(The day after the great tragedy at Shady Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT)
On this day, when we all are grieving
with grieving parents and holding confused, scared and saddened children in our
prayers ... when we lament and cry out “How long, O Lord” .... when we we seek
answers to such violence in this world, we hear words that God came (and comes)
for such days as yesterday, for mornings such as this, for us all. Thanks to
my friend, Thom Shuman, for hearing the whispers of God and for putting these
God-given words together for us. Yes, in a bleak midwinter day in Advent, God comes. anna
Lord, you have been our dwelling place in
all generations. Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had
formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God.
(Psalm 90:1-2)
Once again, we are reminded about the meaning of this bleak midwinter we call Advent. For God did not come to create a greeting card industry, nor so we could string lights on houses and trees. God did not become one of us so we might have office parties and give people things they don't really need. God was not born so songs could be written and sermons preached.
God came for such mornings as this, after the long night of anguished tossing and turning, with visions of horror dancing in our heads. God came to walk with us as we wander the streets of our hearts asking, 'how? why? when?'
God came to huddle with terrified children in closets where school supplies are stored, and to give teachers the strength not to show their worst fears. God came to cradle the wounded and the dying, so they would know they were not abandoned in that loneliest of moments.
God came to give the first responders the courage to walk into the unspeakable, willing to put themselves between danger and little children. God came to gather the parents and grandparents up into the divine lap of comfort and hope, even as their arms would no longer be able to embrace their child. God came to have that most compassionate heart broken as many times as ours are, to weep with us even when we have run out of tears, to stand next to us with the same look of horror and disbelief.
God came for mornings such as this, with the same haggard face, with the same questions, with the same anger, with the same sense of loss and hopelessness, but with deep wells of grace from which we can drink, with compassion which will never end, with comforting arms which will not grow weary, with hope which stretches from everlasting to everlasting.
God came, and is still with us.
© 2012 Thom M. Shuman
Thom
Thom M. Shuman
Interim Pastor
Immanuel Presbyterian Church, Cincinnati, OH
Associate Member, Iona Communitywww.lectionaryliturgies.blogsp
www.occasionalsightings.blogsp
www.prayersfortoday.blogspot.c
'Scripture is like a river,
broad and deep,
shallow enough here
for the lamb to go wading,
but deep enough there
for the elephant to swim.'
- - Gregory the Great (540-604)
Once again, we are reminded about the meaning of this bleak midwinter we call Advent. For God did not come to create a greeting card industry, nor so we could string lights on houses and trees. God did not become one of us so we might have office parties and give people things they don't really need. God was not born so songs could be written and sermons preached.
God came for such mornings as this, after the long night of anguished tossing and turning, with visions of horror dancing in our heads. God came to walk with us as we wander the streets of our hearts asking, 'how? why? when?'
God came to huddle with terrified children in closets where school supplies are stored, and to give teachers the strength not to show their worst fears. God came to cradle the wounded and the dying, so they would know they were not abandoned in that loneliest of moments.
God came to give the first responders the courage to walk into the unspeakable, willing to put themselves between danger and little children. God came to gather the parents and grandparents up into the divine lap of comfort and hope, even as their arms would no longer be able to embrace their child. God came to have that most compassionate heart broken as many times as ours are, to weep with us even when we have run out of tears, to stand next to us with the same look of horror and disbelief.
God came for mornings such as this, with the same haggard face, with the same questions, with the same anger, with the same sense of loss and hopelessness, but with deep wells of grace from which we can drink, with compassion which will never end, with comforting arms which will not grow weary, with hope which stretches from everlasting to everlasting.
God came, and is still with us.
© 2012 Thom M. Shuman
Thom
Thom M. Shuman
Interim Pastor
Immanuel Presbyterian Church, Cincinnati, OH
Associate Member, Iona Communitywww.lectionaryliturgies.blogsp
www.occasionalsightings.blogsp
www.prayersfortoday.blogspot.c
'Scripture is like a river,
broad and deep,
shallow enough here
for the lamb to go wading,
but deep enough there
for the elephant to swim.'
- - Gregory the Great (540-604)
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