Avent Cloaked in Mystery by Lorraine Triggs

“Do you know what the five most sinful cities are in the U.S.?” Wil asked me the other day.

“New York? Chicago? LA?” For sure those were the top three.

Well, one out of three isn’t bad. According to the article Wil read in the Christian Post, the five most sinful cities in America are:

Number 5: Atlanta

Number 4: Philadelphia

Number 3: Los Angeles

Number 2: Houston

Number 1: the original Sin City—Las Vegas

Chicago and New York City didn’t even make the top ten according to the WalletHub’s Vice Index study the Christian Post article cited. The study’s baseline for sinful behavior was anger and hatred, jealousy, excesses and vices, greed and lust—the Seven Deadly Sins.

As part of its study, WalletHub pondered, “What leads many of us to partake in sinful behavior may seem like a mystery, especially when those behaviors become common in our daily lives.”  

If sinful behavior is a mystery, then God’s Word has already revealed whodunit and the motive for our bent to sinning. The Apostle Paul explained it in Romans 5:12, “Therefore, just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned.” Or as the New England Primer put it, A is for Adam as in “In Adam’s Fall We Sinned All.”

Sin and Advent aren’t incompatible.

Advent is also a mystery, a mystery wrapped in promise—a mystery first given to “A is for Adam” et al; then whispered to the prophets that a virgin would conceive a son whose name would be Immanuel, that an insignificant town would bring forth the one to be ruler in Israel, and that people living in the most sinful cities in the world would see a great light.

Advent is mystery wrapped in the Son’s name, Immanuel—God with us—and revealed when the Word, who was with God and was God, became flesh and dwelt among us, which remains a wondrous mystery to me.

If in “Adam’s Fall We Sinned All”, then in Jesus how “much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the free gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man Jesus Christ.” (Romans 5:17)

To those who sit in deep darkness in the most sinful places in the world, to those who sit in the murky shadows of sin and to those who don’t think they are sitting in darkness at all, Advent is gift-wrapped in life and light—there for us to open, to receive, to believe and become sons and daughters of God.

As we walk through Advent this month, let’s ponder and treasure in our hearts this gift from “the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.”

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of Righteousness!
Light and life to all he brings,
risen with healing in his wings.
Mild he lays his glory by,
born that we no more may die,
born to raise us from the earth,
born to give us second birth.

Thanksgiving Weekend by Wil Triggs

What gain has the worker from his toil? I have seen the business that God has given to the children of man to be busy with. He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man's heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God's gift to man. Eccl. 3:9-13

Leaves raked, blown, bagged or composted. Remember when we used to set them aflame. Looking back, it seemed more of a community act than what we do today. Remember the blue haze when we built fires in the curbside or makeshift firepit. This was the way leaves were handled.

Now we line up brown bags along the street. Or compost the lot into flowerbeds.

Think about other ways that things were done and are, for the most part, not done any longer. 

The hand-tied bow tie, ever so slightly askew, meant authentic.

The three-piece suit with with a special pocket in the vest for a pocket watch.

The pocket watch.

The suit measured and tailored in a downtown shop—Gaede’s or Horsley’s in Wheaton; Dean Olson’s in Glen Ellyn.

From percolate to drip to press to pour—things have a way of changing.

As you walk in the doors of Starbucks, remember this is where Sandberg’s used to be. 

Or when you choose which kind of pizza you’d like, think of the watercolor tubes or school supplies you used to pick up there. 

Maybe you’re enjoying a sit-down meal where you used to buy bakery cookies or a birthday cake. 

Today you can watch a play where people used to wait in line to deposit their paychecks on Friday.

And there’s coffee roasting where—I don’t know what was back in that alley before.

Where some cars used to get their oil changed, people enjoy burgers, fries and beer.

You can phone an old friend and discover a new bagel shop.

You can buy doughnuts where you used to get Chinese food.

Or Mexican food in what used to be a department store.

 You can still check out books where you used to check out books. 

You can still eat your lunch in the same parks.

You can still wait in line at the meat market.

You can still visit at visitations or grieve with those who grieve on the same corner.

 And you can still get popcorn where you used to get popcorn.

You can still get luminaria supplies at Ace.

You can still worship God where you used to worship God. 

You can still pray wherever you pray.

 One day a parking lot might become your bedroom.

One day your creperie might become a halal shop.

One day your bedroom might become a closet in a luxury condominium.

