IN THE FILM CONTACT, there is an emotional scene where the astronomer Ellie Arroway, played by Jodie Foster, explains to her friend her decision to venture into outer space, despite the clear dangers. She says, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching for something, some reason why we’re here. What are we doing here? Who are we? If this is a chance to find out even just a little part of that answer . . . I don’t know, I think it’s worth a human life. Don’t you?” 

We may not have a yearning to venture into outer space, but at a conscious or unconscious level, we all want to know why we’re here—we long to discover the meaning of our existence. Despite this innate human longing, we discover something surprising in another story with cosmic proportions. In the story of the Magi, it is revealed that we are not the greatest seekers—God is. 

The Magi have been described across many centuries as the wise men. Were they wise? Yes, but not in the way we typically think of. They were experts in discerning the meaning of the stars. 

A Jewish person would have regarded the Magi— magicians, astrologers, and sorcerers—as idolaters, as Gentiles who were racial, cultural, and spiritual outsiders in the family of the one true God. 

So why does Matthew include these Gentiles in an account written primarily to Jews? It seems that Matthew wants to show us that God seeks outsiders and invites them to the birthday party of his Son. No matter what our racial or cultural background, regardless of what we have or haven’t done, or how we feel we’ve fallen short of our own standards or our Creator’s—God also seeks us out.

In Matthew’s account, we see that while the star leads the Magi to Jerusalem, it’s Scripture that ultimately leads them to Jesus. When King Herod heard about the star that announced the birth of the great king, he gathered all the high priests and religious scholars and asked where the Messiah was to be born. “In Bethlehem,” they answered. Then they quoted words of Scripture from Micah 5:

But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are not the least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you shall come a ruler
who will shepherd my people Israel. (Matt. 2:6)

The star got the Magi to the “target” of Jerusalem, but it was Scripture that took them to the “bull’s-eye” of Bethlehem—to Jesus. God can use all kinds of things, including beauty and affliction, to draw us closer to Jesus, but the vehicle that God often uses to lead us most clearly to Jesus is Scripture.

However, simply being exposed to Scripture or knowing the Bible isn’t enough. The chief priests and teachers of the law knew that a star had announced the birth of the great king and that this anointed ruler, the Messiah, would be born in Bethlehem, yet they did not make the brief six-mile journey there.

It’s possible for us to be exposed to Scripture and yet not respond. Years later, Jesus would say to the religious elite, “You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you have eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life” (John 5:39–40).

This Advent, as we allow the wonder of the stars and the conviction of Scripture to lead us afresh to Jesus, we can know great joy like the Magi of old. And also like the Magi, as we bow down in adoration before Jesus, we will find in him the true meaning of our lives.

Ken Shigematsu is the senior pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver. He’s the author of bestsellers God in My Everything and Survival Guide for the Soul.

This article is part of A Time for Wonder, a 4-week devotional to help individuals, small groups, and families journey through the 2024 Advent season. Learn more about this special issue that can be used Advent, or any time of year at http://orderct.com/advent.

The post An Invitation Written in the Stars appeared first on Christianity Today.

Now I Become Myself: How Deep Grace Heals Our Shame and Restores Our True Self

Ken Shigematsu (Author)

208 pages

$11.43

Those who saw the older version of themselves in the virtual “mirror” were willing to put more than twice as much money into their retirement accounts as the students who spent time looking at their younger selves in a real mirror. What’s more, those who glimpsed their future selves were more likely to complete their studies on time, whereas those who didn’t were more likely to blow off their studies. Those who saw their future selves were also more likely to act ethically in business scenarios.

Recognizing and investing in our future selves is certainly a fruitful practice. But it remains inadequate for those who believe in Christ.

When our identity is rooted in the knowledge that we are creatures who were made by God in dazzling glory and created with an original core of goodness and beauty, we can live inspired to become the masterpieces God intended. When we catch a vision for who we might become in the future, we can begin to live as that person now.

When we can imagine ourselves in both our temporal future and our eternal future, we can be inspired toward holiness in our day-to-day lives. In his classic sermon “The Weight of Glory,” C. S. Lewis observes, “There are no ordinary people.” He continues, “Remember that the dullest, most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or the other of these destinations.”

As the theologian N. T. Wright observes, when we think of an older, physically diminished person, we might say, “They are just a shadow of their former self,” but when someone belongs to Christ, we should say, “They are just a shadow of their future self.” If you can envision your future, glorious self, you can move toward becoming that person right now, bearing the beautiful image of God in your daily life.

Consenting to holiness

As we grow into the glorious masterpieces of God’s imagining, we aren’t manifesting our desired reality through positive thinking or embarking on a pull-ourselves-up-by-our-bootstraps self-improvement project. Rather, we are opening ourselves to be shaped by God’s creative, loving hands, inviting him to use whatever tools are necessary to slough away our dross. For it is only after we pass through purifying fire, after God chisels, sands, and burnishes us that we will begin to shimmer with an inner radiance that will cast warmth and light upon everyone around us. Though this creative process is something that God does as an artist—as Jesus said, “apart from [him] [we] can do nothing” (John 15:5)—we also play a role (Phil. 2:13).

Our role is to consent to the cleansing work of the Holy Spirit.

When I was a teenager, I kept a pornographic magazine hidden behind one of the logs stacked in our garage. When I first met Christ, I knew nothing about the Bible, and I hadn’t yet heard about the Holy Spirit. But as soon as the Spirit made a home within me, my first instinct was to grab the pornographic magazine I’d hidden behind the log, toss it into the fireplace of our living room, and burn it. I had an inward sense, born of the Spirit, that pornography would compromise my new relationship with God.

In due course, I also felt an inner urge to make things right with certain kids whom I had bullied in our neighborhood and at my high school. As humbling as it was, I felt that I needed to go to them and ask them to forgive me for the way I had treated them. Though imperfectly, I was saying yes to the work of the Holy Spirit in me.

Decades later, with God’s help, I still seek to respond to the Holy Spirit within me, whether by making a choice to stop objectifying an attractive woman, to initiate repair and reconciliation in a fractured relationship, or to respond to a conviction of sin in some other area of my life. We do not need to fear these inner urgings because the Holy Spirit never condemns us, but gently convicts us.

Condemnation drives us from God, but conviction draws us toward God.

For many of us, the temptation to sin might not come most often in obvious areas, such as sexual lust or the desire to dominate or bully someone, but in more subtle inclinations. For example, like many people, I am inclined to place too much security in my bank balance and what I have accumulated rather than trusting in God’s provision. By nature, I also have a tendency to base my self-worth on how I perform at work and in other spheres of life. Or I can become overly attached to someone and then start trying a little too hard to impress them.

In certain situations, I also feel an anxious desire to influence or control the outcome. Although I play a role in my transformation, I am ultimately powerless to change these tendencies in myself. On our own, we cannot experience freedom from our attachments and addictions to security, affection, esteem, power, and control. Our primal desires for these things are wired into our central nervous system, deeply rooted in our bodies. As Thomas Keating says, “our issues are in our tissues.” Experiencing real change is not just a matter of willpower or intellectual insight—we need God to do a cleansing and transformative work within us.

This is why I pray this simple welcoming prayer I have adapted from Mary Mrozowski, who was a lay leader from an interdenominational contemplative community. I pray this prayer each morning as part of a time of meditation. I may also pray it at various points in the day as I feel unhealthy frustration and desire for security, validation, or control:

I consent to the work of the Holy Spirit. I let go of my desire for security and pleasure. I let go of my desire for affection and esteem. I let go of my desire for power and control.

I invite you to consider regularly praying this welcoming prayer if you want to become a person who does not make your money, your work, pleasure, food, what others think of you, or your influence and power your functional god.

Decluttering our souls

Becoming God’s masterpiece is primarily God’s work in us, and so our role is to consent to the work of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes we respond and agree to the Holy Spirit’s work of removing sin from our lives; at other times we allow the Spirit to declutter us.

When my wife Sakiko and I clean our home, we toss out all our garbage (used Kleenex, socks with too many holes, blueberries turning white with mold, and so on). Each summer, we do a deeper cleaning, going through our closets and identifying clothing that we haven’t worn for a year to give it to the Salvation Army Thrift Store. We also browse our bookshelves, culling any we won’t read again, and donate them to a nearby library or used bookstore.

Recently, while we were cleaning out our garage, Sakiko found some wedding gifts in storage containers that we hadn’t used in nearly two decades—so we gave them to the Salvation Army. When we throw away our garbage and give away things we’re not using anymore, we get rid of the clutter in our house, and this opens more space for the things we need and value.

If we want to experience the deep transformation of the master artist, we need to make space in our minds and hearts to attend to God’s loving presence. This will include opening ourselves to the purifying work of the Holy Spirit in relation to possible sin in our lives and inviting Jesus to cleanse our bodies and spirits of any garbage or clutter that might distract us from his presence.

This essay was adapted from Now I Become Myself: How Deep Grace Heals Our Shame and Restores Our True Self by Ken Shigematsu. Copyright © 2023 by Zondervan. Used by permission of Zondervan.

The post Become a Shadow of Your Future Self appeared first on Christianity Today.

“King of Glory, King of Peace” by George Herbert There are two parts of this song that get me every time. The first is “Thou didst note my working breast, Thou hast spared me.” The physicality of this image—“the working breast” distressed by our own failures—speaks to my experience. God in his mercy spared me. The second is this: “Though my sins against me cried, Thou didst clear me; and alone, when they replied, Thou didst hear me.” God did not hear the testimony of my sins; instead he heard me. These are great comforts during the season. —Esau McCaulley is an associate professor of New Testament at Wheaton College and the author of Reading While Black and Josey Johnson’s Hair and the Holy Spirit.

“Is He Worthy?” by Andrew Peterson  I have known and loved Andrew Peterson’s song “Is He Worthy?” up-close in our Nashville community, and it keeps on reminding me to believe the story of Easter again and again. The simple, call-and-response style of the chorus is a way of saying the truth, asking the question, saying the truth. As many times as it takes, we keep singing this story of hope. —Sandra McCracken is a singer-songwriter, a CT columnist, and host of the CT podcast Steadfast.

“Kyrie” by Les Troubadours du Roi Baudouin One of the songs I like to listen to during Holy Week is “Kyrie,” from the album Missa Luba. On this album, a choir of Congolese children and adults sing parts of the Latin Mass in the musical styles of the Democratic Republic of Congo. “Kyrie” means “Lord, have mercy,” and this version is sung in the traditional style of a mourning song. It’s fitting for the kind of language that finds itself on our lips not just on Good Friday but all week long as we anticipate the fulfillment of God’s mercy on the cross. This setting of the “Kyrie” has a haunting and plaintive quality that helps me feel my own desperate need for God’s mercy afresh. —W. David O. Taylor is associate professor of theology and culture at Fuller Theological Seminary and author of Open and Unafraid.

“Redeemer” by Nicole C. Mullen This song always takes my often-restless heart and holds it still. My redeemer lives. The Lamb wins. Whatever I see now will not be how this ends. —Heather Thompson Day is associate professor of communications at Andrews University and host of CT’s Viral Jesus podcast.

