An open letter

My dear sister in Christ,

On this, the last day of Advent, I want you to know that I have been praying for you this season.  I know that darkness is often deep and enduring, and it can crowd out the light the Christmas season brings.  I know, because I have griefs of my own.   Advent, dear sister, is the season for us.  Advent is for those who sit in darkness, for those who yearn for redemption, for those who await from the Lord great and abundant mercy.  Advent is for us.

Advent gathers our sorrows unto herself and bids us cry our penitential tears.  And so we do. She reveals our sadness, hopes, and fears, and bids us lay them before the Lord.  And so we do.   She brings an ever-burning light into our homes, and bids us look to Christ.  And so we do.

On this night, when Christ, who is our light descends to us to cast out our sin, let not your hearts be troubled.  For though your griefs are many and your sorrows deep, Christ has entered the world to be your light.  His birth quells the power of hell, and his great and abundant mercy flows far as the curse is found.

We, with the shepherds, kneel before the manger to see Isaiah's prophesies fulfilled in Christ- a child, a son, the Word silently pleading for us.  Nails and spear pierced him through, as he bore the cross for you.  He, the second Adam, came to mend what sin had marred, and to give us the right to be the heirs of heaven above.

I pray for you this night, as I have been praying for you:

“O Jesus, very light of light,
Our constant star in sin’s deep night:
Now hear the prayers,
Your people pray,
Throughout the world this holy day,
Aleluia!” (LSB 403 v. 2)

“Thou, Christian heart,
Whoe’er thou art,
Be of good cheer
and let no sorrow move thee.
For God’s own Child,
In mercy mild,
Joins thee to Him; how greatly God must love thee!” (LSB 372, v. 4)

God’s great and abundant mercy be yours tonight.

It's beginning to look a lot like Advent!

I'm not one to rush the holidays. I love Christmas trees and lights and wreaths as much as the next guy. I enjoy decorating my house with evergreen and Nativity sets, baking Christmas cookies, and opening presents. I dream of sitting by a fireplace and listening to Christmas carols as the evening comes.  Heck, I'd even throw a campout party in the living room and sleep under the tree if I didn't fear my husband would look at me cock-eyed for suggesting it.  Christmas has a place in my heart.

Christmas also has a place on calendar.  I respect its place at the end of December, and I leave Thanksgiving to November.  We also spend the four weeks leading up to Christmas celebrating Advent.

Something prompted me, however, to give a little bit of premature thought to the December Holidays, however.  The dear ladies over here have started a little party, trimmed in purple (or blue, depending on your church), and cloaked in patience.  It's an Advent party.  Since Advent begins in a few weeks, I thought I'd join in a bit early in case anyone wanted to use my ideas.

Here's what advent looks like at our house:

If you think that's a dead branch hot-glued into a stump I found in our wood pile, you'd be right.  It's our Jesse tree. ("There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit." Is. 11:1)  Each day, beginning on December 1st, with our evening devotions, we read a Bible story that tells the story of Christ beginning with Creation, and add one ornament:

As this refuses to rotate, no matter how I try, you'll have to go with it.

Throughout Advent, we walk through the stories of the Bible and see why Christ had to come. Most of the ornaments are well-known Bible stories.  The last eight before Christmas are the O Antiphons.  As the ornaments are added to the tree, it becomes lovelier.

You can do a search for "Jesse Tree" and find many great resources. There are kid-friendly symbols, or elaborate designs; some simple black-and-white coloring pieces, some cut from foam.  The stories even vary from resource to resource.  Some include the O Antiphons, others don't.  I'm partial to great art, and love stained glass, so I used the resources found here for ours. She has the ornaments available for free in PDF.  I simplified her procedure, mostly because I didn't have all the cool stuff she did, and I was a bit frantic. It was December 1st.  I don't recommend waiting that long to start making them.

However, last year, I did make up a Jesse Tree program for the Advent Tea the ladies do at church. While many of the stories are the same, I based it on Christ's lineage and the Jesse Tree stained glass windows in many great cathedrals. The stories toward the end include some lesser-known stories of the kings from David to Zerubabbel, before switching to John the Baptist, Mary and Joseph.  Also, I only made 18 of them, which leaves room for the O Antiphons. (We only had 45 minutes for the tea). The ornaments are quite large, as we were hanging them a Jesse Tree six feet high in the front of church.  If you're interested in seeing it or using it, I can send a copy your way.

