by

Woman, Here Is Your Son

At the Cross her station keeping,
stood the mournful Mother weeping,
close to her Son to the last.

Through her heart, His sorrow sharing,
all His bitter anguish bearing,
now at length the sword has passed.

O how sad and sore distressed
was that Mother, highly blest,
of the sole-begotten One.

Christ above in torment hangs,
she beneath beholds the pangs
of her dying glorious Son.

Is there one who would not weep,
whelmed in miseries so deep,
Christ’s dear Mother to behold?

Can the human heart refrain
from partaking in her pain,
in that Mother’s pain untold?

Bruis’d, derided, curs’d, defil’d,
She beheld her tender Child
All with bloody scourges rent;1

That is a portion of a Christian hymn from the 13th century. The Latin title is “Stabat Mater” which translates to “Sorrowful Mother.” The hymn is a reflection on Mary’s pain as she witnessed the crucifixion. Though its authorship is unknown, Sorrowful Mother grew in popularity until it was sung throughout Christendom. It has been passed down through the generations. The song hauntingly captures Mary’s broken heart.

The apostle John recounted these terrible moments in his gospel. I want you to picture what John describes: Jesus is hanging on the cross, already brutalized with whip, spear, and thorns. Below him, four Roman soldiers divide his clothing among themselves. As Jesus bleeds they haggle over the remaining piece‒his undergarment. All the while, Mary stands close by, watching.

How terrible the pain of a mother—to witness the humiliation, torture, and execution of her child. How did Mary endure seeing the cruelty inflicted on Jesus? How did she stay through the hours it took for her son to die? 

Can you imagine a pain equal to what Mary experienced in those moments? It’s hard to. It is a comfort when we realize that the only thing that rivaled Mary’s pain was her love. Mary’s love for her son was so great, I believe it surpassed her pain. Her love was her staying-power; it kept her at the foot of that bloody cross. Oh, what wondrous love!

Grieving people understand that great pain is often rooted in great love. We see this truth clearly on display in Mary. But we also see it in Jesus. John 19:26-27 say, “When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, ‘Woman, here is your son,’ and to the disciple [he said], ‘Here is your mother.’” 

It’s not hard to imagine Jesus’ pain at the crucifixion. There’s the physical pain caused by Roman brutality. The emotional pain of being rejected by his fellow Jews and betrayed by his disciple Judas. The pain of being abandoned by most of his male disciples. And the greatest burden of all, the pain of submitting to torture and death to atone for the sins of the world. 

But have we noticed the pain of Jesus as a son? In these moments, he was a son stripped naked and nailed to a cross in front of his mother. As he was tortured and taunted and mocked, his mother watched, and he saw her distress. Despite his own terrible pain, Jesus saw his mother’s pain and was overcome with love. 

God’s law, the Torah, gave clear instructions about caring for the most vulnerable in society, including widows. In accordance with the law, Jesus would have stood in Joseph’s stead to care and provide for his mother once she’d become a widow. But what would happen to Mary after Jesus died? Who would care for her?

Jesus knew the heart of his heavenly Father, described in the Psalm 68:5 as the “father of orphans and protector of widows.” A clear example of God’s care for the vulnerable is in the Torah gleaning laws. This set of laws instructs God’s people to purposefully leave the edges of their fields unharvested, and to leave some fruit on their grapevines and olive trees. What remained would provide for the poor, for orphans, foreigners, and widows.2

This law is pivotal to the story of Ruth. We remember that Naomi and her daughter-in-law Ruth were vulnerable widows. There were no remaining male family members to provide for them. So Ruth gleaned wheat and barley from the fields of a man named Boaz. This led to a marriage between Ruth and Boaz, who are ancestors of Jesus.

With this in mind, turn back to the scene of the crucifixion. Knowing his death was imminent, despite the pain engulfing him, Jesus used some of his last words to honor both the law and the heart of the heavenly Father. He protected and provided for his mother when he said, “Woman, here is your son.” 

I want you to picture Mary and John standing below the cross. Imagine, at Jesus’ words, John places an arm around Mary’s shoulders. Hold that image in your mind and hear the echo of words spoken just days earlier:

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener…
Remain in me, as I remain in you. 

No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine.
Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me. 

I am the vine; you are the branches…

As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. 

My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.
Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”3 

Mary and John are standing at Golgotha, which was known as, “the place of the skull.” It’s where Rome executed criminals, a place that probably sent shivers up the spines of passersby. You could hardly bear to look for long. 

But I want you to look at Golgotha on that fateful day and gaze fully at the scene. Look beyond the skulls, beyond the executioners—even, for a moment, beyond the cross. Open the eyes of your heart and see this place transformed. “Woman, here is your son…[John] here is your mother.” At these words, Golgotha becomes a garden. The Father is the gardener. Jesus is the true vine of the garden.  John, is a fruitful branch. Mary, now entwined with John, reaps a harvest.

Jesus’ words on the cross were an act of love and justice: by declaring John and Mary family, Mary gleaned a secure future. John wrote in verse 27, “from then on this disciple took her into his home.” 

Think of the gift Jesus gave to both Mary and John: Together, they could bear the pain of Jesus’ death. Together, they would rejoice at his resurrection. Together, they would bear much fruit for the Lord as they spread the gospel. Together, they would live as Jesus had commanded: “Love each other as I have loved you.”

It’s easy to become transfixed by the pain at Golgotha. For centuries, songs and poems like Sorrowful Mother have reflected on this pain. I don’t want to ignore or minimize the pain at the cross, because through the pain we see the love. But, I also don’t want the pain to blind us to the beauty on display at Golgotha. In the place designated for torture, pain, and death, there was love overflowing, justice reaped, and futures secured—not just for Mary and John—but for all of us. 

In the darkest moments of human history, if you listen closely, you might hear the echo of a song. It’s a simple melody of hope written long ago by King David: “Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.”4

Joy is coming for Mary and John. 
Joy is coming for you and me and all people who call Jesus, Lord.

So, weep for the pain.
Wonder at the love.
And hope in the promised joy.

Amen.

  1. Stabat Mater, verses 1-7 (of 20). English translation by Edward Caswall, 1849. ↩︎
  2. See Leviticus 19:9-10, 23:22; Deuteronomy 24:19-22. ↩︎
  3. John 15:1, 4-5, 9, 12 NIV ↩︎
  4. Psalm 30:5b ↩︎
by

Our Birthday

Four years ago today, my son was born via c-section. He was evicted early from his first home, my womb, due to sudden on-set, severe preeclampsia.

I don’t remember much about that day. I remember only: being prepped for the c-section; the hive of people in the operating room; my OB using a step stool to be at ideal height for the surgery; Dean being whisked off to the NICU; and the medical team leaving the operating room one by one until I was left with just my OB, the anesthesiologist, and a surgical tech as my body was stitched back together.

I was taken from the operating room to the antepartum unit (mommy ICU) where as I was put on a magnesium drip for 24 hours. I was not allowed out of bed and could not visit Dean in the NICU until 30 hours after his birth. Even then, I could only stay for a short time as they were checking my blood pressure every 15 minutes. Little visits to the NICU, blood draws every four hours, and the tight squeeze of the blood pressure cuff are all I really remember from that week. The only positive part of the first week of Dean’s life was the knowledge that Dean and I were safe.

