This sermon was prepared for and preached with Church of the Apostles, Kansas City (my home parish) in mind. I offer both the audio link and text here for any who may be inclined to listen/hear. I hope you find it to be an encouragement and blessing — all critiques and feedback welcome.

AUDIO VERSION HERE

“Constant Vigilance”

The human ability to adjust to our surroundings is unparalleled, a byproduct of both God’s design in creation and the faculties developed and nurtured through centuries of survival. The human eye is able to adjust to a dark room within 20-30 minutes. The process, known as “dark adaptation,” occurs as the cones and the rods in our eyes adjust to the lack of light, allowing us to gain a sort of night vision. According to Rafael Caruso, an investigator in the National Eye Institute’s Ophthalmic Genetics & Visual Function Branch in Bethesda, Md., “The human retina can perform its light-detection function in an astounding range of light intensities, from bright sunlight to dim starlight.”[1] Athletes often train in higher altitudes in order to shock their systems with less oxygen, therefore requiring their bodies to adjust to the intentionally imposed stress and forcing them to thrive; this is particularly true for the world’s greatest runners and cyclists.

Similarly, researchers and thought leaders say it typically takes 30-40 days to form a new habit. Our bodies are able to adapt to a new diet, the engaging of regular exercise, or a new sleep pattern. The first 10 days are rough because you are essentially shocking your system by introducing something new. The next 10 days are the normalizing process during which you are learning to walk like a newborn foal; you have your legs underneath you but you are still wobbly, as it were. The last 10 days see you flourishing in your new practice so that by the time you hit that 30-40 day mark, you have put in a significant amount of hours and minutes in adopting the new practice, your body and mind have adjusted to the new thing, and you have now successfully incorporated it into your daily routine,…the success, however, is dependent upon one key principle:

Constant vigilance.

You cannot start-stop your diet or your exercise on a daily basis and still achieve the same weight-loss results. Trust me, I’ve tried. You cannot save money for a season, then spend it all, and then save, and keep it up and still hope to retire with a fat bank account. Again, trust me, I’ve tried. In the words of the imposter Mad-Eye Moody, aka Barty Crouch Jr, you have to practice constant vigilance…you have to constantly be watching, working, pursuing the goal.

Today we celebrate the First Sunday of Advent, the beginning of the church’s calendar, and we begin to prepare our hearts and minds for the birth of Messiah. However, and this is a very big however based on the lessons for today, we cannot adequately reflect upon the First Advent of Jesus without also bearing in mind and thinking about his second Advent, that day when he comes in glory to judge, to reign and rule, to usher in his kingdom fully and finally. The lessons for today are focused on that second advent and thus prompt the question, “What do the two advents have in common and what do they mean for our daily lives?” and beg an answer that is at once both reflective and applicable.

So, we start. The passage from Isaiah is both prophetic and apocalyptic. Here we see an outline of the end times. There will be a day, says Isaiah, when the whole world will come to the city on a hill (Jerusalem) and there they will learn from God. Remember, Isaiah is writing during the reign of the kings of Israel. There have been good kings and bad kings. Before that there was the period of the judges when Israel was push-me-pull-me with her God. One might, just might say, that in the realm of covenantal faithfulness, Israel had not been practicing constant vigilance with any regularity…

This will be a time of peace, a time when the wars shall cease, and the swords are beaten into ploughshares. So powerful is this prophetic image that even the musical Les Misérables references it in its closing song citing the day when, “We will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord, we will walk behind the ploughshares, we will put away the sword, the chains will be broken and all men shall have their reward.” This is not a temporary cease-fire between warring nations, nor is it the promise of man-made world peace. We also know that Isaiah isn’t describing the first advent of Christ because when Jesus finally does come on to the scene, he both enters and leaves amidst fighting, wars, hostility, and pain. This is the day depicted by John in his revelation when there will be no more tears or crying or sorrow or pain or death, the day when the whole world resides with God…and don’t miss that key fact. This is not Israel’s future with YHWH, but the future of the whole world, the opening of covenant to Jews and Gentiles alike.