“Be Thou My Vision,” an Old Irish prayer translated by Mary E. Byrne Great old hymns carry a long, beautiful memory. The memory of the millions of people who have sung this text over thousands of miles and hundreds of years keeps growing as we add our voices to the unending song of God’s people. When I sing this hymn, it lifts my heart and mind and soul to what the rescue of Christ on the cross brings to every generation: the only way out of the darkness into his glorious light. This true light transforms how we see this life and the next. It illuminates the path to pure hope and life and joy with the risen Savior, the high King of heaven. —Kristyn Getty is a modern hymn writer, worship leader, and recording artist.

Christ lag in Todesbanden, a cantata by Johann Sebastian Bach This highly dramatic musical sermon by J. S. Bach features aching pathos, dramatic tensions, and euphoric, triumphant joy. In this version, conductor Maasaki Suzuki leads the Japan Bach Collegium in Bach’s cantanta that features Martin Luther’s poetry. Luther’s words are drawn from a Latin hymn written in about 1050 for Easter liturgies with roots deep in the early church. At once bouyant and weighty, joyful and deep, this music immerses us in the Bible’s own profusion of images and metaphors that explore the meaning of Jesus’ death and resurrection. I first performed in a choir that sang this music over 30 years ago —and it still echoes in my soul. —John D. Witvliet is director of the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship and a professor at Calvin University and Calvin Theological Seminary.

“Eat This Bread” from the Taizé community I have always loved the Taizé song “Eat This Bread.” I was first exposed to it at the Taizé community in France many years ago. To me, this song feels like a beautiful invitation to Christ’s table and to feed on him through the Eucharist. Like Cleopas and his companion (Luke 24:13–35), I hope to behold Christ at his table. —Ken Shigematsu is senior pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, British Columbia, and author of God in My Everything.

“Now Behold the Lamb” by Kirk Franklin and the Family It’s a well-known fact in my family that I cry literally every time I hear Kirk Franklin and the Family’s “Now Behold the Lamb.” A beautifully arranged, soulful gospel song gets me every time! And Tamela Mann never disappoints. Though originally appearing on a Christmas album, this song celebrates “the precious Lamb of God, Born into sin that I may live again.” The soloists powerfully testify and praise Jesus as the Lamb of God who washes away our sins and sets us free. This saving work of Christ required his sacrifice on the cross for our redemption; hence the song ends by extolling Jesus for his love demonstrated when he shed his blood on the cross at Calvary. —Kristie Anyabwile is the author of Literarily and editor of His Testimonies, My Heritage.

“I Am Living in a Land of Death” by Citizens Though their style is different from the music I make with Prisims, the band Citizens has deeply and sacredly encouraged me through their lyrics and music. “I Am Living in a Land of Death” is an anthem and psalm that helps me fix my eyes on Christ the risen Lord while feeling “the breezes of death” in our culture, our flesh, and the brokenness of humanity. The potent lyrics alluding to the work of Christ are captivating and bring me to worship the Lord with hope. —Esteban Shedd is MC of the hip-hop trio Prisims and creative director of Streetlights, an urban culture audio Bible.

“Con Tu Sangre” by Marcos Witt Marcos Witt has been one of the preeminent worship leaders (and pastors) in Latin America over the past four decades. He released “Con Tu Sangre” (Spanish for “With Your Blood”) over two decades ago, and it remains a powerful anthem in the catalogue of Spanish-language musical worship. The lyrics describe how Jesus, by shedding his blood at Calvary, has redeemed people from every lineage, tribe, tongue, and nation. “Con Tu Sangre” inspires me not only during the Easter season, but throughout the year, reminding me of the great cost of what God has done to secure salvation not only for me but also for a huge global, multinational, multiethnic, and multicultural family—the beautiful body of Christ. He is risen! —Imer Santiago is a recording artist and the director of worship for Urbana 2022.

Agnus Dei, composed by Samuel Barber I remember hearing Agnus Dei by composer Samuel Barber (1936) for the first time in a choral ensemble class I faked my way through. I could not (and still cannot) read music, but I love beautiful harmonies. Hearing Agnus Dei performed by the ensemble brought tears to my eyes. Even though I had no idea what they were singing about, my heart understood: Agnus Dei, the Lamb of God. —Liz Vice is a gospel, soul, and R&B recording artist.

“Jésus le Christ” from the Taizé community Translated into English, this song says, in part, “Your light shines within us, Let not my doubts nor my darkness speak to me.” Hours before a close friend betrayed him, Jesus prayed an anxious, lonely prayer, crying out for relief. Over the course of our lives, many of us will call on God in moments when the heaviness of our circumstances appears to have begun pushing us under the water. We can utter these groans with the realization that Christ himself prayed through visceral pain and that this same man is the Light of the World. —Morgan Pomaika’i Lee is CT’s global media manager.

The Grace Cathedral Concert by Vince Guaraldi The late jazz pianist Vince Guaraldi is best known for giving musical voice to Charlie Brown and his animated cohort. His iconic Peanuts themes were introduced in A Charlie Brown Christmas, first broadcast in December 1965. Earlier that same year, Guaraldi released The Grace Cathedral Concert featuring his trio and a 68-voice church choir leading the congregation at San Francisco’s Grace Episcopal Cathedral in Holy Communion. The concert was considered one of the first instances of a “jazz mass,” and anyone who loves Guaraldi’s music will be captivated by this mixture of original compositions and reinterpretations of sacred hymns. My favorite is “Theme to Grace,” a mostly instrumental track that gently weaves between contemplative and breezy moods before culminating in a burst of choral hallelujahs. The song—and the album—is an expression of resurrection hope. —Ed Gilbreath is CT’s vice president of strategic partnerships.

“The Rising” by Bruce Springsteen On 9/11, as black plumes rose from Manhattan, Springsteen thought he might never sing again. But weeks later, he went down to Ground Zero to watch construction workers, firefighters, and police officers working on the pile. As he left, one recognized him and shouted the familiar “Bruuuuuuuuuce!” He added, “We need ya, Bruce.” “The Rising” (and the album of the same name) was Springsteen’s response to that calling, and this song in particular is an anthem of hope that draws on his deep Catholic roots and points to the Resurrection. —Mike Cosper is director of CT podcasts.

“He’s Alive” by Don Francisco I wrote a whole bunch about Arizona Dranes’s emphatic 1926 gospel blues recording, “Lamb’s Blood Has Washed Me Clean.” Before that, I thought about Luke Morton’s 2011 “The Lamb Has Overcome.” Both songs set my feet dancing. But neither gets a lump in my throat every time I try to sing along. Don Francisco’s 1977 “He’s Alive” does. After years of reflecting on the global and communal effects of Jesus’ death and resurrection and how Jesus came to rescue us, I’ve been remembering more this year that Jesus died for me too. The Lamb’s blood washed me clean. The Easter story isn’t just for me. But it is for me. And no song has hit me harder on that point—no song has shaken me awake to the good news of four and a half decades of Easter mornings—than Francisco’s “He’s Alive.” Does this song still choke me up mostly because of nostalgia? Maybe. I don’t care. The song has been part of my story, and I increasingly find that it tells my story: He’s alive and I’m forgiven. —Ted Olsen is executive editor of Christianity Today.

“Ride On, King Jesus,” an African American spiritual This powerful, exultant spiritual can celebrate various aspects of Holy Week. It sings of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, his face set like flint in unhindered determination to go to the cross. Its lyrics can proclaim the victory of Jesus’ resurrection. And the song points toward our future hope: that “great gettin’ up morning” when the dead in Christ shall rise and King Jesus will ride in ultimate victory (Rev. 19). —Kelli B. Trujillo is CT’s projects editor.

 Read the article below to view the songs featured in The Wondrous Cross.

The Wondrous Cross: Our Playlist

Kelli B. Trujillo

You can find our full Spotify playlist below.

The post Holy Week Playlist: Songs to Survey the Wondrous Cross appeared first on Christianity Today.

As I prayed through lists of people and specific requests, I would often find myself checking my watch to see if I had clocked my time. Rather than talking with God or listening for his voice, I was essentially talking at God. Those times of prayer often felt burdensome and wearying.

Over the years, my prayer habits have gradually changed. I’ve come to see prayer as a chance to enjoy God’s company. Now my time with the Lord is my favorite part of the day—a time I approach with anticipation.

During this past year of COVID-19, like many pastors, I have woken up some mornings feeling melancholy, at times with a twinge of depression. The weight of pastoral responsibility has pressed more heavily on my shoulders. I’ve worried about a young mother in our congregation who was on a ventilator, fighting for her life. I’ve worried about church members who’ve lost their jobs. I’ve worried about the financial trajectory of our church during this prolonged pandemic.

In this difficult season of isolation, discouraging news, and weighty ministry concerns, my time with the Lord feels like a lifeline. Rather than a duty or obligation, daily I’m discovering that prayer opens an ideal space to experience gratitude and joy in God’s presence.

Each morning, I roll out of bed and leash our dog, Sasha, and while it is still dark, we go for a leisurely run through our neighborhood. While running, I mentally scan the past 24 hours, looking for some of its gifts: a good night’s sleep. A delicious dinner the evening before. A swim at our local pool. A meaningful conversation. As I identify the things I am thankful for, slowly I begin to feel more grateful. I know that as I savor something good in my mind, my brain releases dopamine and serotonin, elevating my mood, but as I trace these gifts to their ultimate source, I also feel more gratitude and joy in God.

I am learning that prayer is the best context to receive and savor God’s love. A few years ago, someone encouraged me to watch Won’t You Be My Neighbor?, a documentary about Fred Rogers. It has a scene in which Rogers, an ordained minister, delivers a university commencement address. He invites the graduating class to take one minute to imagine the face of someone who wants the best for them—someone who “loved you into loving.” (On a similar occasion, Rogers asks listeners to picture those “who have loved us into being.”) Rogers then tells his listeners, “You don’t ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you.” Inspired by those words, during my morning run, I bring to mind my wife, our son, my mom and dad (who died a few years ago), a mentor, and others who have loved me. People whose existence feels like a pure gift. People through whom I’ve experienced the love of God.

When I arrive home, I light a candle and sit in silence for a while, simply enjoying God’s presence. Thomas Keating emphasized that the goal of silent prayer is not perfect attention. If we are distracted 10,000 times, he taught, this represents 10,000 opportunities to return to the Lord. What is more important than attention is intention. With this in mind, I close my prayer with a few phrases of intention: “Help me to love you (God) well. Help me to love Sakiko (my wife) and Joey (our son) well and others I meet today.”

For pastors, this long pandemic season has brought many unique pressures and difficulties. My morning prayer rhythm doesn’t always make me feel on top of the world, but I almost always feel lighter and freer than I did before, filled with more of God’s love to offer others around me. I have more energy to make phone calls to people in our church, to see how they are faring in this crisis and to provide pastoral care. Not long ago, someone told me, “With all the responsibility you carry [as a pastor], I’m surprised you’re not more agitated. I really feel you are here in the room.” Time in prayer, focused on joy in God’s presence rather than duty, has helped me to be more present to the people in my life and ministry.

During my prayer times, I still occasionally look at my watch, but not out of a desire for time to move more quickly. Now it is with the hope that time will move more slowly as I savor the joy-evoking presence of God. In prayer, God imparts his love to me, enabling me to love and care for those I encounter throughout the day.

Ken Shigematsu is senior pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, British Columbia. He is the author of Survival Guide for the Soul and God in My Everything.

