He Comes

Mary Moerbe reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that while God may not cater to our own plans in this life, He eludes all expectations in His perfect provision for us:

In Advent, we focus on the comings of Christ. It is a time to ponder the Incarnation of our God, His final coming, and of course His coming to us in His Word and His gifts of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. He comes and we wait, still we cannot anticipate His movements.

Every morning we wake up in a sort of personal advent to prepare ourselves for what is coming. We wait. We have our expectations, but they falter. Everyday a portion of trouble, a series of reality checks, exercise our patience.

When real life comes to call, patience is often more exhausted than fit. Our strength gets tested and proves thin. All sorts of things bubble up to the surface: our disappointment, anger, bewilderment, and more reflect our inner desires, needs and instability. Our weaknesses and lack of control either lead to despair or point us once again to what is needful: God, salvation, His stability, His strength.

Ours is a God who eludes expectations. He takes decisions out of our hands and often leaves us choices we don’t want, but He does provide. We wait and when our desires do not come, He comes Himself:

^“The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief, and then the heavens will pass away with a roar, and the heavenly bodieswill be burned up and dissolved, and the earth and the works that are done on it will be exposed.” (2 Peter 3:9-10).

He may not cater to our own plans, but our Lord takes amazing care of us. Like a thief, His presence is often hidden, but He can enter through locked doors, pass through walls, and slip right into our souls. He is closer to us than we can dream. His day will come and alter everything.

As our Savior, our Strong Man, our hope and our brother, Jesus Christ takes our guilt from us and, on that final day, He will steal our last vestiges of grief! He will clear out the places and reminders we fear. He will delete our debts from every ghost file, even those hidden in the minds of others. He will take our identities and replace it with one of His own crafting.

When Christ comes to us in that final Advent, He will, quite literally, clean us out of house and home. Even as He washed us in the cleansing, sanctifying waters of Baptism, He will clear out every closet of lingering guilt and shame. Even as He feeds us with the very embodiment of forgiveness in His Body and His Blood, He will evict our worthless trophies of self-righteous thoughts and deeds.

Our new home may have little to do with what our current lives do. It will not be about working for a living. It will not be about debt or struggles. It will not be about growing up or longing for the pitter patter of little feet. It will be about us as children, once more receiving from the bounty of our heavenly Father. We will be in His home, His kingdom, in the house He has prepared for us. It will be about gathering as brothers and sisters around the one Brother, who brought us into our holy, heavenly family. Thanks be to God, and “Come, Lord Jesus.”

Mary Moerbe

At Home in the Waiting

Kristen Gregory reminds us in her reflection on “Advent and Barrenness” that there is joy amidst our grief:

I’m reading Jayber Crow, a novel by Wendell Berry; I read and enjoyed it five years ago. The peaceful cadence of his writing is good reading in winter, I think. A line stuck out to me this time–one I hadn’t even noted in my previous read:

“This grief had something in it of generosity, some nearness to joy. In a strange way it added to me what I had lost. I saw that, for me, this country would always be populated with presences and absences, presences of absences, the living and the dead. The world as it is would always be a reminder of the world that was, and of the world that is to come.”

Reading it this time, immediately I reflected upon my own personal loss. I’ve not experienced true barrenness, but I have felt something akin to it: I have buried my firstborn child. I have known grief beyond explanation; wanting to die so I didn’t have to feel another minute of it; the shame of hating God for taking away what I thought was my deserved right–to be a mother; and so many more feelings that I will never be able to put into words, things that I couldn’t even explain to my confessor when I went for private confession and absolution. But things God knows.

And then I read the quote again. In the three years since Vivian’s death, God has given me enough peace to see the meaning of this beyond myself. Or maybe I can only understand it because of this suffering He has allowed. In grief there is joy…I’ve no idea how. I have no advice or sweet words on how to live through loss or grief. But somehow there is a joy in grief.

I think that is why I love the Advent season. I feel at home in the waiting. The sadness over our present losses to sin, death, and the devil; and yet our proclamation that more is to come. Our hope isn’t in the lives we live now or the children that we have lost or never had, but in His real promise: release from darkness, forgiveness, healing comfort, His death for you, and life eternal.

Vivian, among other things, is my reminder of the world that is to come. Each year I hold more joy in my heart than grief (could it be the healing effect of other children God has given us–some who have lived and some who have not?); but Advent especially reminds me that I have not expected too much from my God–I have expected far less than He has promised.