The Psalm also depicts this. What you need to bear in mind about Psalm 122 is that it is one of the Psalms of Ascent. Israel made pilgrimage to Jerusalem three times a year for the great festivals. During this pilgrimage, those traveling along the road would sing the Psalms of Ascent. These Psalms ascend in two senses. First, Jerusalem is the city upon a hill, and one must ascend the hill to reach the city. The second is that thematically, these Psalms gradually ascend until reaching final crescendo in Psalm 134 when Israel proclaims:

1 Praise the Lord, all you servants of the Lord

who minister by night in the house of the Lord.

2 Lift up your hands in the sanctuary

and praise the Lord.

3 May the Lord bless you from Zion,

he who is the Maker of heaven and earth.

We can see the theme of ascent from the beginning because Psalm 122 begins with, “I was glad when they said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the LORD?’” Where is the house of the LORD? Jerusalem! Why would one be glad to go there? Because her life had been shaped and oriented around worshipping God. Israel made these pilgrimages tri-annually because she believed that worshipping YHWH in this manner, on these occasions, was an intimate part of her relationship with him. Despite Israel’s lack of constant vigilance, this festal worship was a regular reminder, a regular call to return to God and to joyful receive his compassion and forgiveness. It was an opportunity to step back into the bright light after days, weeks, months, or years of living spiritually with dark adaptation vision.

We come to Romans and Matthew and we get into this sticky matter of time. Who knows what time it is when the Son of Man will come again? Only the Father! Not even the Son knows the time of his parousia. Don’t worry, Jesus is still seated at the right hand of the Father, reigning and ruling over all things. When we read that the Son of Man doesn’t know the time this is a nod to Jesus’ incarnation and the fact that he was both fully God and fully man. It is in the humility of his humanity, just as the Collect suggests when it says, “now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility,” it is in this humility that the Son of Man does not know the time.

Jesus talks about other events that happened when no one was expecting them…Noah and the flood, two women working and two men working, and one is taken and the other is not. The point of these stories is not a retroactive marketing ploy to boost sales of Left Behind. Most commentators agree here that the point of these vignettes was to highlight the sudden and unexpected nature of Christ’s return rather than the manner of how it happened.

The real meat of these two passages, though, is when they begin highlighting the types of behaviors and actions we should be engaging in and/or abstaining from while we await his coming in glory. We are to give up smoking, drinking, chewing, and dating girls that do…seriously, drunkeness, licentiousness, sexual immorality. What if we added lying, stealing, cheating, dishonesty, judgmental thoughts, portraying a holier than thou persona on social media, hostility in relationships and friendships based on unmet expectations and hurts, pride of position, lack of humility …oh dear, I hope that list wasn’t too specific and uncomfortable 😉

Jesus describes the master of the house who keeps watch when he knows the hour of the thief coming to rob his house. If you knew that the burglar was coming to your house at 1:07am then of course you’d be ready. But what do you do when you don’t know the time or hour, the day or month, the minute or year? How does one adjust one’s life to include constant vigilance when considering an earth shattering even over which you have no control and for which you can only prepare but can never know the exact time?

But now we have finally come to the crux…what are we to do with these lessons about the second Advent when we are in fact gathered to celebrate the first coming of Messiah?

Jesus’ first advent was like a thief coming in the night. After Isaiah’s prophetic-apocalyptic vision of jubilee, Israel was exiled and conquered over and over again. She went 430 years without hearing a word from YHWH and then a little boy was born to parents with royal blood but no real position in the world. In Herod’s and Caesar’s backyards, men who believed themselves to be the sons of god, Jesus is born in the town of Bethlehem and his coming was only known to his poor, unwed mother, his father, the wise men, the shepherds, and of course the paranoid, bloodthirsty, and murderous Herod. He came quietly; the religious leaders expected a military and political leader to come and vanquish Rome, usher in the theocracy, and instead they/we received a humble king who rode into town on a donkey rather than a chariot and warhorse.

This season, we will sing songs about preparing our hearts to make room for Christ. This is not a sweet, poetic it of theological pander…there is actual work to be done here. Constant vigilance! To be vigilant is to be on the watch, to be alert and aware, to be ready and prepared. We cannot be lazy, distracted, slow, or negligent in our care and concern.