Of course, we do a number of other things to celebrate Advent (fasting, noon prayer services at church, decorating the house slowly over the weeks, baking and freezing cookies, deep cleaning the house, listening to Advent hymns, etc.), but I think the Jesse Tree is sufficient for one post.

Check out the Advent Link-up party at Sister, Daughter, Mother, Wife.  There are some great ideas!

There's something in a Sunday

Sunday mornings are tough.  Somewhere between the struggle to put down the trains and put on church clothes, the two of us have successfully broken the first five commandments, and finally show up for church with our angry eyes.  I'm sure most parents have heard the same complaints: There's nothing for me to do at church.  Church takes too long. Church isn't fun. I don't want to think about Jesus, I want to think about trains!

Imagine my surprise then, on Tuesday morning, when my child starts proclaiming the truth about church.

"God doesn't give us too many gifts at church.  He just gives us a few.  He gives us his Word."

"But what does His Word produce?"

"Faith."

"And what does faith give us?"

"Life and salvation.  But that's only two gifts."

"But they are very valuable gifts."

"And no one can steal them from us. And these are the gifts we should rejoice.  And if anyone came to my house to try to steal them, I would say, 'Sorry, Jesus died for me and saved me from my sin.'"

So there it is.  The sound of a Sunday morning coming down might seem awful lonesome to me, and the congregation may be sick of our angry eyes, but my child's faith is growing, despite his stubborn sinful nature.

A poem for when your losses press hard

A gracious Sabbath stood here while they stood
Who gave our rest a haven.
Now fallen, they are given
To labor and distress.
These times we know much evil, little good
To steady us in faith
And comfort when our losses press
Hard on us, and we choose,
In panic or despair or both,
To keep what we will lose.

For we are fallen like the trees, our peace
Broken, and so we must
Love where we cannot trust,
Trust where we cannot know,
And must await the wayward-coming grace
That joins living and dead,
Taking us where we would not go–
Into the boundless dark.
When what was made has been unmade
The Maker comes to His work.

by Wendell Berry, emphasis mine.

For Ewe

I made a new friend. In fact, I made several new friends. We met at a lovely retreat, hosted by two dear women who write here.  What a blessed reminder of the life that is ours through Christ both here on earth, as we join together as His body to encourage and build one another up; and there in eternity, where the crosses we bear will be exchanged for robes of righteousness.

He Is Not Here, He Qi

 

The day of resurrection!
Earth, tell it out abroad,
The passover of gladness,
The passover of God.
From death to life eternal,
From sin's dominion free,
Our Christ has brought us over
With hymns of victory.

Let hearts be purged of evil
That we may see aright
The Lord in rays eternal
Of resurrection light
And, list'ning to His accents,
May hear, so calm and plain,
His own "All hail!" and, hearing,
May raise the victor strain.

Now let the heav'ns be joyful,
Let earth its song begin,
Let all the world keep triumph
And all that is therein.
Let all things, seen and unseen,
Their notes of gladness blend;
For Christ the Lord has risen,
Our joy that has no end.

All praise to God the Father,
All praise to God the Son,
All praise to God the Spirit,
Eternal Three in One!
Let all the ransomed number
Fall down before the throne
And honor, pow'r and glory
Ascribe to God alone!

The Day of Resurrection, John of Damascus, John Mason Neale, trans.

Calvary, Andrea Montegna

What punishment so strange is suffered yonder!
The Shepherd dies for sheep that loved to wander;
The Master pays the debt His servants owe Him,
Who would not know Him.

The sinless Son of God must die in sadness;
The sinful child of man may live in gladness;
Man forfeited his life and is acquitted;
God is committed.

O wondrous love, whose depth no heart hath sounded,
That brought Thee here, by foes and thieves surrounded!
All worldly pleasures, heedless, I was trying
While Thou wert dying.

For vainly doth our human wisdom ponder—-
Thy woes, Thy mercy, still transcend our wonder.
Oh, how should I do aught that could delight Thee!
Can I requite Thee?