Last night I was reminiscing with my husband about the experience surrounding Dean’s birthday. While February 18th is a day where we celebrate Dean’s life with parties, presents, songs and extra snuggles, the day does not only belong to him. He wasn’t the only one who was birthed that day. In so many ways February 18th is my birthday too. Birth happened through my body. In those moments I became no longer my own, but a mother to another flesh and blood human being.

That day was also a slingshot into three years thickly hazed by medical issues and doctors visits, postpartum depression, and a brain overwhelmed with the daily mental load. I lived in survival mode. The whole experience of those first years of motherhood were so complex that I didn’t feel connected to myself. My body functioned like it was a sickly stranger. I was emotionally numb and my coping skills seemed to have vanished. I felt unrecognizable compared to the vibrant Corrie I had been prior to pregnancy.

Five years later, healing and peace have done their work on me. I feel 95% righted. But I realize that I am not the Corrie I once was and I will likely never be her again. I’m still trying to articulate who exactly I am now, trying to gently welcome the new me that was birthed on February 18th 2022.

Our first embrace 30 hours after birth.

Today, I celebrate God’s grace that protected me in ways known and unknown to me, and the Spirit that certainly carried me through this dark valley. I celebrate Dr. Samantha Bunting who safely delivered our son and kept me sane through a rough pregnancy. I celebrate my husband Dennis whose goofiness and hugs have sustained me in the daily grind of life. I celebrate the constant support of my parents and cousin whose practical help has been priceless. I celebrate medications that have stabilized my health.

Most of all, I celebrate my son Dean of the most kissable cheeks, and I thank God that he gave us a mellow, happy, loving boy to bring constant sweetness to our days. Happy Birthday to us, Dean. Hand in hand, we are becoming all who we are meant to be. The future glows warm with promise.

by

Hope in Dangerous Days

This devotion was written at the request of the president of the organization for which I work. I was able to share it at our board meeting on February 6th, 2026. It is in response to national and global events.

Last week most of our chaplains gathered in Chicago. During our time together, our chaplains from our Minnesota campus shared about the emotional state of their staff and residents in light of the ICE presence in Minneapolis and recent violent and deadly clashes on their streets. That time increased our sense of burden for our people. We gained a greater awareness of the vulnerability that many are feeling. And there was a pressing urge to speak out or to do something that mattered. We ended that time with lament and prayer. 

Maybe your neighborhoods are quiet and calm. Maybe your home is peaceful and distanced from upheaval. Maybe you feel secure and safe in your daily life. If that is the case for you, praise God for that! Truly.

But did you know that right now, across the world there are 11 civil wars being fought? There are 19 countries dealing with terrorist insurgencies. There are two major interstate wars. There are armed gangs that control life in Haiti, and this daily reality has a real impact on many of my coworkers. There are people like my brother-in-law Fernando, and Andres—the guy who sold me a car last weekend—who are here in the US with legal documentation, but they live everyday with a heightened sense of risk. When they leave their homes and families to go to work or to get groceries, they know it’s possible that they may not return.

There are times and places where life feels stable and safe, and there are times and places where life quakes with vulnerability. The distance between these two existences can be paper-thin. So what do we do when the world around us seems unrecognizable? When the headlines fill us with uncertainty or angst. When we have friends or loved ones who are at risk? How do we keep on doing everyday things like board meetings or focus on things like customer service in all this madness? 

In the autumn of 1939, C.S. Lewis was not yet famous. He was 41 years old and a tutor and fellow at Oxford University. He studied and taught and published two books that year, but that year was anything but normal. Germany and the Soviet Union had invaded Poland. France and England responded with a declaration of war in September, and WWII began. 

With war as his daily backdrop, Lewis was invited to preach at a local church. He titled his sermon “Learning in War Time.” At the pulpit Lewis argued that if we postpone things like the search for knowledge or the pursuit of beauty until all of life is secure for everyone, the search would never begin. He reminded his audience that there has never been a time without crises of all kinds. As he put it, “human life has always been lived on the edge of a precipice.” 

Lewis asked the same question that many of us are asking in light of what’s going on in our world today. In his words: “how can we continue to take an interest in placid occupations when the lives of our friends and the [freedom of nations*] are in the balance? Is it not like fiddling while Rome burns?” 

I’ll put it another way—is there value in continuing ordinary things when there are life and death battles being fought? Lewis answered yes, and I agree. He and I share a world view as children of God. We believe that every ordinary task has value when it is offered to God, even if the world is falling to pieces. In his sermon, Lewis urged his listeners to heed St. Paul’s instructions to the Corinthian church, “whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God” (1 Cor 10:31). 

We may be living on the edge of a precipice, but daily life does not stop. Ordinary things must happen in extraordinary times. We still need people focused on making food, fixing roofs, delivering medicine, washing floors, welcoming visitors, and yes, even participating in long board meetings. We can do all of this with deep purpose and satisfaction, knowing that through them we honor God.

But in war time, we should be even more focused on doing little things with great love. In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul also said, “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others” (1 Cor. 10:24). In these words I hear an advancement of the second greatest commandment: “love your neighbor as yourself” (see Matt 22:36-39).

For those of us whose streets are safe and lives are stable, our sacred work is to listen well and hear the voice of all those crying out to God for mercy. To see our neighbors and their needs and to be moved to serve, care, or advocate as we are able. As Micah 6:8 says, “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”  

Following Jesus is a costly choice. This ‘loving others as yourself’ is usually uncomfortable because it stretches our empathy. It may even lead to personal sacrifices. Jesus warned his disciples that their future would hold ridicule, rejection, false imprisonment, persecution, and for some, even death. He did not insulate them from the worst that the world would bring them. But he did offer them hope. 

Some of my favorite words of Jesus are found in John chapter 16. Jesus has laid out all the calamities coming for his followers. They were likely stunned into silence and shivering with fear. And then he said, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (v. 33).

Hope in dangerous days is found in a savior who endured suffering, defeated death, broke the power of sin, and rose from the grave so he could bring abundant life to others. As God’s people, our daily action plan for life on the precipice is to do likewise: to love others generously and to do even ordinary tasks as sacred acts of worship. The ominous headlines of the world cannot lead our hearts or actions astray! We must stay rooted in the enduring hope that only God provides.

I will close by reading a poem by a little-known pastor, professor, and poet, named Dr. Gerhard Frost. I encourage you to receive it as a prayer.


If I am asked
what are my grounds for hope,
this is my answer.
Light is lord over darkness,
truth is lord over falsehood,
life is lord over death.
Of all the facts I daily live with
there is none more comforting
than this: If I have two rooms,
one dark, the other light,
and I open the door between them,
the dark room becomes lighter
without the light room
becoming darker. I know
this is no headline,
but it’s a marvelous footnote.
And God comforts me in that.

Lewis’ “Learning in Wartime” can be read here: https://www.christendom.edu/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Learning-In-Wartime-C.S.-Lewis-1939.pdf. *This change is mine.

The poem cited above by Dr. Gerhard E. Frost is widely attributed to him online, but no one cites it’s original publication source. As his books are out of print, I cannot confirm authorship or source.

Comfort & Joy (Christmas Eve Message 2025)
by

Comfort & Joy (Christmas Eve Message 2025)

Even when the sun is shining outside, the world can seem dark. That’s because almost everywhere we look, everything we read, everything we listen to, brings us bad news. 

Right now, across the world there are eleven civil wars being fought. There are 19 countries dealing with terrorist insurgencies. There are two major interstate wars. There’s gang warfare not too far from here in Haiti, and it has a real impact on many of my coworkers and friends. This year there have been devastating natural disasters around the world–resulting in a loss of life, homes, and businesses that is hard to tally. 

