The Advent of Revolution | We Get to Choose

I grew up in a church. I believe it was Episcopalian. I remember being fascinated by the ceremony: the standing and singing hymns; the reading for the Book of Common Prayer; the kneeling to pray to God; going to the altar to receive the sacrament of bread and wine.

I also remember often drowsing in my pew and my mother nudging me awake. I remember getting up early on a Sunday and going with just my mother as my brother and father had stopped going to church. Eventually, I convinced my mother that I didn't want to go either and so I stopped and eventually she did, too. This was not out of some sense of despair or betrayal by the church or God, it was simply one less chore or time when I didn't have to get up early.

I realize now that what I lacked was a connection to the church and the parishioners. I was missing the point of Jesus' message: We are all in this together. We can support one another and are invited to do so by God Himself by allowing Jesus into our hearts. Let me say that again: allowing Jesus into our hearts. God, as a loving and caring parent, gives us the choice, as my mom did, to not do things. To not go to church. To not invite Jesus into our heart.

When I met my wife in college, years later, I met a caring, inviting, sweet soul who wanted to share with me her love of Jesus and all the gifts that came with. I chose to attend church with her and take another look at the religion that I had drifted away from in my youth. I went to church and spoke to pastors. I picked up a new bible. I read Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis. I realized that there is a God who loves me and forgives me and invites me to join Him in Heaven. He has sent his Son Jesus to make this invitation personal, and He has sent His Holy Spirit to reside in me and guide me on my journey through this life. And He let me know that His invitation is open: that it is my choice.

My personal revelation (as well as revolution) came upon the realization that God loves me and, like John, I try to embrace that I am "the disciple that Jesus loved." That He has chosen me so that I can now choose Him--that I might learn more from Him and grow in my heart according to His ways and His love toward His people.

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About the Author

Mark lives in Oregon with his lovely wife, Darla and enjoys reading, writing, playing games and working to make the world a better place. He currently serves CitySalt church as a sound engineer and on the church council.

The Advent of Revolution | The Revolution of Kindness Starts with You (and Me)

I believe that we are facing a crisis of hope both locally and globally. Eugene has the highest per-capita homelessness rate in the nation. Oregon schools are facing an unprecedented spike in behavior problems. American life expectancy has been declining since 2014. And the kids’ music video “Baby Shark” has been viewed on YouTube more than 4 billion times. (If you haven’t seen it...you’re really not missing anything).

Hope can be hard to come by. I feel overwhelmed when I think about some of the huge problems our world is facing. I’m distressed about the human rights crisis at our southern border, and the horrible living conditions in developing countries that are at the root of it. I am distressed by climate change, and the knowledge that it will only create more refugees.

I am also upset that the church isn’t doing more to address these issues. I am not pointing the finger at CitySalt or any individual church in particular. I am instead pointing the finger at the larger church body of American Christians — and even at myself.

In this Advent season, my heart turns to the story of the Holy Family, young parents who were forced to flee their homeland to escape political persecution. A young family of refugees. I am not attempting to make a political statement, but just this: that all people deserve kindness. Remember that Jesus himself was a refugee, and that He always stood with those who were most marginalized and outcast by society. I hope that when we think of refugees, street people, those experiencing disability, and other marginalized groups, we can remember that those are exactly the people that Jesus liked to spend time with.

Last year, during a church gathering at my house, I could hear my daughter loudly singing from the backyard, “The Revolution starts now in my own backyard, in my own hometown.” It was a song taught to her by her first-grade teacher, a gentle man who plays guitar and sings folk songs to the kids. He told the students that we needed a revolution of love and peace.

There’s a movement afoot in Eugene to become a City of Kindness. Coordinator Doug Carnine was quoted in The Register-Guard saying, “We want to uplift people through kindness.”

In the face of the massive-scale problems our world is facing, is kindness enough? How much difference can it make? Isn’t it just a drop in the bucket?

The mayor of Anaheim, California is a leader of the cities of kindness initiative. More than one million acts of kindness were reported over eight years in Anaheim, and the city has seen a reduction in homelessness, gang membership, bullying and violence in schools, and crime.

I believe that practicing kindness has the potential to make a bigger impact than we might think. Kindness is the practical expression of Jesus’ mandate to “love your neighbor as yourself,” as well as a powerful antidote to the hope crisis we are facing. One act of kindness may be a drop in the bucket, but many acts of kindness by many individuals can add up to something big. A bucket of kindness that overflows. We can embody the spirit of Christ by bringing His light into dark places. We can bring real change, resilience, and hope.

