Celebrity Sightings by Lorraine Triggs

I was in the gift shop at the Art Institute of Chicago when I spotted the film star. I grabbed some random Monet note cards and made my way to the register for a closer look. Okay, maybe shorter than he was in his films, older, too, but it had to be him.

I stepped out of line to find my husband—any good Californian would know a film star when he saw one. My husband glanced at the man. “No, it’s not him.”

Seriously? You could tell from one look? I forced him to walk around the register a couple more times to be sure. “No, it’s not him.”

Another occasion, we were outside a theater in London, trying to decide which performance of Shakespeare’sThe Winter’s Taleto attend. With neither watch nor device, we asked a man standing near us for the time. We chatted about the play—one of my husband’s favorites—and then brought our tickets.

Talk about a celebrity sighting that evening. The man we had talked to turned out to be one of the major characters in the play, and we were totally clueless that we had spoken with a real live celebrity.

Wil told me of a time when he was in college. At a park in Los Angeles, a family on vacation, probably from the midwest, sheepishly approached him. and asked for an autograph. 

"What?" he asked. 

"We know who you are," the mother said, her voice trembling slightly. Wil asked her who they thought he was and she said, "You're Kenny Loggins." [a popular singer at the time.]

He told the family that he wasn't Kenny Loggins. They lingered. The children looked at him, awestruck. They followed him. They approached him again. The mother broke away from the family and came up to him. "We understand that you want your privacy," she said. "We respect that, but we're just thrilled that we got to see a real celebrity. So thank you."

We live in a celebrity culture--Hollywood, Capitol Hill, the church. Merriam-Webster defines a celebrity as a famous or celebrated person.

So no one has ever confused my husband with Jesus, but one family was sure that he was Kenny Loggins.

As Christians, though more conscientious about morals and values than Hollywood and Capitol Hill, we celebrate trendy pastors, authors, speakers, musicians, athletes, actors turned Christian. And when they prove true the blunt assessment of the Apostle Paul in Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” we find it easier to ignore Paul and coddle the celebrated ones who really didn’t mean to mess up.

When the prophet Nathan confronted David about his sin, David clearly stated, “I have sinned against the Lord.” That was it. He didn’t step down as king for a season of retreat and reflection, but he did write a prayer of contrition. “For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight.”  (Psalm 51:3, 4). When he confessed, David wasn’t looking for a standing ovation from God’s people. He had his eyes on something, no, someone who was abundant in mercy and steadfast love. Someone worth celebrating.

Perhaps that’s my problem with our Christian celebrity culture. We so easily look at each other and see oversized versions of ourselves. I think of the most lauded preacher, the best-selling author, people I admire in one way or another. But honestly, none of us are really that special. We need to be more like Job when he said to God, "Behold, I am of small account. . . " (Job 40:4, ASV) As my small account self takes in the Savior, the worthy Lamb, my soul increases in its love and awe of Jesus, who exceeds our expectations, meets our every need and never lets us down.

Let's shake the "star"dust from our eyes, and gaze on the beauty, grace and light of Jesus. May people see more of him and less of us in 2023.

New Year's Resolution: See More Theater by Wil Triggs

In the land of Narnia, at the beginning of the Chronicles, the creatures and the land faced a situation described as always winter, but never Christmas. A cold and dark world it was.
 
But what about when it’s winter and then it’s Christmas and then it’s . . . what?
 
When I was a kid, the week after Christmas and before New Year’s was pretty great. No school, new toys, flannel pajamas, fudge and See’s candy and other good foods lingering from Christmas.
 
All seemed well. People headed home for where they gathered with family and friends. It might have been across town or across the country or even some other part of the world. The newborn King was safe and sound in the manger. The family goes back to Nazareth, and everybody lives happily ever after. For us, New Year’s follows Christmas. The tree comes down. We pack up our ornaments and lights and put them in the basement or the garage for another year. Think football games, and parades and finger foods. Life begins again with resolutions and resolves to live a better life in the year to come than in the year just ended.
 
But after Christmas in the Gospels, that’s not the way it worked out.
 
