Author: Tim Morgan

“In that day the dead shall hear the words of a book, and out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind shall see” (Isaiah 29:18).

Our situation before the coming  Jesus is one of dislocation. A faint memory of home, the safety of the Lord’s promises, the fortifying embrace of his calling, the holy comfort of his direction—all these draw us out, stretch us wide between the “real world” and what we believe to be true. Cognitive dissonance is the frame of this our situation. The psalmist writes,

You brought a vine out of Egypt; you drove out the nation and planted it. You cleared the ground for it; it took deep root and filled the land. The mountains were covered with its shade, the mighty cedars with its branches. It sent out its branches to the sea and its shoots to the River. Why then have you broken down its walls, so that all who pass along the way pluck its fruit (Psalm 80:8-12)?

God’s people have been established by him. They’ve been brought up by him. They’ve been nourished, enlarged, and strengthened by him. However, they’ve also been rendered defenseless by him. Measured by their strategic vulnerability, God’s people appear for all intents and purposes abandoned by him. If God is accomplishing something which is measurable in the terms of our world, then he appears to be failing (John 18:36). Our dislocation is characterized precisely by the incompatibility of our instruments of measurement with what God’s doing in the world: “Ah, you who hide deep from the Lord your counsel, whose deeds are in the dark, and who say, ‘Who sees us? Who knows us?’ You turn things upside down” (Isaiah 29:15-16).

Jesus’ coming, however, is the relocation of God’s people, our restoration. It equips God’s people with the proper instruments to “measure” (i.e., perceive) what God’s doing in the world. After the conception of Jesus, Mary went to visit her relative Elizabeth. Upon arrival, “Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit” (Luke 1:41). The coming of Jesus frees us from our dislocation by removing the veil which lies over our hearts (2 Corinthians 3:15-18). His coming produces something which decidedly does not belong among a dislocated people: joy (Luke 1:44). The fruit of Mary’s womb is Lord’s supper, the meal of God’s people’s home. It is “the tree of life” (Revelation 22:2) which nourishes God’s city and heals the nations. In Christ’s coming, the Lord’s face shines upon us and we are saved (Psalm 80:7, 19); in his coming, the day breaks upon the night of our alienation, never to withdraw into darkness again (Revelation 21:25; 22:5; Luke 1:78-79) He brings us to our home which “is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb” (Revelation 21:22). At his coming, the baby in the womb of creation leaps for joy (Luke 1:44), because the Lord “has looked on the humble estate of his servant” (Luke 1:48).

Today, it would be worthwhile for us to reflect upon that which we consider home. Where do we look for comfort? Where do we retreat to at the end of the day? How are our days and our lives organized around where we’re headed? How does this destination affect our measurements of success or failure? Our true home is the Lord’s city, the foundation of which is laid in Jesus’ birth, the descent of which accompanies Jesus’ coming (Revelation 21:2). The character of this city, the fact that it is the Lord’s, and the relationship of its inhabitants to Christ (Revelation 21:27) determines the standards of success and failure for those who call it home.

Further Reading: Psalm 80; Isaiah 29:13-24; Revelation 21:22-22:5; Luke 1:39-48a

Written by Guest House Theologian, Tim Morgan. These reflections are a complimentary addition to our Advent Blend Coffee Bags. Scan the QR code each day to read the most recent reflection. 

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More Advent reflections can be found here.

“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel, who alone does wondrous things” (Psalm 72:18).

In a very important sense, our world is an unsafe place. We are not “protected” or “secure” from the threat of our undoing. We are not an impregnable fortress, masters of our fate. The illusion of safety, especially in the West, especially in America, especially in the Midwest, is very powerful. However, a single gust of wind could send the house of cards falling. Despite this fragility, the shared sentiment is that we’re untouchable. We’re untouchable to our enemies. We’re also untouchable to God. The prophet Isaiah writes, “you have said, ‘We have made a covenant with death, and with Sheol we have an agreement, when the overwhelming whip passes through it will not come to us, for we have made lies our refuge, and in falsehood we have taken shelter” (Isaiah 28:15). The illusion of our fortress is built upon lies: lies we tell ourselves and lies we tell others. The coming Christ, though, undoes our lies and disassembles the fickle protection of falsity. As the prophet has it, “‘And I will make justice the line, and righteousness the plumb line; and hail will sweep away the refuge of lies, and the waters will overwhelm the shelter.’ Then your covenant with death will be annulled, and your agreement with Sheol will not stand” (Isaiah 28:17-18). In this judgment, to which we’re supremely vulnerable, the Lord has a message for us “and it will be sheer terror to understand the message” (Isaiah 28:19).