The post God Meets Me in My Daily Run appeared first on Christianity Today.

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Sunday: Greatness and Grace

Today’s Reading: Matthew 1:1–17

During Advent, as we seek to encounter and worship Christ, we often look for him in the shining star that led the Magi to the miracle in the manger. We look for Christ in the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We look for him in the heavenly host of angels singing to shepherds watching o’er flocks by night.

We don’t often think to look for Jesus in his genealogy. There we see the mention of great men like Abraham, the father of our faith, or King David, the warrior and worshipper. Yet the Messiah’s genealogy highlights not only greatness but also grace. His lineage names not only leaders but also those least expected—unlikelies like Tamar, a tainted woman; Ruth, a Moabite; and Rahab, a woman of the night.

A genealogy isn’t just a list of names to skim and skip through. Genealogies are paragraphs of paradoxes that point to a God of the impossible. A God who had it in his mind for our Messiah to come from a bloodline of kingdoms and crowns as well as from criminals and castaways.

The genealogy of “Jesus the Messiah the son of David, the son of Abraham” not only invites us to ponder that God chose some of the unlikeliest of people, places, and plots to accomplish his plans for his people; it also provides us a record of promises and prophecies from the heart of a faithful God who fulfilled the very future he foretold. More than a mere summary filled with names, Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus reveals the fulfilled prophecy of a Messiah who’d “come up from the stump of Jesse” (Isa. 11:1) and the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham that through him “all nations on earth will be blessed” and that his descendants would be “numerous as the stars in the sky” (Gen. 22:17–18).

So lean into this list of names. Let it lead you into holy living as we persevere in the time and space between Christ’s birth and Christ’s return. Let it remind you that we can trust in God’s Word and in his promise to make good of our unlikely lives and, ultimately, to make good of this unlikely world. So linger long in the lineage of Christ, praising God for all that he has done, all the while waiting—with eager and expectant hope—for all that is to come.

—Rachel Kang

Monday: Hold On

Today’s Reading: Luke 1:5–25

In an instant society in which we can order something online and get it an hour later, we often have a hard time waiting. Yet, as Simone Weil said, “Waiting patiently in expectation is the foundation of the spiritual life.”

Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, had been waiting for a long time. “They were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old” (Luke 1:7). Zechariah means he whom the Lord remembers. There’s a painful irony here, for though his name means the Lord remembers, in all the long years of waiting, it likely felt as if the Lord had forgotten him.

But in Luke 1:5–25, everything changes. The angel Gabriel appears to Zechariah and says, You will have a son. This news is so incredible, so shocking, that Zechariah’s response is This is impossible. It’s hard for Zechariah to believe it’s going to happen. And because he doesn’t believe, Zechariah gets a case of angelic laryngitis for the next nine months until his son is born.

Zechariah and Elizabeth’s story reminds us that a faithful response to waiting is prayer. Gabriel told Zechariah, “Your prayer has been heard” (v. 13). This statement gives us insight into how Zechariah and Elizabeth handled their long years of disappointment: They persevered in prayer. They prayed even when things did not unfold as they expected them to. They held on to God, even in the midst of social disgrace, disappointment, and hopelessness.

But, of course, their waiting was not perfect. Consider verse 20: “You did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time” (emphasis added). Even though Zechariah lacked faith, God still performs the miracle. Advent reminds us that even though our faith is not always strong, God is faithful to come. We may doubt, get depressed, become discouraged, or want to give up, yet God is still gracious to come.

The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is both beautiful and frustrating. It’s beautiful because their long waiting ends with answered prayer. But it’s also frustrating because we know that not all of our prayers are answered in this same way. This is the complexity of Advent—human suffering and divine grace—and we hold it all together. Whether it is in this life or the life to come, we know God will make all things new. So with Zechariah and Elizabeth, we hold on.

—Rich Villodas

This article is adapted from a sermon Rich Villodas preached on December 8, 2019. Used by permission.

Tuesday: Part of the Story

Today’s Reading: Luke 1:26–38

Mary is incredibly famous today, but there was a time when she was completely unknown. She was just a teenage peasant girl from Nazareth, a town which some scholars say may have had fewer than 100 people. Like her peers, Mary was probably illiterate. Given her station in life, she would have been expected to marry humbly—a poor, working-class boy. Their family would likely often go hungry because there wasn’t enough to make ends meet.

When the God of the universe decided to choose his mother, he didn’t approach a young woman of wealth and status. Instead, God approached an illiterate peasant girl from a very small town. Jesus’ genealogy (Matt. 1:1–17) shows us that we don’t have to be of a particular race or be an “insider” to be part of God’s story. And when we look at Mary, we see that we don’t have to be rich, from a big city, highly educated, or important in society. We can be dirt ordinary and yet be part of this everlasting story.

What is the one qualification that God seems to require? When the angel Gabriel came to Mary and told her, You’re about to become the mother of God, Mary opened up her heart and said, Yes, may it be to me as you have said. To become part of this story and to experience God birthing his life in us, all we need is a yes. We need to consent to the work of the Holy Spirit inside us.

Recently, I’ve been praying something called the Welcoming Prayer. I pray it like this: Holy Spirit, I agree to your work in me and I let go of my desire for security, for affection and esteem, for power and control. This was the essence of Mary’s yes to God. She let go of security, affection and esteem, and power and control. As a result, her reputation would be stained for the rest of her life. She’d one day see her adult son mocked, spat upon, beaten, and nailed to a Roman cross. It would feel like a dagger piercing her heart (Luke 2:35). Yet she said yes.

May we, like Mary, pray, “Holy Spirit, I say yes to your work in me.” May God’s life be birthed in us. May we too play our part in the grand and everlasting story of God.

—Ken Shigematsu

This article is adapted from a sermon Ken Shigematsu preached on December 25, 2019. Used by permission.

Wednesday: Hope When the Future Crumbles

Today’s Reading: Matthew 1:18–24

What did Joseph hope for in life? We don’t know much about this carpenter who lived so long ago. Matthew tells us he was righteous and faithful. We see firsthand that he was compassionate, wanting to protect Mary even as his future crumbled. Joseph knew how to sacrifice for the sake of duty, becoming a husband to Mary and father to Jesus under disquieting circumstances. He later fled to Egypt, leaving behind family, home, and work to protect the toddler boy who was not his own (Matt. 2:13–15).

We see a glimpse of Joseph in his choices, but I wish we knew more. What did the angel’s strange tidings mean for him, and how did he make sense of it all? Had Joseph longed for marriage and a family? Did he yearn for Mary, or was the betrothal brokered by her parents? When he first learned of her pregnancy, was he heartbroken? Or angry? Or frustrated by the delays and red tape of divorcing her?

We’ll never know for sure what Joseph hoped for from life, but it certainly wasn’t this: a pregnant fiancée, an unborn child not his own, a lifetime of gossip and slander still ahead. Who would believe the angel’s story? Would you? Did he?

Maybe he didn’t, entirely. Most of us would not, could not, no matter how much we wanted to. Babies were conceived the same way then as now. Perhaps Joseph wrestled with lingering doubts, praying something like another biblical father would: “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24).

Whatever Joseph wanted from life, marriage, and fatherhood, we know he was given a steeper climb than he hoped. And yet, he stepped forward. Joseph actively set his face toward a long-term hope that God would prove faithful and true, that a far-off redemption would be powerful enough to overturn all this suffering and darkness, all this bitter disappointment.

They named Mary’s boy Jesus, a common name, believing that he also bore another name—Immanuel —and believing that this scandalous birth story would be redeemed by divine scandal, “God with us.” Joseph wagered his life, family, future, and identity on the chance that God was faithful—that this common boy, this source of so much initial disappointment and upheaval in Joseph’s life, was indeed the hope of the world.

—Catherine McNiel

Thursday: A Song of Mercy and Justice

Today’s Reading: Luke 1:39–56

In Luke 1:39–56, Mary leaves her hometown to be with her relative Elizabeth. When she gets there, she learns that Elizabeth is pregnant as well. And when Elizabeth sees Mary, the baby inside her womb jumps for joy. Elizabeth says, “God’s favor is on you, Mary.” She affirms and confirms God’s words to Mary.

And out of the joy of this encounter, Mary starts to sing. She bursts forth with exuberance and rejoicing. She sings about the goodness of God, then focuses on God’s mercy. She says, “His mercy extends to those who fear him” (v. 50). She sings, “He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful” (v. 54).

We tend to think of mercy in a limited way, such as providing relief for someone who is in pain. But in Scripture mercy goes much deeper and further than that. Yes, it speaks of compassion, but it also speaks of God’s loyalty to and fierce love for his people.

Mary’s song is also a song of justice. She sings, “He has scattered those who are proud. . . . He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty” (vv. 51–53). When Mary sings, she’s essentially saying, God’s justice is coming.

Justice, biblically speaking, is about God taking everything that’s wrong with the world and making it right. In God’s kingdom, things are turned upside down. The least are now the greatest. The last are now the first. Justice is God taking what’s broken and bringing it to wholeness. In Advent, a season of longing and expectation, we wait for God to make things right. And this is a key theme in Mary’s song: Lord, make it right.

Mary’s song reminds us that there is no sin so deep that God’s mercy doesn’t go deeper. The good news of Advent is that God has come and God is coming in the person of Jesus—and he offers mercy that goes deeper than our sin. Mary’s song also reminds us that there’s nothing so wrong with the world that God’s justice won’t one day make right. This is why we sing: because of God’s mercy, because of God’s justice. This is why we wait for Jesus to come again: because when he comes, he’s making all things new.

—Rich Villodas

This article is adapted from a sermon Rich Villodas preached on December 5, 2019. Used by permission.

Friday: The Light and the King

Today’s Reading: Isaiah 9:2–7; 40:1–5; Luke 1:57–80; 3:1–6

Zechariah and Elizabeth named their baby John, which means “God is gracious and has shown us favor.” Filled with the Holy Spirit, Zechariah prophesied over his son: “You will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him, to give his people the knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins, because of the tender mercy of our God, by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness and in the shadow of death” (Luke 1:76–79).

When we fast-forward to John the Baptist’s adult life, we see he does exactly that. Luke records,

He went into all the country . . . preaching a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. As it is written in the book of the words of Isaiah the prophet: “A voice of one calling in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him. Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill made low. The crooked roads shall become straight, the rough ways smooth. And all people will see God’s salvation.’” (3:3–6)

These ideas from Isaiah about reshaping valleys, hills, and roads to prepare the way were, in the ancient world, associated with the arrival of royalty. And, indeed, John’s ministry focused on this one thing: declaring that a king was on the way.

Zechariah’s prophecy over his newborn includes a paraphrase of another passage from Isaiah: “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned” (9:2). The people who heard Zechariah prophesy these words would have known exactly what this Isaiah passage was about: the promise of a coming king. It’s part of the same familiar passage that declares, “For to us a child is born. . . . He will reign on David’s throne” (vv. 6–7).

This offers such immense hope for us. As much as we may like to believe that we can create the peace and joy we desire through our own efforts, the story of John the Baptist and the words of Zechariah and Isaiah emphatically declare that the peace and joy every human longs for will not be realized until the king arrives. John the Baptist literally gave his life to proclaim this truth—to help people see that a light was about to break through the darkness.

