Advent. Confess

To confess is to declare, to avow, to acknowledge. It can mean owning up to faults and failings, and, in the extreme, to crimes. Or it can mean owning one’s faith and conviction. “Here I stand. I can do no other,” is a confession of faith.

My confession today is more the owning up kind: I confess that it’s my birthday and I don’t want to write anything for Advent. So there. Maybe tomorrow’s word will inspire. Maybe tomorrow will inspire. Maybe.

As for today, I’m going to skip the writing in favor of some running … and then I’m going to drink a glass of birthday wine with my beloved. That last piece – a glass of wine with my beloved – is a confession of the other kind: a word of faith and conviction. Here I stand – with her. I can do no other.

Advent. Grace

Sometimes you write. Sometimes you remember what you've written. This is one of those remembering kinds of days. Here's a little song I wrote a half dozen years ago, inspired by a Facebook post from MaryAnn McKibben Dana. Now that I'm wandering her old stomping grounds, it seems right to pull this out of the files.

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It’s Gonna Be Grace 

It’s gonna be grace that gets me through today; It’s gonna be hope that lights the way

It’s gonna take love to blaze the trail; Gotta hold on to the faith when we triumph –

and when we fail.

Coffee’s on the counter and the sleep’s still in my eyes.

Morning mist across the hill the sun begins to rise

Through breakfast scramble chaos rules; Three buses take three kids to schools

One had a project testing joules; But left behind her bag of tools

Gonna head down to the bus stop for another day of work

I’m self-employed but sometimes the boss is still a jerk

Though the work is good and feeds the soul; Sometimes the office takes its toll

It’s barely noon but I’m ready to roll; Would it be alright to take a three-hour stroll

     Some days you rise up to change the world but it’s all that you can do

     To change the lights or change the sheets or change your socks and shoes

     But the grace of God that shines in you is always there to pull me through

     I pray the light shines in me, too. Today that’s all that I can do.

Gonna head out to the garden, sink my hands into the earth

Bend my body to the rhythms of planting and rebirth

But the sun is hot; root weeds sink deep; Bone marrow weariness starts to creep

Before too long I just want to sleep; ‘Cause there’s no faith left to take a leap

Advent. Root

Yesterday’s lectionary reading includes John the Baptist’s stark warning about repentance and taking an axe to the root of the tree that bears no fruit. Hard to square that with the promise that we’re beloved and don’t have to earn that. Is John threatening to take the axe to the unworthy?

I hope not.

For one thing, I’m clearly on the list. For another, so is everybody else. There are not enough axes to go around.

So I’m going to stick with the hope of grace. It’s enough for the day.