“One Candle, then two, and some empty shoes—BOOM!”

Today is St. Nicholas Day.  Famed day for commemorating a story that begins with a “Nicholas” wanting to help save some daughters from prostitution by means of a pregnant possibility—depositing some gold in some stockings or shoes and making NEW LIFE possible. 

Remembering that story as we try and celebrate it as a family, I woke up this morning with another—remembering especially that it was thereabouts nine months ago that I was standing in the sanctuary of First Presbyterian Church in Atlanta, Georgia—at the NEXT Church conference.  We had seen a visual depictions of “where we are” in the Church and the world, with pictures of broken people and places—especially churches.  And as a response to confession and forgiveness we sang together Philip Phillips’ rendition of “Home.” 

Hold on, to me as we go As we roll down this unfamiliar road And although this wave is stringing us along Just know you’re not alone 'Cause I’m going to make this place your homeSettle down, it'll all be clear Don't pay no mind to the demons They fill you with fear The trouble it might drag you down If you get lost, you can always be foundJust know you’re not alone 'Cause I’m going to make this place your homeSettle down, it'll all be clear Don't pay no mind to the demons They fill you with fear The trouble it might drag you down If you get lost, you can always be foundJust know you’re not alone 'Cause I’m going to make this place your home Written by Andrew Pearson, Greg Holden • Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc, Cypmp

This became a prophetic text for me, personally.  An anthem to be sung again and again, remembering and appreciating the goosebumps I felt in those moments—being reminded of God’s promises, and in particular that as unseemly as things were and still are in the world, and that God has given us a kind of residential scholarship.  We, like Jesus, are called to live in broken places among broken people—and be at home with the promises of God’s love. 

These Advent days, so many have lamented “post-election” about how dark, how horrible, how dangerous, difficult, perhaps even un-redeemable things are or seem. 

It is worth being reminded liturgically and otherwise that our God is the God who says, “let there be light,” in the chaos; and still, yet before it’s over, “God saw that it was good.”  More light has come into the world; we have actually experienced that “the light shines in the darkness,” and that “the darkness does not overcome it.” 

There is a lot of fear, anger, resentment, and anxiety about these days and the coming days.  It’s ADVENT all over again!  But I’m grateful for the light and even more-so for the promise that we are not left here to toil for ourselves.  Rather that God can and still does make such unseemly places our “home.” 

I’m looking back at nine months ago wondering what happened that day in Atlanta, because in some ways, it feels like it’s given itself over to new birth in my life.  Today I’m in a new pastoral position with my sense of call renewed and with great hope.  I’m literally in a “new place,” I have a “new home,” and I’m feeling God’s promises each day holding me up!  It just happens to be Advent; the light is literally and spiritually shining in the darkness!  At least for me. 

But then—BOOM—and maybe some light for others!  News broke this past Sunday afternoon that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers was going to deny the Dakota Pipeline project the right of way to build beneath the Missouri River near a Native American burial ground. 

I am grateful minds and hearts changed. 

I am grateful, because the media coverage of events at the site has been extraordinarily poor.  There were reports of peaceful protests and brutality—including water cannons being used against protestors in sub-freezing weather.  I know a number of my colleagues, including friends, visited the protest camps, trying to both raise awareness and to support and participate those working to protect the rights of Native American peoples and water rights. 

I am grateful that minds and hearts changed—after months of discussion, dialogue, and eventually protests.  This turn of events came as unexpected news and people were gearing up for the worst!  The news was a little bit of light amidst otherwise dark news and anxiety about the future—even with uncertainty about what a new administration may decide to do come spring. 

But this news came while we in the Church are amidst Advent; where there was the light of one candle, but now two as the Advent days stretch toward Christmas—the promises of God’s love held out to us as we prepare to celebrate again God’s incarnation in Jesus! 

To be sure, if you’re on the front lines of the dispute—whether at Standing Rock, or in Flint, Michigan (where the polluted water is yet to be resolved, STILL!), or in South Carolina (after another acquittal in a black man’s death by a while police officer where all the world could see otherwise)—I’m still a privileged white man saying something akin to “don’t worry, be happy; God’s got this.” 

Really, I don’t mean to say any more than, “Hang on.  We’re not alone.  God has given us Jesus.  And the joy and light is realized every day.  And sometimes, especially in these Advent days.” 

Rather than holding out and up all the reasons why the darkness is what it is, perhaps we can also contemplate in THIS Advent, what God has already begun in us, that we might become something new ourselves! 

I am grateful that minds and hearts can be changed.  In fact, I am hopeful that my mind and heart will be changed enough so I can let go of my own fears and anxieties long enough to feel the joy of this season.  And maybe I, too, ought to be more intentional about filling shoes and planting seeds that will change someone else’s life for the better. 

© Rev. David Stipp-Bethune; Teaching Elder and Pastor, The First Presbyterian Church of El Dorado, Arkansas