God’s message in the coming Christ is his truth, as opposed to our lies. The psalmist writes, “Give the king you justice, O God, and your righteousness to the royal son” (Psalm 72:1). God’s truth is penetrating justice, plenteous sustenance, the pronouncement of his universal reign, and the deliverance of the needy. In short, God’s truth is his city (Revelation 21:22-27). His truth is the place where he dwells with his “favored one” (Luke 1:28). It’s God’s new world, overgrown with life from a barren wasteland. The terror of this message, which promises God’s own flourishing to us, is its undoing power. It is “a decree of destruction” (Isaiah 28:22). However, from this destruction and desolation God brings salvation and life, “for nothing will be impossible for God” (Luke 1:37).

Today, I’d ask you to reflect upon the ways you conceive of your world as “safe” from God, as well as “safe” from your enemies. How fickle is that safety, really? How easily could the carefully organized features of your life unravel? The Lord brings life from this unraveling, he brings flourishing from this undoing.

Further Reading: Psalm 72; Isaiah 28:9-22; Revelation 21:9-21; Luke 1:26-38

Written by Guest House Theologian, Tim Morgan. These reflections are a complimentary addition to our Advent Blend Coffee Bags. Scan the QR code each day to read the most recent reflection. 

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More Advent reflections can be found here.

Image of the “Adoration of the Holy Trinity” painted by Albrecht Dürer taken from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Adoration_of_the_Trinity.

Today’s Church seems afraid to learn how to pray. I think that’s a net which casts wide across forms of Christian piety: people who tend toward or exclusively practice “spontaneous prayer” (articulating one’s prayer to God with original language) or people who tend toward or exclusively practice “traditional prayer” (articulating one’s prayer to God with language which one has inherited). On the one hand, many of our prayers stand under Jesus’ prohibition, “And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words” (Matthew 6:7). We seem to resist the fact that there’s a certain way God wants us to pray. On the other hand, many of our prayers stand under Jesus’ prohibition, “And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites. For they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by others” (Matthew 6:5). We seem to resist the fact that God wants us to internalize this way he wants us to pray. These are likely two sides of the same coin (see 1 Corinthians 14:13-15). Prayer has been assimilated, relativized within the framework of our own projects. It’s become a cog in the machine of our feelings, our thoughts, and our ambitions. We’ve learned how to puppet churchly language to make ourselves feel better, to think through things, to position ourselves higher in our own eyes or in the eyes of others. We haven’t learned how to pray, though. Too often, our prayer revolves around us and what we’re doing, rather than revolving around God and what he’s doing. Too often, our prayer is about our goals, rather than God’s mission. Here, it’s important to remember that prayer doesn’t start with us.

In Jesus’ birth, we have the single thread from which the whole tapestry of God’s people’s prayer is woven. It’s the nest from which the birds of our prayer take flight and to which they return for safety. The psalmist writes, “Say to God, ‘How awesome are your deeds! So great is your power that your enemies come cringing to you. All the earth worships you and sings praises to you; they sing praises to your name’” (Psalm 66:3-4). Our prayer responds to God’s words and deeds, reacts to and is directed by the course of what he’s doing in the world. Prayer is situated. It’s situated within the context of God’s mission; it’s situated within the community of God’s people; and it’s situated within the light of God’s victory. Prayer attunes us to the situation we’re in before the coming Christ. Luke’s account of the Annunciation to Zechariah emphasizes this point clearly. Zechariah is commissioned with the priestly responsibility to represent God’s people at the temple’s altar of incense. While “the multitude of people were praying outside” (Luke 1:10), an angel of the Lord appeared to him and foretold John the Baptist’s birth. It’s important to see here that, while it’s Zechariah’s prayer that “has been heard” (Luke 1:13) and therefore Elizabeth will bear a son, God’s hearing this prayer is completely integrated into what God’s doing, the victory he’s accomplishing: “he will turn many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God, and he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the fathers to the children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the just, to make ready for the Lord a people prepared” (Luke 1:17). It’s not that God is uncaring to Zechariah’s personal plight for a child, nor that John is merely a utility to accomplish God’s plan. Rather, the point is that Zechariah’s prayer is brought up into what God’s already doing, is united with the whole prayer of God’s people (its answer is, in a very important sense, an answer to God’s people’s total prayers and its effects reach the totality of God’s people; see John 1:6-7), and is answered in reference to God’s victory.

Today, I’d encourage you to be unafraid to learn how to pray. Your prayer is God’s word which he has given to you, which he has taught you personally, so that you personally can get in on what he’s doing in you. Your prayer is also God’s word which he’s given to us, which he has taught us collectively, so that we collectively can get in on what he’s doing in us.

Further Reading: Psalm 66; Isaiah 11:10-16; Revelation 20:11-21:8; Luke 1:5-25

Written by Guest House Theologian, Tim Morgan. These reflections are a complimentary addition to our Advent Blend Coffee Bags. Scan the QR code each day to read the most recent reflection. 

BUY NOW

More Advent reflections can be found here.