—Jay Y. Kim

This article is adapted from a sermon Jay Y. Kim preached on December 9, 2018. Used by permission.

Saturday: A God We Can Touch

Today’s Reading: Luke 2:1–7

It was said that the gods of the ancient world lived outside time and space, on a different plane from our mortal existence, unreachable. On earth, in the hopes of glimpsing divinity, the ancients established hallowed places—a sacred tree or mountain, a holy temple or city—which they believed existed in both spheres, like a window to heaven. The people traveled to these holy places on holy days, believing the divine and mundane might nearly overlap for one reverent moment.

Luke takes pains to communicate that this story, this God, this mingling of divinity and humanity are altogether different. The Creator is arriving here, to our muddy, dusty, physical, emotional, beautiful, terrible world. Like a midwife carefully noting the time and place of birth, Luke clarifies that God’s birth interrupts a particular event—the Roman census—in a particular place—the town of Bethlehem—in a particular family—the house of David. Jesus is born into history, to a specific woman, exactly here and exactly now. We might gloss over these local details, but to Gentile readers Luke’s statement would be jarring.

On this night, God does not come like the gods of old, on a cloud or a storm, his untouchable power barely glimpsed through a holy mirror. No, God falls into the arms of his mother, arriving on this earth the way we all do. For months she carried him, for hours she labored with pain and blood and struggle, pushing until God was born on earth among us, an infant, vulnerable, wrinkled, and wet. Exhausted from the ordeal and sleeping now but soon to awaken, howling and hungry.

This is Luke’s unbelievable news: The true God came near to us physically, tangibly, in a way that we can see with our eyes and touch with our hands. God arrived in a village we could walk to, during a year we can remember. Divinity took on flesh in a mother’s womb, interrupting a marriage, a night, and a village like any other birth. We no longer meet God in sacred places and spiritual spheres but here on the ground, in the dirt, in our families and flesh and blood.

It is a shocking idea, even for us so many centuries later. There is no longer a separation between sacred and mundane. Our messy, daily lives are exactly where God is found, where God is at work. This is a God we can touch.

—Catherine McNiel

Contributors:

Rachel Kang is a writer of prose, poems, and other pieces and the creator of Indelible Ink Writers, an online community of creatives.

Jay Y. Kim is lead pastor of teaching at WestGate Church, teacher-in-residence at Vintage Faith Church, and the author of Analog Church.

Catherine McNiel is a writer and speaker. She’s the author of All Shall Be Well and Long Days of Small Things.

Ken Shigematsu is senior pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, British Columbia. He’s the author of God in My Everything and Survival Guide for the Soul.

Rich Villodas is lead pastor of New Life Fellowship, a multiracial church in Queens, New York. He is the author of The Deeply Formed Life.

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Domingo: Grandeza y Gracia

Lectura de hoy: Mateo 1:1-17

Durante el Adviento, mientras buscamos encontrarnos con Cristo y adorarlo, a menudo lo buscamos en la estrella brillante que llevó a los magos al milagro del pesebre. Buscamos a Cristo en los regalos de oro, incienso y mirra; lo buscamos en la hueste celestial de ángeles cantando frente a los pastores que cuidaban de sus rebaños en medio de la noche.

No es frecuente que busquemos a Jesús en su genealogía. Allí vemos la mención de grandes hombres como Abraham, el padre de nuestra fe, o el rey David, el guerrero y adorador. Sin embargo, la genealogía del Mesías destaca no solo la grandeza, sino también la gracia. Su linaje nombra no solo a los líderes, sino también a personas innobles: Tamar, una mujer impura; Rut, una moabita; y Rahab, una prostituta.

Una genealogía no es solo una lista de nombres para repasar superficialmente y dar vuelta a la página. Las genealogías incluyen paradojas que apuntan a un Dios de lo imposible. Un Dios que tenía en mente que nuestro Mesías procediera de un linaje de reinos y coronas, así como de criminales y marginados.

La genealogía de «Jesucristo, hijo de David, hijo de Abraham» no solo nos invita a reflexionar sobre el hecho de que Dios eligió las personas, lugares y tramas más inesperados para llevar a cabo sus planes para su pueblo, sino que también nos proporciona un registro de promesas y profecías que surgen del corazón de un Dios fiel que cumplió el futuro que Él mismo predijo. Más que un simple resumen lleno de nombres, la genealogía de Jesús en el evangelio de Mateo revela la profecía cumplida de un Mesías que «brotará del tronco de Isaí» (Isaías 11:1, NVI), así como el cumplimiento de la promesa de Dios a Abraham de que a través de él «todas las naciones del mundo serían bendecidas» y que su descendencia sería «multiplicada como las estrellas en el cielo» (Génesis 22:17-18).

Así que le invito a apoyarse sobre esta lista de nombres. Permita que le guíe a una vida santa mientras perseveramos en el tiempo y espacio en el que vivimos, entre el nacimiento de Cristo y su regreso. Permita que le recuerde que podemos confiar en la Palabra de Dios y en su promesa de cumplir sus propósitos de bien en nuestras vidas y, en última instancia, también en este mundo, por más improbable que parezca. Así que le invito a permanecer en el linaje de Cristo, alabando a Dios por todo lo que ha hecho, mientras aguarda lleno de expectativa y con esperanza vehemente todo lo que está por venir.

—Rachel Kang

Lunes: Espere

Lectura de hoy: Lucas 1:5–25

En una sociedad que opera de forma instantánea, en la que podemos ordenar algo en línea y recibirlo una hora más tarde, a menudo nos cuesta esperar. Sin embargo, como dijo Simone Weil: «Esperar pacientemente y a la expectativa es la base de la vida espiritual».

Zacarías y su esposa Elisabet habían estado esperando durante mucho tiempo. «Pero no tenían hijos, porque Elisabet era estéril; y los dos eran de edad avanzada» (Lucas 1:7). Zacarías significa «aquel a quien el Señor recuerda». Hay una dolorosa ironía aquí, porque aunque su nombre significa «el Señor recuerda», en todos sus largos años de espera, probablemente él sintió como si el Señor lo hubiera olvidado.

Pero en Lucas 1:5–25, todo cambia. El ángel Gabriel se le aparece a Zacarías y le dice: Tendrás un hijo. Esta noticia es tan increíble y tan impactante, que la respuesta de Zacarías es: Eso es imposible. Es difícil para Zacarías creer que realmente va a suceder. Y como no lo cree, Zacarías padece un caso de «laringitis angelical» durante los siguientes nueve meses hasta el nacimiento de su hijo.

La historia de Zacarías y Elisabet nos recuerda que la oración es una respuesta fiel en los tiempos de espera. Gabriel le dijo a Zacarías: «Ha sido escuchada tu oración» (v. 13). Esta declaración nos da una idea acerca de cómo vivieron Zacarías y Elisabet durante sus largos años de decepción: perseverando en la oración. Oraron incluso cuando las cosas no sucedieron como esperaban. Se aferraron a Dios, incluso en medio de la desgracia social, la desilusión y la desesperanza.

Pero, por supuesto, su espera no fue perfecta. Considere el versículo 20: «… como no creíste en mis palabras, las cuales se cumplirán a su debido tiempo…» (énfasis añadido). Aunque a Zacarías le faltó fe, Dios aún realizó el milagro. El Adviento nos recuerda que aunque nuestra fe no siempre es fuerte, Dios es fiel y cumplirá la promesa de su regreso. Podemos dudar, deprimirnos, desanimarnos o querer darnos por vencidos, pero en su gracia, Dios regresará.

La historia de Zacarías y Elisabet es hermosa y frustrante: es hermosa porque su larga espera termina con la respuesta a su oración, pero también es frustrante porque sabemos que no todas nuestras oraciones son respondidas de la misma manera. Esta es la complejidad del Adviento: la coexistencia del sufrimiento humano y la gracia divina. Ya sea en esta vida o en la venidera, sabemos que Dios hará todas las cosas nuevas. Así, junto con Zacarías y Elisabet, esperemos.

—Rich Villodas

Este artículo es una adaptación de un sermón que Rich Villodas predicó el 8 de diciembre de 2019. Usado con permiso.

Martes: Parte de la historia

Lectura de hoy: Lucas 1:26–38

María es increíblemente famosa hoy en día, pero hubo una época en que era completamente desconocida. Ella era solo una campesina adolescente de Nazaret, un poblado que, según algunos eruditos, pudo haber tenido menos de 100 habitantes. Como sus congéneres, probablemente María era analfabeta. Dada su condición de vida, se habría esperado que se casara humildemente con un joven pobre de clase trabajadora. Su familia probablemente habría pasado hambre a menudo al no tener lo suficiente para llegar a fin de mes.

Cuando el Dios del universo decidió elegir a su madre, no se acercó a una mujer joven con grandes riquezas y reconocido estatus social. En cambio, Dios se acercó a una campesina analfabeta de un pueblo muy pequeño. La genealogía de Jesús (Mateo 1:1-17) nos muestra que no tenemos que ser de una raza en particular o pertenecer a determinado grupo social para ser parte de la historia de Dios. Y cuando miramos a María, vemos que no tenemos que ser ricos, ni venir de una gran ciudad, ni ser muy educados o importantes en la sociedad. Podemos ser personas ordinarias y, sin embargo, ser parte de esta historia eterna.

¿Cuál es la única calificación que Dios requiere? Cuando el ángel Gabriel se acercó a María y le dijo: Estás a punto de convertirte en la madre del Hijo de Dios, María abrió su corazón y dijo: Sí, que el Señor haga conmigo como me has dicho. Para formar parte de esta historia y experimentar a Dios dando a luz su vida en nosotros, todo lo que necesitamos es un sí. Necesitamos dar nuestro consentimiento para que el Espíritu Santo de Dios obre dentro de nosotros.

Recientemente, he estado orando algo llamado «La oración de bienvenida». Oro de esta forma: Espíritu Santo, acepto tu obra en mí y hoy rindo delante de ti mi deseo de seguridad, afecto, estima, poder y control. Esta fue la esencia del sí de María a Dios. Dejó ir su seguridad, afecto, estima, poder y control. Como resultado, su reputación quedaría en duda por el resto de su vida. Un día vería a su Hijo burlado, escupido, golpeado y clavado en una cruz romana. Sentiría como si una espada le atravesara el alma (Lucas 2:35). Sin embargo, ella dijo sí.

Que nosotros, como María, oremos: «Espíritu Santo, digo sí a tu obra en mí». Que la vida de Dios nazca en nosotros. Que nosotros también desempeñemos nuestro papel en la grandiosa y eterna historia de Dios.

—Ken Shigematsu

Este artículo es una adaptación de un sermón que Ken Shigematsu predicó el 25 de diciembre de 2019. Usado con permiso.

Miércoles: Esperanza cuando el futuro se desmorona

Lectura de hoy: Mateo 1:18-24

¿Qué esperaba José en la vida? No sabemos mucho sobre este carpintero que vivió hace tanto tiempo. Mateo nos dice que era justo y fiel. Vemos de primera mano que era compasivo y que deseaba proteger a María incluso cuando su futuro parecía derrumbarse. José supo sacrificarse por el deber, convirtiéndose en esposo de María y padre de Jesús en circunstancias inquietantes. Más tarde huyó a Egipto, dejando atrás su familia, su hogar y su trabajo para proteger al pequeño niño que no era suyo (Mateo 2:13-15).