One day your place of work might turn into a dog-grooming salon.

 Change happens not just in buildings or towns.

We change too, summer yellows to autumn browns,

Spring bulb loves, summer families nest,

Autumn faith harvest, winter servant rest.

It could be that loving people and God—

A thing that always seems a little odd

Is the most normal and right thing we’ll ever do—

This is how you become the real you.

 Everything that was, is or will be

Speaks of more than just community—

The buildings are not what you really see

People are the buildings of eternity.

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life—the life was made manifest, and we have seen it, and testify to it and proclaim to you the eternal life, which was with the Father and was made manifest to us—that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us; and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ.
1 John 1:1-3

Treasuring My Treasures by Lorraine Triggs

I scroll through my online newspaper, and see a pop-up ad that asks, “Can you retire on five million dollars?” I start to panic. I don’t know if I can retire on five million dollars. I didn’t think I needed five million dollars to retire, but I do now, thanks to the marketers who know my age demographic.

As I stress about this hypothetical five million dollars, I wonder what happened to my wide-eyed innocent eighteen-year-old self—the one who, when asked how she planned on paying for her college education, replied cheerfully, “I don’t know, but I was accepted.”

The finance office was clueless to the treasure my widowed mother had given to my sisters and me: trust the heavenly Father and his care for birds, flowers, widows and the poor. The office, however, was looking for more tangible treasure from me when it came to paying my school bill at this fine Christian institution.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus is clear about treasure. If it were a pop-up ad, perhaps it would ask, “Is your treasure on earth moth-eaten and corroded? In danger of being stolen?” I can imagine anxious people clicking on the ad, but what would they do with Jesus’ reply: “Do not lay up for yourself treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure it, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:19-21)

The word “treasure” is both a noun and a verb. The noun is the treasure chest overflowing with sparkling coins and possessions; the verb is what we hold as dear or cherished—relationships, children, grandchildren, status, country, achievements, ourselves.

Both reveal hearts still tethered to storing up treasures on earth, even though we know that stuff fades; cars die the first sub-zero day of winter; old oak trees fall on houses; relationships get messy; children wander as adults; achievements have a shelf life.

Instead of hoarding all our treasures, what if we emptied the treasure chest, singing as we did:

Riches I heed not, nor vain, empty praise;
Thou mine inheritance, now and always.
Thou and thou only, first in my heart,
High King of Heaven, my treasure thou art.

And the next time a retirement pop-up ad asks me if I can retire on five million dollars? I will reply cheerfully, “No, and I don’t need to.”

So much for that five million dollars.

Specialization and the Soul by Wil Triggs

Lorraine closed the car door on her finger one morning this summer. She opened the door immediately to undo or at least stop what she had done. There was no undoing it. We drove to work, and she tried to soldier on. She took a painkiller and applied pressure but finally made her own appointment at the medical clinic and drove herself the three minutes it took to get there from work.

Our primary care doctor was not in, so another doctor saw her. He said it looked bad. I think she already knew that. He said to get stitches she would have to go to immediate care in the next town. They would x-ray it, too. Apparently that particular medical clinic didn’t do stitches.

Lorraine came back to work, and I drove her to the second clinic.

We found the right department: Urgent care.

The first person to see her finger, not sure if she was a nurse or an aide or an assistant, asked what happened. Lorraine explained and showed her the finger. She looked at the finger and said it looked bad.

The doctor came in and agreed that it looked bad. He said that they would be recording our time together to make reporting easier. He would do the stitches after an x-ray. The doctor expressed surprise that a car door could do such damage. He was pretty sure there was no fracture, but the tech escorted her down the hall and took the pictures. Lorraine came back and the doctor did the stitches—four on front and three back of the finger, her middle figure, what, we learned, some in the medical field call “the driver’s finger.”

That person who saw Lorraine agreed with the doctor that she would need to see an orthopedic doctor. She showed us how to wrap the finger and put a brace around it. They made an appointment for us at another clinic a little farther away, along with a follow-up appointment with them.

The day before the scheduled appointment with the orthopedist, his office called and said that he had to cancel because this doctor didn’t work on fingers.

When we went back for her follow-up appointment, the clinic people seemed upset with us that we had cancelled. We explained that the doctor didn’t work on fingers. “Why did you make the appointment with him?” they asked. We didn’t, we replied, you did.

They left the room.