A hundred years ago, things like this happened around the world, but if it didn’t happen near you, you wouldn’t hear about it for months, if at all. Today, in our world of the 24-hour-news-cycle, our phones alert us about breaking news from places on earth we couldn’t point out on a map. Our phones constantly tell us that bad news is everywhere. The TV news highlights stories of crime, corruption, and war. They show us graphic images and videos of this bad news. Sometimes we can watch these horrors live. 

So it seems like bad news is all there is. But…that’s because we are getting our news from the wrong source. Today, I’m here to tell you that despite all evidence otherwise, Good News reigns. 

When you read the headlines and watch the news, what you see is based solely on earthly events, many of which are the result of selfish or evil actions. But headlines are not the whole story. They are never the whole story because life is not summed up by big, bad news. Whether or not this life is worth living is not based on human action or inaction. 

Woven like an unbreakable golden thread through every crack and crevice in the always-messy, often-painful human story is goodness. Whether it’s visible to the distracted human eye or not, goodness is always present. I know this because the whole truth of what is happening on this earth is not the human story. We are part of something much bigger. First and always, what’s going on here is God’s story. 

God was, is, and always will be about goodness. At the very beginning of time as we know it, “the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over [everywhere], and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.” There was a moment when God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” (Genesis 1:1-5)

God continued, joyfully creating a world teeming with life, which included human beings who would join him as loving caretakers of the earth and all that lived here. When he finished creating, God stepped back to survey everything he had made. He declared it all “very good.” (Genesis 1:31) 

Goodness was the beginning. And life on earth, as God intended it, was supposed to stay good—to be bountiful and full of flourishing. But the people that God lovingly created and appointed as caretakers messed it up. 

You see, God gave his people parameters to keep them on his path of goodness, but he also gave them freedom to choose. As we know, Adam and Eve disobeyed the only command God gave them, a command that was meant to protect them from more than they could handle. 

Satan, God’s enemy, tempted them to sin by exploiting the sense of goodness and freedom God had given them: “You won’t die by eating the fruit God put in his garden,” the serpent said. “God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (paraphrase Genesis 3:4-5)

God’s people—created from and for goodness—made the bad choice. They disobeyed God and it had devastating consequences. They were banished from the Garden of Eden, no longer perfectly in-step with God. Suddenly, they understood their vulnerability and weakness apart from God. They became self-conscious and insecure. They thrust themselves into a life shadowed by the curse of sin, which introduced things like toil and pain and fractured relationships (see Genesis 3:14-19). This was the first of many human-made cracks in the good foundation God had laid for his creation. 

Current events are full of accounts of violence and war, abuse and corruption, disasters, death and destruction. The same was true two hundred years ago. The same was true 2000 years ago in Bible times. All you have to do is open the Bible, start reading, and you quickly encounter the same list of bad news. That’s because the brokenness in the human story today echoes all the way back to the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve stepped beyond the bounds of God’s goodness. 

Ever since the garden, humans in every age have been reliving the same basic story. God shows us the way. We go our own way. We try to do things by our own strength and savvy. But without God, we inevitably lead ourselves on a path to pain and brokenness and our headlines become bad news. 

But here’s the Good News! In every age, in every reliving of this human story, God is present. God is steadfast. And long ago, shortly after Adam and Eve turned toward sin, God–moved by love for the people he created–reset the human story. He enacted a master plan to redeem this broken world. By this plan he would open up a way for us to receive good news, to escape the ravages of sin, and to be restored to a healed relationship with him and all creation. Listen to the plan…

Long ago God chose a man named Abraham and his tribe to be set apart as God’s own people. He entered into a covenant with Abraham and his descendants, promising to make them into a great nation and through them, bless all people on earth. (See Genesis 12:1-3; chapter 17.) Sounds like good news, right? All they needed to do was to faithfully listen to God and follow his ways.

And so The Great Redemption Plan was set in motion via this covenant. Abraham was faithful to God, though not perfectly so. He did sin along the way, but God always lovingly steered him toward the better way. The following generations were less faithful, but God stubbornly renewed his covenant with them again and again. 

As time went on, God’s people–eventually called the Israelites–failed miserably at being faithful to God. Down the generations, though there were many faithful individuals, the Israelites brought about their own doom and despair. They made idols and worshiped other gods. They disobeyed many of God’s commands, sometimes doing terrible evil. They started unsanctioned wars. They committed acts of violence. They took advantage of vulnerable people. Many of their kings were corrupt, motivated by selfishness and a lust for power. It was a dark time.

When the Israelites sinned and broke the covenant, God was heartbroken and angry. God’s intention was that the Israelites would be like a beacon of light in the dark world, drawing other peoples to follow God. But with their astounding propensity to sin, their light for God was only a flicker. Something greater, brighter, something incorruptible was needed to bring The Great Redemption Plan to completion. 

It seems like the Israelite story contained mostly dark headlines and bad news. But when you read carefully you see that Good News reigned. In the darkest period of the Old Testament—when the Kingdom of Israel had been invaded by foreign oppressors, God’s temple destroyed, and many Israelites had been taken to live in exile in foreign lands—Good News was proclaimed. 

Through a prophet named Jeremiah, God reminded his people of his goodness and in his intentions. He told them, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness…I will gather my scattered people and will watch over [my people]like a shepherd…I will deliver and redeem you…I will turn your mourning into gladness; I will give you comfort and joy instead of sorrow” (paraphrase Jeremiah 31:1, 10-11, 13 NIV).

Through a prophet named Isaiah, this Good News was declared: “…the people walking in darkness have seen a great light…For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end” (Isaiah 9:1, 6-7 NIV).

When life seemed hopeless, God reminded people of his love. When they were tempted to despair, God promised them coming redemption and with it: gladness, comfort and joy. What a turn around! This life of goodness would come through a yet-to-be-born child who would one day reign with justice, might, and peace. 

Hearing this Good News, God’s people waited and hoped. Many of God’s people continued to live in exile, challenged to faithfully follow God among peoples hostile to God’s ways. But still they hoped. And their hope in God’s Good News burned for generations, even as they fell subject to one pagan empire after another. Surrounded by bad news, they held tightly to God’s promise of the great light, the son who would be born to save them.  

Hundreds of years passed and then Good News came again. God sent a messenger named Gabriel to a young woman named Mary. Gabriel told her, “The Lord is with you. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end” (Luke 1:30-33).

Within the year, an angel of the Lord appeared to some shepherds watching their sheep in the fields. The angel announced: “I bring you good news that will [bring]great joy for all people. Today in the town of David, a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).

On that day, which we call Christmas, God’s son Jesus was born. The final stage of The Great Redemption Plan began. Hope sparked in the people who saw the baby. They knew Jesus was God’s goodness and love in human form. So the shepherds praised God. A troupe of angels sang: “Glory to God in the highest heaven...” And Mary cradled her baby, treasuring all of this in her heart. (see Luke 2:13-14 and 19-20)

That baby grew into a man who became a traveling preacher. Jesus began his mission work quoting the prophet Isaiah. He stood up in the synagogue and read these words: “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free;to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Luke 4:18-19).

Everywhere Jesus went he boldly spread Good News. Jesus declared himself to be “the light of the world.” Saying,“Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12). And then he proved he was the light by healing people. By his touch or just his word the blind could see and people crippled by disease could suddenly stand and walk! 