Recibimos un vistazo de José en sus decisiones, pero desearía que supiéramos más. ¿Qué significaron para él las extrañas noticias del ángel y cómo le dio sentido a todo? ¿Anhelaba José tener un matrimonio y una familia? ¿Anhelaba a María, o los padres de ambos habían negociado el compromiso matrimonial? Cuando se enteró por primera vez de su embarazo, ¿estaba desconsolado?, ¿enojado?, ¿o frustrado por los retrasos y trámites que iba a tener que enfrentar para divorciarse de ella?

Nunca sabremos con certeza qué esperaba José de la vida, pero ciertamente no era esto: una prometida embarazada, un hijo por nacer que no era suyo y toda una vida de chismes y calumnias por venir. ¿Quién creería la historia del ángel? ¿La creería usted? ¿La creyó él?

Quizás no la creyó del todo. La mayoría de nosotros no lo haríamos, no podríamos por mucho que quisiéramos. Los bebés se concebían entonces de la misma manera que ahora. Quizás José luchó y oró como lo hizo otro padre que aparece también en la Biblia: «Creo; ¡ayuda mi incredulidad!» (Marcos 9:24, RVR1960).

Independientemente de lo que José esperaba de la vida, el matrimonio y la paternidad, sabemos que se le dio un ascenso más empinado de lo que esperaba. Y, sin embargo, dio un paso adelante. José puso la mira en una esperanza de largo plazo, confiando en que Dios demostraría ser fiel y veraz, y en que una redención futura sería lo suficientemente poderosa como para ser mayor que todo el sufrimiento, la oscuridad y su amarga decepción temporal.

Llamaron al hijo de María, Jesús, un nombre común, con fe en que también llevaba otro nombre, Emanuel, y creyendo que esta escandalosa historia de nacimiento sería redimida por el escándalo divino: «Dios con nosotros». José apostó su vida, su familia, su futuro y su identidad por la posibilidad de que Dios fuera fiel; por la posibilidad de que este niño común, esta fuente de tanta conmoción inicial en la vida de José, fuera de hecho la esperanza del mundo.

—Catherine McNiel

Jueves: Una canción de misericordia y justicia

Lectura de hoy: Lucas 1:39–56

En Lucas 1:39–56, María deja su pueblo natal para ir a visitar a su pariente Elisabet. Cuando llega, se entera de que Elisabet también está embarazada. Y cuando Elisabet ve a María, el bebé dentro de su vientre salta de alegría. Elisabet dice: «Dios te ha bendecido más que a todas las mujeres» (v. 42, NTV). Ella afirma y confirma las palabras que Dios le había enviado a María.

Y a causa de la alegría de este encuentro, María comienza a cantar. Estalla con exuberancia y regocijo, y canta sobre la bondad y la misericordia de Dios, diciendo: «Él muestra misericordia de generación en generación a todos los que le temen» (v. 50), y: «Ayudó a su siervo Israel y no se olvidó de ser misericordioso» (v. 54).

Solemos pensar en la misericordia de una manera limitada, de forma similar al alivio que se brinda a alguien que está sufriendo. Pero en las Escrituras, la misericordia es mucho más profunda y va mucho más allá que eso. Sí, habla de compasión, pero también habla de la lealtad y el incansable amor de Dios por su pueblo.

El canto de María es también un canto de justicia: «¡Su brazo poderoso ha hecho cosas tremendas! Dispersó a los orgullosos y a los altaneros. A príncipes derrocó de sus tronos y exaltó a los humildes. Al hambriento llenó de cosas buenas y a los ricos despidió con las manos vacías» (vv. 51–53). En su canción, María esencialmente está anunciando: Ya viene la justicia de Dios.

La justicia, bíblicamente hablando, consiste en Dios tomando todo lo que está mal en el mundo y corrigiéndolo. En el reino de Dios, las cosas funcionan al revés: los más pequeños son los más grandes y los últimos son los primeros. La justicia de Dios toma lo que está roto y lo hace pleno. En el Adviento, una temporada de anhelo y expectativa, esperamos que Dios arregle las cosas. Y este es un tema clave en la canción de María: Señor, arregla las cosas.

La canción de María nos recuerda que no hay pecado tan profundo que pueda superar la profundidad de la misericordia de Dios. La buena noticia del Adviento es que Dios ha venido y vendrá de nuevo en la persona de Jesús, y ofrece misericordia que va mucho más allá que nuestro pecado. La canción de María también nos recuerda que no hay nada tan malo en el mundo que la justicia de Dios no pueda arreglar algún día. Es por eso que cantamos: por la misericordia de Dios y por la justicia de Dios. Por eso esperamos a que Jesús regrese, porque cuando Él venga, Él hará todas las cosas nuevas.

—Rich Villodas

Este artículo es una adaptación de un sermón que Rich Villodas predicó el 5 de diciembre de 2019. Usado con permiso.

Viernes: La luz y el Rey

Lectura de hoy: Isaías 9:2–7, 40:1–5; Lucas 1:57–80, 3:1–6

Zacarías y Elisabet llamaron a su bebé, Juan, que significa «Dios es misericordioso y nos ha mostrado favor». Lleno del Espíritu Santo, Zacarías profetizó sobre su hijo: «… irás delante del Señor para prepararle el camino. Darás a conocer a su pueblo la salvación mediante el perdón de sus pecados, gracias a la entrañable misericordia de nuestro Dios. Así nos visitará desde el cielo el sol naciente, para dar luz a los que viven en tinieblas, en la más terrible oscuridad…» (Lucas 1:76–79, NVI).

Cuando observamos la vida adulta de Juan el Bautista, vemos que justamente eso hace. Lucas registra:

Juan recorría toda la región del Jordán predicando el bautismo de arrepentimiento para el perdón de pecados. Así está escrito en el libro del profeta Isaías: «Voz de uno que grita en el desierto: «Preparen el camino del Señor, háganle sendas derechas. Todo valle será rellenado, toda montaña y colina será allanada. Los caminos torcidos se enderezarán, las sendas escabrosas quedarán llanas. Y todo mortal verá la salvación de Dios» (Lucas 3:3-6).

Las ideas que encontramos en el libro de Isaías sobre dar nueva forma a valles, colinas y caminos para preparar el camino, en el mundo antiguo estaban asociadas con la llegada de la realeza. Y, de hecho, el ministerio de Juan se centró en una sola cosa: declarar que un Rey estaba en camino.

La profecía de Zacarías sobre su recién nacido incluye una paráfrasis de otro pasaje de Isaías: «El pueblo que andaba en la oscuridad ha visto una gran luz; sobre los que vivían en densas tinieblas la luz ha resplandecido» (9:2). La gente que escuchó a Zacarías profetizar estas palabras habría sabido exactamente de qué se trataba este pasaje de Isaías: la promesa de un Rey venidero. Es parte del mismo pasaje familiar que declara: «Porque nos ha nacido un niño… Gobernará sobre el trono de David» (vv. 6–7).

Esto nos ofrece una inmensa esperanza. Por mucho que nos guste creer que podemos crear la paz y el gozo que tanto anhelamos a través de nuestros propios esfuerzos, la historia de Juan el Bautista y las palabras de Zacarías e Isaías declaran enfáticamente que la paz y el gozo que todo ser humano anhela no serán posibles sino hasta la llegada del Rey. Juan el Bautista literalmente dio su vida para proclamar esta verdad; para ayudar a la gente a ver que una luz estaba a punto de atravesar la oscuridad.

—Jay Y. Kim

Este artículo es una adaptación de un sermón que Jay Y. Kim predicó el 9 de diciembre de 2018. Usado con permiso.

Sábado: Un Dios al que podemos tocar

Lectura de hoy: Lucas 2:1-7

Se decía que los dioses del mundo antiguo vivían fuera del tiempo y el espacio, en un plano diferente al de nuestra existencia mortal. Un plano inalcanzable. En la tierra, con la esperanza de vislumbrar la divinidad, los antiguos establecieron lugares sagrados —un árbol, una montaña, un templo o una ciudad— que, según creían, existían en ambas esferas, como si se trataran de ventanas al cielo. La gente viajaba a estos lugares santos en días santos, creyendo que lo divino y lo mundano casi se traslapaban en un momento sublime.

Lucas se esfuerza por comunicar que esta historia, este Dios y esta mezcla de divinidad y humanidad son completamente diferentes. El Creador estaba llegando aquí, a nuestro mundo fangoso, polvoriento, físico, emocional, hermoso y terrible. Como si se tratara de una partera que anota cuidadosamente la hora y el lugar de nacimiento, Lucas aclara que el nacimiento de Dios interrumpe un evento en particular: el censo romano, en un lugar en particular: la ciudad de Belén, en una familia en particular: la casa de David. Jesús nace en la historia, de una mujer específica, exactamente aquí y exactamente ahora. Podríamos pasar por alto estos detalles locales, pero para los lectores gentiles, la declaración de Lucas sería discordante.

En esta noche, Dios no viene como los dioses de antaño, en una nube o una tormenta, con poder intocable que apenas si puede vislumbrarse a través de un espejo sagrado. No, Dios cae en los brazos de su madre, llegando a esta tierra como lo hacemos todos. Durante meses lo llevó en su vientre; durante horas lo parió con dolor, sangre y lucha, pujando hasta que Dios mismo nació en la tierra, entre nosotros; un bebé vulnerable, arrugado y mojado. Agotado por el esfuerzo, ahora duerme, pero despertará pronto, llorando y hambriento.

Esta es la increíble noticia de Lucas: el Dios verdadero se acercó a nosotros física y tangiblemente, de una manera que podemos ver con nuestros ojos y tocar con nuestras manos. Dios llegó a un pueblo en el que podemos caminar, durante un año que podemos recordar. La divinidad se encarnó en el vientre de una madre, irrumpiendo en un matrimonio, una noche y un pueblo, como sucede con cualquier otro nacimiento. Ya no es necesario encontrarnos con Dios en lugares sagrados y en esferas espirituales. Ahora podemos hacerlo aquí, en la tierra, en nuestras familias, en carne y hueso.

Esta es una idea impactante, incluso para nosotros tantos siglos después. Ya no existe una separación entre lo sagrado y lo mundano. Es en nuestra desordenada vida diaria donde se encuentra Dios, donde Dios está obrando. Este es un Dios al que podemos tocar.

—Catherine McNiel

Colaboradores:

Rachel Kang es escritora de prosa, poesía y otras piezas, y creadora de Indelible Ink Writers, una comunidad de creativos en línea.

Jay Y. Kim es pastor principal de enseñanza en la iglesia WestGate, profesor residente en Vintage Faith Church y autor de Analog Church. Vive con su familia en Silicon Valley.

Catherine McNiel es escritora y oradora. Es autora de All Shall Be Well y Long Days of Small Things.

Ken Shigematsu es pastor principal de la Décima Iglesia de Vancouver, Columbia Británica en Canadá. Es autor de God in My Everything y Survival Guide for the Soul.

Rich Villodas es pastor principal de New Life Fellowship, una iglesia multirracial en Queens, Nueva York. Es autor de The Deeply Formed Life.

Traducción y edición en español por Livia Giselle Seidel

The post Tercera semana de Adviento: Emanuel, Dios con nosotros appeared first on Christianity Today en español | Cristianismo hoy.

