The Vision We Bear

A message on Christmas Eve

“Don’t you ever imagine things differently from what they are?” asks Anne Shirley of her adoptive mother, Marilla, in Anne of Green Gables.
“No.” says Marilla.
“Oh Marilla, how much you miss.”

--

Don’t you ever imagine a world that is different? Don’t you ever imagine things other than the way they are? Don’t you wish things were different, maybe even agonize at the way things are?
I know I do.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the communities affected by the fires – as we approach one year. So many of us have moved on in our hearts and minds, while they are living the first Christmas without the places they called home

Or the families in our community who have had family members deported. The young man who’s roommates were deported, and now can’t make rent. The extended family who had the father deported and don’t know where he is. They have very little and asked for a restaurant gift card so they can go out to eat with kids.

The prophet Isaiah speaks of Those who walked in land of deep shadow…
I know what that feels like

“Don’t you ever imagine things differently from what they are?”

At Christmas, we hold the big paradox: Already and Not Yet. We have made it through the season of Advent: the season of waiting. We’ve marked the days on our countdown clocks and opened doors on our advent calendars. We have lit one candle each Sunday as we prepare the way of the Lord. And the day is here! Our wait is over! God is with us!!

… And yet…

There is still isolation, and war, and poverty. There is still exploitation and white supremacy and neighbors sleeping outside. There is still evil in the world that chooses to tear children from parents, that intentionally uses fear to control vulnerable people, that expels the innocent, all the while laughing in derision at anyone dares to speak for compassion.

And, as our own Dillon Zehnder puts it in new lyrics he wrote to an old tune:
we are left with fear and empty hands, as we hear the wailing across the miles, the sound of silenced thunder, a sound of angels losing hope.

Indeed the conquering emperor needs us to have precisely no imagination or hope and to be completely worn down and emptied by despair.

Yes, we have already been given the gift of the Light of the World, a vision for the people, but we live in the Not Yet – of the promise yet to be fulfilled.

--

“Those who live in land of deep shadow, on them, light has shined!”

We who live in shadow have been given a light, given a vision, we’ve been given an imagination for things to be different.

This vision can’t wait; God couldn’t wait to be with us! The light of the world is here. We’re not alone. And no matter how bad it’s gotten, God still has more in store for us. Because God is not limited by our lack of imagination, but has boundless more in store than we could ever ask or imagine.

This Light of the World, this vision is of a world being different from the way it is: is a vision of brightness in the midst of shadow - Not white in the midst of darkness - (leave it to white supremacy to make us think Bible co-signs our sin of racism) but clear skies in the midst of fog; clarity in midst of gloom; brightness in midst of shadow. This is vision we’ve been given.

Krista Franklin, author and poet, writes:

“…If you find your imagination cannot stop itself
>From churning out the scripts of the death machines
Pull its plug, dismantle it, reprogram it
Dream daylight
Manufacture daylight
We are the magicians
Make magic.” – Krista Franklin

I would say we’re more than magicians. We don’t just hold the vision; we bear it. We carry and present it.

We are the vision bearers.

We’ve been given a vision – a vision in the flesh. And the vision doesn’t end here – Christmas has only just begun!

What do we do with this vision now that we’ve received it? When we find suspicion all around, we build circles of trust. When vulnerable people are targeted, we move into vulnerable spaces in solidarity. When the death machines look to strangle the thriving of those we love, we look straight in the eyes of anyone who has been ignored or silenced, and we don’t look away.

We write new lyrics; we hold on to the hug a little too long; we pull up an extra chair to the table. We shine the lightly brightly, as a beacon, as a lighthouse.

We not only bear the vision of a new world, not only imagine it, we rehearse it and put it into practice. We dream daylight; we make magic; we bear the vision. We take it beyond these walls to all those places where it seems that emptiness has already won

“Don’t you ever imagine things differently from what they are, Marilla?”
Yes! Let’s!

This poem by Ann Weems didn’t make it into my sermon, but I had to share.

Longest Night (by Ann Weems, from her book Kneeling In Bethlehem)

The Christmas Spirit
is that hope
which tenaciously clings
to the hearts of the faithful
and announces
in the face
of any Herod the world can produce
and all the inn doors slammed in our faces
and all the dark nights of our souls
that with God
all things are possible,
that even now
unto us
a child is born.

Thank you for reading Almost Named Grace. Writers really value readers who share their work by forwarding, sharing on an online platform, and yes, by word of mouth. I wouldn’t be here without you, so thank you!

I love hearing from readers… replies to this email will be sent directly to me. Keep in touch!

---

~What I’m reading~

The Impossible Fortune by Richard Osman

Thank you for reading Almost Named Grace! Subscribe for free to receive new posts right in your inbox. Paid subscribers also receive weekly sermon notes whenever I preach.