Where Did Christmas Go? And What Is Epiphany?

Where did Christmas go?  

It seems the older I get and the busier I am, the faster the season of Advent and Christmas slip by.  And despite the secular establishments committing to Christmas decorations, music, and gifts earlier and earlier in the year, the season still manages to come and go before I think I am ready.  The moments with family become more precious as the years go by, and the time spent drinking coffee by a fire or watching Christmas specials on TV while sitting in the light of a beautifully decorated Christmas tree have been taken for granted.

It is even more a shame that on Dec. 26^th the stores will pack up their displays, the radio stations will return to the popular hits, and the secular mood will shift to the next major Holiday—Valentine’s Day.  But this isn’t the case for us as Christians.  

In fact, December 25^th marks the end of the Advent season and the beginning of the Christmas season, and for the following 12 days we celebrate the birth of Christ, the Messiah, Emmanuel—God with us.  But again, the days seem to slip by faster and faster every year.

The liturgical season of Christmas will soon be over, and we will be thrusted into the season of Epiphany, which starts on January 6 (12 days after Christmas).  Epiphany is the short season nestled between Christmas and Lent, and too often it is understood as only that—the season between. 

Epiphany means “to show” or “to make known.” It is a Christian feast day that celebrates the revelation of God the Son as a human being in Jesus Christ (incarnation).  It is marked by the arrival of the Magi, who were Gentiles, coming to worship Jesus.  The birth of God’s son is revealed to the world.  God, in human form, is the light of the world, and the world will never be the same.

Epiphany 2015 - Burning of the Greens - St. Paul's Durham, NC 

On Epiphany, January 6^th, many Christians will celebrate this revelation of Jesus to the world with worship and a burning of the greens.  The burning of the greens is a symbolic service that marks the end of Christmas and the beginning of Jesus’ life and work in the world.  Often, a large fire is built and we burn representative greens.  In the blaze of the fire we are reminded of the light, which has come into the world, the light that no darkness can over come.

Epiphany, Christmas, Advent… it all seems to pass too quickly.  But no matter how fast the seasons change, both liturgically and secularly, there is one constant—God’s presence in the light of Christ.  We should be glad to remember that Epiphany means “to make known,” or “to show,” and that throughout the seasons we remember that God continues to make God’s presence know.  God continues to show God’s people God’s faithfulness and love.

We have five weeks in the Epiphany season this year.  How is God making God’s self known in your life everyday?  How do you see God’s presence among you daily?  How is God’s light shining through your actions, your neighbor’s, or even your enemies?

Originally Written by Daniel Locke for St. Paul's Durham, NC - January 2015 Cross Connections

Did You Know I Wrote A Book?

Did I ever tell you that I wrote a book?

Yes, me, the antithesis of all things literary.  Catch your breath.  

On this day, one year ago, I asked my best friend if she would consider spending the rest of her life with me.  Many of you know the story, at least the synopsis, but many of you don't.  So on this day, the one-year anniversary, I thought I'd share a little behind the scenes reflection.

Sarah has a love for books, more specifically a love for good stories.  She also loves love.  And if both literature and love can be intertwined, then we have a recipe for a happy Sarah.  I knew this about her and it was my plan all along to propose through paragraphs of well-articulated and meaningful love.

Months before I planned to propose, Sarah and I had a conversation about engagement.  She talked briefly about the necessary details for a meaningful proposal until I cut her off and said, "I know how I'd propose to you."   I won't tell you how early in our relationship the proposal conversation happened, but here's the proof:

At another point in our relationship, after Sarah recommended I read an incredibly sad book, we had this conversation:

We went on to joke about what the chapter titles for our hypothetical short story.  So, it seemed obvious to me how I should propose: write a book.  

For two months prior to the engagement I spent many (late) hours writing the chapters of our relationship.  That book led me to the most confident and anxiety-filled moment of my life.  As certain as I was that she would say 'yes,' I was equally terrified that the moment would fall flat.   

Alas, she said 'yes,' and I am so incredibly blessed that she did!  

So, to celebrate the anniversary of our engagement, I am offering the prologue to my our book, It's a Love Story.

