Views

The views expressed here are those of each individual devotion writer. Thank you to our writers for their contributions to this ministry!

Monday, December 30, 2019

Light Pierces Through


Read: John 1:1-14



When we talk about the creation story, we often refer to

Genesis. But the bible is full of creation stories, and the

opening of John’s gospel is one of them. Not to be confined to

literal interpretation, the poetry of John 1 tells us more about

the nature of God than about the contents of the cosmos.

Looking at this story of birth, what do we learn about God?

In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and

the Word was God (John 1:1). God is living word, holy discourse.

God is known to us in logic, debate, truth, and story.

What came into being through the Word was life, and the life

was the light for all people (John 1:4). God is living flesh, divine

presence in human form, the embodiment of love for all

people. God joins us in every human experience.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t

extinguish the light (John 1:5). God is light that pierces through

the darkness. Nothing can stop it or dampen its might.

In this painting, I meditated on the persistence of light. Light

can travel endlessly through a vacuum; light waves won’t

diminish no matter how far they have to travel. Therefore,

starlight travels through space for billions of light years to

reach us on earth. Can you imagine that? Perhaps that’s God’s

nature and constant posture—endlessly traveling through

time and space just to reach us.


Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below.

Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How

do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken

prayer to God.

(reprinted with permission, What Can't Wait by A Sanctified Art.org)



Sunday, December 29, 2019

A Prayer

I confess—


I am good at waiting.

I waited for someone else to be passionate before I made a change.

I waited for you to say, “I love you” before I was honest.

I waited for affirmation about my work before trying harder.

I waited for anyone else to take the lead instead of speaking up.

I waited for you to forget instead of saying sorry.

I wait for a compliment before I feel beautiful.

I wait for your call before calling back.

I wait for an opinion before stating my own.

I wait for a rainy day to slow down.

I wait for a sunny day to get outside.

I wait for Saturdays to call home.

I wait for free time to read my Bible.

And too often, I wait for Sunday to pray.

I have lived well, but I have also sat on my hands,

Turned my head, closed my eyes,

Lived in denial, pretended it would get better,

Believed in someone else’s call over my own,

And ignored the fact that these hands belong to God.

But these hands belong to God.

I guess what I’m trying to say is,

What if Mary waited nine months so that we wouldn’t have to?

And what if the disciples waited three days so that we wouldn’t have to?

There is love to sow,

Peace to reap,

Joy to feel,

And a promised day that I am longing for.

So if you want to join me,

I’ll be busy, unlearning years of sitting and waiting.


Prayer by Sarah Are

(reprinted with permission, What Can't Wait by A Sanctified Art.org)

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Sabbath Can't Wait

What can wait? On this day of Sabbath, identify one thing in
your life that feels urgent but can actually wait in order for
you to rest. Commit to one of the activities below, or spend

time doing something else that centers and recharges you.

- Go for a walk outside.
- Sit quietly and meditate.
- Plant something indoors or outside.
- Try cooking or baking with a new recipe.
- Spend time with a friend or loved one.
- Dance or play music.
- Explore a new area of your town or city.
- Take a nap.
- Draw or create something.
- Write a poem or a song.
- Play a board game with friends or family.

- Read a book.

(reprinted with permission, What Can't Wait by A Sanctified Art.org

Friday, December 27, 2019

Fuel for Justice

read ISAIAH 9:2-7
FROM THE ARTIST
LAUREN WRIGHT PITTMAN

“Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God...” These musical attributes
wash over us each Christmas season. Why aren’t we more familiar
with the imagery at the beginning of this passage? It is imagery
from a prophet speaking to a people defeated, oppressed, and living
in the shadow of Assyria’s military might—a “land of deep darkness”
(Is. 9:2). It is a bold, particular, contextual hope punctuated by
broken yokes, splintered rods, and burning materials of war.
The boots and garments of warriors are burned as fuel. These violent
elements are set ablaze and physically transformed into warmth,
light, and fuel for justice. I think this text calls for action and a shift
in our identity. We are no longer to be defined by violence. We are
called to be people who make peace—those who tear down systems
of oppression. We are to transform the things of war into light. What
exists in your world that needs to be set on fire? What darkness,
violence, or negative energy can you transfer into fuel for peace?
In this drawing, light radiates from the broken ends of the rod
which previously weighed down this woman’s shoulders. The fleeting
darkness of violence encircles this first mandorla of light, but the
flames which consume the weapons of war cannot be contained
by the darkness. In traditional Christian art, the mandorla, or
a pointed oval, usually frames the entire body of Christ. In this
instance, the mandorla frames the inbreaking of light—the point
at which oppressive substance is destroyed. This is an image of
Christ breaking into the world—Christ lives and breathes through
our participation in dismantling injustice. This image stands parallel
to the familiar image of a child born with authority resting on his
shoulders—the Prince of Peace. We need to hold these images together in tension and in harmony to find the gravity of this
prophecy and our role in it.