So, friends, I would like to take this opportunity to propose that we treat this Advent season as a mini-Lent. In Lent we take on disciplines and practices, while also giving up unnecessary stuff, in order to prepare for Easter Joy. Let us do the same thing during these four weeks as we prepare for Christmas joy. And, don’t worry, I have given you a list of 4 pairs: a discipline alongside something for you to give up. You have 25 days until Christmas to embrace and introduce a new habit to your life.

  1. Take on the discipline of reading the Daily Office and give up worrying about the future. The good news is that God is god and you are not. The bad news is that this will likely hurt your ego. Worrying about the future does nothing other than rob us of joy and energy in the present. The Daily Office will help you trust God by spending your time focusing on him instead of worrying about things outside of your control. This means people, places, things, events, acts of God, traffic patterns, money…
  2. Take on the discipline of abstinence and give up impulsivity. I am not talking about “that” kind of abstinence. Figure out the activities from which you ought to abstain: social media, gossip, speaking critically of others, lying, drinking, overeating, an obsession of self. Instead take on slower habits: reflection, thoughtfulness, prudence. Little good actually comes from impulsivity. Exercise restraint of pen and tongue—that is, don’t like your lips write a check you aren’t willing to cash—and think before you act. The goal is to become slow to anger and quick to love rather than quick to anger and slow to forget…
  3. Take on the discipline of daily confession and give up judging others. We cannot adequately prepare our hearts, minds, imaginations, and lifestyles if we have been unwilling to look into the darkest corners of our hearts. We typically judge others when we have unconfessed sin in our own lives. Set aside time every day to reflect and confess your sins to your Heavenly Father, not because he is a despot or task master, but because you truly desire absolution and remission of sin. Focus on yourself here and thereby stop focusing on the sins and shortcomings of others…
  4. Take on the discipline of sacrifice and give up self-serving endeavors. Let’s be honest and admit that the next month feels like Christmas instead of Advent, a focus on me instead of he. We will be pressed for time, money, and energy. This is the moment to shift our focus to others and give more than we have before. Find people to serve in discrete ways. More than anything, think on others instead of yourself. If you think about what you can achieve or get out of something it’s not the right thing.

We are not awaiting the thief to come in the night. While the second coming might be compared to a thief coming in the night, please remember that we are actually talking about the return of the King, the coming of the One who has a rightful claim to the throne and who will judge all things and put the world to rights. Jesus is coming, both King of kings and Lord of lords, and our call is to prepare our hearts for his return, even as we reflectively prepare to celebrate his birth once more. May we be found faithful and vigilant.


[1] https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/experts-eyes-adjust-to-darkness/

A poem by Travis Wright

At evensong, the lifted book toward which we
wait, and bow, like birdsong
across a glassy top, or 
bodies driven by silence toward
combat and song. 

Only touch us, Lord,
and leprous praise will rise
once more.

Travis Wright lives with his wife Emily and their small daughter in Charlotte NC, where he studies at Gordon-Conwell and works in discipleship at All Saints. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in the Brooklyn Quarterly, Anthropocene, and the North American Anglican, among others. 

By Porter C. Taylor
Written for Church of the Apostles, KC.

Collect: Almighty God, who inspired your servant Luke the physician to set forth in the Gospel the love and healing power of your Son: Graciously continue in your Church this love and power to heal, to the praise and glory of your Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

The evangelist and physician, Luke, has provided the church with a wealth of detail, historical context, and beautifully articulated depictions of God’s love for His people and His world. The feast commemorating St. Luke is a wonderful opportunity to explore and celebrate his writings and the collect for the day captures two central themes worthy of deeper examination: “the love and healing power” of Jesus. Year C of the Lectionary, the liturgical year which ends next month, has included a lengthy trek through Luke’s Gospel which will culminate on Christ the King Sunday with the scene of Jesus proclaiming forgiveness from the cross (“Father, forgive them”) and the promise of life after death to the repentant thief. Surely, there can be no better depiction of healing and love than this.

The images of Jesus’ parables in Luke 15 are particularly poignant when considering these twin themes because through the stories we see a God who seeks after the least, the last, and the lost. We find a father running to meet his wayward and rebellious son while he was still a long way off and then throw a party for him, complete with fatted calf and signet ring. Love personified in such a way is overwhelming, it is scandalous; it restores, redeems, and heals.