What are some practical ways to show kindness?

1. Pray for the person you have in mind. If you have a hard time feeling love for that person, pray that God would help you see them through God’s eyes.

2. Donate gently used items to St. Vincent’s or another favorite charity.

3. Donate money to your favorite nonprofit, such as Food for Lane County.

4. Help make burritos with CitySalt for homeless youth on December 10 at The Box.

5. Invite your neighbor over for dinner.

6. Write a note of appreciation.

7. Forgive someone.

What are your ideas for acts of kindness? Share in the comments section below.

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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.

You can read more from Ursula at motherbearblog.com.

The Advent of Revolution | Grandeur in The Little Things

“When I look at the clues that indicate the nature of Jesus – born in a barn, questionable parents, spotty ancestry, common name, misdirected announcement, unattractive looks, reared in a bad neighborhood, owning nothing, surrounding himself with unattractive co-workers, and dying a shameful death – I find his whole approach unable to fit into the methods that automatically come to mind when I think about “winning the world.” His whole approach could easily be described as nonthreatening or nonmanipulative. He seemed to lead with weakness in each step of life. He had nothing in the world and everything in God and the Spirit.”

― Gayle D. Erwin, The Jesus Style

In 2010, my husband and I decided we were going to leave Oregon and spend a month and a half in Costa Rica. We felt like it was a God-guided choice and we would find wonderful things awaiting us: a mission and place to serve, a community to be connected, a growing and developing faith and relationship with the Lord. At least that’s how I imagined it. Our church community prayed for us, God opened opportunity and gave us visions and certainty, and soon we set off to find whatever it was that God had waiting for us.

We arrived and one of the first people I met and connected with happen to be the local pastor’s wife. Hallelujah! God had great things for us! My mind started spinning and I asked her about her church, searching for God’s place for me in it. The big magic would seem to end there. My husband was hesitant to jump into anything. He was even hesitant to attend church. In my fervor to grow in my faith, I honored my husband as best I could with as little arguing as I could and focused on prayer and the Word. Fast forward a year and I was attending church once in a while, mostly just with the kids. But I was helping the pastor’s wife build a preschool/kinder as a teacher's assistant. This wasn’t the big fireworks project either. It ended after one year, but it was a year that I embraced God’s guidance. I was reading my bible nightly and my coworkers (2 ladies) were a light in my life. We would meet to discuss school and take 30 minutes of each meeting to study the Word together. It sounds simple and “regular.” Isn’t that just what all “good Christians” do? But it was wonderful and together with the quiet time at night where I was reading the Word on my own, it was a season of deep and personal connection to the Lord that guides my path to this day.

A friend came down to Costa Rica with her family for a while during this time and joined us in a book club, reading David Platt’s book Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream. How fitting. We were rebelling against the American Dream just by being in Costa Rica and living in a different culture. My husband and I had moved out of our apartment and arrived in Costa Rica with only what could fit in our suitcases. Over a year later we still needed nothing more and I began to realize the big fancy mission project or Mother Teresa worthy life wasn’t necessary either. I was building my personal relationship with the Lord in a way I never would have, had I depended on a community of people, other people to give me answers, showy events or acts to brag about. God was telling me WAIT in such a powerful whisper that it slowed me down and opened my ears and my heart to listen. God was saying SURRENDER to what is - don’t chase after the picture I painted in my head, however righteous that picture was. God was saying LOVE in a way that is difficult and only feels good when you’re through it. God said GRACE, for experiences and people that I longed to live up to the greatness I envisioned. God moved my heart ever so slightly in the smallest and most powerful ways, highlighting the little things that make all the difference. And He still does. And I still only need what can fit in a few suitcases… what matters is what I carry in my heart.

I came across the book The Jesus Style by Gayle D. Erwin. I carried it with me. I sort of read it a few times, or more. I’ve slowly been getting back through the chapters and it challenges me in such simple, deep, and at times difficult ways. I continue to struggle with my desire for greatness (lingering remnants of the American Dream) when I think about my goals and my vision for my life. But if it is to follow Jesus, I must wait, surrender, love and have grace, over and over and over again. These are daily reminders I need for the little things, the choices we make regularly. One of my coworkers in that school and a bible study friend shared with us one day how she prays about everything. A casual disclosure in a short chat over snack time with the kids that stuck with me for all these years. When she makes her grocery list and again when she is walking around the store, she prays about what to buy, that it’s the right choice financially and for the health and well being of her family. Small prayers and small actions that are God-focused are truly the grandest of all things. A quote on my desk right now shares this sentiment:

