It’s been a calmer season in our house. Thanks to homeschooling, the early morning wake ups necessitated by public school are being avoided this year. Thanks to working remotely, I don’t have to leave the house at 6am to get to the office, but instead I can clock in right at the start of my shift. We are better rested and less harried overall as a family, which is helping us cope with the stress of living through a global pandemic.


The break from the feeling of panic and urgency around us has been a gift. As the cases are rising in our province and the lists of sites for contact tracing increase by the day, our cozy little life behind our closed front door has been a more effective plan for the pandemic than any attempt to deal with masks or group limits.


We have set ourselves apart and that has been a gift in more ways than one. After we made the adjustment from all the busyness of pre-pandemic life into the gentler pace being afforded us now, it created so much room in our lives. The time we used to spend rushing to making lunches or driving to and fro, accounts for more of my day than I had expected. And what do I do with this extra time? The temptation at the start of the pandemic was to binge watch those must watch TV shows (yes, even the Tiger King). That later turned into binge watching TikTok videos. Those distractions kept me from hyper focusing on my fears about how the pandemic could affect my family.


As we step into Advent, I am reminded and invited to take my eyes off the distractions and fears of the world. The invitation to prepare for Christ is a welcome reminder to keep my eyes on the end goal — to have my heart ready for the Master. When He comes, will I have used my time wisely? Or will I be found sleeping?


Jesus has taught me to watch for Him — to keep my eyes on Him. The world outside feels scary right now, but this is an opportunity to fix on our eyes on Jesus, who loves us beyond all measure. Christ is inviting me to use the extra time in my life to come closer to Him and to make more room in my life for Him.




Stephanie Potter

It’s beginning to look a lot like COVID Christmas!


I know that’s not how that song goes. However, that’s how I feel these days. COVID-19 has impacted every aspect of our lives for the past nine months and is about to seriously alter the way in which we celebrate what has been dubbed the “most wonderful time of the year”: Christmas. We fill this time of year with gatherings with loved ones, eating, rejoicing in Christ’s coming, eating, reindeer games, eating, gift giving… did I mention eating? How do we do that now? This year, COVID-19, like the first snow storm of the season, is causing havoc and forcing us to re-think how we do what we normally do.


The fact of the matter is, I have a choice. I can bow down to this COVID-19 fatigue — this sense of weariness that I’m feeling as a result of this on-going, ever evolving, seemingly unending global pandemic. Or I can reach deep into the roots of the faith that grounds me for the strength and belief that in the midst of this craziness, God still is, and we will still welcome his Son at Christmas.


It is so easy to choose option #1 because I am all kinds of tired with the craziness of our world. At every turn: at work, rest, and play, I feel inundated with limitations and restrictions like I have never experienced before. Yet as one who calls herself a child of God, I am also privy to gifts and graces beyond my wildest dreams. As Saint Paul has said to the Corinthians: “I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him.”


Because of this certainty, I can choose to lament the normal that was, or I can create a new normal — with Christ. After all, Christ has been gifted to me. In an ordinary year, I have striven to make the Advent season a personal time to prepare my heart and mind to re-receive this precious Gift. The gift of His Son becoming one of us; one of us who hears, smells, touches, sees, tastes — just like any other human being. This Child who, as the Son of God, wants us to use all our senses to recognize God’s revelation in the midst of our world — even our COVID world. This gift was given to change me, in order to, in turn, change my world.


I am certain that God is present in this pandemic. Saint Paul reminds us that God is faithful, so at the very least, I can be faithful to Him. Christmas doesn’t have to be different. But I can be different. Christ is still coming to change the world. This Advent I will prepare for a change in me that will help me to change our world. What about you?




Aurea Sadi

“Restore us, O God…”

To restore is to repair something or to bring something that is lost back to its owner. More often than not, I’m in need of the Lord’s restoration; for Him to pick up the pieces of my brokenness or to guide me back to Him. 

The Lord wants to restore us. But, more importantly, He wants us to want to be restored by Him. God will never impose Himself on us although He wants nothing more than to be there for His children. This psalm is crying out to the Lord for His grace and His restoration. I strive to do the same in my daily life. 

However, at times (especially in those times where I need restoration), I can become passive in my faith. I can forget to ask the Lord to restore me. When stress and feelings of being overwhelmed crowd in, that is when I need restoration the most. But I sometimes become distracted in things that lead me further from restoration: being doubtful, anxious, and submerging myself in the source of my stress. 

Resisting God through passivity in your relationship with Him is also resisting your potential to be the great and joyful being that He intended for you to be. I have found it helpful in these times to be more intentional about making time for the Lord. Engulfing myself in the chaos will not calm the storm… but God will. I find that if I make time in the morning to be with the Lord, for even just five minutes, I am sure to have a better start to my day than I otherwise would have if I had just jumped immediately onto my phone, or got up in a rush to begin all of my “to dos” for the day. 
Ask for restoration and God will always provide. When you call out to Him, like in this psalm, He will be there. He will be there to repair the brokenness and guide you back to Him. 

Let us pray that we can resist the temptation of passivity and seek restoration through Him each day. 

Amen

​


Megan Noye

I am mourning and rejoicing as Isaiah takes me on this journey of becoming bare before my Lord—as bare as clay—as bare as a winter tree.


Gazing upon the trees in this season, the few still stand with their leaves clinging desperately to the branches, to the only life they know. They console me as I reflect on my own clinging; my own desperation, my own desire to see the face of my God who will deliver me from my iniquity and release me from the toxicity that I oftentimes also cling to.


My longing increases as I breathe in Isaiah’s words. Through him, my Father is peeling away the hard, deadened layers of my heart, exposing them to the elements. It stings and burns as the pith is revealed, unveiling my tendered heart before its very Creator. One layer after another peels away, as the leaf that dries and reluctantly falls from what once gave it life. No longer necessary, it breaks free and drifts away.


It is a good death—a necessary death.


And the tree, and my heart—laid bare...


wait.


My heart in the waiting, is grubbed out. The useless, stifling familiarities give way, as its callow flesh is revealed. Just as the barrenness of the tree is revealed by its fallen leaves; each are being returned to their original state—and it is by waiting that they become.


But this is where the journey of their paths diverge, because my heart waits differently than the tree waits. My heart in its opened state senses its vulnerability. My heart waits, but it is restless. My heart waits, but it complains. My heart waits in trepidation. My heart waits because it must, but it resists.


The tree, however, waits just as it was created to wait.


It waits in steadiness.


It waits in trust.


It waits in acceptance.


It waits in peace.


“From ages past no one has heard,
no ear has perceived,
no eye has seen any God besides you,
who works for those who wait for him.”


Though my heart writhes in the discomfort of the waiting, this is where God does some of His most masterful work. He sits with us while we wait. He whispers consolations while we wait. He heals what is revealed in the waiting—moulding and forming us with His gentle and loving hands. He rewards our stillness by adorning us with a new season of fresh blossoms—by offering us a beautiful new life, free from all that separates us from Him.


Let us pray: My patient Father, though Your face is hidden from me in this season, let me wait in the hope that as You purify my temperamental heart, I may one day soon see Your face shine upon me—restoring fruit to my vines and life to my soul.

Amen




Lori MacDonald