December’s distractions tempt us to miss out on marveling over the God in the manger.
Week 1 of Advent has traditionally drawn on hope; a hope convinced that the future has the power to transform our today:
Do we pause for even a moment to ponder the magnitude depicted on our front lawn by the weathered plastic scene with the donkeys and the angels and the startlingly Scandinavian baby lying in the strange looking—what do we call that thing?
Hoping, even when Christmas hurts most of all
Hope never asks us to ignore the effects of winter in our own lives. Instead, Hope asks us to join our story to the story of the God in the manger.
A Mumford kind of Christmas
Hope will always be intertwined with wait. But hope is better sung than said.
A place for hope
I suspect most of us think hope belongs in the cotton candy, wispy cloud, ethereal world of wishful thinking.
We may feel enveloped by the darkness that threatens to drown out light itself. But may we never forget that the rising Son has chased away the darkness.
A bite of hope
We know what it’s like to be hungry even as we eat, yet we also know the distinct pleasure every bite offers.
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