In this holy in-between time — between the Ascension and Pentecost, between Christ’s first and second coming — let us be the people Jesus prayed for: united, Spirit-filled, and longing for His return.

And the risen Christ is still speaking: “See, I am making all things new.”

Let us then take seriously his call. Let us love one another, not in word only, but in deed and truth. Let us build bridges, bind wounds, and bear witness to the God who wipes away every tear.

No matter what you’re experiencing this week, this month, or these past few years—your place is here. You are loved. Not for who you used to be. Not for who you might become. But for who you are—right now.

Jesus speaks the same to us. No matter how far you’ve drifted, how empty your nets feel, how broken your past—Jesus stands on the shore, calls you “child,” feeds you, restores you, and says, “Follow Me.”

The journey from Easter Day to Easter faith is not always a straight line. It often winds through grief, questions, and locked doors. But the risen Christ is patient. He comes again and again, speaking peace, showing love, breathing life.

We too are invited to speak the truth of how we have experienced the risen Jesus in our own lives. We too are invited to participate in continuing the work Jesus began; to build a community that is rooted in love; a community that seeks to welcome any and all who are looking for a spiritual home. We are invited to transform the world by serving others.

Jesus rides no high horse, just a lowly colt. He chooses to enter a deadly situation without force or protection. He gives himself freely and without reservation.

“We love because God first loved us.” We can risk pouring ourselves out for God, because God has poured God’s self out for us.

As the father lavished his love upon both of his sons, the sinner and the righteous, so too does God lavish his love upon us. 

A gardening god comes to convince us with another perspective: “Let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good. If not, then you can cut it down.” In other words, maybe this tree has more potential hidden beneath its outwardly barren reality.

If God is still present, so too is His light and love—a light and love that conquers even the darkness within the human heart.

And like Bernard Mizeki, we have the privilege of making a profound impact on the lives of others through our faith and actions.

We remember these saints to inspire us to hope; hope that the light did not overcome the darkness, hope that even in the valley of the shadow of death God is with us, hope that things will change.

Luke hears Jesus say he is the anointed one. Physicians, then as now, would anoint patients with healing oils and salves to aid the healing of wounds.  Jesus’ promise is to bind up the wounds of our broken body and inner heart.

We need to hear this affirmation from God, and we need to hear it from each other. These are life giving words that every human being upon this earth should hear: “You are my dear child; I’m proud of you.”

If this Christmas you are asking the question, maybe desperately, whether God is with you, the answer is “yes, absolutely.”

The mystery of Bethlehem is that it doesn’t matter how dark, or cold things are, Jesus is born, and God’s light breaks through the darkness.

Today we are encouraged not only to bear our sufferings, but to give thanks in the midst of them. Today, we are exhorted to “rejoice in the Lord always.”

This season of Advent challenges us to a different kind of preparation, one that calls us to examine our lives, our values, and our priorities.

Nothing lasts for ever, except Jesus’ words, the Incarnate Word; who was, and is, and is to come. What does it mean to hear this truth, this promise in the midst of impermanency?