Tuesday, December 1, 2020              (today’s lectionary)
Wonderful words of life
For years I’ve struggled with my addiction to the sounds and sights of words. The beauty of words put together well overwhelms me, and never more than today, this third day of the Advent season. The Scriptures pour over my head like honey, like honey from a honeycomb.
A bud shall blossom, and the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him, a Spirit of wisdom and understanding, a Spirit of counseling and of strength, a Spirit of knowledge and fear of the Lord. He shall judge the poor with justice, he shall strike the ruthless with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath from his lips he shall slay the wicked. Justice shall be the band around his waist and faithfulness a belt upon his hips.
There’s no telling how words change my mind and transform my heart. And in the larger world, words make mountains move and call nations into justice. We are all one river, all one sea. Although first there must be much dividing, Jesus is coming to bring us together.
The wolf shall be a guest of the lamb. The leopard shall lie down with the kid. The calf and young lion shall graze together and a little child will lead them. The baby shall  play by the cobra’s den, and the child will lay her hand on the adder’s nest.
This vision is never far from the surface of my mind, as was also true for Edward Hicks, who painted a hundred versions of the “peaceable kingdom.” To hear the words is to see the vision, and to see the vision is to relax and know that God’s in charge. There’s just nothing else to say.
There shall be no harm nor ruin on all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.
Our appointment cards for counseling and spiritual direction have always carried those words. The “harms and ruins” of my life lose their sting in this “knowledge” of the Lord. It’s only in that context that any of what we do matters.
Isaiah means knowledge in the Biblical sense, right? God comes right inside me and restores my soul, remakes my SELF into what he created in the first place. And he lives right there forever in the womb of my belonging. What else is there to sing but praise? Even the blues transform into thanksgiving. As I bend the notes with my harmonica, I feel God’s surging joy.
As long as the sun his name shall remain, and in him every tribe of all the earth is blessed. Let us proclaim his happiness forever.
These days of joy are not for curmudgeons but for children, all at play in the fields of the Lord. Young Advent voices of boys and girls echo the music of the spheres. Jesus calls us to come and sing the soprano strains of your youth.
I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for though you hide these things from the wise and the learned, you have revealed them to the children. This, O Father, has been your gracious will. Blessed are the eyes that see, and blessed are the ears that hear.
O come, o come, Emmanuel. Come, Lord Jesus, into the darkened days, into our longest nights, come and shed your light. We wait and even as we wait, we know that you’re already here.
(Isaiah 11, Psalm 72, Luke 10)
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