Advent | Everlasting Father | The Road Back

I will admit that I’ve been late to the party with our annual Advent celebration, distracted by the cute calendar with the little windows. Is this culturally related to the 12 Days of Christmas? Not sure. Anyway, Advent has been a delightful revelation to me in recent years as I've discovered it anew.

I love that the very idea of Advent is so rich with meaning. Not at all static, and not just history, but a beautiful story of redemption that keeps on redeeming. Our modern Advent is alive and therefore full of the same hope and joyful anticipation, 2,000 years later. The story is active love stretched out over our time, and into the future. Yes it is a remembrance of the events of that time, but please, let's not stop there.

It's so much more. It's about family.

God's marvelous plan for healing up our diseased and hopeless souls was staged in a far away culture, and ushered in by shepherds, farm animals, a carpenter and a virgin. A perfect and oh so humble beginning for what was to come. In some ways, Joseph, Mary and Jesus were our real first family.

Like a massive glass prism, God is so many facets at once. He is the Creator of this beautiful, vast and complex world. He is the humble servant Jesus. And he is our personal messenger and counselor, the Holy Spirit. He is alive, eternal and timeless. And he is a father. Ours. That isn't just theology, my brothers and sisters, it's why we are all here. It's relational in the absolute largest sense of the word. His existence, and therefore ours, is wrapped in the historical, yet timeless framework of family. God is our father. We are his sons and daughters - literally his spiritual offspring!

He's not just a Dad, but an Everlasting Father.

That title is my absolute favorite in scripture. It encompasses all - a grand design, a spiritual lineage, strong and thoughtful care and the best possible love. It's the ultimate fatherly ideal - a perfect mix of strength and tenderness. Even so, all that God is, quickly becomes too big for us to comprehend. I think he needed to simplify his story for us, and make it real. Yes we needed a savior, but who? Someone we could relate to, and with, on the most human level. A father and son!

I have known about Jesus all my life. I have sung countless songs and have heard so many historical accounts of his actions, and the reactions of people around him. The ideas his parables spelled out have helped me with my own relationships in life, but to be honest, it all didn't fully resonate with me until I experienced fatherhood. With all the joys and heartache.

I have a father. I am a father.

These days, I am feeling closer and better connected to Him, on my step-by-step pilgrimage back. The prodigal son's return. I'm getting to know him again. The work is hard, because of my failures and because of the collective wounds shared all around me. But now those hurts serve to give me perspective, and empathy. And my love is stronger.

Our paradox: we are all entangled in our closest and most essential earthly relationships - for the great, the good, and the not so good. But for now, I think it’s supposed to be that way in a family. All roads back to the Father are lined with the people closest to us, whom we are to interact with, and who partially hold the keys to our eventual fullness. We've learned how to harm. Now we can learn to love.

It's complicated and it's messy.

We may not always connect closely and agree, but as we learn how to love and be loved, the lessons learned and the Spirit's fruit basket reward will make it all worth it. And we will be freed. I believe that!

May we push forward with the Holy Spirit to continue our work, and let Advent stir up our hearts this season!

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About the Author

Terry is a man in constant motion to explore new horizons. He has a thirst for new places and faces, and a deep love for the natural world - with a weakness for waterfalls and sunsets. All of this venturing out helps to both ground and inspire him, because it opens him up to people, with their vast, collective array of experiences, outlooks and responses.

He finds all of this fascinating and sees that it has encouraged the growth of something crucial in his Christian development: empathy and compassion toward his brothers and sisters on this planet.

Salt and Light | Woven Together

I was in my early forties when I decided to buy my first home, a condo. I tried to patiently endure the long purchasing process and eagerly looked forward to the day when I could sign the papers and the home would be mine. It wasn’t until I started to sign the mortgage documents with my signature and date, that I realized I was buying the condo on my birthday. I laugh-cried at the thought that I had given myself a thirty-year debt as a birthday present.

Once I got over this shock, I focused on moving out of my rental house and into the condo. I was fortunate that my situation gave me a luxurious timeframe of 2 weeks to move.

After friends and family helped me move the big items, I slowly but steadily moved the smaller things that could fit in my car. One of the last things of mine that remained in the rental house was the washer I bought from a previous roommate. It was built in the 1970’s, when American appliances were made of heavy steel and weighed much more than they do now. I dreaded moving that washer and put off trying to find a third person to help my cousin Don and I move it out of the rental’s garage. Moving day finally arrived but I had been too embarrassed to ask someone to possibly strain their back in order to help me. Don backed up his truck into the open garage, and with the assistance of a flattened cardboard box, we slid the washing machine the length of the garage to the bed of the truck. We discussed the best strategy to lift it and place it on the folded down tailgate. My cousin looked at me suddenly and asked “didn’t you get someone else to help us?” I sheepishly looked away and mumbled no. Don sighed in frustration, as we both bent down and grabbed the washer on either side. We slowly hefted the heavy metal box with its metal motor about 2 feet off the ground, when I stalled. I couldn’t find the extra muscle power to boost it the last few feet onto the tailgate. With our arms and backs straining, we both exchanged a panicked look over the shaking washer, and my cousin shouted “Put it down!” He added “I don’t know how we’re going to do this!” We both breathed heavily for a few moments then stubbornly tried again.