Kristen Gregory

“Advent and Barrenness” Contest Winner

Reading all of your submissions for the “Advent and Barrenness” writing contest was like receiving Christmas cards from all over the nation. You shared your lives with us; you encouraged us; you exhorted us; you gave us pause from the gift wrapping to ponder the gift of our Lord Jesus, Emmanuel. Thank you for taking the time to reflect on “Advent and Barrenness” with us this holy season. It truly was a joy and honor to read your words.

We received too large a number of submissions to be able to name a top five, so, instead, we thought it would be nice to share a week’s worth of our favorite posts, starting today with our winner, Emily Olson. Congratulations, Emily, on winning a free copy of He Remembers the Barren, and thank you for allowing us to share your beautiful post below.

A blessed Christmas,

Your HRTB Hosts

Advent is a strange time. On the one hand, we’re surrounded with the bedazzling sparkle of a brilliantly adorned commercial culture. The vivid colors, the mouth-watering smells, the warm and appealing auras tantalizingly promise us comfort and happiness. On the other hand, our days are dark and often cold, the natural world shriveled up in dormancy and death. We don’t like to think about this. It’s too stark, too cutting, and too real. It reminds us that we—and all of our dazzling façades—are dust, and to dust we shall eventually return.

This Advent is a strange one for me. As I write this, my unborn daughter twists and rolls in my uneasy form. Her birth is forthcoming; she will show her face to us any day now. And a lump comes to my throat and hope rises in my soul at the thought of seeing her, of holding her tiny hands and form. My body prepares to bear her, to care for her, and my heart longs to do this.

But my anticipation is checked by constant, awful reminders of reality. Wombs of family members and friends remain achingly empty. Dear friends grieve for their miscarried child. Others suffer in the silences left by the death of a stillborn child, a weeks-old child, a terminally-ill nine-month-old child. And my family marks the sixth anniversary of the due date of our first child. That this child I now carry has followed the timeline of her sister so closely, I count as loss and as blessing. For what we have lost I cannot forget; what we have been given I own as pure gift. But I cannot rejoice in this gift as I should because I am afraid of losing a daughter again. I am afraid of facing dying and death, of the barrenness of loss.

Yet I am reminded precisely during Advent, in the very starkness of darkness and death behind the attractive façade of the secular holiday season, of Who came to bear our losses and barrenness. Isaiah foretold of the coming Christ:

Surely He has borne our griefs
   and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed Him stricken,
   smitten by God, and afflicted.
But He was wounded for our transgressions;
   He was crushed for our iniquities;
upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
   and with His stripes we are healed.

And this, I think, is the real paradox of Advent—a time of watchfulness, preparedness, and hopefulness, and yet a time of penitence, solemnity, and mystery as we prepare for our Savior’s birth as a mortal, finite child who is God Incarnate. This time reminds us of that Child’s life for death, that His tender, soft baby skin will be marred by scars and thorns. And lest loss and emptiness, dying and death, leave us with pain and fear, we see—again—that in Christ’s death we have life, that in His loss we have hope.

With His stripes we are healed. We are all healed. Christ comes to us, passing through His mother’s birth canal, passing through the trials of emptiness, loneliness, fear, pain, suffering, and death. He indeed bears our grief and our barrenness in Himself. And He brings us hope—of holding hands we never held, of holding Hands that were scarred for us. Gloria Dei.

Emily Olson

(Coda: Clara Mary Evangelina Olson was born on December 7th and baptized into Christ on December 8th. Praise be to God for His precious gift of Clara to the Olson family and for His precious gift of new life for Clara in Holy Baptism!)

A Child For You

Christmas is going to bring me to tears this year. It has happened for the past several years, and I’m ready for it. Any time a baby is born, that is a time to rejoice. God has brought forth into the world a tiny baby, one who has been formed and knit in a mother’s womb. That’s a miracle. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, and more gather around to welcome this child into their family. A baptism brings even more joy as the child becomes part of the family of believers.

At those times, my arms ache for a child I also wish to hold. I ache to nestle a child close to me and ponder her future. I wonder when it will be my turn to parent a baby. Will there ever be a child for me?

On Christmas, we celebrate the birth of another child. However, it’s not just any child; it’s the birth of Jesus, the Christ-child. This is the child who would endure the most difficult life ever. This child would be spit upon, scorned, bruised, beaten, rejected, and nailed upon a cross to die. This child would be mentally tested time and time by the devil, who would seek to ruin Him. This child would defeat sin, death, and the devil for you. This child is preparing a place for you in heaven. This child stands in your place before the Father and covers your iniquities. There is nothing within us that deserves any of these gifts.