It would be easy to relegate references of healing in Luke’s gospel to stories of physical being ailments reversed, overturned, and wiped away. However, the deeper layer of truth to Luke’s telling of Jesus’ story is the power of God’s love to heal His people, their land, and His world. Early on in the gospel, we encounter Jesus in the synagogue where He stands up to read a scroll from the prophet Isaiah. The passage depicts the year of the LORD’s favor (jubilee) and Jesus read aloud to those gathered:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to let the oppressed go free,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

The steadfast, unrelenting, covenant love of YHWH for His people can be tangibly and palpably seen through the hope-filled promise of jubilee. Luke’s gospel shows what this healing love looks like in action: friends lowering their lame companion through a roof; a shepherd searching for the one sheep; a woman looking for a lost coin; a Father restoring his son; Jesus dying on the cross and yet forgiving those who were killing him.

The love of Jesus heals more than just the body; it affects the heart, mind, and soul. Our call, as Christians, is to then love God with all our heart, mind, body, soul, and strength and to love our neighbors as well. Through this type of love, we praise God in the fullest and purest sense. Luke’s Gospel invites us into such a loving relationship, it beckons us to die to self, to hear Jesus’ absolution from the cross, and to receive His promise of new life. Luke’s story continues in Acts as we discover the gospel bursting forth into the world through the power of the Holy Spirit and the faithful witness of the disciples, apostles, martyrs (Wednesday was the lesser feast commemorating Ridley, Latimer, and Cranmer who were martyred for their faith in the 16th century), and the early church. This heritage is what should inform us and urge us on toward sharing the love of God with neighbor and stranger alike, just as God has done, is doing, and will continue to do for us.

Graciously continue in your Church this love and power to heal, to the praise and glory of your Name.

(Note: The Eastern Orthodox Church recognizes St. Luke as the original iconographer. Here’s an interesting article attributing several icons of Mary to him.)

“Poignantly Poetic” is the section of the blog devoted to the promotion and curation of poetry. Anglicanism has a long, rich history of poetry, far beyond the development of the Psalter and Book of Common Prayer. This new series seeks to offer a platform for Christian poets interested in sharing their work.

A poem by Jacob Graudin

The sun already risen, still I wait towards the east,
My mouth mumbles a liturgy mixed up with other forms.
In retrograde, my memory anticipates the feast.

My eyes have trouble focusing; I could have used more sleep.
My knees are quickly soring on the rigid kneeler-board.
The sun already risen, still I wait towards the east.

Again, I hear the beckon, ‘in remembrance of me,’
And in a mass I see the broken cup, the bread outpoured.
In retrograde, my memory anticipates the feast.

Then I remember forward, joined to those surrounding me:
All history sinistroversely read, Semitic lore.
The sun already risen, still we wait towards the east.

This world resounds: the elements converge upon one Priest,
Whose cupping hands communicate these gifts to be reborn.
In retrograde, our memory anticipates the feast.

Real presence of the grape and grain, we taste and then we see.
Our hopes renewed, our ears unstopped, we listen for the door.
The sun already risen, still we wait towards the east,
In retrograde, our memory anticipates the feast.

Jacob Graudin is a layman in the Anglican Church of North America and worships with his wife at Christ Church Anglican in South Bend, Indiana. Originally hailing from Charleston, SC, where he grew up and worked in the Episcopal Diocese, he is dedicated to discovering and expressing the fullness of beauty in the doctrine, liturgy, and art of the Anglican tradition.

By Porter C. Taylor

I have never been a fan of the sound of my own voice. For those who know me as someone who preaches, teaches, or talks about Manchester United and literary fiction, this may come as a bit of a surprise. I tend to use more words in a day than most people do in a week.

As I was driving away from Holy Cross Anglican Church in Loganville, GA during the summer of 2006, I thought it might be a good idea to listen to my recently recorded (and first ever) sermon. I put the CD into the disc drive in my Nissan Sentra–yes, I am that old–and waited for the audio to begin. This was my first mistake…

The opportunity to preach a sermon for the first time on a Sunday morning had been overwhelming. My previous speaking experiences had come within the context of youth ministry, but this sermon was to be one of my final acts as part of my summer employment. I had big plans for the sermon: I was going to re-write the Nicene Creed satirically and had dubbed the rendition “The Doubters Creed.” Rebecca gave me a loving and necessary nudge in the right direction and I abandoned my 20-year-old-know-it-all-full-of-arrogance plans and returned to the lectionary texts.