The Magi had told Herod of the good news of the birth from the line of David, and he encouraged them on their way. Eventually the Magi show up with their gifts—that’s where the 12 days of Christmas come from, so they got to see Jesus. I think it probably took them a lot longer than 12 days. Afterwards, the dreams and warnings came, and they opted to avoid the Herod expressway and take back roads back home for fear of Herod’s wrath.
 
They weren’t the only ones with a king-sized problem. Mary and Joseph didn’t just leave Bethlehem and head home to Nazareth like I imagined. Instead, Herod began killing babies to make sure his reign was safe from whatever kind of king he feared had come. Instead of going back to their home, Joseph, Mary and Jesus opted to go to Egypt. Mothers started to wail tears of grief. It was brutal. Did Herod think he had succeeded in killing Jesus when all those boys died?
 
The people who lost their sons, grandsons, nephews, is it any wonder that they were looking for some kind of release from the rule under which they lived? I’m sure that kind of grief didn’t just fade away. The government could do anything it wanted to them and did.
 
The brutal tyranny of man at war with the humble way of God’s love. In hymn speak, “This is My Father’s World” was having a little tussle with “This World is Not My Home.” Roman rule did not just go away. But there is a different world at work. Then and now, and not only the present and the past, but also future.
 
In his book The Heart in Pilgrimage, in the chapter “The World as Theater of God’s Glory,” Lee Ryken writes of John Calvin and the wonders of the created world. “God’s glory is on display,” he writes. “We are spectators of it. It is in the nature of a theatrical performance that a dynamic interaction exists between the audience and the performers.”
 
This is a celebration of faith observing the natural world and all its creative wonder. But I can’t help but misapply it. First to see more theater and more nature in 2023 and second to think of Calvin’s words not in relation to the natural world, but the fallen world and its connection or disconnection to the world to come. As things seem to be in decline, we know who will prevail and rule and make new. This is the ultimate theater where Satan is vanquished and a new acts begins.
 
I can see Nigerian people of the church emerging from their hiding places in the bush to go back to their villages, the church that was burned down in Nigeria rebuilt, and I can hear the beautiful African voices singing of the love better than all other loves combined.
 
The Christian man in another country whose work partners were martyred finding new office space in a different town, working with them together on a new project, a magazine celebrating the peace of God in every language of the universe.
 
The men who used to kidnap, torture, even kill, now serving those they once held captive, their eyes open to the loving and forgiving God who became the object of their repentance and worship. There they sit, side by side, in joy and fraternal fellowship.
 
The lion lies down with the lamb. Happy new year.

Books We Loved 2022

BEST BOOKS 2022

We asked ministry staff and elected leaders to share favorite books they read in 2022. Here is the complete list.

Josue Alvarado, pastoral resident

The Cross of Christ by John Stott

Stott helps us to see how the cross is central to the gospel in a profound but simple way.

Cheryce Berg, director of children’s ministries

Holier Than Thou by Jackie Hill Perry

Jackie writes, “[B]ecause God is holy, all that He says is true and all that He does is good....Hear this: God’s words and works can be trusted because it is impossible for God to sin against you.”

Mark Berg, elder

Beyond Entrepreneurship 2.0 by Jim Collins

Classic business book—profound concepts made accessible and applicable

O Jerusalem by Laurie King

Fiction, 1920s, Sherlock Homes & Mary Russell 

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir

Science fiction—very creative

No Little People by Francis Schaeffer

A collection of Schaeffer sermons—a classic

Jay Cunningham, deacon

Created to Flourish by Peter Greer

This book opened my eyes even more to the amazing impact that Hope International (and other micro finance organizations) have had by helping the poorest of the poor to get lifted out of poverty by creating very small businesses. Trust groups, populated mostly by women, serve to not only teach simple skills like saving and investing, but also are the central place where the gospel is shared and lives are changed. This is a strongly hopeful book.