But since my strength will nevermore suffice me
To crucify desires that still entice me,
To all good deeds, oh, let Thy Spirit win me
And reign within me!

O Dearest Jesus, What Law Hast Thou Broken, sel. verses, Johann Heermann, Catherine Winkworth, trans.

Leave the tricks to the magicians

Folks, if a woman shares with you that she's been praying for another child, the correct response is, "I'll pray for you, too."  Please no more advice about strategically placed pillows, or tracking and charting of temperatures and discharge (gross!), or trips to the doctors to discuss special pills, or relaxing about it because she's still young.  Say, "I'll pray for you, too."

Chances are, she's already feeling enough guilt over the matter already, whether because she's gained some weight, or she had to have a c-section, or she used the pill for too long, or because she thinks she's being punished by God.  Whatever her reason is, don't add to her guilt by making her think she doing something else wrong.  She's burdened by the Law, she's feeling the weight of sin.  She's living daily with a body she feels is defective and is afraid she's the cause.  Share with her the Gospel she needs to hear.  Remind her of God's steadfast love, and his enduring mercy.  Then do as you said you'd do, and pray.

He will see to it

Every woman has her own fears about childbirth, and I suspect that for most women, they increase with every additional pregnancy.  After I gave birth, all I could think about was what would happen the next time- VBAC, with its risk of failure, ruptured uterus, and slight chance of death; or repeat c-section with its risks of placental previa, ectopic pregnancies, cystectromy., and slight risk of death.  I agonized over this hypothetical next time for several months. 

Once my shock wore off, I stopped googling, and I realized just how foolish I'd been.  After all, when we stopped using birth control, it was because we trusted that our merciful God would take care of our family.  How foolish then, to assume that he would stop caring for us just because my sin-worn body failed at a critical moment, and a doctor had to step in and save the life of me and my child.  How senseless, indeed, to presume that we would now be left to care for things on our own.  How selfish to imagine that my own existence would be vital to my family's perseverance.

It is much simpler to continue trusting his mercy, and believe that if he grants us more children, and we fervently pray that he will, he will see us through its accompanying trials, however grave or trivial.  For if the Lord has seen me safely thus far, far be it from me to think that even in death he would not care for his sheep.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;

in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;

my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,

or let your holy one see corruption.
     Psalm 16:5-11

The Beginnings of Birth Pains

Know now that this is a quasi birth story.  "Quasi" in that I'm only recounting a portion of it, and none of it describes the actual delivery.  But it is a birth story nevertheless, and at no point do I ponder the miraculous nature of my son's arrival, but rather, the despair I felt leading up to it, and immediately following.  Read if you wish.



I remember very little of my experience in the hospital after the birth of my son.  I'm sure it has something to do with the anaphylaxis I experienced shortly after the emergency c-section.  That is, I think it was shortly after the c-section, but the timeline of events in my head often doesn't line up with what I know to be true. What I do recall most vividly are all the confusing and terrifying moments- throwing up all over myself and the bed, then submitting to the mercy of the kind nurses to clean me up; feeling my neck stiffen, my tongue swell, and hearing my speech begin to slur; falling asleep watching my husband give my son a bottle because I was physically unable to stay awake to nurse him; waking up and hearing my doctor say I probably wouldn't be able to give birth naturally.

Perhaps the most distinct memory is driving the four-mile stretch of road between our house and hospital while in labor.  Feeling my body catch fire as each contraction ripped across my abdomen, then sinking in cold when it finally passed. Noticing that we caught all the red lights on the way, and cursing the Streets and Roads Committee who placed four-way stops at every intersection in town.  Wanting desperately to arrive some place where someone could do something to stop all the pain I was feeling.  There was no glory in this ride, no happy thoughts about the child that would be, no bearing my pains with patient endurance.  There was just the abiding pain, the fear of death, and realization of my own weakness.

I get to relive this drive every Sunday on the way to church, and the way home.  All the while, I can't help but think this is what brings forth new life- this disarming pain, and this crippling fear. Should God see fit to grant us more children, this is what it will take.  I doubt I will ever be prepared to face that drive again, save for the mercy of God.