            There are few things in life worth waking up and actually getting out of bed for.  Of course I don’t mean the unavoidable things like a full bladder, fire drill, tornado siren, gunshot, antsy dog, or nightmare.  I mean the few things in life that warm my heart more than any down, duvet, or Egyptian cotton ever could.  I mean the things that cause my heart to skip.  The things that give me reason to start a new day.  The things that give my life, my soul, even my love a purpose and meaning.  The things that render me speechless–not because I’m at a loss for words–but because in that moment there is no medium well equipped enough to help me express how I feel. 

            This is a story not only about those things but about the moments too.  It is about the moments that leave me breathless and speechless.  It is about the moments that say everything and nothing all at the same time.  It is about the moments—the good and the bad—that bring two people closer than any analogy ever can.  This is a story about the moments: the moment I met her, the moment I said hello, the moment my eyes got lost in hers, the moment our fingers interlocked for the first time, the moment she took my breath away, the moment I couldn’t shut up, the moment on the porch, in the car, with families, in the theater—in the moment.  The moment I knew. We knew.  The moments we are yet to have.

            If I had even the slightest glimpse of what these moments could feel like prior to that warm August day in 2013, I would have met her sooner.  Some way, some how, I would’ve chased her down.  They, whoever they is, always say, “When you know, you know,’ and I knew.  We knew.  And on that warm August day, in that moment I met her, that moment which gave me a reason to crawl out of bed, every possible ‘moment’ experience in my life up until that point faded away.  And I knew. We knew.  We were going to share in the moments.

            This is our story.

Advent 2015 | Prepare the Way of the Lord

ADVENT 2015
One of my many roles at Bangsar Lutheran Church 
this year was to plan the theme and preaching series for Advent 2015.  Below is the outline of texts and themes, as well as a description of each week's theme.  I chose the theme: Prepare The Way of The Lord.  As part of my preparations for Advent I created 4 banners to be hung in connection with each week's theme.   

OVERVIEW:

As Christians we live in a time of now and not yet.  Living as witnesses of the resurrection, we eagerly await the second coming of Christ by living a life worthy of the Gospel message.  However, we often find ourselves impatient and exhausted by the call to share the good news of Christ.  Advent, the first season of the Christian church year, is a season full of anticipation and preparation.  Advent helps us align our impatience, not with each other or the stumbling blocks of God's mission, but with the long awaited Messiah, both now and not yet.  This Advent we will talk about 'Preparing the Way of the Lord' within our community and our own lives by remembering the age-old story of God's love and giving praise and thanks to God for God's fulfilled promises.  

WEEK-BY-WEEK:

Advent 1 | In community

      Jeremiah 33:14-16  |  1 Thessalonians 3:9-13  |  Luke 21:25-36

Since the birth of Christ, communities have formed around the Gospel message.  Some communities form for the purpose of persecuting Christ and Christians.  Some communities form as disciples, followers, early churches, and converts.  Again and again God shows us through history that the Gospel message is one that tears down walls and unites community.  We are united not as a community of small distinctive groups, but as a community of individuals – forming the body of Christ.  The message of the promised Messiah was and is meant for all people, and although there weren’t many people present that first Christmas day God intended for all people to hear the Good News, from wise men in the East to shepherds of the fields.  As we ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord’ this Advent, we do so in community, knowing that we are stronger together (as we are meant to be) than we are apart.  Together we wait in hope and faith for the promised Messiah and the long-awaited return of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Advent 2 | Remembering the old, old story

       Festival of the 9 Lessons and Carols  |  Luke 3:1-6

The death and resurrection of Christ is intricately connected to the birth of the promised Messiah.  It is because we know the outcome of Jesus’ life and ministry that we are able to understand the significance of his birth; therefore, we observe, remember, and celebrate the birth of Christ through the lens of the cross.  As Christians we acknowledge that the birth of the promised Messiah and redemption of God’s people through death and resurrection is not the first of God’s salvific work, but a continuation of God’s promise.  Scripture invites us into the history of God’s redeeming work then, now, and always.  As we ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord” this Advent, we do so by remembering the old, old story of God’s love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, and promise.  Together we join the whole hosts of heaven and the company of the saints proclaiming what God has done through history, is doing through the promised Messiah, and will continue to do in the final days.