This Land of Snow: A Journey Across the North in Winter by Anders Morley

This memoir of a young man’s cross-country ski trip from the Pacific Coast of British Columbia to Central Canada was a fascinating read. The writing is strong, and the use of language and analogy is captivating. I was excited to read a book by a fellow Taylor University grad...but I was disappointed in the end to learn that Morley no longer believes in God and much of the book’s introspective nature tended toward selfishness and how others had disappointed him in his life. He also had a patronizing view of women. But if you like snow or skiing or nature...there’s a lot in here that is beautiful. 

Affirming the Apostles’ Creed by J.I. Packer

This delightful, short book is well worth a read. Packer provides the history of this central Christian creed, breaking each line into a jam-packed theological package of the wonders
of God. This book helped really appreciate what we recite at College Church on a Sunday morning, and taught me how creeds are one key way to pass down theological truths from generation to generation.

Patrick Fallon, deacon

You Can Trust God to Write Your Story: Embracing the Mysteries of Providence by Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth and Robert Wolgemuth

Wonderfully moving stories of how God can and does work through the biggest challenges of live.

A Dozen Things God Did with Your Sin and Three Things He’ll Never Do by Sam Storms

Do you ever question your salvation? Read this book to learn more deeply what God has done for you!

Randy Jahns, elder

Strange New World by Carl R. Trueman

The Lord’s Work in the Lord’s Way and No Little People by Francis A Schaeffer

Ken Heulitt

Galatians by Martin Luther

This is central to Luther’s transformative understanding of grace in Christ. Theodore Graebner’s translation/abridgement (GLH Publishing) is
powerful and lively.

My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok

Potok has many superb stories of orthodox Jewish young men coming to adulthood.  Asher Lev is an artistic genius who is conflicted between his artistic passions and his orthodox faith.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I’m thankful to return to this delightful story after many years. It truly is a classic.

Amy Kruis, deaconess

The Boys in the Boat: Nine Americans and Their Epic Quest for Gold at the 1936
Berlin Olympics by Daniel James Brown

Everything Sad Is Untrue: (a true story) by Daniel Nayeri

Blessed: Experiencing the Promise of the Book of Revelation by Nancy Guthrie

Elizabeth Larsen, evangelism and culture impact committee

Faithfully Different by Natasha Crain

Ann Lawrenz, deaconess

Ten Words To Live by Jen Wilkin

An in-depth look at the Ten Commandments by one of my favorite Christian writers. As Jen states lawfulness is Christlikeness.

Jesus the King: Understanding the Life and Death of the Son of God by Tim Keller

I read this book as an accompaniment to my reading of the gospel of Mark this summer.

Jack by Marilynne Robinson

The fourth book in Robinson’s Gilead series addresses racism and inequality and its effect on the lives of Jack Boughton and Della Miles.

A Week In the Life of a Roman Centurion by Gary Burge

First century Capernaum is the setting for this historical depiction of the life of a Roman centurion, his slave Tullus and his encounter with Jesus.

Sarah Lindquist, evangelism & culture impact committee

What to Say When: The Complete New Guide to Discussing Abortion by Shawn Carney and Steve Karlen

Very clear, easy read. Appreciated listening to authors answer audience questions https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kCg0nz61NLs

A Church Called TOV: Forming a Goodness Culture by Laura Barringer and Scot McKnight

Josh Maurer, pastor of discipleship

The Genesis of Gender: A Christian Theory by Abigail Favale

Embodied: Transgender Identities, the Church, and What the Bible Has to Say by Preston Sprinkle

Evangelism as Exiles: Life on Mission as Strangers in Our Own Land by Elliot Clark

A Theology of Paul and His Letters: The Gift of the New Realm in Christ by Douglas Moo

Richard Moomjian, pastoral resident

The God of the Garden by Andrew Peterson

Sarah Nelson, deaconess

The Word Is Murder by Anthony Horowitz

I enjoy this author. He gives clues to the murder that give him humor, and entertains and helps me be part of solving who the killer is.

The Wright Brothers by David McCullough

I enjoy this author. When he passed away, I wanted to enjoy one of his books. McCullough knows how to tell
a good story.