Jesus said “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…and I lay down my life for the sheep.I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen. I must bring them also” (John 10:14-16). And he revealed his goodness by serving, forgiving, and calling to himself all kinds of lost people. He called the humble people in society like fishermen, women, and children. He called outcasts like tax collectors, half-breed Samaritans, and Roman soldiers. He made room for all people living in despair to come into his light. 

Jesus declared that he was “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6-7). The ultimate proof of his goodness would be sacrificing his life on a cross. In his death he would defeat the power of sin and death. And by the power of God, he would be resurrected once again to life, opening the gates to eternal life for all who would repent of their sin and believe in Jesus. (See John 11:25-26)

Friends, because of Jesus, Good News reigns—even in a world that seems saturated with bad news. 

Because of Christmas, God’s Good News has spread to every generation. 

Because Immanuel, Good News has traveled to every tribe and continent. 

Because a baby was born 2000 years ago in a tiny town named Bethlehem, Good News is now sung in a thousand languages. 

Yes, we live in a world that seems dark. But take comfort in this: bad news is for a time; Good News is for eternity.

Yes, the headlines in our world are depressing. There’s bad news on a global scale and there’s bad news in our individual lives. But I hope you can find joy in this: Jesus, the fullness of God’s goodness, has come to right every wrong. To forgive every sin. To break every chain. To heal all the brokenness in the world, and in you. 

In the beginning was Goodness. Goodness was with God, and Goodness was God. Jesus was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made. In him was life, and that life was the light for all people. Jesus—the Son of God—thee embodiment of Good News—he shines in the darkness, and the darkness will never overcome it. (See Genesis 1:1-5 and John 1:1-5)

Good News Reigns! 

by

Letter to the Editor: Florida Blue is playing a game of chicken with our children’s lives…

Dear Editor,

Florida Blue insurance is playing a game of chicken with most of the major health care systems in Broward County and it is putting our children at risk.

On July 1st of this year, after failed contract negotiations, Broward Health was reclassified as “out-of-network” with Florida Blue. Memorial Health Care went out-of-network on September 1st for the same reason. Now Cleveland Clinic in Weston is in negotiations with Florida Blue. If the pattern holds, Cleveland Clinic could be out of network as early as March 1, 2026.  

Broward and Memorial Health Care systems state that they are simply asking Florida Blue to reimburse them at rates comparable to those given other health care providers in South Florida. Florida Blue claims these healthcare systems are demanding unreasonable rates. On their website, Florida Blue says they, “have many high-quality local hospitals and doctors in the area ready to take care of our members’ care needs.” Let’s see if that holds true…

My husband and I both have complex medical histories. Our family has Blue Cross Blue Shield health insurance through my employer. Most of our physicians are with Broward Health, so we have to find a new primary care doctor and at least eight new specialists. It’s frustrating to have to start all over again, but I can push through. What I can’t abide is Florida Blue putting my child and all Broward County children at risk.

The No Surprises Act ensures that our whole family can receive care at the Emergency Department of any hospital and pay in-network rates. There are plenty of ERs to choose from in Broward, with many also providing specialized care for children. However, if my son needs to be admitted to the hospital our only option for in-patient care in Broward County that is in-network with Florida Blue is now limited to the 22-bed pediatrics unit at Holy Cross Hospital. If my son were to need life saving surgery after an accident, or an illness warranted inpatient care by a specialist or even admission to a pediatric intensive care unit, then we are put in an untenable situation. Due to this year’s failed negotiations, there are ZERO pediatric intensive care beds in Broward County that are in-network with Florida Blue.

In an emergency situation time is of the essence. As loving parents, we aren’t going to waste time driving down to Miami’s Niclaus Children’s Hospital so we can avoid larger bills. We won’t gamble with our son’s life. Instead, we would consent to receive care for our son at a local, out-of-network hospital. The cost of out-of-network inpatient care would likely lead to a crippling financial situation for our family. How many families in South Florida have tens of thousands of dollars sitting around in an emergency fund for large, unexpected medical bills?

Florida Blue is the largest health insurer in Florida. Their website says that they are committed to providing “critical coverage that delivers peace of mind” and that they are “always looking out for you, your family, and your community…” A bold blue banner on their page claims “It’s in our DNA to create the solutions our communities need to stay healthy. We’re with you all the way, Florida.”

There are over 400,000 children under the age of 18 that live in Broward County. Only 22 pediatric hospital beds in-network with the state’s largest insurer in the state’s second most populous county? Zero PICU beds covered in-network? Failure to come to an equitable compensation agreement after months of negotiations with the two not-for-profit flagship health care systems in our county?

I’m not willing to gamble with my son’s life, but it seems that Florida Blue is.

Reverend Corrie Montoya
Davie resident, Blue Cross Blue Shield policy holder, and a very concerned mother.

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His Name Will Be ‘Mighty God’

For a child has been born for us,
    a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders,
    and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Isaiah 9:6 NRSV)

I’d just had lunch with my friend Andrea and we left the burrito shop and walked together toward our cars in the parking lot. In the middle of a parking aisle was a woman in distress. Her SUV had stalled out and was blocking traffic. Alone, she was unable to steer it into a nearby parking spot. Andrea and I told her we would help. The woman hopped into the driver’s seat, put her SUV in neutral, and Andrea and I took out places at the back bumper. When she yelled, “ready!” we leaned down, put our hands on the back of the SUV, and pushed. It took quite a bit of strain and force and umph to get the car moving, but once the wheels started rolling, the SUV easily glided into the stall.

As I wiped off my dirty hands, Andrea looked at me with eyebrows raised and said, “Wow, Corrie. You are strong!” Her tone was laced with surprise. She hadn’t expected me to be much help pushing the car. I got her logic. Then, like now, I was overweight. My body was round and cushiony, or Rubenesque if you know that art history reference. I had no visible muscle definition. I took walks for exercise. Whereas Andrea was slim and trim. At the time she worked for one of Silicon Valley’s tech giants, so she had access to a free personal trainer, a lap pool, a weight room, and on-site exercise classes which she religiously utilized. I can see why Andrea wouldn’t expect much from me. 

The thing is, the size and shape of something doesn’t determine its strength or its impact. Tiny ants can carry away picnic scraps twenty-times their weight; that is the equivalent of a human carrying 4,000 pounds on their back.1 Babies can grip and suck so hard that adults will struggle to retrieve toys and pacifiers from them. And overweight people can push SUVs. Strength can come in a surprising package.

On this second Sunday of Advent, we are reflecting on the prophesied Messiah as the “mighty” God from Isaiah 9:6. This adjective in Hebrew (gibor) is commonly translated mighty, but strong is an equally fine translation. Might often refers to strength, power, and the ability to make impact and have influence. Metaphorically, it was also used in the Old Testament to deem a soldier valiant or a hero. 

The Messiah as mighty God? On one hand, this seems a no-brainer. Our most fundamental understanding of God is as the Creator of the world–of all that we can see, of the ground we walk on, of the planet we call home, and of what we call “outer space.” In the past month I’ve read two articles about the discovery of new species. First, off the coast of Japan scientists discovered a jellyfish with a unique red cross on it’s bell–that round part on top.2 Then there was a sea creature related to the starfish found in the waters off Antarctica.3 Scientists are calling the new creature the “Antarctic strawberry feather star.” It has twenty arms, some with a bumpy texture, and others that are feathery. It’s amazing to think that after so many centuries of documentation, we still have so much to discover about creation. Of course God’s anointed one–the much-anticipated, much-needed Messiah–would be mighty if he comes from the creator himself. 