In quiet contemplation, print out and color in the image below, reflecting
on how the imagery illuminates what you find in the scripture and
artist’s statement. Conclude with a silent or spoken prayer to God.







Thursday, December 26, 2019

God Couldn't Wait

Read LUKE 2:1-14, (15-20)

FROM THE ARTIST | LISLE GWYNN GARRITY

What If God Had Waited?
What if God had waited
For Mary to be wed,
For Herod to relent,
For a legitimate birthing bed?
What if God had waited
Until the powerful promoted
peace,
And the politicians agreed?
What if God had waited
For a plan with no risk of failure,
For a place that felt safe
and secure?
What if God had waited
For the anxious to find rest,
For the cynic to know hope,
For the brokenhearted to
be whole?
For the wars to cease,
For the violence to end,
For the fears to pass,
For the weapons to be banned?

What if God had waited
For the earth to heal,
For the laws to change,
For every life to matter
the same,
For the addict to be freed
from shame,
For the refugees to not
be blamed?
What if God had waited
Until all was calm,
All was bright,
For a future that might
Never come?
What if God had waited?
But God couldn’t wait.
God couldn’t wait to be love
known in flesh and bone—
And neither should we.

Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine placing
yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.


Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Love Can't Wait

Journaling and Reflection

On this Christmas day, make a list of all the areas in your life where
love is known and felt. You might mention people, places, pets, or
experiences. Close in prayer, giving thanks for all the love in your life.

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Courage Can't Wait

ACTION PROMPT

Write a love letter to a stranger. Begin with a salutation
such as, “Dear beloved one,” and fill the letter with
affirmations and encouragement. Close the letter with,
“No matter what, you are loved.” Fold and tuck the
letter in a public place—a park bench, a car windshield, a mailbox - for a stranger to receive.

Monday, December 23, 2019

Trust

Read MATTHEW 1:18-25

FROM THE ARTIST | HANNAH GARRITY

I imagine Joseph scoffing at Mary’s explanation. “Trust me.”
“How can I?” I hear a tense conversation filled with tears and
devastation. I sense fear of societal judgement. What will
people say?

Joseph is skeptical. He knows he cannot be the father of the
baby. He decides to break his engagement with Mary.
He must feel so betrayed by her. So, how is it that he can
believe the angel in the dream?

Suddenly, he welcomes the opportunity to parent Jesus anyway.
He follows through on his commitment to Mary anyway.
Trust in Mary, trust in God; Joseph could only have managed
his role in this story with trust. His faith relies heavily on trust.
Deep down, we know who we can trust. Subconsciously, we all
know right from wrong.

In this image, Joseph has just placed the wedding ring on
Mary’s hand. They have just said their vows, committing their
lives to each other. Here, Joseph seals his trust in Mary’s
word, his trust in the word of God, with action.

Whom do I need to let God lead me to trust? Where in my
life is my justified skepticism keeping me from God’s call?
How am I letting my concern for the opinions of society
impede my willingness to act on God’s word?

Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below.
Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see?
How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or
spoken prayer to God.



Sunday, December 22, 2019

Courage (Love) Can't Wait

Carve out time today for prayer and quiet contemplation.
Read this poem as part of your devotional time.


When people talk about love
They talk about heartbreak.
They talk about the love that
got away,

And the love that left them longing.

When people talk about love
Rarely do they say, “be brave.”
I wish they would.

To love is to pull the oxygen from
your lungs and to say,
“Here, take a breath.”
To love is to come out from hiding,
To allow the light to shine on you.
To love is to wear your heart outside
of your body—
Fingers crossed that the holder
handles it with care.
To love is to trust that sometimes
hurt and pain come with the
territory,
But you’re going to love anyway.
So love anyway.

