers of that wonderful kind of “peace that surpasses all understanding” (Phil. 4:7), which is from God. Let us consider then, together, how we might share the peace of Christ with our neighbors this Advent season: ● What would it look like for you to embody

shalom, or “God’s peace,” during this season of Advent? ● Take time today or this week to pause and pray,

“God, what areas in my own life are marked by anxiety?” Then spend some time asking God to replace the fear and anxiety with His peace and truth. — Lane Craig, Family Ministry Resident

C H R I S T M A S D A Y – M O N D AY, D E C E M B E R

ONCE UPON A FAMILY. . .

hristmas is a time for families. We delight in watching children experiencing all that the season brings. Is there anything more joyful than a child at Christmas? Of seeing their anticipation for what’s in store? We travel to be with parents or children knowing that when we’re with family, we catch afresh the wonder of the season and the promise that there is a place for us. It’s no accident that we share Christmas as families. Christmas is about a family. Even more importantly, Christmas is about God entrusting Himself, through Jesus, to a family. Think about it—God actually entrusting Himself to a young couple who have no real clue about what they are getting into. The Scripture tells us that Joseph and Mary—who was great with child—traveled from Galilee to Jerusalem for a census. It was an arduous journey: the road was not paved and donkeys don’t have smooth suspension. They arrived in Joseph’s family’s town, but no one welcomed them— “there was no room in the inn,” we’re told. Perhaps the scandal of a pregnancy before a wedding was too much for his relatives, but they found a berth in a barn and Jesus found a crib in a manger. They made do. And God made a family. If Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus are the prototypical family of Christmas, what does that tell us about the family God is making for us? I think it starts with the truth that family is a miracle. And whether your family is the

people who live in your house or apartment or the people in your Sunday School, you have a family. God has placed you in a family; God has given you people who love you and who want to be with you. Whether you have felt included or excluded, there is a place for you. In fact, all through the Bible, the people who felt most excluded turn out to be at the very center of God’s care and His sovereign plan. Second, our place in God’s purpose and plan depends on God—not on us. A seat at the table is a gift of grace, not a place of merit. Third, there is wonder ahead. God is still on the loose in the world. God is still calling us into families and inviting new brothers and sisters into the family. And, if God is leading us, this is a story that will have a happy ending. Disney can dream it. Fables can say it. But only the life which Jesus offers will prove to be abundant in quality, redemptive in nature, and eternal in duration. It’s only in Jesus that we really do get to “live happily ever after.” I hope you have read the devotions in this Advent book and now know more about the family of God for you in this place. This family. Your family. For there is a place and a promise of welcome for you here.

— Steve Wells, Pastor

4100 MAIN STREET HOUSTON, TX 77002 (713) 529-4167 SMBC.ORG DR. STEVE WELLS, PASTOR CCLI #1763254