And of course, the Israelites would hear Isaiah’s prophecy and then anticipate the coming of a warrior who would save them from their pagan enemies and oppressors. That’s always the scriptural context for the gibor, ‘might.’ It makes sense to look for a Messiah who was not only physically strong, but who also had strength of character–you know, things like clarity of purpose; unshakable resolve; someone with the strategic mind of a general to outwit all other generals; someone almost intimidating in their leadership and righteous fervor for the Lord.

But God’s ways do not always meet our expectations. Strength can come in a surprising package. Might can start in a manger. 

We all know the birth story of Jesus. Mary and Joseph came from Nowhereville. Joseph was a tradesman, and likely poor. Mary was very young, abruptly thrust into marriage and parenthood after a shortened betrothal due to her pregnancy. A pregnancy that would have garnered them a lot of social shame. A pregnancy that would end in a village unfamiliar to them, where there were no available guestrooms, and so they’d be forced to take refuge in a barn among the animals. Their baby would be born without immediate fanfare, with few supplies on hand except clean cloths and fresh hay filling the manger where the animal usually took their meals. 

Jesus was the foretold Messiah sent by the mighty creator to earth…but as a baby? A warrior born in a barn? A savior who would apprentice under his carpenter father? Where was the promise of greatness? How could this boy, with his unfortunate background, come to much? His prospects were poor in every way, and yet THIS was the Creator’s choice, his perfect plan of salvation. 

God could have chosen to have his anointed savior appear suddenly. The All-powerful could have skipped the whole messy birth and the years of growth from a squalling infant, to an active boy, to a gangly adolescent, to a mature man. Honestly, he could have skipped the whole human thing altogether and sent the leader of his heavenly armies to save his people. What legion could defeat the heavenly forces of the Creator?

Instead, God chose to go and be present with his people in their struggles. God sent his divine son to live as his people lived–as a human. Jesus would start where all people start, and grow as all people grow, I believe, to show complete empathy for the world. God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son. Jesus knew what it was to live burdened by taxes, and surrounded by corrupt leaders, and sickness, and struggle, and sin, and death. He also experienced life’s joys and pleasures. 

Jesus knew the full value of human life, so he knew exactly what it would take to save the lost, hurting, desperate people God loved. It would take a life. A total, selfless sacrifice. And that is strength. That poor baby born in a manger a long way from home became the mightiest warrior the world would ever know.

  1. https://www.wired.com/video/watch/why-humans-cant-lift-as-much-as-ants ↩︎
  2. https://www.wionews.com/trending/mysterious-jellyfish-with-240-tentacles-discovered-as-new-species-off-japans-coast-664630 ↩︎
  3. https://www.popsci.com/environment/strawberry-feather-star-sea-creature/ ↩︎
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Dear Wonder Women

Dear Wonder Women, 

Mary! Elizabeth! I don’t even know where to begin. This is the first time that I’ve written a letter to people who are no longer living on earth. It’s a strange practice. You’ll probably never read this, but maybe one day when I get to heaven, the three of us can all sit down and chat. I’ll introduce you to a wonderful drink called a cappuccino, and then, after some casual conversation, I hope you’ll entertain a few of my questions.

You see, I’ve been reading and hearing your stories every year of my life. They were recorded by Luke, the physician and disciple of Jesus. He wrote a meticulous book about Jesus’ life, including the stories about how both of you conceived your sons in miraculous ways and how God let you know about his plans. 

Now, I imagine that if the two of you had written down your own stories, they’d contain some details Luke wouldn’t have thought to include, like any mention of the trials of pregnancy—the mood swings, the random crying, the acidic fire always burning in your stomach or throat, the general discomfort, the swelling in your feet and hands, the fatigue, the insomnia, or even just a sentence about the pain of natural childbirth—but I’m wandering away from my point…sorry. 

Sometimes when you hear a story over and over throughout your life, things stop standing out to you. You miss details. The whole story becomes merely comforting or nostalgic, and it loses the shock and wonder that it would have had the first time you heard it. But this year, as I read and hear your stories from Luke’s book again, they are especially relevant and more poignant to me. Your experiences of conceiving and bearing your sons has new life for me this year, since I too am pregnant—our modern word for being with child.  

I feel a special sort of kinship with you, especially to you, Elizabeth, because I’m pretty old for a woman to have her first child, at least in my century. Obstetricians—those are physicians that specialize in caring for pregnant women—they say that there are a lot more risks and difficult side effects the older a woman is when she conceives and bears a child. Because I’m over 35, they call mine a “geriatric pregnancy” and they watch over me and my baby like an attentive shepherd would watch over his vulnerable sheep. 

I wouldn’t call bearing a child into the world a “wonderful” experience. Not completely. It’s painful and difficult in so many ways. Sometimes I joke that it feels like my body has been taken over by an alien colony. Aliens are creatures that humans imagine live on other planets. I know, it’s strange. But it does feel like my body, my whole life really, has been taken over and is now controlled by a very busy and strange colony. I feel nothing like myself and struggle daily to cope with all the changes I cannot control. And then dealing with how people treat you on top of that! 

Did either one of you ever have to deal with constant, unfiltered comments about your body? Or people trying to touch you like you’re suddenly one of the fuzzy lambs or goats in the family stable? Or the constant, unsolicited, contradictory advice on what you should do or not do? Or other women wanting to share their birth horror-stories with you as though this is somehow reassuring? 

It’s exhausting, this child-bearing and all that comes with it. And as hard as it is for me, I think both of you probably had it worse in your time. Mary, you had to endure the sting of people judging you as unclean since you conceived Jesus before you and Joseph were married. I can’t imagine coping with that too! You have my ever-lasting sympathy. 

It’s true, isn’t it, that sometimes, pregnancy feels closer to misery than a miracle? And yet, when you think about it, every pregnancy, no matter the circumstances, is pretty miraculous. Just about the only thing I enjoy these days is feeling the baby kick and flutter and turn inside me, and I think, “Wow, this is real. This is wonderful. There’s a life growing inside me.” It’s also wonderful to see how excited my husband gets when he feels the kicks too. 

These moments have made me think of you two women constantly. I love the part in Luke’s story where Mary arrives at your house, Elizabeth. She greeted you, and then the story says your baby leaped in your womb. Baby John must have known someone special just entered your presence. He must have miraculously known the presence of the Lord was with him. And Elizabeth, you knew it too. You said, “Why do I have this honor, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as I heard your greeting, the baby in my womb jumped for joy.” What a moment, Elizabeth!

Ladies, did you know that in the centuries since you lived, hundreds of artists have portrayed this moment when you met up in Elizabeth’s house, both pregnant? It’s some of my favorite biblical artwork, this moment between cousins and women who have been blessed by God’s miraculous touch. Some of the paintings show the wonder and awe you must have both felt. Others have you both laughing with pure joy. I marvel at you both! Not just that God chose you to be part of his grand plan to save the world through his son Jesus. I’m in awe of your responses to the news that you both would play an intimate role in the plan.

Elizabeth, Luke called you, “righteous before God, blameless in your observance of all the Lord’s commandments and regulations.” That’s an incredible compliment that few could bear true. Though you were barren and very old, and most people would have disregarded you as nothing special by then, God saw your heart and knew it was pure. God sent his angel Gabriel to your husband Zachariah first, when it was his turn to serve as priest at the holy temple, and let him know that baby John would be conceived. Gabriel said your son would be “a joy and delight to you, and many people will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the Lord’s eyes.” I hope God would say something even remotely resembling this about my baby. 