Love like there’s no tomorrow.
Love as if love is not a scarcity.
Love like Mary, who cradled a baby
amidst the threat of being stoned.
And love like Joseph, who took a
child in that he knew was not
his own.


Of course I say all of this because
I need to hear it too.
There are dusty corners of my heart
that I still protect—
Love stored up like grain

While the world is in famine.

So the next time you see me,
Remind me to be brave.
The next time you see me,
Invite me to stand in the light
with you.
The next time you see me,
Handle with care and maybe,
Just maybe,
We’ll find a holy and wild
Love that won’t wait.
When people talk about love
They talk about heartbreak.
Rarely do they say, “be brave.”
I wish they would.

Prayer by Sarah Are


 

Saturday, December 21, 2019

Sabbath Can't Wait

What can wait? On this day of Sabbath, identify one thing in
your life that feels urgent but can actually wait in order for
you to rest. Commit to one of the activities below, or spend
time doing something else that centers and recharges you.


- Go for a walk outside.
- Sit quietly and meditate.
- Plant something indoors or outside.
- Try cooking or baking with a new recipe.
- Spend time with a friend or loved one.
- Dance or play music.
- Explore a new area of your town or city.
- Take a nap.
- Draw or create something.
- Write a poem or a song.
- Play a board game with friends or family.

- Read a book.

Friday, December 20, 2019

Give us Bread, But Give us Roses

Read PSALM 146:5-10

FROM THE ARTIST | LISLE GWYNN GARRITY


In 1911, Helen Todd, a leader in the women’s suffrage movement,
coined the phrase, “bread for all, and roses too,”* to advocate for

both fair wages and better working conditions for women factory
workers. The phrase took on life as a chant in textile strikes and
as a refrain for other suffragists. It expressed the heart and soul
of the movement. Bread referred to the necessities for survival—
safety, shelter, wages, food. Roses symbolized the things that are
often treated as luxuries only for the rich to indulge in—the arts,
education, nature, beauty.


In other words, women of the early twentieth century insisted that
they deserved to not only make a living; they also deserved to make
a life worth living.


In this psalm, we are reminded that God provides bread—food for
the hungry, protection for the immigrant, sight for the blind, justice
for the oppressed, freedom for the imprisoned. And God offers
roses—joy to those who find hope and rest in God. God’s justice
isn’t just about survival. God desires our thriving, too.


In this image, I depicted two hands. One reaches up in need, with
urgency. The other opens in a posture of generosity. A question
mark cuts through the space between them, inviting us to consider
who is in need of not only bread, but roses too.
Who are the hungry among us? What does it look like to feed those
hungering for beauty, for delight, for the kind of joy that leads to a
whole and holy life?


Prayer: In quiet contemplation, color in the page below, reflecting
on how the imagery illuminates what you find in the scripture and
artist’s statement. Conclude with a silent or spoken prayer to God.


* Todd, Helen. The American Magazine. Crowell-Collier Publishing Company, 1911.619


Thursday, December 19, 2019

Desert Blooms

Read ISAIAH 35:1-10

FROM THE ARTIST | LAUREN WRIGHT PITTMAN


When I approached this piece, I read the first few verses of the
passage until a phrase stuck in my head, “like the crocus [the
desert] shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing”
(Is. 35:2). I thought I might paint a study of a crocus flower—one
zoomed in on the subtle shifts in shades of purple. However, when
I began to roll the phrase around in my mind, I felt the need to
paint the colors of the desert. The text says the desert blossoms
“like a crocus” not "with crocuses.” I almost missed the desert for
the flowers. For me, flowers are evident metaphors for joy and a
clear testament to God’s magnificence. After all, Emerson wrote,
“Earth laughs in flowers.”*


My initial instinct with this painting was
to transform the desert with flowers, but instead, I think I needed to
see the desert for what it is.


The desert is often associated with desolation, scarcity, and death,
but it’s really a place of surprising, subversive beauty—a place of
meeting the Divine. I found myself grabbing paints I don’t typically
use—mauves, ochres, pale greens, and dusty pinks. My painting
intuition doesn’t often lead me to desert colors because I’m drawn
to deeply saturated hues that I find more obviously beautiful. It
takes a bit more effort to see the desert as a place of abundance and
overflowing worship of our Creator, but I think this intentional shift
in seeing is part of what it means to prepare the way during Advent.  

