Bursting With Newness

​A Reflection on the First Reading for Sunday, December 15th, 2024:
Third Sunday of Advent

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Zephaniah
​3.14-18a

Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter of Jerusalem!
The Lord has taken away the judgments against you,
he has turned away your enemies.
The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst;
you shall fear disaster no more.
On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem: Do not fear, O Zion;
do not let your hands grow weak.
The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
he will renew you in his love.
The Lord, your God, will exult over you with loud singing
as on a day of festival.

​Pause. Pray. Reflect.

Who doesn’t want renewal? A second chance at a failed relationship; a do-over on the last test; hitting the refresh button on that conversation at work; a fresh body, sans aches and pains; a clean breeze to wash away lingering anxieties. I desire all of these things, but am I willing to sing aloud to the One who offers them? 

God’s renewal doesn’t always look the way I would like it to. Perhaps the relationship doesn’t reconcile this side of heaven, or maybe the physical healing isn’t immediately granted. It’s possible, though, that I’m looking at the notion of renewal all wrong. 

"That is why the real problem of the Christian life comes where people do not usually look for it. It comes the very moment you wake up each morning. All your wishes and hopes for the day rush at you like wild animals. And the first job each morning consists simply in shoving them all back; in listening to that other voice, taking that other point of view, letting that other larger, stronger, quieter life come flowing in. And so on, all day. Standing back from all your natural fussings and frettings; coming in out of the wind" (C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity).

My fussings and frettings are rooted in fear—the fear that my life will not play out the way I planned it. And why should it? God’s plans have always been far more beautiful. As I sat with these thoughts, I prayed about God’s nature in light of my fears:

He saves me a seat at every table (Luke 5:29-32); I need not fear exclusion.
His love has limitless capacity (Jeremiah 31:3); I need not fear being a burden.
His power and strength are infinite (Ephesians 1:19); I need not fear my weakness. 
His presence is steady and unchanging (Hebrews 13:8); I need not fear being alone.
His mercy flows like an endless stream (Lamentations 3:22,23); I need not fear my mistakes.

Unfathomably, He is in our midst, and He comes as Love, in Love, for Love. Embracing the promise of His presence through His Word leads me on the true path to renewal—one that will burst at the seams with rejoicing and exultation. Laying my heart in the hands of this world’s tangible comforts will soon lead it to dry up and crack. But in the hands of a careful Creator who artfully responds to each need with an eternal song—I am made new. Let’s take a moment to soak in the Lord’s voice, singing over us now:
 
It is I who holds your heart. Give it back to me. Bend as the branches of a sapling. Allow the changes to move over you. Follow where my breath leads you and trust that I am there. I am here. Trust that in me, your heart is secure.




Lori MacDonald

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