Kyrie, eleison.

Death, I now decry you!

"For I know that my Redeemer lives,

and at the last he will stand upon the earth.

And after my skin has been thus destroyed,

yet in my flesh I shall see God,

whom I shall see for myself,

and my eyes shall behold, and not another.

My heart faints within me!"

Job 19:25-27

Good Christians, fear

There's a school I know that, until recently, had a problem keeping their baby Jesus in the manger of their Nativity display.  It seems that some of its students had a problem with him being on display, and would steal him each year from the manger, to be returned on Christmas Eve.  After many attempts at reasoning with the students, and even threatening expulsion, the school finally came to the conclusion that if they wanted their baby Jesus on display, they had best find a way to make him permanent.   And so, this year, the baby Jesus was nailed to the manger.

There's a beautiful hymn in our Lutheran hymnals that is sung during the Christmas season in churches, and as a Christmas carol.  It paints a lovely picture of the manger scene- Mary holding the sleeping baby Jesus on her lap, the angels singing and the shepherds keeping watch.  "Good Christians, fear;" the hymn pleads- "for sinners here/the silent Word is pleading." And then comes the line that gives this hymn its meaning, its fullness, its depth; that tells us exactly why we ought to fear; and yet, so many want to cut it out.  "Nails, spear shall pierce him through,/the cross be borne for me, for you."

Without this line, the hymn is worthless.  The Christmas season is worthless.  I know it detracts from all the good feelings we want to be feeling- how good we are for getting such wonderful presents for our families, how merry we are to be spending time with our loved ones, how sweet a newborn child is.  But folks, unless we remember that the sweet little baby grew up to be nailed to a tree, Christmas is foolish.  Our good feelings are all we have, and we'll feel them fade as soon as a child scoffs at the gifts, a loved one dies, or Lent rolls around.  The coming season finds its worth and value not in a newborn babe, but in the grown man who died for us to give us hope a beyond the merriment of our festivities and our emotional highs. 

So rejoice! Your Savior is nigh!  And fear, good Christians; fear.  For Christmas isn't Christmas until we've driven the nails through Jesus.

Garaunteed!! Or your money back?

It seems that we're all to ready to answer someone who's sharing her misgivings about her life with meaningless babble instead of recognizing her burdens as they are- the weight of sin upon her- and giving her the reassurance that can only come from the cross.  Whether she's wondering if she'll ever marry, be blessed with another child (or a child), if she'll ever get a good night's sleep, or whether she'll feel confident about the decisions she's made as a mother or wife, the correct answer is not, "Oh, it will happen."  Or even, "Give it time."  It's most definitely not, "It will happen when you least expect it."  

Unless, of course, you've had some dream or vision that you are certain is from God himself that sheds light on the future of the woman, and you have been given clear revelation about the meaning of said dream or vision.  If that's the case, then, by all means, lead the woman to believe that her trial is going to be over soon.  But if you're like the rest of us, who flounder through life without the vision and dreams, then please, point her instead to the only things that can be guaranteed:  that Christ loves her, and shed his blood for her, and will come again to redeem this world and everything in it, including her; and until then, he will sustain her in his Holy Supper, and with his life-giving Word.

The Illusion of Control

The woman who finds her body torn by yet another child, the woman who longs to feel her womb fill with life, and her breasts grow heavy with milk, and the woman who grieves for the life she carried, but lost too early; these women know that infertility treatments and contraception only give us the illusion of control, but it is the Lord who giveth and the Lord who taketh away. And with them I say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

What Mary Saw

What Mary Saw, George Denninger

"The world looked at Jesus' tomb and saw a dead man, a lost cause, abject poverty.

The Magdalene saw the beginning of a promise fulfilled"

It's that time of year again

Jesus, I will ponder now
On Thy holy Passion;
With Thy Spirit me endow
For such meditation.
Grant that I in love and faith
May the image cherish
Of Thy suffering, pain, and death,
That I may not perish.

Grant that I Thy Passion view
With repentant grieving
Nor Thee crucify anew
By unholy living.
How could I refuse to shun
Every sinful pleasure
Since for me God's only Son

Suffered without measure?