What would it look like to delight in elements of creation that you
often overlook? How can you help the parched places of your
corner of the world blossom into new life?


Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine
placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel?
Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.


* Ralph Waldo Emerson, from the poem, "Hamatreya"






Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Delight Can't Wait

JOURNALING & REFLECTION

The Magnificat (Luke 1:46b-55) is Mary’s hymn of praise to God. In
a journal or notebook, craft your own song of joy, giving thanks to God for that which you are grateful.

Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Joy Can't Wait

ACTION PROMPT

Record a short video message that is joyful and send it to
a friend. Make the message fun and playful—sing a song,
dance to upbeat music, or simply tell your friend how much
they mean to you. After you send your message, ask your
friend to also record a joyful message and pass it along to someone else. Spread joy.

Monday, December 16, 2019

A Dance

Read LUKE 1:46B-55

FROM THE ARTIST | HANNAH GARRITY


Somehow, Mary is thankful. How is she doing that? How
can she genuinely appreciate her situation? Her perspective
amazes me.


Carrying a baby is difficult even in the best of circumstances.
The physical and psychological weight grows quickly. Society
changes its view of you, you change your view of yourself. Like
Advent, it is a time of waiting. It is also a time of anticipation,
dread, concern, excitement, pain, fear, and confusion.
Mary is carrying a child out of wedlock. Her fiancé is
considering leaving her. She has nothing but her word to
explain this circumstance to him, to her family, to her
community. All of the typical and difficult pregnancy feelings
must have been multiplied, yet Mary is thankful.


In this painting, I cast Mary’s hands in a ballerina’s dance. She
reaches up in prayer, in praise. She reaches up to glorify our
God. She reaches up in thanks for the most challenging thing
she has possibly ever had to deal with.


Should I be counting my challenges as well as my blessings?
Should I be glorifying God for the pain in life as well as the
joy? Perhaps, I should.


Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below.
Imagine placing yourself in this scene. What do you see?
How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or
spoken prayer to God.



Sunday, December 15, 2019

Delight (Joy) Can't Wait

Carve out time today for prayer and quiet contemplation.

Read this poem as part of your devotional time.


I have seen Joy face to face.
She was dancing.
She took my arm in the crook of hers
And spun me around until I couldn’t help but laugh.
We met in the kitchen with Motown
And then again at your wedding.
And I ran into Joy in my mother’s recipe box.
Her handwriting looked like my grandmother’s.
And she smelled like our famous chocolate cake.
Once I saw Joy in the street.
She was at the parade.
There was glitter in the air
And a father hugged his son.
Joy cried happy tears.
And I have seen Joy on the loose,
Running to keep up with you as you go.
Did you know that Joy is looking for you?
I know that your heart hurts,
And that you’re not sure if you like yourself.
I know that this world is scary
And I know that love can feel fleeting.
But Joy told me to tell you—she’s at the door.
She delights in who you are.
She’s inviting you to dance.
I pray and pray you’ll let her in.
I pray, and pray, and pray.


Prayer by Sarah Are

Saturday, December 14, 2019

Sabbath Can't Wait

What can wait? On this day of Sabbath, identify one thing in
your life that feels urgent but can actually wait in order for
you to rest. Commit to one of the activities below, or spend

time doing something else that centers and recharges you.

- Go for a walk outside.
- Sit quietly and meditate.
- Plant something indoors or outside.
- Try cooking or baking with a new recipe.
- Spend time with a friend or loved one.
- Dance or play music.
- Explore a new area of your town or city.
- Take a nap.
- Draw or create something.
- Write a poem or a song.
- Play a board game with friends or family.
- Read a book.

Friday, December 13, 2019

Flourish

Read PSALM 72:1-7, 18-19

FROM THE ARTIST | HANNAH GARRITY


The psalmist prays for wisdom for his leader, King Solomon. The
leadership actions are specified: “defend the cause of the poor, give
deliverance to the needy, and crush the oppressor” (Psalm 72:4). The
psalmist contends that these actions of righteousness create peace
for the nation. In a poetic rejoinder, the psalmist imagines this form
of leadership as nourishment that will cause the people to flourish.
God bless our elected officials. May they defend the poor, deliver
the needy, and crush the oppressor. Thus our people will flourish.
Leadership is an opportunity to be aware of the needs of your
people, to focus on the overall group goals, and to engage people in
meaningful work; thereafter, if needed, comes the enforcement of
rules, the compliance. Author Daniel Pink argues that engagement
before compliance is the order that humans will best respond to.
In my classroom, I explored this idea last school year. As the year
progressed, I found that the more I focused on engagement first,
the less time I spent on compliance. This year, my students needed
more support than the year before. No matter what I did, the
room was most productive if I had personally checked in with every
child in the class. Once I had done that, the confidence level rose
palpably and a hum of productivity ensued.