But Jesus, the Christ-child did it anyway because He loves us. And that’s what brings me to tears. Christ became a baby for me. He lived a perfect life for me. He died for me. He rose for me. Now He lives for me. My tears at Christmas are tears of repentance and tears of joy.

So rejoice, dear sister, there is a child for you. The words of the Christmas angel are meant for you, “You will find Him wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.” (Luke 2:12) Christ the Savior is born FOR YOU.

Let It Be To Me

I continue to marvel at Mary’s response to Gabriel’s unbelievable message: “…let it be to me according to your word,” (Luke 1:38). She didn’t know what those words really meant, did she? She couldn’t have known. She couldn’t have foreseen the heartache she would have to go through as the mother of the Messiah, who was destined to suffer and die. Yet the Holy Spirit moved her to speak with great confidence in her calling as the Lord’s servant, chosen for an honor unlike any that had ever been given before. A great honor, to be sure, but one that was accompanied by great suffering.

Can you speak these words from Mary as you experience the unexpected, the disappointments, the losses? Throughout our lives we all experience those proverbial “closed doors” where it seems pretty clear that going in the direction we had planned is not according to God’s plan. This news does not come from a heavenly being, reminding us first to “Fear not,” but rather from physicians or social workers who are simply stating the facts.

“The cancer had spread more than we thought,” says the surgeon.“We had to do a hysterectomy.” But I’m so young! It doesn’t seem possible that I’ll never be able to give birth. I never dreamed this would happen.

“It doesn’t appear that any growth has taken place in the last month,” says the OB. “I’m so sorry.” No! This was the answer to our prayers. Why would God give us this miracle and then take it away? It’s not fair.

“We have just received word that all referrals are on hold indefinitely,” states the email from the agency. “We will notify you when we have more details.” Not another hold up! We’ve been through this before. This could add even more years to our wait.

The shock. The denial. The anger. The fight. The exhaustion. The surrender. Then, finally, the prayer: “Let it be to me according to Your word.”

Using Mary’s statement as a prayer can be both a spiritual and physical struggle for some. At times we may even feel the need to physically grasp hold of something as we speak it so as to brace ourselves for the realization of all our fears. Our sinful nature attaches such hesitancy to this concept of full submission. Why is that? After all these years of the Lord’s providence, generosity, faithfulness, and care, why have we still not learned our lesson?

For me it’s getting a little better. You know why? I’ve been practicing. Every week on Sunday morning I hear the true, inspired, life-giving words that speak of the Lord’s promises to me and I practice this prayer—this time with all boldness and confidence.

“In the stead and by the command of our Lord Jesus Christ, I forgive you all your sins.…” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“I believe in the…resurrection of the body and the life everlasting.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“…given and shed for you for the forgiveness of sins.” Let it be to me according to Your word!

“The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and give you peace.”

Let it be to us all according to His Word!

Collect of the Week

It is our privilege to pray with and for you. If you would like to submit a personal petition to be included in our prayers, please send your request via the “Submit a Question” page on this site.

Let us pray…

Lord Jesus, You are the answer to our waiting. Preach to us again and again the good news of Your coming that we might run with the shepherds to Your manger to marvel at Your birth. Teach to us again and again the saving work of Your passion that we might run with Mary to the cross to witness Your sacrifice. Proclaim to us again and again the miracle of Your rising that we might run with Peter and John to the empty tomb to rejoice in Your victory. We are waiting on You still, Lord, to return and save us from this life. Comfort those who wait in physical pain, especially Lisa, Jen, and Katie. Restore unto them the joy of Your salvation and uphold them with Your Spirit until Your second coming. Come quickly, Lord Jesus! Amen.

A Season of Waiting and Preparing

By now, you’ve noticed all the of hustle and bustle that surrounds December. We’re all getting ready. People are making quick maneuvers to snag the coveted parking spot. The cashiers carry looks of weariness after scanning people’s purchases. People zip in and out of stores, hunting for the perfect gift. The toy aisles are especially crowded. Men and women pick up one toy, compare it to the next, and drop one into their carts. I wonder if the gifts are for their children, nieces, nephews, neighbors, or godchildren.

We’ve been in those aisles, too. What will excite my nieces and nephews? What will thrill our daughter Joanna this year? I get caught up in finding the right gift for adults, too. What would make my friend’s life easier? Will she like it?

I’ve also been preparing my home for Christmas. We put up our tree and decorated it. We have the red and green paper chains hanging above doorways. The baking has begun. The Christmas letter mulls around in my head.