When they came back, they explained that the appointment-making screen in their software allowed them to pick an orthopedic doctor, but it did not show their specialties or limitations. They made a new appointment with a different doctor who, they assured us, definitely would treat a finger—Lorraine’s in particular.

Lorraine had good sessions with the doctor and physical therapy for her finger, and I am happy to report that it’s as good as new.

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;

heal me, O Lord, for my bones are troubled. Psalm 6:2

In our fallen world, I think that we are prone to fall under the same specialization limitations with our souls as with our injured physical bodies.

We are adept at recognizing and handling certain sin injuries. We specialize in seeing the bad in others, offering counsel to them, praying with them. In the comfort of our narrowed perspective, we easily overlook the sin that is closer to us than any other person can ever be. In that private room where only we and God can go, we leave quickly, closing the door behind us and forgetting the treatment for our souls, only to go on dishing out wisdom and insight we think other sinners need. May each of us find our own Nathan, and may he be strong enough to say, “You are the man.”

We can often look at a person and see that something has happened and it’s bad. Or at first glance it doesn’t seem too bad, and then the x-ray comes back and there’s a fracture. Or maybe we see a problem but are not able to apply the sutures to stop the bleeding and help it begin to heal. We often think we know the answer and can ably treat the poor souls around us. But then there’s the problem of our own, you know, the S word. Sin. Or the D word. Death.

I want a doctor who specializes in everything, one who knows all my bones and muscles, one who knows every one of my organs, my blood and how my brain works, all my nerves and their ends. He makes house calls and when I have to go to his office, I find him there. And he doesn’t call what he does “practice.” There is no specialization needed. No trips to multiple locations. No insurance authorization. Jesus is more than enough. I want God!

Something has happened and it’s bad. But something else has happened that is good, and his good when applied to our bad wins every time. Let this good news go out to all. Praise him. Bless him. Live and walk today with him.

Let this be recorded for a generation to come,
    so that a people yet to be created may praise the Lord:
that he looked down from his holy height;
    from heaven the Lord looked at the earth,
to hear the groans of the prisoners,
    to set free those who were doomed to die,
that they may declare in Zion the name of the Lord,
    and in Jerusalem his praise,
when peoples gather together,
    and kingdoms, to worship the Lord.

Psalm 102:18-22

That Judgment Thing by Lorraine Triggs

No parenting book will ever prepare you for the sheer terror of sitting in the passenger seat of your car with your teenage son or daughter behind the wheel for the first time.

A few years before our son would sit in that enviable seat, he asked me why I sometimes waited for a car to go by before I turned, and other times I didn’t. I explained that the longer you drive the more you learn to judge the speed of the car, the road conditions—all that wise driving advice. Advice that came to fruition when he did have his learner’s permit and uttered what has now become a family classic, “You know, I’d be a good driver except for that judgment thing.”

And I’d be a good Christian except for that judgment thing.

The online dictionary defines judgment as an opinion or decision that is based on careful thought. All is well until I take a thoughtful and careful look at my heart, and see a mixed bag of judgments, with most of them being of the “snap” kind. A driver waits till the last minute to merge to one lane. “Can’t they read? Lane. Narrows. Merge. Left.”  A news notification pops up, and in the brief time that it’s on my screen, I pass judgment on the entire world. A neighbor’s yard is overgrown, and the trash bins sit in front of the garage. Fortunately, I don’t have to pass judgment on this one; I can call the Village of Winfield for this gross miscarriage of home ownership.

Just yesterday, the New York Times posted an article by Jancee Dunn, “How to Stop Being So Judgy.” Wrote Dunn, “We pass judgment all the time, and sometimes we don’t realize we’ve done it. Research suggests that when people see a new face, their brains decide whether that person is attractive and trustworthy within one-tenth of a second.”  That’s impressive timing for spotting a speck in someone’s eye.

Dunn turned to experts for advice on how to catch yourself from being overly judgmental. Their advice: Notice when you’re judging (one expert said it might require a “vigilant eye”); explore your reaction; and swap judgment for curiosity and empathy.

God’s Word has a different take on this expert advice.

In Matthew 7:1-5, Jesus painted a ludicrous picture of the vigilant eye. “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye?” (vv. 3-4)

Even the most vigilant eye has a hard time seeing beyond its own log, which makes it easy to justify self-focused reactions. In Matthew 7:5, Jesus spoke to the heart of the matter, “You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother’s eye.”  