Despite such tremendous news, and all his righteousness, Zachariah was afraid and doubtful of Gabriel’s proclamation, so, as you know God struck him dumb and he could not speak. Not to belittle Zachariah, but imagining both his emergence in front of the temple crowds and his arrival home to you make me giggle a bit. Did he mime to you what had happened and you tried to interpret his signs? Did he try to draw out what happened using a stick in the dirt outside your front door? It doesn’t really matter, I’m just amused and curious. Whatever he tried to communicate, I’m sure it all came clear when you became pregnant at your age. Suddenly those unusual events started to make sense. Either way, Luke reported that you kept your pregnancy a secret for five months and credited it all to the Lord’s work. 

And Mary, those moments when this stranger Gabriel showed up in your village and suddenly told you to “rejoice,” that you are favored and that God was with you. Luke wrote that you were surprised and confused, and no wonder, with a strange man starting off a conversation like that! And then he tells you that God has chosen to honor you by having you conceive the long-awaited Messiah who will rule on David’s throne after all the years of vacancy. And THEN he says you won’t have the baby by Joseph, but you would conceive by the Holy Spirit!?!?! 

Mary, I would have been speechless if someone told me that, angel of God or not. But when Gabriel assured you that “nothing is impossible with God,” your response was simply “I am the Lord’s servant. Let it be with me just as you have said.” Now, I’m sure you had a bunch of emotions and some lingering questions swirling around inside you—which is probably why you immediately went to see your cousin Elizabeth, another woman who was also pregnant by the miraculous hand of God—only she would truly understand. But for this acceptance to be your response to Gabriel’s pronouncement? You must have been such a remarkable young woman! 

We don’t get all the details of what happens for you both between when you conceive and when you give birth, but we do know that you both remained faithful and grateful servants to God’s miraculous, wonderful, shocking plan. You are truly some of my sheroes—that’s a word I like to use for women who I admire. 

In my time we have these things we call comic books. They are usually colorfully drawn scenes that depict the world in dire straits needing some kind of help or salvation. The comics often feature what we call a “superhero” who is a person with some kind of otherworldly abilities or powers. They see what is wrong and they fight what we call villains—think King Herod—and the forces of evil to right the wrongs in the world. 

There’s one comic story super-shero I particularly like. Her name is Diana Prince, but she’s more commonly known as Wonder Woman. Wonder Woman is very powerful and overcomes seemingly unbeatable odds. She has some special weapons: a Lasso of Truth, a pair of indestructible bracelets, and a crown which she sometimes takes off her head and throws as a weapon. I’ll spare you a picture of Wonder Woman. Since she’s always been drawn by men, she tends to be woefully under dressed. But it’s not her tight leather getup or her weapons that really make Wonder Woman so powerful. As the stories go, she always triumphs because she believes that good can and should overcome evil, no matter the odds. She wants good things for the world, and she is willing to sacrifice her own safety and comfort to bring that good about. 

To me, you both are wonder women. Though the people around you may not have seen you as anything special, God saw your hearts. God knew you needed no “weapons” beyond pure hearts and faith to follow his uncommon plan toward a good future for yourselves and others. God knew you would be willing to make sacrifices in your own lives to help bring about the flourishing of his kingdom through preparing the way for his son, Jesus. I’m truly in awe of you both. Thank you for your faith, your example, your sacrifices. 

Respectfully, your sister in the Kingdom, 

Corrie Montoya

All scripture quotations taken from the Common English Bible © 2011

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The Five Good Things Challenge

I don’t know about you, but I’ve been surviving a very difficult year by clinging to the good things amid a lot of bad things. I also regularly (daily or hourly) remind myself that this hardship (whatever it may be at the time) will end. Since this has been a rather helpful practice for me, I’d like to encourage you to give it a try. Better yet, make it a practice.

To get you started, I’ve made a few lists below of the “Five Good Things” about five things I really don’t like.

Five Good Things about Wearing a Face Mask

  1. I don’t have to worry about any food that might be stuck in my teeth after a meal.
  2. I don’t have to worry about bad breath, especially after coffee or lunch at work.
  3. I’ve learned to notice and “read” people’s eyes in conversation. Eyes are so expressive and fun to watch.
  4. I haven’t had a common cold or any other virus in almost two years.
  5. Masking has lessened my risk of getting the corona virus and possibly passing it to others.

Five Good Things about Social Distancing

  1. It’s okay if I forget to put on deodorant before leaving the house.
  2. As someone who is uncomfortable with close-talkers and hugs with acquaintances, this pandemic precaution has been a nice reprieve. AND it means that I don’t have to feel guilty when I need or want more personal space.
  3. The six feet of space is so refreshing in usually-crowded places like the grocery store check-out line, elevators, and popular stores at the mall.
  4. Missing hugs from my friends and family, I make my husband give me extra-long hugs every day. He’s a good hugger. It does the trick.
  5. Distancing has lessened my risk of getting the corona virus and possibly passing it to others.

Five Good Things that came out of the Pandemic

  1. I got married in late February of 2020, shortly before the world shut down. Our newlywed year was more like a hibernation. This forced togetherness accelerated a lot of learning in our relationship. We’ve learned how to communicate our needs in stressful circumstances, how to create fun with so many unexpected hours stuck at home, and how to practically support and encourage one another when we are struggling to cope.
  2. The pandemic forced a lot of people to reevaluate their lives and make positive changes they may otherwise not have made. For example, my cousin and her husband decided they wanted 1) a lot less work stress, 2) to live near the water, and 3) to live near family. So, in faith, they resigned from their jobs, moved across the country, and much to my delight, now live 15 miles from me! My cousin is more like a sister I never fight with, so I’m overjoyed they are so close.
  3. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with technology and social media for years, resisting many forms of both because they seemed more of a bother than they were worth. But since I’ve been stuck in Florida for over a year and almost all my family and friends live out of state, technology and social media are the tools that have kept me well-connected to the people I love.
  4. The pandemic lifestyle has exposed so many things that I took for granted and I will likely never take them for granted again: safe hugs and handshakes; casual, spontaneous hang-outs with friends; the freedom to travel when I want to; the ability to have family with you in the hospital and at critical doctor’s appointments; making appointments with mental and logistical ease; the simple enjoyment of eating in a restaurant with good ambiance, good music, good service, and good food that I did not have to make myself!
  5. The constraints of the pandemic have exposed strengths and weakness that probably would have remained hidden expect for these extreme circumstances. For example, I’ve discovered I’m very flexible and adaptable to change, even in on-going uncertainty. In terms of weaknesses, I’ve discovered the extent to which my emotional stability relies on my connection to others. Now, everyone needs relationships to be well, and it’s true that I’m a strong extrovert and there’s nothing wrong with that–but I’ve realized that my emotional health is far too reliant on others. Instead of feeling discouraged and ashamed of this exposed weakness, I’m choosing to see it as a new opportunity to grow in health.

That’s it for now, but you get the picture. I hope the Five Good Things challenge might be helpful for you, even if you can only fill in your list to number three for now. Leave spots four and five empty, be patient and expectant, and keep reflecting. More will come to you and your list may even begin to overflow.