Before the meeting ended, the Tenth Avenue church building was surrounded by as many as 100 pro-China demonstrators waving Chinese and Canadian flags. The attendees inside, according to a spokesperson, feared for their safety and were escorted out by Vancouver police officers.

This confrontation took place more than 6,300 miles from Hong Kong and six months after Chief Executive Carrie Lam introduced a controversial extradition bill that would allow fugitives to be extradited into mainland China. The proposal was seen as a ploy to grant Beijing more power over the city, setting off large-scale demonstrations that have continued to this day.

While Lam canceled the extradition bill in September, unrest has continued as protesters press for Lam’s resignation, an inquiry into police brutality during the protests, the release of those arrested, and greater democratic freedoms.

The situation in Hong Kong hits close to home for the 500,000 Hong Kong immigrants residing in Canada and the more than 200,000 in the US. Many still have relatives and friends in Hong Kong, which is part of China but governed by separate laws. Others have directly benefitted from the freedoms and opportunities offered by the semi-autonomous region.

Pastor John D. L. Young grew up in Guangdong Province in mainland China, and then spent about six years studying for his doctoral degree in Hong Kong before immigrating to the US. “I have great affection for Hong Kong. My studies in Hong Kong were financially supported by churches there,” Young, who now leads two Methodist Chinese churches in the New York metropolitan area, said in a recent interview with CT. Speaking in Cantonese, he explained, “The church in Hong Kong has given me a lot of support and encouragement. They provide a lot of love and financial support to the church in China also.”

But these deep ties to Hong Kong have not been enough for Chinese churches in North America to take a public stance. Meanwhile, Christians in Hong Kong have played an active role in the protests: marching, offering food and shelter to demonstrators, and attempting to diffuse tensions with the police.

The Hong Kong Christian Council published a strongly worded statement in July, calling for the suspension of the extradition bill and an independent inquiry into police brutality. In contrast, the Chinese church in North America—numbering more than 1,000 institutions in the US alone—has been largely silent.

The choice not to publicly comment on the Hong Kong protests is an intentional one, with Chinese Christian leaders fearing repercussions from both their own congregants and external supporters of Beijing.

According to Fenggang Yang, founding director of the Center on Religion and Chinese Society at Purdue University and author of Chinese Christians in America, the majority of Chinese churches in the diaspora have members who come from different regions of East Asia. “In most congregations, you will find people from Hong Kong, Taiwan, mainland China, and southeast Asia,” Yang told CT. “Ten years ago, mainland Chinese were still a minority in many churches. Now many have a majority from the People’s Republic of China.”

Different origins among ethnic Chinese immigrants can foster different political views, with more Christians from China supporting the policies of the Chinese government, and those from elsewhere often more critical of the Chinese Communist Party. Even among Chinese immigrants from the same place, views on the situation in Hong Kong can diverge greatly depending on age, personal politics, and tolerance for civil disobedience.

“When you have very nationalistic Chinese Christians and more democratic Chinese Christians, it’s hard for them to have any meaningful conversation,” said Yang. At his own home church in Indiana, a longtime member from Taiwan offered a prayer for the situation in Hong Kong, and another member from China immediately filed a complaint with church leaders.

The simplest solution, then, among Chinese church leaders and laypeople in the diaspora, is to remain avidly apolitical. There is a hard-fought sense of unity within Chinese churches, which gather immigrants of diverse backgrounds around shared culture and ethnicity. But this unity can be easily disrupted by discussions of controversial or complex political issues.

The current situation in Hong Kong is particularly fraught, as it presses on uncomfortable questions of sovereignty, nationalism, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, civic responsibility, and personal loyalties.

“Just as Hong Kong Christians most want peace, those in the diaspora also want peace in their churches and in Hong Kong,” explains Justin Tse, a social and cultural geographer and the lead editor of Theological Reflections on the Hong Kong Umbrella Movement, which covers the 2014 protests considered a precursor to today’s demonstrations.

As violence has escalated between Hong Kong protesters, opponents of the demonstrations, and the police, leading to several fatalities and serious injuries in recent weeks, prayers for peace are not inconsequential. Prayers for peace are certainly significant for the number of Hong Kong pastors who are regularly serving as front-line peacemakers in the demonstrations, trying to calm tensions and act as buffers in confrontations between protesters and police

But Tse is concerned that broad statements or prayers about peace have become a proxy for more substantive conversations.

“One of my longstanding concerns about the Chinese church is that when stuff happens that is upsetting to people in general, they don’t want to talk about it,” Tse explains. “Because they don’t want to talk about it, they don’t want to learn about it. But in not talking about it, they are talking about it.”

There’s a belief among many Chinese pastors that it’s simply not their place. Chinese churches in North America have generally stayed out of partisan debates, with the notable exception of being vocal opponents of same-sex marriage.

Joseph Chun, a Hong Kong native who is now the senior pastor of First Chinese Baptist Church, San Gabriel Valley, said that he has his own personal views of the demonstrations in Hong Kong. “But I would not influence my people to have the same opinion I have,” he told CT. “That is not my role, to press my opinion upon my people that I am shepherding.” Instead, he focuses on teaching them biblical principles, such as what is evil and good and merciful, and lets them make up their own minds.

Several Chinese pastors in the US declined to be interviewed for this article, citing similar reasons: They don’t want to speak for their congregations; they don’t want to risk harming the unity of their community; they don’t feel like they know enough; or they haven’t discussed the Hong Kong protests at all with their churches.

Kevin Xiyi Yao, a native of mainland China who is now an associate professor of World Christianity and Asian Studies at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, understands why Chinese congregations in North America choose not to take sides on controversial political issues. But, in this case, he believes they’re missing an opportunity to address a fundamental challenge that extends beyond current events and plagues Chinese people as a whole: a strong prejudice against other Chinese based on language, culture, and geographic origin.

In the current demonstrations, “I would say there is a lot of rhetoric and mentality of parochialism and outright discrimination,” he told CT in a recent interview. Among many Hong Kong protesters, there is an overt bias against people from mainland China. Many mainland Chinese, in turn, see Hong Kongers as entitled troublemakers. Such prejudices are often brought into Chinese churches in the diaspora—but they aren’t discussed.

Addressing such biases “could be painful in the short term, but in the long term it’s good for the health of the church, to make the church stronger. If you want to cover it over to maintain the peace on the surface, then you end up with a weak church,” said Yao. As an alternative, he recommends that church leaders “talk about what reconciliation means. Let’s talk about issues of social justice. What’s the Christian vision of a just and peaceful society?”

For now, these kinds of conversations are rare among North American Chinese churches. And while church leaders fear that speaking out about Hong Kong or other hot button topics could drive out members, silence could very well have the same effect.

Tse, for example, is part of a group of second-generation Chinese Americans and Chinese Canadians who left the evangelical church after its refusal to address the 2014 Umbrella Movement in Hong Kong.

As the few churches and Chinese Christian leaders who have spoken out have discovered, there are risks to being vocal. Tse knows of several congregations that support the Hong Kong protests, including his own Eastern Catholic congregation in the suburbs of Vancouver, that have been visited by strangers who photographed all the attendees and posted their images on social media. Others, like Vancouver Christians for Love, Peace, and Justice, have been harassed by pro-China demonstrators.

It’s also common for Chinese churches in the diaspora to be connected to ministries and Christian leaders in Hong Kong and China through giving, missions work, and denominational ties. They fear that if they become known as outspoken pro-democracy advocates, their partners could face harassment and oppression by Chinese authorities.

And yet refusing to engage with current events, especially when it concerns human rights and social justice, comes with its own costs, according to Tenth Church senior pastor Ken Shigematsu. “There’s a danger in being politically partisan, but there’s also a danger in not speaking out prophetically and boldly on the issues of our day,” he told CT. “And I would say that’s an even greater danger.”

Despite the incident on one of his church’s five sites back in August, Shigematsu continues to encourage prayer and dialogue about the demonstrations in Hong Kong within his multiethnic congregation. He hopes that more pastors will do the same.

“I would say that it’s important to be informed on the issues, to be praying for wisdom and discernment. But when we see human rights violated, intimidation and violence, I believe that it’s important as pastors to speak out against those kinds of injustices,” he said. “There sometimes is an overlap between justice issues and political issues. When that happens, we’re not going to shy away from the issue. We’ll sometimes wade into controversy.”

The post Praying for Hong Kong Can Be Politically Disruptive—Even in America appeared first on Christianity Today.

Lobdell’s co-pastor and husband, Tommy, was apprehensive about her decision to broach Dinah’s story. “He said, ‘Why are you preaching about rape? It’s such a vile topic. It’s such a sensitive area. Why are you taking that risk?’” said Lobdell. “He felt anxious, like, What’s going to happen when we open this door?”

But Lobdell was beginning to feel burdened by sermons in which women’s suffering was “a little side note to what pastors really want to talk about.”

“It was one of those subtle promptings of the Holy Spirit: ‘Here’s a story that gets skipped over. You have a gap in your schedule. What could you put there?’” said Lobdell. “I trusted the Spirit’s guidance.”

Naming Dinah’s experience from the pulpit caused an unexpected chain reaction. “After the sermon,” said Lobdell, “several people shared their own stories with me and expressed gratitude for giving voice to Dinah’s experience. This sermon allowed women to find their stories expressed in Scripture.”

Shortly after Lobdell broached that subject with her congregation, The New York Times released a report on Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein’s history of sexual misconduct. That report launched another, much larger chain reaction: the #MeToo movement. The hashtag #MeToo, created by activist Tarana Burke and mainstreamed by actress Alyssa Milano, cascaded as women shared their stories of workplace sexual misconduct, manipulation, domestic violence, childhood sexual abuse, and rape.

As is often the case, the Christian community had a parallel story.

In late November of 2017, two former evangelical women used the hashtag #ChurchToo to share stories of their own sexual abuse in church communities. Hundreds of people followed their lead, using that designation to share stories of abuse by church leaders and church members.

Before the #MeToo movement, the majority (67%) of church leaders acknowledged that people in their congregation were affected by domestic and sexual violence, but only 56 percent said they had spoken to their congregation at least once year about these issues, according to 2014 LifeWay Research data.

Since #MeToo, according to 2018 LifeWay Research data, a similar number (64%) of church leaders acknowledged that congregants were affected by domestic and sexual violence, but 77 percent now said they speak to their congregation about these issues at least once a year. Further, based on an informal survey of CT Pastors’ readers, since the start of the #MeToo movement, the number of self-identified pastors who claim to have a high or very high awareness of sexual misconduct has increased by 30 percent.

Additionally, the #MeToo movement has spurred sermon series, hard conversations with staff, and revisions of sexual harassment policies. Congregants are sharing their own stories, sometimes for the first time. Pastors will be the first to admit it—many are facing uncharted territory.

Reactive or Responsive?

“Heartbreaking.” That’s how Justin Pearson, lead pastor of Sojourn Church in Fairfax, Virginia, described his initial reaction to the #MeToo stories.

“Hearing and reading so many stories of unchecked abuse of women sickened and saddened me greatly,” he said. “To hear about similar instances within the church frustrated me all the more. The local church should be the voice for the voiceless. It should stand up against abuse in any form. As I read these stories, it became clear that, more often than I wanted to acknowledge or admit, that had not been the case. It broke my heart.”