Jeff Oslund, elder

Letters to My Students by Charles Hadden Spurgeon

Spiritual Leadership by J. Oswald Sanders

Everyday Holiness: Becoming Who You Were Made to Be by Josh Moody

Born Again This Way by Rachel Gilson

Harry Robinson, board of missions

Amazed by Jesus by Simon Ponsonby

After 30 years in ministry, Simon Ponsonby found himself asking the question, “Do I love Jesus, or do I just work for him?” Somehow in the midst of faithful and busy ministry he reflects that his awe for the Savior became blurred. This book points us to Jesus in a refreshing way, and certainly led me to once again be “Amazed by Jesus.”

Melinda Rynbrandt, director of women’s ministries

The End of the Christian Life: How Embracing our Mortality Frees us To Truly Live by J. Todd Billings

David Setran, elder

Suffering: Gospel Hope When Life Doesn’t Make Sense by Paul Tripp

An Infinite Journey: Growing Toward Christlikeness by Andrew Davis

Simple Discipleship: Grow Your Faith, Transform Your Community by Dana Allin

 With All Your Heart: Orienting Your Mind, Desires, and Will Toward Christ by A. Craig Troxel

Suzanne Shirley, midweek morning superintendent (Kids Korner)

Made for More by Hannah Anderson 

You’re Not Enough (and that’s ok) by Allie Beth Stuckey

When the Day Comes by Gabrielle Meyer

Tanglewood Secrets by Patricia St. John

Nancy Singer, director of administration and finance

Faith Based Fraud by Warren Cole Smith

Fraud happens all around us, but as Christians, we generally think that it won’t happen in the world of Christ followers. Time and time again, Christian leaders all around us perpetrate fraud against the Christ-followers in their churches as well as in the general public. Reading what has happened in the past can help us prevent such frauds in the future.

Carol Taylor, deaconess

Still Life and the entire Inspector Gamache series by Louise Penny

I am one book away from listening to the entire soon to be 18 book series, having just starred in July. I’m hooked!

Wil Triggs director of communications

Do You Pray? by J. C. Ryle

This is the book my small group is studying now—really enjoy our discussion.

Wisdom of the Ancients by Bryan Liftin

Another title I read in community—this time with the summer book group.

The Heart in Pilgrimage by Leland Ryken

A Christmas Heretic by Lorraine Triggs

Fairly confident that our choice of preschool for our four-year-old would never appear on his résumé, we landed on the park district preschool. Our choice was bolstered by the teachers, Miss Jan and Miss Karen, who were friends from church. We knew he would be in good hands.

As Christmas came, Jan and Karen invited me to talk to the children about one of our Christmas traditions—one that was especially meaningful to our family. I got the hint. As park district employees, Miss Jan and Miss Karen had to exercise caution in what they said. As a parent, I could throw caution to the wind, and I did, packing up our Nativity set to show the children.

Our crèche was beautiful and to scale—five inches to be exact, with Mary, Joseph, the baby in the manger, a shepherd, two lambs and an angel hanging above the serene scene. At one point, we purchased a shepherdess carrying a lamb. Unfortunately, she was 7.5 inches tall and loomed large over the Holy Family, so she didn’t come to preschool with me that afternoon.

As I pulled out the Nativity set, piece by piece, I asked the children if they knew what each figure was. Fortunately, I had “plants” in the audience—my son and another four-year-old from College Church, who were eager to tell their clueless friends who was who.

Once the scene was set, I asked the children what they liked best about Christmas. Presents. Cookies. Candy Canes. Presents. Santa. Christmas trees. Presents. Even my plants got caught up in the frenzy. When things calmed down, I said, “Did you know that we don’t need any of that stuff to have Christmas?”

Silence as 15 or so sweet faces looked at the heretic in their midst. I quickly assured them that I love all that about Christmas, but Christmas would still come even if we didn’t have presents or Santa or Christmas trees. As I talked, I removed all the pieces except for Baby Jesus, and said, “Christmas comes because of Jesus, the newborn king. We only need him.”