Disclaimer: Please don’t think that I believe in ignoring real and big problems and putting on a fake smile, as though simply focusing on the positive can make the negative disappear. I absolutely believe in the power and practice of lament. I believe it is a sign of health to name our challenges and not minimize their impact. But I also know that those practices can easily slip and slide into wallowing and defeatism–at least they can for me. So I lament and I name the things that distress and burden me, but I also try to find hope and cope in the midst of them.

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An Open Letter to Governor Ron DeSantis Regarding Public School Bonuses

Dear Governor DeSantis,

I read that you have proposed to the state legislature that they designate $1000 bonuses from the ESSER to be given to public school principals and full-time classroom teachers. I admire the desire to honor the very hard work of these dedicated public servants. However, as you honor these employees, it seems you’ve forgotten or overlooked thousands of other public school employees who have been essential in keeping our schools running during the pandemic. 

Consider the custodians whose work has multiplied as they have installed plexiglass, rearranged rooms and furniture, and who must now follow stringent disinfecting protocols to mitigate the risk of germs spreading on things like desks and door knobs.

Picture classroom para-professionals, especially those who serve our special needs students like my sister-in-law Jennifer. Our paras are invaluable to their teacher partners and to their students. They are paid so little when you consider how greatly they benefit our schools. 

Think of the cafeteria workers who reported to work even as students were sent home. Since so many of our families receive free meals through school, they continued preparing and distributing meals to the public last spring when we knew very little about how the virus spreads.

Remember the secretaries and registrars who continually worked at the schools and interacted with the public on behalf of their schools. With the expectation that students return to the classroom as soon as possible — which you called for — but with many district superintendents offering hybrid options online, these employees have had to be invariably flexible as parents have fluctuated (in some cases several times) between having their student(s) in the classroom and pulling them home for virtual learning.

As a final example, please consider the IT professionals serving our public schools. As the pandemic shifted the means of our teaching and learning models entirely to online platforms, these staff members have worked tirelessly to: prepare and distribute laptops; manage a vast, complex and ever-changing inventory; put in work orders and/or fix broken equipment themselves; help teachers and students resolve internet connection issues; help teachers install new software or learn new platforms; and to field calls from students (or their caregivers) who are learning from home, helping them troubleshoot technology issues.  

My husband Dennis is a full-time computer micro-technician for Broward County Public Schools. He has worked countless hours of overtime, for which he will not get paid, all to support his staff and students. With his education, skills and experience, he could make much more in the private sector. For almost 10 years, he has happily chosen to make a financial sacrifice so he can “give back” and serve his community. This year, with all the uncertainty, the extreme requirements of flexibility, the mountainous workload, and the often unreasonable or out-of-touch expectations from district administrators, I’ve seen his stress level rise and his passion to serve diminish. He still wants to help, but he feels like he is always behind, will never catch up, does not have the tools and support to succeed, and that he is not doing enough. 

With all these stories in mind, can you imagine how it might feel to such dedicated public servants (and their loved ones) when we hear that you hope and plan to honor only principals and teachers with bonuses? 

No matter the position, all our public school employees are heroes of this pandemic era. Principals and teachers are absolutely admirable and essential to our schools, but no more so than any of the staff members I have mentioned. No role should be ranked more important than others. No set of employees should be praised and rewarded more than any others who have consistently shown up and worked to keep our schools running. 

On behalf of our many wonderful and unsung public school employees, I ask you to reconsider your recommendation regarding the ESSER funds to be used for bonuses. I ask you to consider a more inclusive bonus. If the relief fund does not have the means to honor all of our public school employees, please consider a different act that would be both equitable and generous.

Sincerely, 

Rev. Corrie Montoya
Plantation, Florida

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Make Way

A voice is crying out: “Clear the Lord’s way in the desert! Make a level highway in the wilderness for our God!”

Isaiah 40:3
Painting by Marilyn Froggatt

(This post is adapted from a sermon for the second Sunday of Advent. It is based on Isaiah 40:1-11 and Mark 1:1-8. All scripture quotations are taken from the Common English Bible, 2011.)

There are plenty of voices crying out in our world today. These voices are crying: Lord, help me. I lost my job and I can’t afford rent! Close the restaurants! Open the restaurants! Wear a mask! Wearing a mask infringes on my personal rights! The election was rigged! These votes are fraudulent! The results are clear. Let’s move forward! We need a vaccine! Vaccines are harmful to my children! My business is suffering! I’m tired of staying home! I’m afraid to go out!

Right now, the cries in our culture are cacophonous. The world’s woes are so loud, they may seem deafening. You even may feel the need to tune out the cries as a way to protect your souls. You may have stopped watching the news because it is frustrating or depressing. You may have stopped reading the papers too.

While those are not harmful practices — and may even be considered good self-care in the middle of a pandemic — listening to all these cries is an opportunity too. If you can keep your emotions from becoming entangled as you listen to all the noise, you can hear the heart of the world. You can feel its pulse. No matter your political allegiances, your personal opinions and practices, it’s true that all these cries expose a large amount of angst and anxiety, weariness and vulnerability.

People are tired of being flexible and having to change their patterns of daily living to accommodate an unwanted virus. We want to be finished with the feeling that our foundations — our economy, our democracy, our toilet paper — are unsure. Even though we may be somewhat used to the disruptions 2020 has brought us, we don’t like them. We chafe against them. We want the freedom and carefree living back that we used to know. We want an end to this mess. We want a smooth and clear path forward.

So now I have to say — what a special connection we have to the ancient Israelites! They cried out when they were conquered by foreigners and exiled into strange lands and cultures. Everything was unstable and foreign to them for a long time. 

And what angsty waiting we now share in common with first century Jews! They were desperate to have their Messiah come and overthrow the corruptions they saw destroying their people and their beloved Promised Land — corruptions done by Roman rule, crooked tax collectors, and even their own religious leaders. Everything likely felt unstable and uncertain and frustrating to common first century Jews. 

When I listen and reflect, it seems to me that the 2020 world has uniquely prepared our hearts to hear the opening words from Isaiah 40, “Comfort, comfort my people!” These were not written for us, but how fitting for our circumstances and our hearts!

We want our world righted, don’t we? We want our lives back. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a prophet come across your TV screen and speak compassionately, saying, “I hear your voices crying out. God hears you. So make way for God! He’s coming to rescue you in your desperation!”

Like our Israelite ancestors, we want a clear and safe path forward. Our hoped-for path is a safe one through the pandemic and other disturbing events in our day. But we know that there are things that only God can right. And we know from the pages of the Bible, that relief and rescue are not always immediate, nor will they be on our desired timeline. 

In calm and reflective moments, we know that there is much we could learn in the angsty waiting of 2020, don’t we? We know there are even things to be gained as we wade through the messiness of the pandemic, the faltering economy, and civil unrest. In this chaos, haven’t we realized how precious it is to spend time with our loved ones? Haven’t we reevaluated and boosted the value of a handshake or a hug in greeting? 

As much as I would love for there to be a modern-day prophet like Isaiah to come bring us words of comfort from God, we have a greater need than to receive comfort. In these days, we people of God have a call to be the prophets in our world. As much as the world of 2020 may feel like a kind of exile, or oppression, or an unstable mass of negativity, we are not the victims. 

Hear me say this. Chew on this truth today, as difficult as it may be to believe… You are not victims of 2020. You are the prophets. You are not in exile. You are in advent. 

We are God’s people on earth, and in times of fear, instability, uncertainty, and even plague, we can be prophets like Moses, Isaiah, and John the Baptist. We can be the faithful followers of God who stand up to a culture and to people overwhelmed by fearful circumstances. To them we can speak words of peace. 

