Friday December 4, 2020
Light a candle
Pray Psalm 18:16-29
Read Luke 1:39-56
Reflection by Karina Tinsley: Hope. Stupid Hope.
“He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me.” Psalm 18:17
Hope is not the blanket I pull over my head like a child would in a storm to feel safe. Hope is like the burning antiseptic applied to wound. The advent season is a mix of old wounds and new hopes. The advent season always feels like a landmine of sadness and joy. A new word each week. I love words, almost all words. Then the word hope is spoken, and everything seems to pause, and I can feel the breath in-between waiting to exhale. What will the word mean today? What memories will course through my brain? What will the walk, run, crawl through December bring this year? I do not doubt who my hope is in. I doubt hope. It reminds me of the flavor of an orange rind, not the orange flesh that is sweet and refreshing but the rind that leaves behind a bitter taste that haunts your mouth. I do not find hope to be a place of rest. I do know hope is a place of truth but just because something is true doesn’t mean we always believe in its ability. Luke 1:49-50 says “for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation.” There is not other option but to trust to Him and that He stands in for me. I don’t understand hope, but I do trust that He is the perfect hope and that He never needs me to understand, I can simply rest in Him and He will handle the hope. He protected me and continues that protection through the generations. He placed an abundance of hope into the ones I love greatly and lifted their eyes to see it.
Hope stirs. Like a fire in the hearth. A tornado in my heart.
Tangled together with fear. That taste lingering in my mouth.
Hope clings to my heart like burrs cling to my flesh.
You meet me in the moments of sorrow.
You meet me in the trembling fears.
You meet me in the tender hope.
You keep offering.
I reject. You hold me.
I scoff. You accept me.
I plot. You wait.
Advent season begins and my heart falls into turmoil.
Christmas hymns playing through the stores.
Candles burning words through my soul.
Hope sinking into the old wounds.
Pain comes from deep within.
A reminder of new birth.
A baby brought to save.
Tears holding in my eyes from memories that break.
A lost child looking for hope.
A child forgotten and passed over.
A little girl left in the emptiness of a holiday.
Enemies of the worst kind.
Ones meant to love but that only gave fear.
You put it into my heart.
You put me before you.
You took my shame and guilt.
Into your hands I fall.
When hope hurts to much you take it.
When hope feels unsafe you take it.
You gave me buried hope in my soul, for me to have in secret.
You let me see the price so I could see the cost.
Hoping in the cold dark nights.
Hoping in the twinkling lights.
Hoping in the Christmas hymns that fill the stores.
Hoping in the candles of words.
Hoping in new the traditions.
Hoping in the place of trembling sobs.
Hoping in the words written to save me.
Hoping in a baby that was a fulfilled promise.
Hoping in the promise that He would stand before me.