While experts advise swapping judgment for curiosity and empathy, God’s Word calls to a new way of judging and discerning that is infused with wisdom from above that is “first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.” (James 3:18)

This wisdom is shaped by gospel mercy and embedded in the Word that not only became flesh and was filled with grace and truth but also became sin for us so that we might become the righteousness of God, no longer under judgment but under mercy and grace.

In Defense of Words by Wil Triggs

Words communicate what’s really going on.

Our Kindergarteners tell us the truth. I might ask them what we have been studying about God, and they will answer truthfully with the things that are on their hearts.

“I went to a birthday party yesterday.”

“I lost a tooth.”

“Can I have water?”

A friend was in a panic in early summer. When we arrived at her home, she was frantically trying to find someone to substitute for her as a volunteer summer substitute in Bible school. “When I volunteered, I didn’t think they’d actually call,” she explained.

She wanted the appearance of service but in reality did not want to help.

Another friend told his wife he would help with the house and dinner when people came over for the evening, but then he just sat in his chair trying to relax although he had just said he would help her. Even though he had given his word, he sat reading a book, talking to a guest, relaxing and she was left to do it all herself.

The words spoken at a wedding are momentous. The bride and groom say things to each other in the sight of witnesses, before God, before a pastor, before family and friends. These moments, these words, are for the ages. It’s not the same as just saying the words of love to each other and then moving in together.

The words we say matter a great deal. We are married with words. We live by our words, or we live in war against them. 

Walk in wisdom toward outsiders, making the best use of the time. Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person. (Col. 4:5-6)

We find ourselves so easily distracted from words of faith, drawn to other longings or attractions or dreams. Ah, how we justify the attractions to idols of other loves, the success in the lyrical measures and praise of other people. It can be a siren song.

But how can we not speak of the light within us? How can we speak anything other than the wonder of Christ, our husband, shepherd, rescuer, innkeeper, brother, father, advocate. How can the words of Christ not steer the rudder and point our boats toward heaven?

It’s true we cannot just bring Jesus into any random conversation. We must be sensitive and circumspect, but we can talk ourselves out of uttering the most precious name of all at times when this name might be the beginning of something lifechanging.

God’s goodness shines. When it is opposed, the light doesn’t go out; it gets brighter. This is the reality that we are always forgetting. People can oppress us, but they cannot eliminate us even if they kill us. The light of the gospel lives in us. We must cultivate speaking its truths, living its love toward others, hearing the Spirit and the word, communicating the Word in our words and deeds.

Before anything there was word, there was voice. Things did not come into being until God spoke. The action of creation was consonant with the one who spoke it to life. Word even before creation.

The words we speak matter. We cannot trust our tongues, yet we cannot live as mute people, fearful of the words we speak. We have to find voice. God gave us the ability to speak for a reason.

But what do we say? 

The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart” (that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved. (Romans 10:8-10)

In persecuted lands, a person has only to say that they repent of their repenting, that they no longer know Jesus, and the beating or arrest or death will be assuaged. People are given good jobs, high status in community, kept safely in the care of family. Just say the word.

We speak, but so does God. And perhaps we also face our own ridicule or embarrassment at giving voice to the One who changes everything and pursues us like a hunter its prey, a detective his criminal, a shepherd his wayward sheep, a groom his bride.

It is worth the price. Do we believe? Do we act on our beliefs? Do we use words?

But the centurion replied, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof, but only say the word, and my servant will be healed. For I too am a man under authority, with soldiers under me. And I say to one, ‘Go,’ and he goes, and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes, and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.”  When Jesus heard this, he marveled and said to those who followed him, “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith.  I tell you, many will come from east and west and recline at table with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob in the kingdom of heaven, while the sons of the kingdom will be thrown into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” And to the centurion Jesus said, “Go; let it be done for you as you have believed.” And the servant was healed at that very moment. (Matthew 8: 8-13)

Centurions all, may our words today find voice and refuge in Jesus.

No Retreat, No Return by Lorraine Triggs

A few years ago, professional football player Aaron Rodgers went on a darkness retreat to help him shed some light on his future in the NFL, which turned out to be with the New York Jets rather than the Green Bay Packers. Back in January, Rodgers didn’t need to retreat to darkness—a multi-million-dollar contract with the Steelers made do instead.

Though not as well-known as Rodgers’ retreat, writer Chris Colin went on a three-day darkness retreat in Connecticut. He wrote about his experience for the New York Times Magazine, “’You’re going to lose your mind:’ My Three-Day Retreat in Total Darkness” (October 21). Colin’s retreat guide was Lama Justin von Bujdoss, a Buddhist chaplain at one time for the entire New York Department of Corrections.  