Milton Campbell, lead pastor of The Midtown Bridge Church in Atlanta, was similarly disappointed.

“I felt saddened by the abuse of power demonstrated by leaders,” said Campbell. But his thoughts soon turned from other church leaders to himself. “After that initial disappointment, I began to reflect on my own leadership. I wanted to make sure I had been sensitive to those who may not have had a voice.”

Many pastors have felt a similar urge to “do something”—to help survivors and prevent further abuse. Yet it can be challenging to respond proactively and thoroughly to issues like these when pastors are already stretched thin.

“The hardest part, especially for a small church, is that you already have so many things to do,” said Todd Benkert, pastor of Oak Creek Community Church in Mishawaka, Indiana. “Time is not an unlimited resource. Personnel is not unlimited. It can be overwhelming— to the point where I want to throw up my hands and say, ‘I already have so much to do. How can I possibly add to that list?’”

As this cultural movement gains steam, so does pressure on pastors to respond thoughtfully and biblically in real time.

“I get discouraged when I look at Twitter on Saturday nights,” said Lobdell, “and people are tweeting, ‘If your pastor doesn’t address fill-in-the-blank on Sunday morning, leave that church.’ It’s exhausting to feel like you constantly have to react to what’s happening in culture, almost like a Saturday Night Live skit.”

To fight this pressure, Lobdell and her husband have endeavored to teach about the serious consequences of sin and human brokenness throughout the year.

“For me, being reactive means I’m responding out of the heat of the moment,” she said. “I want to be responsive. I want to have a carefully articulated, integrated response that comes from the Spirit’s guidance.”

Outside Wisdom

There is no one-size-fits-all approach to addressing #MeToo in congregations. Thankfully, church leaders aren’t alone when making these decisions. Many pastors are turning to others for help.

Jason Robertson, senior pastor of Huntington Beach Church in Southern California, knew he needed to do something in the wake of the #MeToo movement, but he wasn’t sure what step to take first. He sought wisdom from two sources.

“I talked extensively to the women on our staff and on our leadership team,” he said. Though his church is complementarian, it has a co-ed lay leadership team he could speak to for advice. Next, he reached out the Southern Baptist Convention, to which his church belongs. “I called my director of missions and asked for names and organizations we could use as resources.” After those conversations, Robertson felt prepared to preach a series on #MeToo (more on that below). Those sermons, he says, are the first steps in what he hopes is a larger response in his congregation.

Theophilus Church in Portland, Oregon, learned the hard way that good intentions may not be enough when a church is confronted with a case of domestic abuse. Executive pastor Cameron Marvin had received questions from several of their lay leaders about how the church would handle any reports of abuse.

“It was already a topic of conversation—‘What would we do in an abuse situation?’ But it had remained theoretical and abstract,” said Marvin.

Then it hit home.

“A domestic abuse situation was brought to our attention,” he said. “We started out intending to help the victim, responding to all of her requests. She wanted us to get help for her abuser, so we tried to counsel him through the process.”

According to Marvin, this complicated the situation. The church’s eventual response unintentionally favored the abuser over the abused person, he said. “That was not our heart or intent. It was a product of us being unprepared. The situation blew up, and we had to ask ourselves, ‘Are we equipped to handle these situations internally?’”

The answer was clear: “We were out of our league.”

The leaders realized they needed a clear plan for dealing with similar situations, and they knew from experience that they couldn’t put one together on their own. They reached out to therapists in their network to help devise a proper response plan—one that didn’t keep things locked inside their church culture. Then they brought in a local specialist to educate their core leaders on the nature of abuse.

“Everyone’s on board with the process,” said Marvin. “We’ve all acknowledged that it probably should have happened earlier.”

Ken Shigematsu, pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, British Colombia, also sees the value in bringing in outside experts. His church recently hosted a spiritual trauma seminar led by therapist and researcher Hillary McBride.

“The goal of the seminar was to help people overcome the trauma they experienced at the hands of the church, whether it was sexual or an abuse of power,” he said. “It was well received. We gave people tools to move toward wholeness and spiritual practices meant to foster healing.”

Shigematsu continued, “In a secular city like Vancouver, Christians are very much on the margins. We’re called to be a prophetic presence and voice. The #MeToo movement gives us an opportunity to create relationships with those who are much different from ourselves and hopefully share the love of Christ with them.”

Personal Commitments and Formal Policies

When Pearson read about pastors stepping down after allegations of sexual misconduct, he immediately thought about his own context. “Not because anything like that had taken place in our church,” he said, “but because I didn’t want anything like that to take place.”

He started talking with the other leaders at his church about how to guard against subtle sins and lack of accountability.

“We specifically talked about pastoral interactions with women,” he said. “I think it is okay to give and receive hugs from people of the opposite sex, but I’m realizing I need to be careful about when and how this takes place. For instance, a young man recently passed away in our church. The Sunday after this happened, I gave and received a lot of hugs, but this is not something I do every Sunday.”

Pearson is recognizing how a position of authority can turn a seemingly harmless gesture into an abuse of power. “It can be easy to overlook how our position as shepherds within our church can influence someone’s willingness—or unwillingness—to receive a hug. My position influences how others perceive, receive, and interact with me. What I intend as a familial hug might not be taken that way by someone else.”

Though his church decided not to institute any formal “hug policy,” they did make one specific change to their bylaws following the #MeToo movement. “Originally we codified in our bylaws that, for a charge to be considered against an elder, at least two witnesses had to come forward to validate the charge. But in most cases of sexual abuse or immorality there will never be two witnesses.”

This called for a change to their policies, he said.

“Our team felt it was crucial for someone who has been sinned against sexually by a pastor-elder to be able to bring that information and charge forward. The #MeToo movement directly influenced our decision to include formal language in our governing document related to this type of sinful behavior.”

While Pearson feels confident in the steps his church has taken to increase accountability among its leaders, he knows there is still work to be done. “The hardest part is realizing how multi-faceted this is within our culture and the church at large. This is not just about inappropriate behavior; it’s about deep heart issues and systemic issues that cannot be reconciled by changing a policy here or there. We need to continue discussing these issues and taking necessary actions that create a safe environment for all people.”

Sermons about #MeToo

Prior to the #MeToo movement, pastors rarely addressed domestic violence or sexual assault from the pulpit or large group setting. According to Life-Way Research, close to half of pastors (42%) said they never addressed either subject.

According to our informal survey of CT Pastors’ readers, 44 percent of pastors feel apprehension about preaching on the subject, even after the events of the last year. Still, some pastors—such as James Emery White, senior pastor of Mecklenburg Community Church in Charlotte, North Carolina—felt they had little choice but to teach on the subject from the pulpit. As the #MeToo movement unfolded, White said to himself, “If we don’t do this series, it’s going to look weird.”

Over four weeks, the multisite pastor made it clear the Bible condemned sexual harassment, assault, misogyny, and sexism. An important part of making this series work for White was pointing congregants back to Scripture, introducing a theme verse for the series: 1 Timothy 5:2: Treat “older women as mothers, and younger women as sisters, with absolute purity.”

“I’m stunned this verse isn’t being used more in Christian conversations about the #MeToo movement. It speaks to it so directly,” he said.

This wasn’t the only “obscure” Bible passage White highlighted in his series. He also preached on the rape of David’s daughter Tamar (2 Sam. 13)—“one of so many passages rarely talked about at church”—juxtaposing it with the story of Moses standing up for his future wife and her sisters after they were accosted by shepherds (Ex. 2).

“It was a powerful four-week conversation. It was very healing. Afterward I was flooded with emails of women telling their stories, often for the first time.”

Not all congregants are eager to hear a #MeToo sermon. Two weeks before he launched his own series on the subject, Robertson announced the topic to his congregation.

“A gentleman came up to me—every church has someone who never buys into the vision of the pastor—and said, ‘You’re just preaching this because it’s on the front page of the papers. I think this is a terrible idea.’”

Before Robertson could say a word, the man’s wife spoke up.

“She rebuked him right in front of me! ‘You are completely wrong,’ she said. ‘Half of this church is women and they want to hear this addressed.’”

The congregant attended with his wife for the entire series and never said another word about it.

Despite receiving mostly positive feedback from his congregation, at the time of this reporting, Robertson has yet to give the final sermon he wrote on the topic. That’s intentional.

“Sometimes you just don’t want to overload people,” he said. After touching on a few other topics, he plans to return to this one sometime in the future.

One Step at a Time

More and more churches are training and equipping themselves to prevent abuse and sexual misconduct in their congregations and to serve survivors, but these efforts reveal how much is left to be done.

“Once you scratch the surface of these topics, you realize how prominent and how broad the issues are,” said Marvin. “It can be challenging to approach the topics in a practical sense because we’re talking about something so big.”

Benkert advises other pastors not to let that stop them from taking steps forward, no matter how small.

“This isn’t the first time most churches have thought about these issues, but the #MeToo movement is reminding us how important it is to put them on the front burner,” he said. “It’s easy to get comfortable. At our church, we want to make sure the #MeToo phenomenon is an occasion to make sure we’re doing everything we can to minister effectively and provide a safe place where people can be transformed by the gospel.”

Morgan Lee is associate digital media producer at Christianity Today. This article is part of our 2018 Annual State of Church Ministry special issue.

The post Ministry in the #MeToo Moment appeared first on Christianity Today.

I am profoundly grateful for the women pastors and leaders at Tenth Church and their spectacular leadership! Your wise executive leadership, Christ-centered preaching, courageous pursuit of justice, and loving pastoral care have built our church community. Without your Spirit-filled investment, our church’s ministries would shrivel on the vine. The church at large is a healthier and more complete reflection of the Body of Christ with leaders like you. I am truly honored, inspired, and ennobled by the privilege of serving with you.

Ken Shigematsu, pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, BC, and author of God in My Everything

I am so grateful for all the women leaders in our church! They have such wonderful servant hearts, are so compassionate, and bring lots of wisdom, insight, and creativity in their leadership. Our teams really thrive when we have women leading them, and it's so inspiring watching them inspire other young leaders, too. The mission of God and the community of God are only complete when we have men and women working alongside each other with the gifts God has given them!

Carter Moss, campus pastor and life groups director for Newbreak Church, a large multi-site church in San Diego

I believe that throughout the centuries God has given gifts to his church through empowering and equipping women and men to lead both in the church and in the wider culture. I am grateful for the biblical leaders such as Ruth, Deborah, Jael, Mary, Priscilla, and Junia. I would not be the person I am today without the example of magnificent women such as Elizabeth Elliot, Amy Carmichael, and Catherine Booth, whose stories, lives, and teaching have always challenged me to live courageously for God. In my home church the women on our elder board bring clarity, wisdom, and great insight to every discussion we have together as leaders. I love the fact that there is a distinctly growing number of female movers and shakers in the national church scene—like Jo Saxton, MaryKate Morse, Bethany Hoang, and Danielle Strickland—who model in powerful ways to me a commitment to understanding Scripture and to living it out. So with a sincere heart I thank God for the godly women leaders who are impacting my life.