Advent 3 | In our heart, soul, & mind

       Micah 5:1-5  | Hebrews 10:5-10  |  Luke 3:7-16       

In antiquity, God’s people longed for a Messiah to bring about the kingdom of God.  The prophets repeatedly spoke of a Messiah who would reign as king of kings, wonderful counselor, and prince of peace.  People were desperate for this Lord.  In the birth of Jesus Christ, the prophecies were fulfilled and the Kingdom of God has come near.  However, 2000 years later we remain desperate for the Messiah.  We are in continuous need of God’s redemption and salvation, gifted through grace.  We are a broken people longing for our Messiah.  As we ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord’ this Advent, we do so by preparing our heart, soul, & mind for the way of the Lord, realigning our desires, fears, hopes, and our very selves with the way of the Lord.  Together we hear the voice in the wilderness crying, ‘repent, and make straight the paths of the Lord’ because one who is more powerful is coming, and he will baptize us with the Holy Spirit and make us a new creation.

Advent 4 | Giving praise

     Zephaniah 3:14-20  |  Philippians 4:4-13  |  Luke 1:39-56

After receiving word that she is pregnant with the Son of God Mary sings praise to God.  She proclaims, “My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior.”  Mary’s delight is in God and God’s faithfulness as she recounts God’s steadfast mercy from generation to generation.  Her song is known as the ‘magnificat’.  In the season of Advent, as we anticipate the long expected Messiah, we are invited into Mary’s song of praise.  We rejoice in God’s steadfast mercy and faithfulness.  As we ‘Prepare the Way of the Lord’ this Advent, we do so by praising God for God’s faithfulness through the generations.  Together we lift our hearts to the Lord because the “Mighty One has done great things for” us and will continue to do great things.

Naming Homesickness

Sto·ic

ˈstōik/

noun

noun: stoic; plural noun: stoics
        
      1.  a person who can endure pain or hardship without 

      showing their feelings or complaining.

I'm stoic.  I know it.
My family probably knows it.
My CPE supervisor certainly knows it (she regularly told me so).
In the fullest definition of the word, I am stoic.  And that's ok.

But it's because of my incredible stoicism that I have a hard time admitting it.
(pause for a deep breath and an induced suspense-filled anticipatory moment)

I am homesick.  (Take that stoicism)

It's true. I do miss home. And because I hesitate to admit it out loud to anyone who asks, I confide in the secrecy of my online diary journal blog.  Let me be clear up front, Malaysia (the people, culture, friends, housing, weather, etc.) is not to be blamed for me feeling homesick.

When I was a kid (sometime during elementary school), I had a good friend named Justin.  One weekend I was invited to Justin's house for a sleep over.  To my recollection, it was my first sleep-over at a house that wasn't mine or a family member's.  I was excited, I think.  I remember playing Ninja Turtles in the basement, both action figure and nintendo.  Cowabunga!  I vaguely remember having a snack of some sort and perhaps pizza for dinner.  I remember it was time to go to bed.  Twenty-years-ago-Daniel thinks he laid in bed for hours before admitting he was homesick and wanting to go home, but present-day-Daniel knows it was most likely less than 10 minutes.

It wasn't Justin's fault.  It wasn't his parents' fault.  It wasn't the bed, pillow, or lighting.  It had nothing to do with their house at all.

In my own, uneducated, opinion I think my homesickness was fueled by the absence of 'normals' - routines.  It was the first time being away from everything comfortable, and there is nothing stronger than the silence of a pillow in a strange place to remind you that you're away from your 'normal.'

It wasn't my bed or my pillow.  It wasn't my room or my house.  It wasn't my parents down the hall.  It wasn't my bathroom sink I brushed my teeth in and it wasn't my 'normal'.  I missed the familiar, the routine.

The majority of my conversations thus far with people in Malaysia consist of weather and food, but for the first time a parishioner asked me if I was missing home and if that was hard.  Stoic-Daniel paused and started to shake his head no.  But honest-and-relieved-Daniel interrupted and said, "Yes, actually I am missing home.  Thank you for asking."

He doesn't know it, but it was the exact question I needed him to ask. It was such a relief to be able to say, "Yes, I am missing home" and not feel vulnerable or weak.  Stoic-Daniel would rarely tell someone I barely knew the truth in how I'm feeling, but in that moment it was comforting to know that someone cared enough to create a safe space for me to be honest.

