Saturday November 29
Genesis 8: 1-19

The Divine Image

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
All pray in their distress;
And to these virtues of delight
Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is God, our father dear,
And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love
Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,
Pity a human face,
And Love, the human form divine,
And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,
That prays in his distress,
Prays to the human form divine,
Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,
In heathen, Turk, or Jew;
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell
There God is dwelling too.

William Blake

Sunday November 30
Isaiah 2: 1-5

“…that God would fulfill my HOPE…” Job 6:8

I have always been moved when I see a plant growing out of a crack in the concrete. It exudes character. To bloom where you are planted is a good lesson. In this picture, the Plant is displaying more than determination. It is a picture of hope, because the plant is drawn like it has a purpose to become what it is meant to be. What we HOPE for reveals who we are.

Ford Mastin

Monday December 1
Genesis 8: 1-8

I’ve never experienced forty days of rain, though I’ve probably joked about building an ark after some extended heavy storms. Even less have I paid attention to what it might mean to be closed in a tight space with several other people and a big bunch of creatures, all of us more than a little smelly, not for forty days, but for a hundred and fifty days before there’s any chance to get off the boat. Now, the Genesis story says Noah was in his 600th year, so maybe it doesn’t measure time the same way we might, but at least one key question remains the same for me: how do we endure a seemingly terrible situation that offers little reason to expect a quick resolution? After all, God declared his intention to wipe out virtually all life on earth, and he didn’t whisper to Noah, “Just hold on for a few months.”

When Admiral Jim Stockdale, a captive in North Vietnamese prisons from 1965-73, was finally released, he was asked about how he had survived, and why others had not. The non-survivors, he said quickly, were the optimists. They were expecting a quick rescue—by Christmas, or by Easter—and when it didn’t come they turned to despair. I survived, he added, by accepting my immediate situation, doing what I could in the present, remaining true to myself and my values, and holding on to some hope for an eventual change of course. He didn’t do nothing, but he didn’t put all his faith in a miracle.

Optimism and hope are not the same thing. We may be buoyed at times by the positive outlook of an optimistic friend, and few of us would wish for the constant glum company of an Eeyore, with his expectation of disappointment. But it seems to me it is hope, not just optimism, that sees us through the tough passages of our life—doing what we can in the present to be ready for whatever comes in the future, holding to even hard truths, seeking even difficult justice, offering compassion even in the face of threat and opposition.

When Noah sent out a dove from the overcrowded, probably desperate ark—and he did it more than once before he got a positive sign—I think it was his hope, a hope that God was not only destroyer, but also sustainer of life. May we also live with this hope.

Doug Watson

Tuesday December 2
Genesis 9: 1-17

One day’s end years ago, an 8-year-old boy sat in the passenger’s seat of his 58-year-old dad’s Ford panel truck as that dad was driving home from his construction jobsite. As they motored on, the boy looked over and noticed that his dad’s face was reddened and that he was wiping away tears first with one hand and then with the other. The boy sank in his seat, dreading what would soon happen. And what he dreaded did happen: Dad burst into tears with audible, broken weeping.

I had no idea what to do as Dad wept. He kept control of that old panel truck, but the divorce from Mom and his imminent departure were out of his control. He wept openly and despairingly. Hope was gone. Soon, he was to be out of the house he had built for Mom and me and my two older sisters.

Paul wrote that “we despaired...” (2nd Corinthians 1:8). But then he speaks of the hope of deliverance by trust in the God who even “raises the dead.”

Sometimes hope succumbs to human feelings, but to those whose feelings are like ashes on a heap, ashes seemingly waiting in silence for the winds to carry them into oblivion, hope abides.

In time, Dad remarried. He enjoyed his deliverance from despair and had hope in the God who raises from the dead, the God who placed his bow in the clouds, giving promise of times for new harvests.

Larry Inman

Thursday December 3
Isaiah 54: 1-10

Growing up in Southern Missouri there was the definite possibility during the winter for snow sledding. It was never a lot of snow, but I did not need much for the kind of sledding I wanted. In fact, the slushier and icier the better. I had inherited my dad’s metal runner sled. It had wooden planks across the top, two dull metal blades, a rope for pulling, and the crowing feature, a curved wooden piece that lay across the front with one screw in the middle. This was used to steer the sled. There was not an axle or hinge point, but I put my full trust in that one piece. Most of the time it worked. If you needed to make a wide turn or avoid a large object you just pulled back on the side, you wanted to go and you would steer in that direction. Oh, but sometimes it did not work. If you did not correctly anticipate the speed of the sled or the distance of the object, no amount of leaning or turning could save you from crashing out.

Looking back from a lived experience perspective, I marvel at the faith I put in that boomerang shaped steering device on my dad’s runner sled. It seems that in sledding and in life maybe a more trustworthy source of direction would be better. The possibility of crashing out or running into obstacles is always possible but a fixed hope, a sure fulfilment, is comforting. The struggle is that we do not control or steer that fixed hope because it does not come from us. It comes from God the giver of hope.

Justin Dunn

Friday December 5
Isaiah 30:19-26

In the face of Assyrian aggression, the prophet warns his compatriots and their leaders against making a defensive alliance with Egypt. Such a policy will prove disastrous, claims Isaiah, because it is at cross-purposes with their commitment to YHWH. Instead of seeking aid elsewhere, they should rely wholly upon God: “In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength” (v. 15).

After his laments and warnings (vv. 1-17), the prophet adds a note of promise, given in our focal passage. Although the people of Zion may temporarily experience adversity and affliction, God will ultimately hear their cries and be gracious to them (v. 19). He will guide them in his ways (vv. 20-21), and they will reject every hindrance to true devotion (v. 22). Further, they will experience abundant provision—in rain and crops and livestock (vv. 23-5). Instead of darkness and gloom, there will be light and healing (v. 26), and their enemies will be defeated (vv. 27-33).

This passage instructs us in the Advent theme of Hope. Isaiah teaches us that hope is not wishful thinking. Rather, it is an orientation toward God which endures present difficulties by engaging God’s gracious promises, thus increasing our strength and resolve. Hope involves waiting upon God, who himself waits to be gracious to us and show us mercy (v. 18).

A prayer: “Blessed Lord, who has caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ” (BCP 236).

Charles Swadley