For the second attempt, we exerted about the same amount of effort, but this time the washer only reached about a foot off the ground when I heard a voice from the front yard say “Careful! You need another set of hands!” We simultaneously shifted our attention from the back of the truck to the front sidewalk, and watched a tall, slender man walk from the sidewalk into my garage and examine the washer. I explained to the kind-looking man that I sold the washer and the new owners were waiting for us to deliver it to their house in Springfield. He then walked up to the side of the washer opposite my cousin and diplomatically instructed us. He reminded Don and I how to change our stance and lift using the strength of our legs and abdomen in order to protect our backs. I took the third side and before I knew it, the washer was in the back of the truck and securely tethered in place using straps and the truck’s tie-down hooks. Don and I profusely thanked the kind man who wished us a good day, then got in his car and drove away. The entire process took less than 15 minutes! I went from a gut twisting feeling of hopelessness about our goal, to feeling that we had been visited by one of God’s helper angels. As we drove to Springfield, Don and I discussed how God faithfully, abundantly, and mercifully provided us with the precise help we needed at the exact moment we needed it!

I continue to think about that experience in the nearly 20 years since it happened. I think about how God designed humans to help each other. And He designed humans to honor his creation of community by supporting each other with God’s eternal love as a healthy extended family.

It is a life-giving honor and a profound blessing to help other people as we have been helped by God. To me this true story shows how we, as human beings, are all connected to each other, and are woven together in the larger work of God’s eternal kingdom and family.

Years later, I saw this principle in action again but from a different perspective. I still live in the same condo after 18 years. And earlier this year, I found myself recovering from the disappointment that one of my favorite neighbors, Jenny, decided to sell her unit and downsize into an even smaller apartment. I appreciated that she notified a group of us a full month before she listed her unit, which helped me correct my attitude and be happy for her. Still, I put off saying my final good bye.

By late afternoon of her final day of ownership, I no longer heard or saw her next door and thought I had waited too long. As I sat in my living room regretting that I missed my chance, I heard Jenny’s familiar voice on her back porch. Our back yards were adjacent to each other, so I seized my chance and walked the 30 odd steps to her back door. By this time, she was standing inside with her friend, fiddling with something above the sliding glass door which was open. I called out to her and knocked on the frame of her screen door. She greeted me with a surprised voice and enthusiastically invited me to come in. Before I could speak, Jenny said “You came at the perfect time! Can you help us hang the curtain rod?” This task doesn’t sound like something that needs more than one person to do, but Jenny was under five feet tall and her friend was not much taller. They showed me that the curtain rod was created in three pieces with an extension rod in the middle. Due to their shorter height, neither woman could reach the brackets while holding the curtain rod horizontally. They tried to employ a workaround of holding the curtain rod at a steep angle and sliding it into place between the brackets. Every time they tried this technique the extension rod would telescope into the rod ends and fall out of the brackets with all three pieces on the floor at their feet. It was a stretch, but standing at a height of 5’7” I could easily reach the brackets while holding the curtain rod horizontally. After a few attempts I successfully dropped the curtain rod into the brackets. Both ladies patted me on the back and Jenny expressed relief that her moving-out work was now done and she could give her keys to her real estate agent. I wished Jenny well and said goodbye.

The full circle aspect of this experience suddenly hit me. I remembered the kind man who was especially suited to help us move the washer. He came equipped with his God-given strength, his knowledge of how to lift heavy objects safely, and with his ability to teach in a gentle manner that was non-threatening to my rather frustrated cousin. I never thought of myself as especially tall, but I was the right height to get the job done, and I was in the right place at the right time. Also, I didn’t miss my chance; I still was able to say a final goodbye to my neighbor. God took the occasion to show me that when I listen to His voice and follow His timing, it’s never too late to seize an opportunity He is giving me! That was a deeply encouraging reminder to me. I loved being able to pay forward the gift I received in the past, by helping another person. This is part of God’s perfect original design for this world and His eternal Kingdom!

Romans 12:4-5 (NLV)
Our bodies are made up of many parts. None of these parts have the same use. There are many people who belong to Christ. And yet, we are one body which is Christ’s. We are all different but we depend on each other.

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About the Author

Sara has attended CitySalt Church since 2004, the year it was founded. She studied Journalism, wrote for her college newspaper, and is a member of Oregon Christian Writers. Sara also enjoys singing hymns with friends: “there is a sermon in every hymn waiting to be discovered and enjoyed.”

