“Still in these first days of this new year we hear the words, Merry Christmas as the church celebrates the season of Christmas through January 6th when the feast of Epiphany arrives, and the Magi arrive at the manger. It is an awfully full schedule–from the travel arrangements to Bethlehem to lost hotel reservations and a stay in a manger to a birthing room without medical insurance or assistance to early visitors smelling of sheep. Finally, just as we expect Mary and Joseph to take some time to rest from their journey—the Magi knock on the door. “More visitors,” shouts Joseph. Mary pulls herself together one more time and pastes on a plastic smile to greet the visitors from the East. The Magi come bearing gifts, but more importantly, they arrive with stories of a star in the sky that appears around the time of the birth of Mary’s son. A star that shines brighter than the rest and calls the Magi to follow. It is the same star that calls us to follow. Once again, we have followed the star to the manger. Once again, we pray for the hope of God to overwhelm us. Epiphany is the season of light. And after 2016, I am in desperate need for the light of God’s promise to continue to call us and the rest of the world—first, to the manger and then to go into the world to tell the story of God’s love and promise.
I find it amusing that the words above were written to you in the first days of 2017. It is amusing that I would easily write these same words to you in these first days of 2024. Apparently, I am still in desperate need for the light of God’s promise to overwhelm us. Some things change. Some things never change. Maybe what is needed to change is me. In that spirit, I offer you this prayer for the new year. No resolutions to promise and break. No, this year, a prayer to “make something new in me, in this year, for God.”
From Guerrillas of Grace by Ted Loder …
Patient God, the clock struck midnight and I partied with a strange sadness in my heart, confusion in my mind.
Now, I ask you to gather me, for I realize the storms of time have scattered me, the furies of the year past have driven me, many sorrows have scarred me, many accomplishments have disappointed me, much activity has wearied me, and fear has spooked me into a hundred hiding places, once is which is pretended joy.
I am sick of a string of “have-a-nice-days.” What I ant is passionate days, wondrous days, dangerous days, surprising days. What I want is you!
Patient God, the day teeters on the edge of waiting and things seem to slip away from me, as though everything were only memory and memory is capricious. Help me not to let my life slip away from me. O God, I hold up my life to you now, as much as I can, as high as I can, in this mysterious reach called prayer. Come close, lest I wobble and fall short. It is not days or years I seek from you, not infinity and enormity, but small things and moments and awareness, awareness that you are in what I am and in what I have been indifferent to. It is not new time, but new eyes, new heart I seek, and you.
Patient God, in this teetering time, this time in the balance, this time of waiting, make me aware of moments, moments of song, moments of bread and friends, moments of jokes ( some of them on me) which, for a moment, deflate my arrogance; moments of sleep and warm beds, moments of children laughing and parents bending, moments of sunsets and sparrows outspunking winter, moments when splinters shine and rocks shrink, moments when I know myself blessed, not because I am so awfully important, but because you are so awesomely God, no less of the year to come as of all the years past; no less of this moment than of all my moments; no less of those who forget you as of those who remember, as I do now, in this teetering time.
O Patient God, make something new in me, in this year, for you. Amen.
Perhaps this can be your prayer, as well, in this new year. Happy New Year People of God. Be Well!
Pastor Chris