I preached at both services that morning with family, friends, and students from the youth group in attendance. I was nervous and excited and full of questions. What do you do with your hands? Should I stand still or move around? What if my voice cracks and I fall down the chancel steps and what if…? You can see how my mind was firing on all cylinders.

So, when I walked past the table outside of the Nave on the following Sunday, I was delightedly surprised to find a CD with my name on it. I grabbed the disc and immediately put it into the drive to accompany me on my 30-minute trek home.

Spoiler: I did not listen for long.

My voice came on through the speaker system in my Nissan and I was horrified. Is that how I really sound? Is that what my voice actually sounds like in real life? My ears were so attuned to the noises coming through the recording that I was distracted from everything else around me…including the pickup truck in front of me which had come to a stop (along with the rest of traffic). I did not stop my car until I had hit the rear of his bumper.

Yes, friends, that’s right: I was so anxious and disturbed by the sound of my own voice that I had a fender bender in the church parking lot.

Moving beyond that embarrassing and non-ticket-able-moment, I had the joyful privilege of recording two podcast episodes which went live last week. The first to “drop” was my segment on The Podluck Podcast with Megan Westra. I was asked to answer the question, “What does it mean to be saved?” in 20 minutes or less. A dangerous task because remember, I like using words. I opted to answer the question from the angle of narrative theology. You can listen to the whole episode.

The second podcast episode to go live was my interview with Ian Lasch of All Things Rite and Musical regarding the #schmemannvolume (We Give Our Thanks Unto Thee). Ian and I had a great time talking all things liturgical theology, Schmemann, and prayer book. You can listen to it here.

I would love for you to listen to both of these episodes, but reader-turned-listener beware: my voice can sometimes lead to parking lot fender benders. Listen at your own risk. Buckle your seat belt. Keep both eyes on the road. Let the dulcet tones overwhelm you…happy listening!

“Poignantly Poetic” is the section of the blog devoted to the promotion and curation of poetry. Anglicanism has a long, rich history of poetry, far beyond the development of the Psalter and Book of Common Prayer. This new series seeks to offer a platform for Christian poets interested in sharing their work.

Poem by Chad Bird

Good Friday
 
That head, which angels with ceaseless praise adorn,
            Is pierced with crowded thorns.
That face, which our God with grace and beauty lit,
            Is marred by sinners’ spit.
Those eyes, outshining the sun’s most piercing light,
            Are dull as sable night.
Those ears, accustomed to praise from heaven’s host,
            Must hear his haters boast.
That mouth, whose wisdom the wisest could enthrall,
            Tastes vinegar and gall.
Those feet, whose footstool is this terrestrial sphere,
            To bloody wood adhere.
Those hands, which stretched out the heavens like a tent,
            By spikes in twain are rent.
That tongue, uninjured, shall cry from that cursed tree,
            A prayer of love for me.
 
*Based on “An Exercise of Repentance from our Lord’s Passion”
in the Sacred Meditations of Johann Gerhard.

Chad Bird holds master’s degrees from Concordia Theological Seminary and Hebrew Union College. He draws upon his expertise as a former professor of OT and Hebrew to cohost the podcast, “40 Minutes in the OT.” Chad has authored several books, including his latest, Upside-Down Spirituality: The 9 Essential Failures of a Faithful Life. He has written for Christianity Today, The Gospel Coalition, and elsewhere. He and his wife, Stacy, have four children and two grandchildren.

A poem by Chad Bird. “Poignantly Poetic” is the section of the blog devoted to the promotion and curation of poetry. Anglicanism has a long, rich history of poetry, far beyond the development of the Psalter and Book of Common Prayer. This new series seeks to offer a platform for Christian poets interested in sharing their work.

