It's Sunday, December 2. There are so many noteworthy events that occur today that it's hard to keep track of them all!
First of all, it is Erika's 6 month wedding anniversary. And Robert's anniversary too, I suppose, since he's married to her. Happy 6 months to you both! I was honored to be part of your wedding and to continue to be part of your married life, even though we don't live as close to each other as we used to. Thanks for throwing your bouquet at me, even though it hasn't worked much magic yet. (To read the pre-Erika wedding blog post, click here)
Second, since it's Erika's anniversary, it is therefore also my half birthday. I am 33.5 years old today, which means you only have 6 more shopping months until my birthday. I like giftcards to Amazon and Starbucks. And sunflowers are my favorite. And as always, checks can be made out to Robin Clark.
Not only is it my half birthday it's my stepsister Diana's birthday and my oldest friend John's birthday. Oldest as in longest lasting friendship, not oldest in years, but you can read more about that here.
Finally, today is the first Sunday in Advent. In church this morning, we lit the first Advent candle, which stands for hope.
Hope. It's a small word with big expectations, sort of like the entire season of Advent itself. Advent is a short period of time in the church calendar but full of anticipation as we await the birth of Jesus, the moment when God did the impossible - entering into the confines of time in the limitations of a human body.
There is something about new life that brims with hope. My sweet little niece Sophie was born five weeks ago. She has a head full of dark brown hair and is on the verge of smiling any day now. She is just about as perfect as she can be and I can't help but be filled with hope every time I'm near her. I know she will someday have to face sickness, heartache, disappointment, and sorrow, because you can't live through life and not experience those things. But at the same time, I have hope for all of the joy and blessings that will come into her life as well.
Webster defines hope as "to cherish a desire with expectation of fulfillment." I hope that Sophie's life is full of joy, happiness, promise, and big dreams. And I don't just vaguely wish these things for her - by hoping for them, I long to see them actually happen and will do my part along the way, as her trusty aunt, to help them come into fulfillment. And I also promise to smack the first boy who tries to kiss her. And every subsequent boy after that.
I was reminded of hope through a different child earlier this week. Some of you may remember my blog about baby Joseph, the sick little boy our Peru team met in the jungle a few months ago. If you never read that story, you can read it here.
I found out on Wednesday that Joseph died in September from pneumonia. The reality is that out of the probably 1500 children I have come into contact with in Peru, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic over the last 18 months, there have most likely been several others who have died too. But Joseph was a hard to one to hear about, mostly because we all had so much hope that he would make it. We had hoped that we had helped him in time. We hoped that he would have a better life once he got that help. We hoped so much for him, and to hear that he died only a month later was very hard and seemed so unfair.
So much so that I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday and couldn't go back to sleep as I thought about his frail little body and how unfair it was that his life was cut so short. Being born in the jungle lowers your odds of thriving after birth anyway. Between lack of clean water, parasites, dangerous animals, and disease, any child who makes it to age 5 is a walking miracle. Joseph in many ways was probably the norm rather than the exception.
As I lied in bed thinking about how unfair it was that he died so young and wondering why God didn't honor our hopes for wholeness in his life on earth, I sensed God's gentle and quiet voice reminding me to think beyond the confines of my human body and think about eternity instead. And in the quiet stillness of the night, I realized that Joseph is healed now. His earthly body was too frail to support him and he never walked on his little legs in this life. But now, in heaven, he is not only walking, but running and jumping on legs that are strong and able to hold up his body. In his earthly life, he never had enough to eat and he never had clean water to drink. But now, in heaven, he is feasting at the table of the King and he is drinking from the river of life.
Every Sunday in church, whether it's Advent or not, we say the Nicene Creed together. I was struck today by the last sentence of the creed and it made me think of Joseph. It says, "We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come."
I am hoping for the life of the world to come. Joseph is already living in it.
And that's the whole point of this first Sunday in Advent, to remind us of what we hope for, to remind us that without a Savior who makes us clean and whole, we have no hope for the life of the world to come. We don't deserve the life of the world to come, and yet, when Jesus was born into human time, that hope presented itself to us.
My hope for this Advent season is that by the end of it, each of us will find ourselves closer to the One whose birth we celebrate in just a few weeks. If you think of it, please pray for Joseph's family. Even though death is a normal and expected part of jungle life, it is still hard and sad, just like it is here in America. Pray for their comfort and healing.