We can be the prophets who remind those around us that the world is yes, certainly wrestling against evils right now, but also that something greater is coming. We can remind them that we have the God of angel armies on our side; and no evil forces can stand against him. 

We are the prophets who remind people that the God who created the heavens and the earth can make these towering, treacherous mountains before us fall flat — these mountains called Covid, and Economic Collapse, and Shortage of Medical Staff. God can smooth them by his powerful hand and make a clear path ahead. 

We are the prophets of the desert wandering period we call 2020. We are the ones who can remind our fellow humans that even if this season of unrest lasts 40 years, we will never be abandoned by the God who loves us. Because ours is the God who lights up the darkness. Who leads people through deserts. Who frees the enslaved. Who rescues the exiled. And who leads them to a place of abundance. 

You are not victims of 2020. You are the prophets. 
You are not in exile. You are in advent. 

We are advent people. Our main work in Advent is to wait well. But don’t just sit there waiting. Waiting is not passive. Become an advent prophet. Through scripture we see advent prophets making way for the coming of Jesus. The two tasks of waiting well and making way are intertwined. We wait for the culmination of God’s interventions in the brokenness around us…until the pandemic is over and there is more peace in our world and our hearts. And while we wait, we make way for Jesus.

We wait well and make way by emulating Moses, and Isaiah, and John the baptist. They all lived in difficult and unsettled times. They didn’t rail against their circumstances like helpless victims. They didn’t shrivel up and succumb to fear. Instead, they spoke to the broken world around them. They told the truth of God’s character and actions to others. They announced that God was coming to right all the wrong around them. 

We can do this too. We can make way for the coming of the goodness of Jesus in 2020, just like Moses and Isaiah and John did in their time. To be a successful advent prophet is to be a calm, and faithful messenger of the arrival of Jesus. 

I see at least four habits of advent prophets in scripture. First, advent prophets keep calm when the world around them is not. Moses went up against the most powerful man in his world. We remember that Moses felt insecure to act as God’s spokesman — something about a stutter or a fear of public speaking — but he did what God asked. Moses witnessed the plagues God used to release the Hebrews from Pharoah’s grip. Moses led the Hebrews on the 40-year winding trek through the desert. In all the uncertainty he stayed the course. He served God faithfully. He spoke for God, even when the people were angry, afraid, or discontent. 

Second, advent prophets trust in things they cannot see. Isaiah is a great example of this. Isaiah himself never saw the Israelites freed from exile. He never saw them return to the Promised Land. He never met Jesus. But he spoke out tirelessly about God’s coming rescue. He foretold the coming of a king in the line of David who would bring peace to the world. You’ll remember his famous prophecies, “A shoot from the stump of Jesse” and “For unto us a child is born…and the government will be on his shoulders…a Prince of Peace.” Isaiah never lived to see these things happen, but he believed they would because God told him so. Isaiah shared these extraordinary hopes with the people around him. 

Third, advent prophets speak up. Often they had to raise their voices to be heard amid the noise of the world around them. This is what Isaiah said:

Go up on a high mountain,
messenger Zion!
Raise your voice and shout,
messenger Jerusalem!
Raise it; don’t be afraid;
say to the cities of Judah,
“Here is your God!” 

Isaiah 40:9

Mark 1:4 says that the prophet John (the Baptist) was in the wilderness “calling for people.” 

To be an advent prophet for Jesus is to speak up. No good advent prophet keeps silent. Silence is antithetical to being a messenger. Think of the angels. When they show up in Bible stories, they speak. They announce. They are heralds of the good news of God. Prophets are the same. They speak up and speak out. And their message is our fourth point. For advent prophets, their message always points to God.

Moses never used his speech to focus on himself and announce his own importance. Moses announced the coming of God’s plagues to Pharaoh. Once the Hewbrews were free, he announced God’s law to them. When they misbehaved in the desert season, he announced God’s judgement and mercy.

Isaiah was also outspoken. His message gave hope to a weary and frightened people. 

The Lord’s glory will appear,
and all humanity will see it together;
the Lord’s mouth has commanded it.” (40:5)

“Here is your God!
Here is the Lord God,
coming with strength,
with a triumphant arm,
bringing his reward with him
and his payment before him.” (40:9b-10)

As a prophet, Isaiah faced a lot of opposition from disbelieving Jews and misbehaving Israelite kings. But he stayed focused on pointing people toward righteousness and hope in their just God.

John the Baptist was a humble, unconventional guy. He lived in the desert. He had few resources. His clothes were rustic. He ate locusts and wild honey. He had gained notoriety and people traveled to hear him because they were curious about his message, but John didn’t bask in his growing popularity. When people came to him, even when they greatly admired him, he pointed them on toward Jesus. In Mark 1:7, John the Baptist announced, “One stronger than I am is coming after me. I’m not even worthy to bend over and loosen the strap of his sandals.”

The advent prophets of scripture were focused not on the chaos around them, nor on their own presitigue. They were singularly focused on announcing the coming of God’s goodness. We can follow in their footsteps. Remember, no matter what you are feeling inside, no matter what the chaos and uncertainty of the world predicts, there is bedrock truth that overcomes all of it…

Jesus is the good news of God that breaks into the noise of the world. Jesus is the Prince of Peace. Jesus is the one who can release people from their fear of Covid. Their worries of financial crisis. Their pessimistic doubts about the future. 

Jesus is coming to the broken world and the broken people of 2020. He will restore us and our world as God has done in every difficult season throughout human history. Even though we can’t see it, even if we have trouble believing it, God is on the move around our globe. God is calming fears, inspiring scientists toward a vaccine, propping up weary health care workers, and helping people come up with creative and innovative ways to do business and school and family gatherings that mitigate the risks of passing the virus. 

We are adapting and surviving and learning how to live (and maybe even thrive) while times are hard. God is producing all this in us. Remember, we are not in exile. We are in advent. And as we wait and endure, we are not victims. We are prophets. 

So today my task as an advent prophet is to say — You are doing well. You are doing a good job riding the waves of the tumultuous tide of 2020. You may feel like you are failing, but that’s just because you are evaluating yourself with the same scale you used before the pandemic…and the election season…and the racial unrest and the looting…and the recession. You are not failing when you feel discouraged. You are enduring. Though it doesn’t feel good, you are waiting well. 

Struggling and feeling discouraged are good signs, really. Feelings like these show that your spirit has some fight left. It means your heart and soul know that there is more to life than all this struggle. You are battling back against the messages that say that the future is gloom and doom. Your heart is crying out for something more, something better, something whole and abundant. And my job today is to remind you that something is coming. 

Our Jesus is coming. Our rescuing God is on the move to restore our world and our hearts. We don’t know what that will look like and how soon it will happen, but take heart: It. Will. Happen. 

We are advent prophets, and we trust in things we cannot see. We rely on and hope in a God who has proven himself faithful to generation upon generation. He will not fail us.

So friends, it’s time to get up. It’s time to take up your call to be advent prophets. It’s time to speak up and speak out about the truths you know from God’s word. It’s time to comfort our discouraged and fearful neighbors with words of assurance. It’s time to get up and live in a way that says, “Here is your God! Here is the Lord God, coming with strength, with a triumphant arm to bring restoration and peace to our bleak world.” 

Raise your voice against the noise of the world. Raise it and speak words of hope to those who are lost. And while you do, hold on to this truth:

The grass dries up;
the flower withers,
but our God’s word will exist forever. 

Isaiah 40:8