Christmas comes with attachments for most of us. We ask, “How are your Christmas plans coming?” or “Are you done shopping for everyone on your list?” or “Are you traveling for Christmas?” Christmas cards are cheerful recaps of accomplishments. And I won’t even mention the Christmas posts.

We know we don’t need any of that stuff to celebrate Christmas, but it’s hard to let it go. It’s hard not to fill December with, well, with everything Christmas.

The shepherds in the fields that night didn't have any plans other than watching their sheep. Mary and Joseph's travel plans went awry, and they couldn't get a room. The only ones who brought presents were still traveling. Yet they had everything and then some because the Savior, the Christ, had been born.

Jesus, the one who emptied himself and was born in the likeness of men, filled the empty ones with grace and truth and living water. He didn’t come for those who were already filled, mostly with themselves. He came to the humble, the poor in spirit, the lost, the sick, and perhaps to an awkward shepherdess, who took a few steps closer to the baby as his mother and father made room for her and her lamb around that baby’s manger.

Foot Pain by Wil Triggs

When a person walks through a day, his feet get dirty. It doesn’t matter. Shoes or no shoes. Walking through the day. It just happens. Dirt gets on our feet.
 
We don’t walk nearly as much as people used to. We have cars. If you don't have a car, there’s always public transportation. Uber. That kind of thing. Or you can always get a ride from a neighbor or co-worker. People are nice that way.
 
And then there's work. Think about people in the service industry. They have it hard. They’re on their feet all day.
 
At a restaurant, servers bring you your breakfast. Eggs and meat, your choice. Potatoes and toast. Butter and jam on the side. Or the gluten-free alternatives. Would you like a refill on that coffee? All the time on their feet.
 
You go into a store. You don’t think about it, but those people are standing up and walking around all day long. They go through the produce that comes off the trucks. They get rid of the overripe avocadoes, and line all the other ones just right, to be sure they look magically boxed up on display so you can get a good look at them and make the best choice for you. And when the avocadoes are finished, these workers move to another box just off the truck. The nicely arranged apples or pears are no accident, all of them the handiwork of someone working while on his feet.
 
The woman in the food truck not only has to stand, but also has restricted movement—just a few feet to move from window to grill and back for hours. All the while, standing. Standing on her feet.
 
I never really thought much about my feet until my right foot began to hurt. People noticed. “Why are you walking like that?” was a question I heard a lot. The doctor gave me the answer: I haveplantar fasciitisin my right foot. Standing isn’t the problem, putting weight on the foot is where the pain comes. I’ve become familiar with insets and exercises to ease the pain. When I’ve mentioned this to others, I’ve been surprised how many other people are in the same place or have recovered from this malady.
 
But even if we have no foot issues, it is a good thing to finally get home and take off our shoes and put on slippers or thick wool socks.
 
A friend of mine from college used to wash his feet every night. He said he couldn’t stand the smell otherwise. He was a big guy who could easily put each foot into one of the dorm bathroom sinks and would stand there carefully washing them with Ivory soap - every toe, top and bottom, ankles too. He faithfully did this every night.
 
The footcare industry offers us salves, softeners and soothers to help with our feet once we get home and take off our shoes.

In Jesus’s time, foot washing was a normal part of culture. How much more dirty would feet have gotten when Jesus walked through a day like we do.

Unless you work in podiatry or shoe sales, you probably don’t spend much time looking at your or anyone else’s feet. I’m thinking more about feet because of my own foot pain, but as it gets better I’ll soon stop thinking about them.
 
Yes, Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, but for now I’m thinking about the feet of Jesus and pain.
 
How many tears does it take to wash a person’s feet?
 
Consider a tear, not that much water in one or two. The woman who used her own tears to wash Jesus' feet had to have had quite a cry. There was no towel but her hair, no soap but the tears that fell from her eyes. It had to have been a lot of tears.
 
Psalm 56:8 says “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”
 
When her sorrows collided with the feet of the man of sorrows, God noticed every one. It’s true, too, for the tears we shed.
 