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world” ― Anne Frank

This reminds me that even to make a big difference, small prayers and small actions that are God focused are truly the grandest of all things. How wonderful that small choices bring us closer to God and our waiting on the Lord can be a simple act of remaining connected and realigning when we stumble. In November, it is a great thing to remember to be grateful. Then comes December and what a great thing to celebrate Jesus. But let’s not make it a “season.” And let’s not get lost in the lights, but turn deep into our hearts as we wait on the Lord, drawing closer to Him in patient, loving and graceful surrender. His arrival is not our party to plan for, but our gift to be ready to receive.

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About the Author

Leona is a wife, mother and traveler who is intrigued by how different people live. Her latest project is exploring ways that different walks of life can simplify, in order to live a fulfilling journey.

The Advent of Revolution | Royalty and Hope

Matthew 1:21
“She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

When I was a kid, the advent season meant two things to me: candles and chocolate. The candles were at church, and we lit one for each Sunday leading up to Christmas. Each had a different spiritual meaning about the coming of Christ. At home, my brother and I each got a paper calendar with 25 little windows to open, and each one hid a small piece of chocolate behind it. Each piece of chocolate meant we were one day closer to International Day of Presents. I mean Christmas. Yeah, as a kid I was probably more excited about presents than the fact that Jesus came to Earth to save the world, but at least I learned the concept of hope and expectant waiting from it!

I found out on the internet that traditionally the advent season was represented by two colors: purple, which symbolized royalty, and blue, which symbolized hope. This made me think of Lord of the Rings. Hear me out, if you have time (this one’s a long one, and yes, I know; I’m nerdy!).

In the story, Aragorn was the heir to the throne of Gondor, the strongest kingdom in the mythical world of Middle Earth. He had spent his very long life in a faraway land, in the very not-royal profession of ranger. Middle Earth was in grave danger of being overrun by the Dark Lord Sauron, and the people held out hope that the missing heir of Isildur, whoever he was, could defeat him. When he finally goes to Gondor, he doesn’t claim his throne by subduing the people or expecting them to revere him just because of his birthright. Instead, he risks his life to protect the ringbearer (a hobbit, not exactly an impressive person in Middle Earth peoples’ eyes) and to save the people. His coming united them and brought them hope that evil would be vanquished so all the people of Middle Earth, not just the citizens of Gondor, could live in peace. Because of this, all the peoples (including humans, elves, dwarves, and of course, hobbits!) recognized his lordship, and rejoicing, crowned him king of the land. And they lived in peace after that. Well, at least they did after the hobbits returned to the Shire and defeated Saruman, but that’s a topic for another day.

I’ve never really thought of Lord of the Rings as a Christmas story before, but let’s reflect on the parallels. Jesus was (and is!) the Son of God, having lived in the spiritual realm forever, and then was born on earth, grew up in Nazareth, far from the royal city of Jerusalem. He was a carpenter, which was a respectable occupation, but not one a prince would normally have. This being said, His earthly parents were well aware of His destiny: “She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus [which means ‘The Lord Saves’], because he will save his people from their sins.” When He finally started His public ministry, He didn’t do so by declaring Himself the Messiah the Jewish people had been waiting for (according to the prophecies in the Old Testament) and taking his throne by force like they expected. Instead, He went around the land teaching and healing everyday people, even the “lowliest” of them, showing them compassion and love and validating their worth. He preached a message of hope so people would change their hearts in expectation of the true kingdom “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matthew 4:17). He acted as an example of a servant leader, washing the feet of His disciples. Then He not only risked His life; He sacrificed it so anyone can be saved! And He rose from the dead, showing that death had been conquered! (Yeah, Christmas doesn’t really mean much without Easter.) His coming brought hope and peace, not just for the people of Israel, but for the whole world. And this hope changed lives. People’s hearts were changed, filled with love and peace. The kingdom of heaven gained new citizens every day. What a revolutionary leader! Definitely not the typical royal coming to power.

The best news is, this is still happening! Advent represents commemorating the coming of Christ to Earth the first time, as well as the hope in His coming again to save the world completely. But it also represents the coming of His light and love into our hearts anytime we will it. The idea of “Peace on Earth” is difficult to believe sometimes, especially when we look at the news around the world. But if we place Jesus on the throne of our own lives, allow His loving sacrifice to vanquish death inside our hearts, and look to Him for hope, He will cause a revolution that brings peace to our hearts. This hope is offered to all: people of every gender, ethnicity, ability, and race (even hobbits! Okay, they’re not real, but if they were, I’m quite sure that the kingdom of heaven would include them, too).