To get away from the horrors of his job, especially at the notorious Rikers Island Correctional Facility, von Bujdoss built a cabin designed for isolation and total darkness. Wrote Colin, “When he finally tested the space, sitting in darkness for a week, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.”

Colin continues, “On the last day of von Bujdoss’s trial run, a corrections officer died at Rikers. Emerging from darkness, von Bujdoss stepped back into duty: comforting the man’s family, handling logistics and donning his uniform to attend the funeral at a Bronx church. It was while the bagpipers played ‘Amazing Grace’ and the coffin was borne to the hearse that he heard a whisper in his mind: Return to the dark.”

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at that. “I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind but now I see,” penned John Newton, a purveyor of darkness himself until he encountered amazing grace—oh no, there was no returning to the dark for John Newton.

We don’t need to retreat to darkness; what we need, and have, is deliverance from it.

As Christ followers, we would never return to darkness but, depending on the darkness, we can react to it, run from it or reject it, but we cannot let the darkness define us. We don’t answer darkness with darkness, anger with anger, hatred with hatred, pride with pride—the transactions of the domain from which God delivered us.

The language of John 1:1-5 echoes the creation language of light and darkness in Genesis 1. It was into the darkness and void that God spoke: “‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” Hundreds and hundreds of years later, light again entered the chaos and darkness of now sinful humanity, bringing with it not only light but also life to all who had been sitting in darkness.

In Ephesians 5:8-9, Paul reminds us that “at one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Walk as children of light (for the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true).” Walk as children who imitate the Son, God of God, light of light, full of grace and truth. It is his light that exposes the darkest corners of our sinful souls; his grace that covers them with mercy and forgiveness—which was the Father’s plan before he said, “Let there be light,” and still is his plan until we dwell in the city where there is “no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb.” (Revelation 21:23)

Twenty Neighbors and a Boat by Wil Triggs

Going from one place to another: by design, that’s what a boat does. It helps people cross water. There are ferries that take humans and cars across channels to homes or workplaces, and there are catamarans that catch the wind and tilt sideways, a kind of surfboard or skateboard on the water. There are paddlewheel boats that go downriver to towns located along a larger river heading toward the sea. There are fishing boats designed to carry the large load of fish when they turn home with their catch after persistently pursuing their schools registered on the sonar. Canoes, rafts, cruise ships, tugboats, dinghies, freighters, rowboats, ice cutters, rowboats!

We live near water, but we don’t live in water. We aren’t Jesus, so we can’t walk on it. Boats are needed to cross the ocean, lake or river before us. Yes, there are planes and bridges, too, but think of yourself today as a boat. The cargo each of us carries is the gospel of Jesus. Good news, not bad. Good!

A woman came to the bookstall last Sunday. She bought twenty copies of the same book, $3 each, $60 plus tax. It was a little book, so they all fit in one bag. She is planning to give them to her neighbors, a diversity of people from what she said when I asked about the purchase: different ethnicities, backgrounds, faiths, ages. I prayed with her for them. You are welcome to pray for them with us right now.

Going from one place to another—that’s what a boat does. What kind of boat am I called to be?

We can each be different kinds of boats, crossing all kinds of waterways to let people know that the God of everything was not content to stay far away and leave us to our folly: the ordinary day of sin, the days comfortably adding up until they’re all gone.

No, God left heaven, crossing over, crossing down onto the cross, traversing an incarnational ocean.

Sometimes for us it’s just as simple as taking the time to cross the street, not repaying evil for evil, taking the time to write a note, share a good word, gift a $3 book, offer a night or a meal or a willingness to listen, to talk, or a prayer, so many different little things that people might notice. These things stand out. More than we might imagine.

The Good News is not us. Phew. That’s a relief. Don’t look at me; look at him.

The Good News is Jesus. He came. He died. He rose. He lives and reigns.

We don’t have to wait for the holidays. What kind of boat are you today?

“Do you not say, ‘There are yet four months, then comes the harvest’? Look, I tell you, lift up your eyes, and see that the fields are white for harvest. Already the one who reaps is receiving wages and gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, ‘One sows and another reaps.’ I sent you to reap that for which you did not labor. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labor.”

Many Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me all that I ever did.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them, and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word.

John 4:35-41