When we stand and walk, our feet take our full weight on themselves. But those two feet, the ones the woman cleaned with her own tears, they took the weight not only of Jesus, but the immense weight of all our sins, as he walked to and then was nailed to the cross.
 
I know the tears the woman shed were nothing compared with the blood that Jesus shed, but there is a connection, our tears and his, his feet and ours.
 
We don’t usually pay much attention to feet, with the exception of the feet of newborns. We marvel at the details, so small and perfectly shaped and new. Those two newborn incarnated feet found rest in swaddling cloths bound up in the manger of Bethlehem, coming to walk this earth for us, he walked into the wilderness, walking on mount and valley and water, then wrapped in the herbs of grief, rising to walk anew in the garden and on the road and by the sea, now sitting at the throne of heaven.

An Advent Prayer from Wendell C. Hawley

This prayer is from A Pastor Prays for His People by Wendell C. Hawley.

God of glory, God of light,
God of involvement in our predicament,
we praise you for your invasion into this fallen world—
this place of deep darkness,
this place of inexcusable rejection and unbelief.
You came, and you were not welcomed.
But the darkness can never extinguish the Light!
Praise your mighty name.
The light of the gospel has penetrated our darkened minds.
And now we see with holy appreciation some things surrounding your incarnation.
Father God, we see your presence overshadowing
the arrival of the wise men to worship Jesus.
We see your presence with the angelic chorus,
in the joyful shepherds,
in the contemplative parents,
in the beautiful baby.
But it is difficult to imagine your overshadowing presence in the soldiers’ appearance at Bethlehem.
It is in the midst of tragedy, pain, and heartache that we imagine you are absent.
This is really self-centeredness, shortsightedness,
to think that you don’t care—
that you have left us in the tough spots of life.
Isaiah makes it clear: the promised Savior will
bind up the brokenhearted,
comfort those who mourn,
give a crown of beauty for ashes
give the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.
That is your promise for each of us today.
Help us to grasp it,
appreciate it,
be changed by it,
praise God for it.
We do praise you that what you have promised you have fulfilled.
Thank you, Father, gracious Savior, blessed Holy Spirit.

Tis the Season by Lorraine Triggs

Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats and “The Journey of the Magi” by T.S. Eliot are favorites of mine. Once I discovered the later poem, especially in my college and early 20 years, every Christmas I would read and re-read it to roommates, friends, co-workers and one longsuffering mom.

My husband has the same love for Eliot’s works and would go to a small public library across the street from Biola University where he was a student to check out cassette tapes of the poet reading his "Four Quartets" over and over.

This Christmas, “The Journey of the Magi” captures some of the feelings perhaps hiding among all the merry and bright of the season.

A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.

This was not written by one of the three kings from orient far, but by an exhausted Magi worn out and unsure of where this journey was headed. Like me. My husband and I have been in a long season of an unanswered prayer that, if I were in charge, would have been answered a long time ago. And friends of ours are experiencing what seems like unanswered prayers bigger than ours--war in Ukraine, persecution in Nigeria, the untimely death of a too-young daughter. What has happened to that Kindergarten Mom from years ago whose husband came from China to study at Wheaton Graduate School and moved back to China?

Is God hearing prayer? Why doesn't. he answer in our timeframes? Why do we have to light four candles before we get to the Christ candle?

I wonder if Zechariah and Elizabeth thought the same thing. Luke 1:6 describes both as “righteous before God, walking blamelessly in all the commandments and statues of the Lord,” and then the blunt, language of verse seven: “But they had no child, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were in advanced in years.”  They couldn't blame themselves for something they had done or left undone. Their prayer was unanswered.

Righteous, blameless, barren Elizabeth was in a long season of unanswered prayer when the angel appeared not to her, but to Zechariah, announcing that their prayer had been heard. And righteous, blameless Zachariah points out his and Elizabeth’s advanced years again. Wasn’t it folly to think that they would be parents now, in their advanced years? And even in his question, was there impatience, doubt, wondering about the journey?

Eliot’s Magi thought similar things.

A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.