So the next time you see the colors purple and blue together, or read/watch The Lord of the Rings story, think of royalty and hope. Jesus, the Soon and Coming King, brings the hope of Heaven to our hearts. Amen!

P.S. I believe that Tolkien wrote his character of Aragorn as a loosely-based symbol of Christ, kind of like the semi-allegorical Aslan in C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia. (Yes, the two authors were friends, and yes, Tolkien was a Christian, a devout member of the Catholic church). Lest anyone think I’m brilliant in making this parallel, I was definitely influenced in my thinking of him this way thanks to a book I read many years ago, Finding God in the Lord of the Rings by Kurt Bruner and Jim Ware. Feel free to check it out. It’s been years, so I did not necessarily draw the same parallels as the authors did, but the main idea is inspired by them.

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About the Author

Jessie is an educator, she currently teaches teens and has taught overseas. She is also a novice writer, with several books in various stages and a (long-neglected) blog about the journeys of women. She is very excited to join the CitySalt blog team. She has been blessed by a few communities of Christian writers that have encouraged her dream. She lives with her trusty sidekick cat, Arwen in the foothills of South Eugene, where she can go hiking within minutes of the sun coming out from behind the clouds.

The Advent of Revolution | Patiently Impatient and other Paradoxes of an Enfleshed God

Over the course of about a decade, I’ve come to appreciate Advent in a way that has surprised me. While I was raised in a Christian home, we didn’t pay much attention to the church calendar. We even tended to skip services on Christmas and Easter because they were so much more crowded than normal Sundays. I remember that, as a child, some of my secular friends had Advent calendars in their homes, and that I felt resentful that they got a bit of chocolate every day, a reward for the coming of a Savior they didn’t even believe in. A little bit petty, to be sure.

Eventually, I came to believe that Advent is about being patiently impatient. Actively waiting for a promised peace and wholeness that is already, but not yet. For Christians, Advent marks a time of pre-revolution, the anticipation of the coming Kingdom of God in which all people will turn to God instead of turning on one another (Isaiah 2); a time in which the rod of the oppressor is broken, the people rejoice, and tools of war are burned (Isaiah 9); a time in which all creatures will live in harmony with one another (Isaiah 11); a time in which death will be no more (Isaiah 25). The Creator of the world took on human flesh, came to the Earth as a human infant, showed us how to live and love and obey, was executed as an enemy of the government and religious powers, returned to life as an eternal victor, and told his followers that he’d be back and while we were waiting, we should spend our time on earth sharing the Good News far and wide.

There were three chapters in my journey from Advent agnostic to Advent enthusiast.

First chapter: Jesus was born in a particular time, in a particular place. Palestinians, including Jesus’ family, were under the thumb of the Roman empire. Their movement and economy was restricted, they were under the constant threat of violence. The Jewish people anticipated the coming of a Messiah who would overthrow their oppressors. Instead, they got Jesus, a Messiah who befriended Romans, tax collectors, and other undesirables and who was a constant thorn in the side of the religious establishment. In 2012, I visited Bethlehem. I sat and touched the spot in the Church of the Nativity where Mary is said to have birthed Jesus in the midst of political tyranny. A few hours later and just footsteps away, I sat in the living room of another Palestinian mother, who described nursing her own newborn on the floor of her family’s home as rockets and gunfire were exchanged between the Israeli army and a group of armed Palestinian hostage-holders inside that same church. Mothers and their infants, across centuries, searching for peace.

Second chapter: in all the nativity plays and movies I’ve seen, Jesus’ mother Mary is portrayed as a kittenish, frightened girl. Timid, barely speaking. But when I read Mary’s song of praise after meeting my Palestinian mother-friend, I hear a young woman secure in the promise and protection of her Creator:

“And Mary said,
‘My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.’”
Luke 1:46-55

This young mother wasn’t wringing her hands in fear. And though these holy promises wouldn’t be realized in her lifetime, her confidence was secure--a hope in the midst of tragedy and uncertainty. As a young, unwed minority, Mary may not have had much political power, but she used her voice to proclaim the truth she knew would come to pass. There’s a celtic hymn based on Mary’s song of praise that I’ve written about before, the Canticle of the Turning. It’s a perfect song for Mary: a gentle tune with a particularly powerful message: “The world is about to turn.”