In this coloring page I have expressed this poetic idea of the intangible
measures we hope for in our leaders. Rain falls and grass grows,
nourished in the endlessness of the cyclical day, the sun and moon.
God bless our elected officials. May they defend the poor, deliver
the needy, and crush the oppressor, that our people may flourish.


Prayer: In quiet contemplation, print out and color in the page below, reflecting on how the imagery illuminates what you find in the scripture and
artist’s statement. Conclude with a silent or spoken prayer to God
.



Thursday, December 12, 2019

One with Mystery

Read MATTHEW 3:1-12

FROM THE ARTIST | LAUREN WRIGHT PITTMAN


A curious, odd, status quo-threatening man emerges in the
wilderness of Judea. He shouts in the place of desolation—a
dangerous place where God has repeatedly shown up
throughout Israel’s history. John lifts up his voice, entreating
people to make an about-face from the things that keep them
from God, and move toward the new thing God is doing. He
invites people to dip their weary bodies into the river, wade
into mystery, and to tell the truth—taking on a posture of
confession and surrender.


This eccentric man wears the clothes and eats the food of one
living at the mercy of the land. His embodiment is that of an
outcast, defined by common elements—camel hair, locusts,
and honey. This is the one entrusted with introducing the world
to God’s incarnate self. John’s cries bring the powerful to the
edges of society where Jesus would spend his life and ministry.
John points us to where God is to be found—in the wilderness,
at the margins of power, at the periphery of looming,
destructive systems, where the waters of Baptism ripple and
swirl, where grace is abundant and God draws near. I drew John
at one with the wilderness. His shape is hardly distinguished
from the powdery textures and deep, cool colors of the waters
of the Jordan. He is at one with the wonder and mystery of the
coming Messiah. He holds out his hand, inviting the viewer to
choose trust and dive fully into the unknown.


Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine
placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel?
Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.



Wednesday, December 11, 2019

Peace Can't Wait

JOURNALING & REFLECTION

Think of a person, place, or situation in desperate need of God’s
peace. With that in mind, write a prayer for peace.

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

Repentance Can't Wait

ACTION PROMPT

Think of someone to whom you might be needing to
apologize. This might be someone whom you have hurt or
disappointed, or someone who has been harmed by your
inaction. As an act of repentance, write this person a letter,
offering a full and honest apology. If it feels appropriate to
do so, send the letter to this person. If not, keep the letter
and offer it to God as a private prayer for reconciliation.

Monday, December 9, 2019

A Child Shall Lead Them

Read ISAIAH 11:1-10

FROM THE ARTIST | LISLE GWYNN GARRITY


The image of the stump of Jesse might have knocked the air out
of those first hearing these words. The stump represented the end
of the Davidic dynasty, the family line believed to carry Yahweh’s
goodness. The monarchy was either thwarted by the Babylonian
exile, or the Assyrian empire—historically, we’re not exactly sure.
Regardless, Isaiah names what no one wants to say out loud—
Jerusalem’s political future feels dead, cut off, stunted by despair.
The image of a stump might accurately represent how we feel about our
own future. Greenhouse gases and sea levels continue to rise. No place—
schools, sanctuaries, theaters, malls—is safe from mass shooting attacks.
Our government leaders fight like lions and wolves starving for dominance.
We also need Isaiah’s vision for a reordered world where creation
exists in harmony, not as a threat to itself.


When reading this poetry of peace, I found myself pausing at the
line, “and a child shall lead them” (Is. 11:6). The example of Naomi
Wadler came to mind. After the Parkland, FL, school shooting*,
Naomi, an eleven-year-old at the time, organized a walkout at her
elementary school to honor victims of gun violence. In addition to
those slain in Parkland, Naomi and her fifth grade classmates also
recognized people of color who are killed by gun violence every
day and never make news headlines. Naomi went on to speak
courageously before crowds in DC and on TV shows about the need
for gun reform. When she spoke, she held the nation—and much of
the world—captive with her passion, her insight, and her urgency.
Where is new life shooting up? Perhaps in the places where God
can’t wait for peace. Perhaps in the voices of our children, who urge
us to find a better way.


Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine
placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel? Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.


*On February 14, 2018, a gunman with a semi-automatic weapon shot and killed seventeen
students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.



Sunday, December 8, 2019

Repentance (Peace) Can't Wait

Carve out time today for prayer and quiet contemplation.

Read this poem as part of your devotional time.


Sometimes,
While the sky is still dark,
I slip sock feet into tennis shoes and go for a walk.
Step by step
I ask my deepest questions,
While the sky lets go of its deepest dark blue.
Am I doing enough?
Ink to indigo.
Does my brother know how much I love him?
Indigo to navy.
Will my friends keep showing up?
Navy to royal blue.
Will we ever know peace?
Royal blue to gold.
And after a while, my pilgrimage must end,
So I turn apologetic feet toward home
And walk my repentance back toward the sun.
And once again, while I stand in sock feet and tennis shoes,
God takes my breath away.
For once again,
The sky’s deepest void is now a watercolor of light.
And I am reminded
That like the sky,
God touches everything.
And I am reminded,
That like the sky,
Nothing is so broken that it can’t be painted gold.
In the morning light, there is peace.


Prayer by Sarah Are

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Sabbath Can't Wait

What can wait? On this day of Sabbath, identify one thing in
your life that feels urgent but can actually wait in order for
you to rest. Commit to one of the activities below, or spend

time doing something else that centers and recharges you.

- Go for a walk outside.
- Sit quietly and meditate.
- Plant something indoors or outside.
- Try cooking or baking with a new recipe.
- Spend time with a friend or loved one.
- Dance or play music.
- Explore a new area of your town or city.
- Take a nap.
- Draw or create something.
- Write a poem or a song.
- Play a board game with friends or family.

- Read a book.

Friday, December 6, 2019

Love Surprises Us

Read MATTHEW 24:36-44

FROM THE ARTIST | SARAH ARE

When I was a little girl, my mom asked me to recount the best
part of my day every night before bed. If I had a bad day I would
promptly tell her that nothing was good. There were zero positive
moments. However, my patient mother would not accept that
answer. Before I could sleep, I had to name at least one thing worth
celebrating. This ritual taught me to look for the good in my days,
and in many ways, I think that is what this text is inviting us to do.
For years people have wondered how to interpret this particular
scripture. Is it implying that God will come and some will be left
behind, or that some are being called forward into new lives with
new vocational callings? How do we understand verbs such as
“taken” or “keep awake”?

When I read this scripture, the thing that stands out is how love
surprises us. Throughout scripture, God’s love for this world and for
humanity shocks the system. Tables are turned, people are healed, the
outcasts are seen, children are welcomed, and boundaries are broken.
In this Advent season, I think we are invited to look for God in our
midst—to look for the surprising places that love shows up. We are
challenged to stay awake so that life and the divine do not pass us by.
The repetitive language of fields and water led me to create the line
drawings around the text. As I began to draw, I was able to see the
worker’s fields described in the text, as well as the Shepherd’s fields,
and the scenery Mary and Joseph may have passed on their way
to Bethlehem. These simple lines serve as a reminder that God’s
surprising love and grace shows up in ordinary places along the way.

Prayer: In quiet contemplation, print out and color in the picture below, reflecting on how the imagery illuminates what you find in the scripture and
artist’s statement. Conclude with a silent or spoken prayer to God.