One of my favorite things about preparing for Christmas, though, is putting out one special nativity set. A dear friend made it for Jerome and me as a wedding gift. It is lovingly handcrafted. I am reminded of God’s great love for me as I unwrap Mary; she is the handmaiden of the Lord. Watchful Joseph protects his family as best he can in meager surroundings. The manger is filled with hay. I don’t put Baby Jesus in it, though. He won’t be placed in the manger until Christmas Eve. That used to puzzle Joanna, but she has learned that Advent comes first.

Advent is a time of waiting and preparing. During Advent we recall our sins and how much we needed Jesus to become a man and live a perfect life for us. We use the weeks of Advent to confess our sins of coveting and hear the good news that we are forgiven of those wrongful desires. It is a time to clean out our hearts and make ready to receive the Christ-child.

I need Advent. My heart is full of sin. I covet other couples’ children. I covet the husband and wife who will be surrounded with children and grandchildren at their dinner table. I want to hang several stockings for little ones in my house. I’ve been waiting a long time to do that. Yes, the Lord has been gracious and given us Joanna, but I desire more. I’ve been waiting for another child to become part of our family. I feel I’ve been waiting long enough. These are the times when I forget that God gives me the things I need. I need a Savior – one who saves me from my wrongful thoughts and desires.

And so I continue to prepare for Christmas. I go to the Word, where I hear the words of John the Baptist. He says, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.” In God’s Word, I hear and read that my sins are removed by the crucified and arisen Christ. I have Jesus.

Now I’m awaiting Jesus’ final coming when He will take me and all believers to Himself in heaven. In this earthly life, I am hoping and praying that God would end my wait for a larger family. While it may or may not happen, I don’t have to wait to find out if heaven is for me. Jesus has told me that He is there, and He is preparing a place for me. Come quickly, Lord Jesus!

Beauty

Have you ever noticed that your perception of beauty changes as you age?

In grade school, I thought beauty was dressed in a blue ball gown, danced with a prince, and sang to birds and mice.

In junior high, beauty tight-rolled her jeans at the ankles and used a curling iron, pick, and White Rain ultra hold hairspray to achieve bangs that resembled water shooting out of a fire hydrant.

In high school, beauty stressed that her waist and hip measurements were so much bigger than those of Cyd Charisse, Judy Garland, and every other MGM musical star.

In college, beauty had the perfect smile and the most handsome date.

In grad school, beauty wrote the best papers, sang bel canto, and earned the trust and respect of department heads.

In marriage, beauty had the perfect home.

Today, that beauty grosses me out. Oh, I still chase after her like a fool (though I have retired my tight-rolled jeans), but I know now that she is self-absorbed. She is self-serving. She is consumed with consuming. She is a false product sold to me by a lying world.

True beauty is something entirely different. Beauty is Gloria preparing snacks for the VBS kids summer after summer. Beauty is Elvina getting up every morning during the Christmas season to water the dozens of poinsettia’s at the sanctuary altar, leaning on her walker the entire time. Beauty is Sue driving to Panera late every Saturday night to collect bread and goodies for the Sunday morning crowd. Beauty is Pam arriving to church before the sun comes up to make sure every Sunday school classroom door is unlocked and prepared for all of those precious children. Beauty is Maria making sure the altar guild has hand lotion next to the sacristy sink to keep serving hands from chapping after caring for the Lord’s tableware. Beauty is Joyce seeking out visitors in church every Sunday and making sure they feel welcomed. Beauty is Kate playing her flute for the voluntary in the early service. Beauty is Ann faithfully bringing her children to church and Sunday school week after week. Beauty is Olivia telling her baby brother that Jesus died for his sins.

And, beauty is Jenny walking up to me at the back of the nave and silently handing me her smiling, cooing baby with a look of love and understanding in her eyes.

You know it’s true. Though you have never seen these ladies, you already know them to be beautiful by the good works with which they have adorned themselves.

What joy to be part of such a beautiful Church!

Collect of the Week

Let us pray…

Lord Jesus, You are the Light of the world. Some days feel so dark. Sadness and weariness close in around us, and we would despair. Cleave the darkness with your Word, once again, and bring us safely into the comfort of your everlasting light. O come, O come Emmanuel! Amen.

Collect of the Week

Collect of the Day:

Let us pray…

O God, You promise us that after we have suffered a little while, You will restore us, strengthen us, and establish us. Restore the lives of all who suffer, particularly our sisters Teresa and Lisa, that they may be comforted amidst their sadness and strengthened to stand firm against every assault of Satan. Be our salvation, our strength, and our song unto life everlasting; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.