Lord, Thee I Love with Half My Heart
 
Lord, Thee I love with half my heart.
The world has claimed the other part.
I pray Thy name be hallowed, Lord,
But want my name to be adored.
Thy kingdom come, Thy reign extend,
And rain on me wealth without end.
Thy will be done, my lips shall pray
And curse when I don’t get my way.
I thank Thee for my daily bread,
But cakes and steaks I crave instead.
My million sins forgive, forget,
While I collect a one-cent debt.
From tempting evils keep us free
Unless I find they pleasure me.
Lord, Thee I love with half my heart.
Destroy, reclaim, the other part.

Chad Bird holds master’s degrees from Concordia Theological Seminary and Hebrew Union College. He draws upon his expertise as a former professor of OT and Hebrew to cohost the podcast, “40 Minutes in the OT.” Chad has authored several books, including his latest, Upside-Down Spirituality: The 9 Essential Failures of a Faithful Life. He has written for Christianity Today, The Gospel Coalition, and elsewhere. He and his wife, Stacy, have four children and two grandchildren.

By Porter C. Taylor

The liturgical year presents the Church with many opportunities to reflect upon Christ’s work on the cross. On Good Friday we are invited to meditate upon the agony and pain, the love and obedience, the silence and awe of His crucifixion. One typically leaves the Good Friday liturgy full of sorrow and torment mixed with thanksgiving for God’s unrelenting love. We then return to the cross, in a way, on Easter as we come to flower the cross with our own blooms and blossoms, celebrating that what was intended for evil by man was ultimately used for good by God for the life of the whole world.

The cross is everywhere around us, and yet I wonder if we, both culturally and as a church, have become blind to its meaning and power. Is it possible that we have simultaneously become both desensitized to the brutality of Jesus’s execution and overly personalized/privatized the crucifixion (i.e. saying “Christ died for me”) that we have neglected the redeeming work accomplished on Calvary? We throw around the idea of “taking up our cross” and following Jesus as though we have forgotten what that meant for Him, and for His disciples, and ultimately for us. As with many things in our faith, the cross presents us with a paradox, for it is at once both a symbol of death and life, of agony and glory, of defeat and victory. The Feast of the Holy Cross is therefore an opportunity to think, reflect, and celebrate this paradox.

The Collect provides us with the guidance we need to read our lessons and understand the meaning of the Feast: “whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself: Mercifully grant that we, who glory in the mystery of our redemption, may have grace to take up our cross and follow Him.” Here we find both the universal and the particular co-mingling in the same sentence; Jesus is drawing the whole world to Himself, and we are called to take up our cross and follow Him. There is a connection here between the once and for all nature of Jesus’ passion and our invitation to live as a cross-shaped people.

Lifted High

The Bible is teeming with references to the Son of Man being lifted high for all to see. Our lessons for this Feast include Isaiah 45 and John 12 as examples of this, but we might also remember Moses raising the bronze snake in the Exodus story and then Jesus echoing this story when he said that he must be lifted up in the same manner. Jesus said, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.” John’s gospel is richly imbibed with a theme we might summarize as “God is glorified in Christ crucified” and these passages point to the power Jesus’ crucifixion holds for all who believe.

As Paul reminds us in his epistle to the church in Philippi, Jesus went to the cross willingly, obediently, and faithfully. He did not end up on the cross as some sort of accident or coincidence; He was neither outsmarted by the religious leaders of the day nor caught while trying to escape. Jesus set His gaze like flint toward Jerusalem and then journeyed directly to the cross for the sins and life of the whole world. The cross is both the reminder of humanity’s wayward desire to life apart from God and the fullest expression of God’s self-emptying love for His creation. In order to view the cross as a symbol of discipleship, we must first see the cross as the place where our Savior willingly died that all might know God; that is, we cannot have an empty and clean cross without first embracing the cross with Jesus dying upon it.

Taking Up Your Cross

The invitation to take up your cross is not cheap. Culturally we have become so flippant with our references that it is common to equate a personal disagreement or verbal attack with the crucifixion. And yet, the apostles carried their crosses unto death; the martyrs and saints of the last 2000 years have done the same. To take up our cross is to similarly set our gaze like flint toward whatever your horizon the Lord is calling us and to journey there intentionally and with God’s love, compassion, mercy, grace, and mission overflowing from our hearts. As they say in AA meetings, “It’s simple, but it isn’t easy.”