Dr. Krish Kandiah, theologian, justice activist, and author of God is Stranger: Finding God in Unexpected Places

Our women leaders have dramatically changed the culture and ministry impact of our church. They bring both a strategic boldness and a pastoral sensitivity to the work, a balance that we desperately need. By nature and training, women leaders are generally more intuitive, relationally insightful and extremely passionate. Thus they bring an emotional and intellectual energy to the teams they lead and to the teaching they provide. And it is clear some of the smartest leaders we have on our campuses happen to be women. When it comes to a missional mindset I find women leaders “feel the needs” in our greater community long before many men do, likely because many have been caregivers at work and in the home. Or maybe it is because women in general have been often overlooked, abused, neglected or marginalized in the world. So they have a special heart for the poor, the orphan, the widow and the stranger—the groups the Bible identifies as closest to the heart of God and deserving of special focus. I am so glad our church has women leaders—we would be "half a church" without them.

Dr. Bill Donahue, group life consultant, leadership coach, and professor at Trinity International University

Thank you to all the women leaders in the church. I am thankful for your strength to face obstacles that are unique to women in ministry. I am thankful for your perseverance through times of oppression and heartache. I am thankful for your guidance and leadership in my life and in others. I am thankful for your wise council that helps lead the church. I am thankful for your faith that continues to be at the center of your being. I am thankful that God made you in his image and that you are an ambassador for his kingdom. I am thankful to my sisters in Christ that I have the honor to be co-workers with in Christ Jesus. Thank you!

Brad Himes, involvement director at Broadway Christian Church in Mattoon, Illinois

I can remember the moment like it was yesterday. We had been visiting a traditional African American church in my hometown of Orlando, and I turned to ask my single parent mother what Women's Day was. As my mom began to explain that it’s the one Sunday of the year that the church sets aside to honor and thank the women of the church, I asked her, "So you only get one Sunday a year?" I will never forget her laughing as she reminded me that every Sunday is about Jesus, not us. My mom has a way of reminding me about the important things of life, and this is true of all women leaders. They not only remind us what’s important, but also remind us of the strength and beauty of God's bride, the church. I hate to even think of where we would be without women in the body of Christ. Thankful not only for the women that God has placed in my life but also very thankful for what women offer the body of Christ.

Maina Mwaura, missions pastor at West Ridge Church in Dallas, Georgia

Professionals in their fields outside the church, the women leaders in our church bring their expertise in social work, counseling, and various forms of leadership, filling the ranks of our diaconate. Every significant ministry to the marginalized in our city is led by women. Some seminary trained and gifted teachers are among them. Experiencing their combination of power and humility is one way we most tangibly encounter Jesus Christ.

Sharad Yadav, elder of preaching and teaching at Bread&Wine in Portland, Oregon

I appreciate the women leaders at my church because I personally have learned so much about God and myself by listening to them and serving alongside them. I know that this sentiment is shared by the congregation at RISEN. The diversity that women bring through their experiences, perspectives, and talents has blessed and served our church greatly. Our women leaders embody passion with humility, servant leadership, and a strong commitment to our gospel vision and mission. The vision of RISEN church fails if it were not for the women that God has called to serve and lead it.

Martin Cachero, pastor of RISEN church, a new church plant in San Diego, California

—Compiled by the editors

The post 8 Ways You’re Appreciated appeared first on Christianity Today.

Survival Guide for the Soul: How to Flourish Spiritually in a World that Pressures Us to Achieve

Ken Shigematsu (Author), Ann Voskamp (Foreword)

HarperCollins

224 pages

$9.97

I was born in Tokyo, Japan, one of the busiest, most work-oriented cities in the world. My wife, Sakiko, and I regularly return to Japan to visit her family. When I am back, I find myself wondering what my life would have been like if my family had not moved away from Japan when I was a child. If I had grown up in Japanese society, there would have been enormous pressure on me to attend the right preschool, the right kindergarten, the right elementary school, the right junior high, and so on. Eventually, I would have felt the pressure to find a job at the right company and then the additional pressure to become a dutiful “salary man.”

As I ponder what my life could have been, I breathe a sigh of relief: “Thank God I am not part of that relentless rat race!”

But if I am honest with myself, I know I haven’t escaped it.

That pressure to achieve and succeed followed me from my job at Sony to my work as a pastor. The transition from the business world to the church didn’t free me from feeling that I needed to make something exceptional of my life and my ministry.

My good friend Jeff once told me, “For a long time, you have felt like you needed to be the guy. When you were younger, you felt the need to be the guy on the football field; as a younger man, the guy in the business world; and now, the guy as the pastor.”

He was right. I still have that desire to accomplish something significant—to stand out in some way.

Twenty years ago, when I first came to pastor Tenth Church in Vancouver, I was intimidated. I felt nervous about the challenge of pastoring a historic church that had dwindled from more than 1,000 to a little more than 100 members. The church had cycled through 20 pastors (including associates) over the past 20 years.

On one of my first days at the church, the secretary told me, “Ken, I just want you to know that if this ship sinks now, everyone will blame you since you were the last captain at the helm.” She was trying to motivate me to work harder, but her words depressed me! During those days, I felt constantly anxious, trying to keep the ship of the church afloat. I wasn’t doing this for the glory of God but to avoid humiliating failure. I didn’t want to be seen as a loser.

Adam I and Adam II

I’m sure you’ve heard people say, “Be true to yourself.” But the truth is that we have many selves. Sometimes we feel as if there is a committee of voices within our heart, each vying for different, competing proposals. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Scripture suggests that we are complex, multidimensional beings filled with a variety of motives and desires. Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik, in his book The Lonely Man of Faith, points out that in the Book of Genesis we are given two different portrayals of Adam. He contends that each of these “two Adams” corresponds to a different side of our human nature. He refers to these as Adam I and Adam II.

According to Soloveitchik, Genesis 1 introduces us to “Adam I.” This Adam is driven by God’s command to “fill the earth and subdue it” (v. 28). He feels compelled to conquer, create, and control. In a modern context, this means that our Adam I wants to understand how nature works so we can conquer disease or create a thriving business. This Adam feels pressure to produce and be successful. Soloveitchik points out that this calling is good and necessary. We need a healthy amount of Adam I to get things done in the world.

Soloveitchik continues in Genesis 2 by describing the persona of “Adam II.” In contrast to Adam I’s desire to conquer, create, and control, Adam II is led to a garden. He is called to serve it humbly (v. 15). A couple of chapters later we read that Adam walks with God in the cool of the day (Gen. 3:8). The two Adams have different desires. While Adam I wants to produce goods, Adam II yearns for relationship. He longs to connect with his Maker and feels lonely until Eve appears. Adam II is not as interested in how nature works, but why nature is there in the first place. He seeks to find meaning in life.

Soloveitchik recognizes that these two aspects of Adam reflect something true about every person: We each have this dual persona. Part of us strives for success (Adam I), while another part of us longs for connection with God and others (Adam II). And these personas don’t need to be opposed to one another. We all need a good dose of Adam I’s drive and ambition to energize us for action—whether it’s purging our garage, learning a new skill for our job, or seeking to make our world a place that reflects more of God’s justice. But we also need to tend to Adam II’s longing for relationship, spiritual connection, and meaning in life. A healthy person will find a balance between these two drives so they complement each other in a holistic, life-giving way.

I find both of these Adams alive within me. There is a Ken I, who loves to work and achieve, and a Ken II, who values relationships with others and treasures intimate moments with God. And I know that when one of these parts of my identity overshadows the other, it affects how I relate to my wife, my son, and the people around me. When these two Kens are not in balance, it shapes how I treat my body and engage my work.

I realize that it’s awkward speaking of yourself with Roman numerals. And I also realize this is an idiosyncratic reading of Genesis. But I still find it helpful to think of these two parts of myself as Striving Adam and Soulful Adam. One part of us strives to impact the world around us through our work and effort. And another part of us seeks soulful connection through relationships with people and by experiencing ultimate reality.

Striving Ambition and Soulful Investment

A healthy balance between our Striving Adam and Soulful Adam relieves us of our need to be successful, rich, or widely known in order to win the respect and approval of others. This frees us to pursue the will of God for our lives.

My mentor and close friend, Leighton Ford, embodies this joyful freedom in his vocation. Leighton was ambitious for God, and with an earnest Striving Adam, he yearned to have a significant impact. After graduating from Wheaton College, he wed Billy Graham’s sister, Jeanie, and became part of the “royal family” of the Christian world. A rising star, Leighton began preaching in large football stadiums around the world. The Religious Heritage of America named him Clergyman of the Year, and Time magazine identified him as the person most qualified to succeed his brother-in-law, Billy Graham.

Leighton’s son, Sandy, had become an accomplished track and field runner. Like his father, he aspired to become a minister of the gospel. Unexpectedly, he was diagnosed with a rare heart disease that caused arrhythmia. After an operation to address his condition, Sandy seemed fine. But then, while running with a college roommate shortly after his 21st birthday, the arrhythmia struck again. A few days later, he died on the operating table.

A few days after Sandy’s funeral, Leighton went to Sandy’s room near the university to gather his son’s belongings. As he looked over Sandy’s desk, Leighton found an unfinished poem. It was titled “To Dad, for his 50th birthday.” The words of the poem remain etched on Leighton’s heart to this day:

What a golden honor it would be to don your mantle, to inherit twice times your spirit.

For then you would be me and I would continue to be you.

Leighton wept. He thought of the promise of this beautiful life, a promise that would no longer be fulfilled, a mantle that would never fall on his son’s shoulders.

In the midst of his searing loss and pain, Leighton felt God drawing close to him. He sensed the Holy Spirit calling him to begin a new ministry, one that would mean stepping out of the limelight. He felt led to invest himself into a small group of younger men and women to help them “run their race” for God through one-on-one spiritual mentoring. Leighton’s suffering and his experience of God’s love clarified what was most important. His pain, paradoxically, freed him from the need to pursue the path of conventional success.

Through an unassuming ministry of spiritual direction, Leighton, now in his 80s, has been blessed with many sons and daughters. He is no longer an A-list Christian celebrity, but his influence is deep and wide. And he is now at home in his own skin, truly content with his life and calling. He models the marriage of a healthy striving ambition and a soulful investment in personal relationships of love and depth. As Sandy’s poem foretold, the mantle of Leighton’s ministry has fallen—not on Sandy, but on his many spiritual sons and daughters.

A Fruitful Balance

During my early years at Tenth Church, I felt desperate to see the church experience a turnaround. I was clocking 70-hour work weeks, but my efforts weren’t bearing fruit. We would experience a little growth, but just around the corner face discouraging decline.

When I got married, I cut back my work week and something surprising happened. Even though I was working fewer hours, my ministry became more fruitful. The church grew healthier. Fast forward several years—I became a parent, and I reduced my work week further still. Again, I found that while my family life improved, the church thrived as well.

What made the difference? As I scaled back my work hours, I began to embrace certain spiritual practices—including meditative prayer and specific gratitude exercises—which deepened my sense of connection to God and enabled me to be more present to my family and those around me. Because of this, my work began to flourish.

I still feel the pull at the end of the workday to stay in the office a little longer and answer a few more emails. But I’ve learned over time that a small sacrifice in one area of my life and a corresponding investment in another area can lead to a fruitful balance where Striving Ken and Soulful Ken work together in harmony.

Ken Shigematsu is senior pastor of Tenth Church in Vancouver, British Columbia, and author of Survival Guide for the Soul , ©2018, from which this content was taken. Used by permission of Zondervan.

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