First of all, it is Erika's 6 month wedding anniversary. And Robert's anniversary too, I suppose, since he's married to her. Happy 6 months to you both! I was honored to be part of your wedding and to continue to be part of your married life, even though we don't live as close to each other as we used to. Thanks for throwing your bouquet at me, even though it hasn't worked much magic yet. (To read the pre-Erika wedding blog post, click here)
Second, since it's Erika's anniversary, it is therefore also my half birthday. I am 33.5 years old today, which means you only have 6 more shopping months until my birthday. I like giftcards to Amazon and Starbucks. And sunflowers are my favorite. And as always, checks can be made out to Robin Clark.
Not only is it my half birthday it's my stepsister Diana's birthday and my oldest friend John's birthday. Oldest as in longest lasting friendship, not oldest in years, but you can read more about that here.
Finally, today is the first Sunday in Advent. In church this morning, we lit the first Advent candle, which stands for hope.
Hope. It's a small word with big expectations, sort of like the entire season of Advent itself. Advent is a short period of time in the church calendar but full of anticipation as we await the birth of Jesus, the moment when God did the impossible - entering into the confines of time in the limitations of a human body.
There is something about new life that brims with hope. My sweet little niece Sophie was born five weeks ago. She has a head full of dark brown hair and is on the verge of smiling any day now. She is just about as perfect as she can be and I can't help but be filled with hope every time I'm near her. I know she will someday have to face sickness, heartache, disappointment, and sorrow, because you can't live through life and not experience those things. But at the same time, I have hope for all of the joy and blessings that will come into her life as well.
Webster defines hope as "to cherish a desire with expectation of fulfillment." I hope that Sophie's life is full of joy, happiness, promise, and big dreams. And I don't just vaguely wish these things for her - by hoping for them, I long to see them actually happen and will do my part along the way, as her trusty aunt, to help them come into fulfillment. And I also promise to smack the first boy who tries to kiss her. And every subsequent boy after that.
I was reminded of hope through a different child earlier this week. Some of you may remember my blog about baby Joseph, the sick little boy our Peru team met in the jungle a few months ago. If you never read that story, you can read it here.
I found out on Wednesday that Joseph died in September from pneumonia. The reality is that out of the probably 1500 children I have come into contact with in Peru, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic over the last 18 months, there have most likely been several others who have died too. But Joseph was a hard to one to hear about, mostly because we all had so much hope that he would make it. We had hoped that we had helped him in time. We hoped that he would have a better life once he got that help. We hoped so much for him, and to hear that he died only a month later was very hard and seemed so unfair.
So much so that I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday and couldn't go back to sleep as I thought about his frail little body and how unfair it was that his life was cut so short. Being born in the jungle lowers your odds of thriving after birth anyway. Between lack of clean water, parasites, dangerous animals, and disease, any child who makes it to age 5 is a walking miracle. Joseph in many ways was probably the norm rather than the exception.
As I lied in bed thinking about how unfair it was that he died so young and wondering why God didn't honor our hopes for wholeness in his life on earth, I sensed God's gentle and quiet voice reminding me to think beyond the confines of my human body and think about eternity instead. And in the quiet stillness of the night, I realized that Joseph is healed now. His earthly body was too frail to support him and he never walked on his little legs in this life. But now, in heaven, he is not only walking, but running and jumping on legs that are strong and able to hold up his body. In his earthly life, he never had enough to eat and he never had clean water to drink. But now, in heaven, he is feasting at the table of the King and he is drinking from the river of life.
Every Sunday in church, whether it's Advent or not, we say the Nicene Creed together. I was struck today by the last sentence of the creed and it made me think of Joseph. It says, "We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come."
I am hoping for the life of the world to come. Joseph is already living in it.
And that's the whole point of this first Sunday in Advent, to remind us of what we hope for, to remind us that without a Savior who makes us clean and whole, we have no hope for the life of the world to come. We don't deserve the life of the world to come, and yet, when Jesus was born into human time, that hope presented itself to us.
My hope for this Advent season is that by the end of it, each of us will find ourselves closer to the One whose birth we celebrate in just a few weeks. If you think of it, please pray for Joseph's family. Even though death is a normal and expected part of jungle life, it is still hard and sad, just like it is here in America. Pray for their comfort and healing.
"We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.
Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.
For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?
But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently."
- Paul, in his letter to the Romans (8:22-25)
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