Lincoln Advent: 9 December

Advent Prayer, 9 December
Community Development, Louth

By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet in the way of peace.
Luke 1.78-79

In darkest night, we grow afraid.
A sound, a rustle, a hint of breath
makes our heart race and our mind spin terrors.
It is better to be alone than afraid.
It is better to stay very still, and play dead,
than to flesh out our fears with a cry.

And yet, the dark is a lonely place.
Perhaps the breath brings blessing
and the foot falls in peace.
Perhaps the stranger
fears as we do,
and wants nothing but a friend.

Cut fine, between hope for acceptance
and our dark-born, deepened fear,
God comes to pierce us with blessing:
the radiant promise of life.

Today we pray for The Trinity Centre and the Team Parish of Louth. We give thanks for the diversity of their work, and for God’s abundant blessings. Pray that all who gather there will feel dawn break and be led in the way of peace.

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Lincoln Advent: 8 December

Advent Prayers, 8 December
The Joy Foundation

And when you turn to the right or to the left, your ears shall hear a voice behind you saying: “this is the way, walk in it.”
(Isaiah 30.21)

Rules. Always tricky. We know, on the one hand, that rules are meant for our well-being. They show us what is expected and help us to get along. But rules rarely fill us with joy. They rub against our sense of freedom: our hope and expectation that we will instinctively know what to do.

It was risky to couple this sentence from Isaiah with a charity that supports children’s education. It is possible — just possible — that one could read Isaiah as a stern school-marme: ‘When you turn to the right or left, you will hear a voice saying “This is the way. Walk in it.”

Often, that is indeed how we have greeted children in church. Be quiet. Be still. Behave. One of the saddest stories I heard when I was first ordained was of a woman whose better nature fought with her inner school-marme. She loved God. She wanted children to love God. On a good day, she marvelled when children entered the sanctuary: going to see angels and animals, touching the Benedicite she had only ever known as hard chant. But sometimes — if a child stroked an angel’s wing, or danced around the altar — it made her angry. Why should they get to do this? She had not been allowed. Ever.

Finally she named it: “I was taught, as a child, that I must never bump into anyone in church. I must never brush against anyone, or touch them as they went to communion. Whatever happened, I must not disturb them: they were at their prayers.”

All her life, she went to church with sharp defences so that she touched no one, was touched by no one, and she did this in the name of God.

Christ is formed in our midst. We reveal God in our presence, in our actions, and in the rules we set for ourselves and others. There was never a time when the church meant to teach that God wanted us to avoid each other at all costs, or the prayer mattered more than kindness. But somehow, that is what she heard. It shaped her sense of God, and her sense of self.

In Advent, we welcome a God who disrupts our images: who comes when we least expect and tries to set us free.

We pray for The Joy Foundation, which works with children throughout Lincoln. We pray that through their work, adults and children will see the presence of God, and be set free.

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Lincoln Advent: 7 December

Advent Prayers, 7 December
Church Pre-School and Toddlers Groups

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leapt in her womb.
And Elizabeth was filed with the Holy Spirit, and exclaimed with a loud cry:
“Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.”
(Luke 1.41-42)

In the story of our salvation, the first person to recognize Jesus is the yet-unborn child — the embryonic John. He leaps in Elizabeth’s womb, and some instinct of hers (of his?) says that this is no ordinary turning. Something special is going on. It is time to rejoice with her cousin Mary.

Later, the shepherds will come in wonder and the Magi will worship; but John and Elizabeth ‘see’ Jesus first and their response is sheer, unbridled joy.

Advent is a time for celebration. Technically, I suppose, that is not true. It is a time for waiting and watching and praying and preparing: for the presence of Christ in the manger, and the presence of Christ in the world to come. The big party comes then, when we see Christ with us and enter a world transformed. But we know what is coming, and there is no point in pretending otherwise. Our preparations are a form of celebration, and there is time, now, for joy.

Today we pray for the work of pre-school and toddlers groups around the diocese. Young children have a healthy disregard for our schedules and plans. They will not conform their emotions or behaviours to the not-yet of Advent. If given half a chance — the chance of generosity, love or laughter — they will claim it’s Christmas and the Kingdom of God is at hand.

Advent is indeed a time of waiting — but it is as much God’s waiting, as ours. God waits for us to realise that the children were right all along. God is with us. Now is the time of rejoicing. The dream that God dreamed in Mary goes on in you and me: Christ with us. Christ in us. Christ between us. Christ hidden and revealed. Let us rejoice in Christ coming, even if God’s work in us is not yet done.

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Lincoln Advent: 6 December

Advent Prayers, 6 December
Community Work, Stamford

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.
We bless you from the house of the Lord.
Psalm 118.26

There is a man who sits on the High Street. The first time I saw him – I confess – I tried to walk past him. Sometimes I speak, sometimes I bring coffee, but sometimes I walk past: choosing my plans over the unexpected moments of the streets.

Everyone was walking by him – not with the hurried, blind steps that say “I will not see you”, but in a wide wary arc, going far, far around. I tried to do the same, but as I passed, the air changed. All around him, there was a deep and compelling sense of peace. I found myself turning back.

It turns out he was praying. He smiled, and welcomed me in. He spoke of his life and the people who changed it for the better. He spoke of his regrets and the people he had hurt. He spoke of the grace of God, kindness and generosity, the beauty of light, and the tiny pink blossoms on winter trees. I got him some food, I think – but he was the one with riches. He was the one sent by God.

Vincent Van Gogh once wrote to his brother: “I cannot help thinking that the best way of knowing God is to love many things.” To act as Christ today, there are many things we might do: give food, give time, get involved in a local project. But it is possible to do all these things and never let ourselves be changed by them. It is possible to walk a wide arc around the people we meet, even as we convince ourselves otherwise. To change – to become Christ today – it is not that we need to do many things, but to love many things. God invites us to love the moment we find ourselves in, the conversation in the street, and the prayer unexpectedly given by the one sitting on the ground. We may not always know how to help – or know whether we are being asked for help or given help – but if we can respond to the invitation to love, we will be changed; and through us others will be changed too.

Today we pray for the Community Work of Christ Church, Stamford: pray that those involved will learn to love many things deeply and find God in all they do.

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