A Christian who has been shaped by the cross is a person ready to lift that cross even higher that others might see Jesus and turn to him, as well. The cross we are called to bear is not an inconvenience or annoyance to which we can say, “We all have our crosses to bear…” as though putting a theological bow on it will somehow make it more palatable. The cross we are called to bear is the cross of Christ, nothing more, nothing less, and nothing else. Think about Simon the Cyrene who carried the cross for Jesus when He could no longer do so himself: Simon had to follow Jesus all the way to Golgotha with the cross on his back…how far are we willing to carry the cross?

Challenge

Here at COTA we have been blessed by the beautiful processional cross created for us by our own Tom McDonald. We bow when the cross processes past us as the verger carries it into the nave and again out into the world. If you are intentionally attentive, then you will notice the handle on the cross changes based on the liturgical season, a visible symbol of the tenor and theme at hand: penance, glory, ordinary time, etc. Allow yourself to be drawn in by the colors as you meditate upon Christ’s work. Allow yourself to be arrested by the image of Christ upon the cross, forcing yourself to gaze upon Him a second longer than you would normally do. Let the Feast of the Holy Cross be both a reminder of Jesus’ passion and of your invitation to take up the cross and follow Jesus daily, wherever He might lead you.

This was originally written for and published by our parish blog – Church of the Apostles, Kansas City – where I serve as Assisting Priest and Theologian in Residence. You can read it here.

“Poignantly Poetic” is the section of the blog devoted to the promotion and curation of poetry. Anglicanism has a long, rich history of poetry, far beyond the development of the Psalter and Book of Common Prayer. This new series seeks to offer a platform for Christian poets interested in sharing their work.

A poem by Clinton Collister.

“The Gospel According to Mary Magdalene”

“I see you’re reading Origen,” he said, 
And asked me to go out with him for lunch. 
A coder in ball cap, who spoke in blocks, 
He told the tale of when his grandma kept
Him Cooped up in her home for three long months. 
“I loathed her wooden cross and her old prayers, 
So I sought out the ghosts on my same side.”
They possessed me like light and cosmic truth
And when they left, I never felt the same.”
The pool balls cracked as Neil confessed and drank,
And my thumb moved from knot to knot in shock. 
“I could not make them speak to me again,
But I now felt the need for death or joy.
You call men like us players or artists.
Well, it’s a numbers game, and I asked hundreds.”
I sipped my beer and schemed to leave the hall.
“Yes, if there is lead in the air, you’re dangerous.”
I offered, paraphrasing my uncle’s
Go to advice for hunters and for basement
Dwellers. Then I put down cash and escaped
Outside into the cool September breeze. 

Clinton Collister studies theology and poetry at the Institute for Theology, Imagination, and the Arts at The University of St. Andrews and edits the Poets’ Corner at The North American Anglican. His articles have appeared at Forward in Christ, Front Porch Republic, and Solidarity Hall. He and Sarah live in Guardbridge and attend All Saints. You can hear them share their love of poetry on their podcast, Poetry for the People.

“Poignantly Poetic” is the section of the blog devoted to the promotion and curation of poetry. Anglicanism has a long, rich history of poetry, far beyond the development of the Psalter and Book of Common Prayer. This new series seeks to offer a platform for Christian poets interested in sharing their work.

Poems by Chad Bird

Hope Unveiled

As sure as the sun’s rise dispels sable night,
With plow-like rays, unearthing dawn’s light,
When yesterday’s darkness enshrouds today’s face,
Hope shall unveil tomorrow’s bright grace.

O Swaddled God

O swaddled God within a manger throne,
Blood of my heart and marrow of my bone,
Suffuse all you are in all that is me,
That I become what you’ve made me to be.

Chad Bird holds master’s degrees from Concordia Theological Seminary and Hebrew Union College. He draws upon his expertise as a former professor of OT and Hebrew to cohost the podcast, “40 Minutes in the OT.” Chad has authored several books, including his latest, Upside-Down Spirituality: The 9 Essential Failures of a Faithful Life. He has written for Christianity Today, The Gospel Coalition, and elsewhere. He and his wife, Stacy, have four children and two grandchildren.