Advent, Week #3
Inspiration for this week comes from Tom Kendzia's white-boy-gospel-fest "Now is the Time":
Come to us, you who say,
"I will not forget you."
Be with us, you who say,
"Do not be afraid."
Take hold of us, our hearts,
our minds, our whole being.
Make us your own,
now is the time.
To me, this is a very Advent-ish song. Here we are, like the 1st century Israelites, pondering God's promises and asking him to bring them to fulfillment in the here and now. We've entered Late Advent (starts December 17th) with the "O Antiphons" (Trivia: these are the source for the verses of O Come, O Come Emmanuel), and these too echo the same sentiments.
It's a season of darkness: it's cold and snowy, the sun is starting work late and getting home early (who knew the sun was New Mexican in the winter!), not to mention final exams, year-end reviews, not to mention the annoyances of seeing those relatives you only see once a year because you don't really like them (get Little Tommy to stop showing off his infected toenail and keep Uncle Fred away from the booze). But in that darkness light has come and light will come again. A little baby in a manger lit a light for the world. Perhaps, somewhere in the darkness of our own lives a little light shall come. Perhaps, as Mr. Kendzia suggests, now is the time.
Peace,
Chris
Come to us, you who say,
"I will not forget you."
Be with us, you who say,
"Do not be afraid."
Take hold of us, our hearts,
our minds, our whole being.
Make us your own,
now is the time.
To me, this is a very Advent-ish song. Here we are, like the 1st century Israelites, pondering God's promises and asking him to bring them to fulfillment in the here and now. We've entered Late Advent (starts December 17th) with the "O Antiphons" (Trivia: these are the source for the verses of O Come, O Come Emmanuel), and these too echo the same sentiments.
It's a season of darkness: it's cold and snowy, the sun is starting work late and getting home early (who knew the sun was New Mexican in the winter!), not to mention final exams, year-end reviews, not to mention the annoyances of seeing those relatives you only see once a year because you don't really like them (get Little Tommy to stop showing off his infected toenail and keep Uncle Fred away from the booze). But in that darkness light has come and light will come again. A little baby in a manger lit a light for the world. Perhaps, somewhere in the darkness of our own lives a little light shall come. Perhaps, as Mr. Kendzia suggests, now is the time.
Peace,
Chris