Listen, Malaysia is incredible.  The people are awesome.  Our parishioners are genuine and passionate and caring.  Our housing is more than we could have asked for or expected.  There is food everywhere. Always.  And best of all, I'm with my wife (24/7).  But I can't deny that I, at times, feel homesick, especially this time of year.  And that is no one's fault.

A colleague reminded us this week that the typical period of time for culture shock to set in is 3-4 months.  Well, conveniently for us, 3-4 months coincides with the holidays.

I am missing the normal.  I miss my bed and my pillow.  I miss my family and my dog.  I miss my friends and my things.  I miss the traditions of thanksgiving meals and Christmas gatherings.  I miss getting a tree from the mountains on the Friday after Thanksgiving.   I miss the normalcies and routines of the holidays that I've known for 28 years.  It's no one's fault, and it's ok that I miss them.

I'm not seeking comfort or words of encouragement.  I'm not seeking gifts or packages or things from home.  I'm not (honestly) even writing this for you.  I'm doing this for me.  Naming my feelings (Yes, CPE feeling wheel, I know homesickness is not a feeling).

Home·sick

/'hōm,sik/

adjective

        
      1.  experiencing a longing for one's home during a period of absence from it.

I may be a stoic (and a good one at that), but I am a homesick stoic.  It's no one's fault.  I am simply naming it in the secrecy of my online diary journal blog for myself.

"Miss you too, dad!"

Sticks and Bricks

“It’s just sticks and bricks.”

Two weeks after moving into our newly constructed dream home, my mom stood in the kitchen with my dad and said, “It’s just sticks and bricks.”

My mom's dream home complete with widows peak, veranda, & porch swing.

For the longest time my mom dreamed about, planned, and designed her dream home.  She spent hours tearing out the pages of magazines, driving through fancy neighborhoods, and searching local open house flyers.  She dreamt of a large two story Victorian house perched on a hill.  She wanted a widows peak roof.  She was adamant about a wrap around porch with a swing.  She wanted the large foyer entryway.  She was passionate about the dream home.

It took almost three years, but from her dreams came a reality.  The house was built—wrap around porch and all.  It was perched on the hill of two lots, and its witch’s hat roof pointed high into the sky.  I remember seeing the smile on mom’s face when we finally moved in.

“It’s just sticks and bricks,” Dad recalled as we stood in the foyer of my mom’s dream home, saying our final goodbye in April 2015.  I won’t lie, it was sad.  But then Dad reminded all of us that the love of our family is not confined to the walls of Mom’s dream home.  In fact, my mom’s dreams are not limited to those sticks and bricks, as pretty as they are.  Dad reminded us that home for him now is where my brother, his wife, and their son are.  Home is where Sarah and I are (even in Malaysia).  Home is where he, his wife, and my new sisters are.  “Home,” Dad said, “is where Mom’s love and Mom’s dreams are being carried out.”  Home is about the people who share in love in that place.

I guess my point is this: There are a lot of homes in our lives.  There are lots of buildings in which we dwell.  But no matter how pretty or how big those buildings are, no matter how sturdy or expensive they get, their walls cannot form us into who we are.  Yes, growth and formation take place within the walls, but it is the love that people share in that place that fuels the formation.

I think we too often get stuck wanting bigger or better places.  We get lost repairing, replacing, or rebuilding the places in which we dwell.  We focus on a bigger this, or a fancier that.  We get lost in the sticks and bricks of our lives.

One of my favorite hymns, All Are Welcome, says this: “Let us build a house where love can dwell and all can safely live, a place where saints and children tell how hearts learn to forgive.  Built of hopes and dreams and visions, rock of faith and vault of grace; here the love of Christ shall end divisions: All are welcome in this place.”

I will never forget the sticks and bricks at 406 4^th Avenue that my mom dreamed up, but even more so I will never forget the formidable years I spent growing up there in love.  And as homes come and go, I am truly blessed and thankful for the many places I've had the chance to call home - where love truly dwells. 

This post is an excerpt from my article in the monthly St. Paul's Cross Connections Newsletter in April 2015.