Beauty From Suffering | You are Here: Use the Force for Good

Yesterday was the first day of spring break. When the weather forecast changed at the last minute to mostly sunny in Florence, my family and I made a semi-spontaneous decision to go to the beach. I thought we should try a new beach, and I remembered a hike my parents and I had often done when I was a child. I looked up Tahkenitch Creek on my phone, and it showed a kid-friendly 1.4-mile loop. Sounded like a scenic and easy way to get to the beach by hiking through some dunes!

After paying our $5 at the parking lot, we grabbed some snacks, towels and beach toys and set off on our walk. We brought one small water bottle, figuring we could drink more water when we got back to the car. The hike wound through dunes and coastal forest, and after awhile we came to a sign with a cryptic trail map. “You are here,” it said, with a red dot showing us on a looping trail that did not appear to lead to the beach. The sign also showed a picture of another, larger loop, which also did not appear to lead to the beach. Then there was another, much longer trail that looked like it might lead to the beach.

The map didn’t show distances. I tried to scan my childhood memory. I knew we had hiked to the beach on this trail many times. But how long was it? And hadn’t my mom recently recommended I try this hike with my 6 and 3-year-old children?

It couldn’t be that long.

We decided to keep hiking in the direction that we guessed led to the ocean. Eventually we did come to a sign that said “Beach” and had an arrow. Someone had scratched “1.7 miles” into the sign. Did that mean the beach was 1.7 miles from the sign? Or that it would be 1.7 miles round trip to the beach and back from the sign?

We had already been hiking for awhile. But the beach had been promised. We reasoned we might as well keep going, although our small water supply was dwindling.

James 1:2-4 (NIV)
“Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Persevering, eventually we did reach the sea. We made it! Our kids had walked the whole way with only mild complaining (and a few tears). We enjoyed resting in the sun on the beach and playing in the sand. Spencer and Marie walked off to explore. Paul, our 3-year-old, started following them and I stayed near him to make sure he was safe. Suddenly Spencer called to me and pointed behind me. A freak sneaker wave had come up to where we’d been sitting, soaking all of our stuff and pulling some of it back towards the waves. We ran back and grabbed everything. Nothing was lost or ruined, but I now had to carry a bag of heavy, soaking wet towels 3 miles back to our car.

So we decided it was time to head back. By now I had a raging headache, and the straps from the canvas grocery bag I had turned into a makeshift backpack were digging into my shoulders. Still we kept going, with Paul being carried much of the way. Now that we had figured out the trail, we went a slightly different route home. Part of it was through hills of sand dunes, and we pretended we were hiking through the Sahara Desert. It helped that I was very thirsty. The tension from my headache was now radiating through my whole body and my back was burning with pain. But, walking through the dunes, Paul and I decided we were Star Wars jedis and that we had light sabers out to protect us. Then Marie created her own story about being a mermaid. Eventually, our rag-tag Jedi/mermaid team made it back to our car where we had more snacks and water waiting for us. It had been a 6-mile hike, yet my kids had barely complained.

I was suffering in pain for a lot of that hike. I have a high pain threshold — I have experienced natural childbirth twice — but the headache and back pain I was feeling during this hike was still pretty awful. I could have complained a lot. Or just gotten really cranky. That would be a legitimate reaction to pain. Instead, I did what I often do in challenging situations, which is to try to make things easier for those around me. I entertained the kids by telling them fairy tales. I made sand castles on the beach. I made jokes about how silly and typical it was that my mom would recommend such a long hike for our wee children. I became a Jedi knight, wielding a light saber and using The Force for good. My husband also was a good sport, not blaming me for the misadventure and carrying our little one for miles on his shoulders.

As a result, I don’t think this day will be recorded in our minds as a bad memory. It will be remembered as an adventure, one of those “remember that time when?” stories that will bond us together.

Last week, I spent an entire day in a training about trauma in early childhood. The presenter talked about how we may not experience difficult events as traumatic if we have adequate support during those events. The way that the people around us support us – or don’t – during challenging events, affects the way that our memories are encoded. Not that hiking equates to a trauma, but it still could have easily ended up a bad memory.

Suffering can be beautiful in that it gives us the best opportunity to develop perseverance and character. It gives us an opportunity to choose to turn towards God when things are hard. It can also bond us together, giving us the chance to give and accept help as needed. Remember, the greatest Jedi warriors have turned their suffering into strength.

May the Force be with you.

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About the Author

Ursula and her husband Spencer have two young children, and their family enjoys playing hide-and-seek and dancing in the living room. She works as a communications and events coordinator with the University of Oregon. Ursula is also CitySalt’s Children’s Ministry Director. 

You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.