 If my sins give me alarm
And my conscience grieve me,
Let Thy cross my fear disarm,
Peace of conscience give me.
Grant that I may trust in Thee
And Thy holy Passion.
If for me he slays his Son,
God must have compassion.

Grant that I may willingly
Bear with Thee my crosses,
Learning humbleness of Thee,
Peace mid pain and losses.
May I give Thee love for love!
Hear me, O my Savior,
That I may in heaven above
Sing Thy praise forever.


TLH 140, sel. verses
Sigismund v. Birken, 1653
Translated by: August Crull, 1923, alt.

The problem with "happy"

Whenever my mother comes to visit, she always surprises me with her enthusiasm for changing diapers.  She literally jumps at the chance to change my son's diapers.  Of course, I let her.  Most of the time, diaper changes are gross, and here, where we use cloth, they involve putting my hands into the toilet.  But as thrilled as she is to do such a dirty task, I would never go so far as to say that she enjoys changing a diaper for the mere act of changing a diaper.  Rather, I'm fairly certain that she sees it as an opportunity to bond with her grandchild, and she finds pleasure in taking care of him.

I have yet to meet a woman who would claim that changing a diaper for the sake of changing of diaper brings happiness. The act is by nature unpleasant. The joy comes from knowing that the mother is taking care of her child.

Likewise, the act of labor is by nature unpleasant.  No woman could (or, perhaps to be politically correct, as some would challenge me- few women can) could find any amount of bliss in the midst of the pain if it were not for the knowledge that she was bringing forth a new life.

And yet, we seem to think that perpetual bliss is attainable, and we set out to structure our lives in such a way that we eliminate the things that are uncomfortable, annoying, or gross, so that we can have the pleasure without having to do any of the work.

The irony here is that this requires us to push those uncomfortable tasks off on someone else.  We hire another woman to change the diapers, hang out the wash,  make the beds, and scrub the toilets.  We gladly cook the meals, but expect our husbands do the dishes.  Consequently the pursuit of happiness often comes at the expense of another's happiness.  Who could argue that a hired woman could find pleasure in the act of scrubbing a toilet?  While she may appreciate the paycheck, the tasks of her job prevent her from obtaining perpetual bliss. Structuring our lives in such a way that we force another person to do the unhappy jobs we've been given only results in a social hierarchy where certain people are allowed spend their days doing only that which brings pleasure, and the rest of the people are there to clean up their messes.



As Christians, we were never promised happiness.  We were encouraged to be content.  And, at times, we may find that being content is extraordinarily difficult, and that life is unfair.  But we were called to many and various vocations, and those vocations will require us to do the uncomfortable, annoying, and downright gross jobs that the people around us need us to do for them.  And it's because of that relationship we have with those around us that we find the satisfaction.  Our relationship with each other drives us to serve, and to serve contentedly, for it is through our service to one another that Christ is meeting the needs of his people.

Set it, and forget it!

The Witherspoon Institute has an interesting article reflecting on the Pill's 50th anniversary, and the consequences of the newer forms of contraception.  R.J. Snell argues that IUD's and hormonal implants will further separate fertility from sexuality by allowing society to more completely "forget" that fertilization is the natural purpose of our sexuality.

As an experienced pill user, I can honestly say that the pill didn't help me forget that children are the natural result of my relationship with my husband.  Rather, it helped me remember that children were the unwanted natural result of our relationship.  I worked hard to remember that little pill, and if I forgot, we worked hard to remember Plan B.

With the newer forms of birth control, I wouldn't have had to remember to take that darned pill every day.  As Ron Popeil would say, I could "Set it, and Forget it!"  Not only could I forget about remembering to take my pill, I could forget that I was trying to prevent children from intruding on my marriage, and my marriage bed.  I would never have to think about how I denying myself one of God's greatest blessings.

At least with the pill, I had a daily reminder that I was actively trying to prevent children.  At least with the pill, I had to question each month if I should refill my prescription. At least with the pill, I could opt out of contraception without having to make an appointment with my gynecologist.  At least with the pill, there was a chance I would consider the consequences of my decisions.

Get the full article from the Witherspoon Institute here.