In seasons of unanswered prayer, in times of waiting, it’s tempting to think it’s all folly. I should just stop praying but stopping would be putting myself in charge again. I obviously know God’s going to answer. Maybe he already ihas. Why think otherwise? It makes sense to me that Zechariah asked the angel, “How shall I know this?” From his perspective, the prayer had already been answered with a no, not even a maybe so, just no. He was mistaken. God was working far beyond his prayer requests.

From the angel Gabriel’s perspective, however, the understandable human question made no sense at all. The prayer was about to be answered, the long anticipated promised about to be fulfilled, and it left Zechariah speechless, and rightly so. God’s answers to our prayers ought to leave us speechless because he is “able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think” (Ephesians 3:20). It is now tongue-loosed Zechariah who speaks of tender mercy, forgiveness of sins, light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.

This Advent, I celebrate a season of prayer, answered, unanswered, about to be answered. I have speech still, words to speak, to name names, to sing my own song of the wonder of the second candle lit.

Christmas Tree House by Wil Triggs

Going to a farm or a mountain to cut down a Christmas tree belies the tricks of human perception. A tree that looks majestic and just right while it’s firmly planted into the ground outdoors, once chopped and transported back to the home, is transformed into something altogether different. Trying to carry it into the house on its side, like a hide-a-bed or a casket, the tree is suddenly too wide, needs to be trimmed to even it out; that one branch will have to be cut off or hidden somehow. The sap we never noticed seems to be everywhere, oozing and sticking to my hand with every grasp.

It is fresh, the fresh-cut aroma filling the air, but it takes up so much space in the room that seemed more than adequate before; now suddenly, it becomes one where we think of raising the ceiling or bumping the room out into the porch outside, or at least expanding the window into a bay.

Taming the tree, getting it trimmed down and put up and then decorated and lit, is so much harder than I thought, than I imagined it to be. But it’s a tradition we enjoy every year. We make it work.

Christmas is when people try to bring God into the house, too. Like the tree, a concept to be tamed, adapted, trimmed, made to fit into the homes we’ve made, and perhaps we want to give gifts to others to express our love, however mixed with a sense of obligation.

But for many, it is only for a season, and then, when the season is over, we unplug everything and drag it out to the curb for the trash. Lights we enjoy for the season and then, gone. Back to real life.

With God, the real God, there is no in season or out of season, and no obligation to suit us.

How much more wild is God than this tree at Christmas. Maker, Creator, the One audaciously being born in a place for animals, close to the wilds, outside the cozy inn. There’s no fitting him, really, into a home, no chopping him down to size or strapping him to the top of a car. Nevertheless, we marshal on.

Then, without much warning, suddenly it seems, we’re not bringing God into our house; instead, he’s going crazy to bring us into a different house, one we don’t own or even know. All the work we’ve done to make things seem warm and welcoming, all the money we’ve spent on lights and ornaments and food, all the gifts, fall away, because there’s something else going on, something we cannot see. The dawning realization comes that our home is not our home.

We hang our Christmas art on the walls of home. The winter Grandma Moses print, a winter village full of activity, a red frame I did myself a while back, the nail and picture hanger positioned just right so it hangs evenly above our couch. There’s the painting we first saw on our honeymoon. A crippled man on the ground, his crutch cast aside as he prays in front of  a wooden cross planted in the snowy ground. In the shadows of the horizon, if you look, you can see the church emerging from the painted mists.

We drink warm spicy cider and look out at the snow falling magically, the twinkling icicles from gutters shining. Time to make our ice cream sauce to give away.

From the manger to the garden, it’s different for him. There’s no room for the newborn, no place for him to lay his head, no dwelling to call his home.

Jesus drinks from a different cup, so different that he asks not to drink it. But drink he does, and then stretches out his arms, open-palmed and rests them on the tree, braced to receive the nails.

And the wild treehouses of heaven, nestled along the singing river of life, places we’ve never seen, music we’ve never heard, doors with wreaths on them made from thorny dry branches woven round like crowns with bells and the handwritten parchment greeting: welcome.