Thursday, December 5, 2019

Peace Without Your Walls

Read PSALM 122

FROM THE ARTIST | LAUREN WRIGHT PITTMAN


We all desire peace and security for ourselves, our families, and
our communities. It seems, however, we often disagree about how
to achieve peace and security, and about who is deserving of such
well-being. Often, those who have realized even a baseline sense of
peace and security quickly forget what it was like to be without. Fear
creeps in and we separate ourselves with walls and isolate ourselves
within towers. We worship and exist with people like us because it
feels safe. We hoard peace and security as though they are finite
resources, and elevate our own peace and security above that of
other nations. We pray for ourselves, even if our answered prayers
result in our neighbor’s harm. This self-focused, defensive ideology
is becoming increasingly pervasive in the United States, and it’s
finding strongholds in other countries too. Powerful people appeal
to this inward-turning gaze, stoking fears and encouraging division.
This text celebrates refuge. As we know well from the news and the
growing volatility at our borders, there are many who have become
refugees—those seeking security and peace—while those within their
walls and towers seek the good of themselves.
When I began to paint this piece, I kept wondering how walls and
peace can coexist, but if I’m honest, if true shalom were to be
realized, there would be no need for walls or towers. For me, peace
looks like open doors leading out of the confinement of stone walls
and into a field of poppies. For me, peace looks like flowers scaling
walls, weakening the strength of stone foundations, and over time,
bringing the barriers down. Peace looks like open arms—open to
the difficult work of welcoming peace, and open to receiving the
boundless gifts of a truly peaceful world.


Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine
placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel?
Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.



Wednesday, December 4, 2019

God's Promised Day Can't Wait

JOURNALING & REFLECTION

Isaiah 2:1-5 speaks of God’s promised day—a day when wars end, swords
are beaten into plowshares, and spears become pruning hooks. In a journal or on a sheet of paper, write what God’s promised day looks and feels like to you.

Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Hope Can't Wait

ACTION PROMPT: 

Practice hope today by believing that your actions—even
small ones—make a difference. Donate time, money, or
resources to an organization that is helping create God’s
promised day where all are cared for and all are well.

Monday, December 2, 2019

Swords into Plowshares

Read ISAIAH 2:1-5

FROM THE ARTIST | HANNAH GARRITY

What is God’s view of the world? What does God plan for this world?
This text is all about God’s vision for the earth becoming a reality. It’s
all about beating swords into plowshares. It’s all about building peace.
How does this vision come to be? In this image of hands, I imagine

how we might actually make God’s vision come to life.

I listen to Christian rock because it is the only station I can play in the
car that doesn’t play curse words for my children to hear. I change the
station, however, when the radio personalities come on because the
statements are often slanted heavily to a viewpoint that is judgmental
at its root. I find this to be an intriguing dichotomy. The music is
preaching the gospel, God’s vision; the commentary is perpetuating

division. Why do we do this? There must be another way.

There’s a song that often plays on my Christian rock station from
Matthew West’s album, Into the Light. The song is called, “Do
Something.” The songwriter sees the pain of the world and asks God to
do something. “I did, I created you,” God responds, suggesting that with
our hands and with our words, God has created us to act in God’s name.
Here, in acrylic on canvas, a man wields a grinder, burnishing the
edges of a sword that has been reformed into a plow. Growth, not
death; care, not fear. The simple analogy of the sword transformed
into the plowshare reminds us that peace is at the heart of all that

God envisions for this world.

How might you make God’s vision come into reality?

Prayer: Breathe deeply as you gaze upon the image below. Imagine
placing yourself in this scene. What do you see? How do you feel?
Get quiet and still, offering a silent or spoken prayer to God.



Sunday, December 1, 2019

God's Promised Day (Hope) Can't Wait


Someone once told me that hope

was naive—

A foolish game that children play

When they pray that summer

won’t end,

And bedtime won’t come.

Someone once told me that hope

was naive as they

Cradled pessimism in their lap like a

sleeping cat,

Stroking their ego while they stoked

a fire within me.

Unfortunately for them, I’m allergic

to cats.

And unfortunately for them, those

who deny hope

Will never know vulnerability;

For hope requires us to believe in a

better day—

Even when this one is falling apart.

Hope looks the 24-hour news cycle

in the face,

Hope looks our broken relationships

in the face,

Hope looks our low self-esteem

in the face,

And declares at low tide that the

water will return.

Hope is exhaling, trusting that

your body will inhale again.



Hope is watching the sunset and

setting an alarm.

Hope is planting seeds in the winter,

assuming summer will come.

I never said it would be easy.

The ground is frozen, you are

thirsty, and the night is long.

But I will say this—

I have found hope to be the rhythm

of love and the fiber of faith;

For to hope is to believe in God’s

ability to bring about a better day,

And like a child with an

Advent calendar,

I will always be counting down

the days.

So to those who cradle pessimism

and fear,

You can find me outside—

with the kids—wishing on stars,

Praying to the God of today



That tomorrow will be just

as beautiful.

Set your alarm.

We’d like for you to join us.

The sunrise won’t wait.

A prayer by Sarah Are