Third chapter: we were part of a church in Philadelphia that observed the liturgical calendar, and that included welcoming Advent in through a church-wide theme. One particularly chilly year, shortly after a spate of high-profile extra-judicial killings of unarmed people of color had made headlines, there was a discussion about the year’s Advent theme. Someone suggested we talk about getting small and quiet as we waited for the coming of the Lord. And I remember a friend of mine, a black woman who worked as an attorney fighting some egregious injustices in the city, said, “Advent is about a coming revolution, it’s not about being quiet.”

Advent is about revolution coming in the form of a helpless infant human who would grow into a young man, executed by the state. Advent is about the assurance of peace in the midst of war. Advent is about the hope of reconciliation in a world that has had only a small glimpse of conciliation. Advent is about patiently waiting for the coming of the Kingdom of God, while actively witnessing and working towards the promises of the Good News of that Kingdom.

I’ve had a hard time having hope recently. I’ve had a hard time feeling my faith. But perhaps this Advent can be one in which I press into paradox, being sure of what I don’t know and certain of what I can’t see.

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About the Author

Sarah is the author of Vegangelical: How Caring for Animals Can Shape Your Faith (Zondervan, 2016) and Animals Are Not Ours (No, Really, They’re Not): An Evangelical Animal Liberation Theology (Cascade Books, 2016). She spends her days working for CreatureKind, helping Christians put their faith into action. She lives in Eugene with her husband, son, and animal companions and enjoys action movies, black coffee, the daily crossword, and dreaming of her next international journey.

The Advent of Revolution | Revolution of Love

Jesus started a revolution, but not in any kind of political sense. He came to challenge the way we relate and respond to God and how we live with each other. Our motivations and methods were all wrong.

Any kind of rebellion, religious or otherwise, was a hot button for this non-conformist growing up (under the surface anyway). Family and religious adherence, of course, was the thing. There really wasn't much grey area between "compliant" and "rebellious".

We live in a world of rules, I was told, and much of my early Christian experience was about the 10 Commandments, where rebelliousness brought consequences. And all too often compliance was a social currency, where the guilt was heavy and the reward for good behavior was at best, a dose of relief.

I was a child in the 1960s and 70s. Out my cultural window, so many kids older than me were actively and even violently rebelling from long-held social norms and because of that, breaking from their parents too.

In my teen years, even my Christian experience was starting to simmer on the social stove. My family's church was conservative and stale. Then a new church sprang up across town in a converted school, and although it was filled with beards and long hair, Faith Center had a dynamic pastor and an energetic, fresh culture of love and grace. And they embraced the Holy Spirit.

As with the outside cultural revolution, this spiritual movement was birthed and travelled by young people. Me and my sister’s exodus started by attending a bible study in a packed out home nearby: 25+ wide-eyed hippies loving Jesus. Seeing young people passionate about God perplexed my parents. And they were curious, so instead of fighting any of this gentle rebellion, a funny thing happened. My conservative parents were swept into it as well.

Soon the Sheldon family six were literally sneaking away from our old church to this new one - double services on Sunday morning. It was surprising to me and doing this as a family made me a bit peeved because my parents were infringing on our teenage cool. This was not their crowd and not their rebellion. It was ours!

That experience started a lifetime shift in me from rules to grace, from theology to love. I started to see and experience the relational aspect of my Heavenly Father and eventually saw WHY that was essential. Sure, the Law is important, scripture makes that clear. But Moses brought the tablets down as a last resort for a rampantly corrupt and marooned generation. The God/Man/Woman relationship was horribly broken and the way back was unclear.

Yes, consequences are motivators and so is guilt and fear. But to what end? All of it has little to do with relationship, the whole reason for redemption in the first place - and the ultimate endgame. If we build our lives on those negative motivators, we don't sustain long term compliance. And we are left STILL alone.

Jesus didn’t pass an edict, but like a caring physician, he made a house call. He was revolutionary, but mostly, relational! He personally showed, in word and deed, the Father’s never-ending love. But he didn’t just make himself a martyr - it was not merely symbolic. He walked and talked and fished and certainly joked and cried and sang and hugged his family, friends and even strangers along the way.

Now in our modern day, he teaches us how to love and to be loved - the ONLY formula for emotional healing, correcting destructive behavior and reconnecting our vital relationships. Desiring long-lasting, loving connections is a universal human trait. Without that, we truly are powerless to change.

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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.