A sermon by Sylvia Keesmaat, preached at Wine Before Breakfast on March 8, 2022.
They met in the borderlands.
He: a travelling preacher,
who fed those who were hungry,
healed those who were sick,
spent his time amongst the poor villagers of Galilee.
She: a Syrophoenician woman
from the wealthy district
of Tyre and Sidon,
a Greek woman,
cultured, well-heeled.
Her people had the power that mattered:
access to the seaports,
economic control,
a hand in all the trade that
passed too and from his land.
His people provided the power
that had no status:
supplies, labour, and cheap food.
His people kept in poverty
by her people.
Her people: the powerful,
his people: the exploited.
They met in the borderlands,
as he sought respite from the relentless
needs of his people:
needs heightened by the exploitation
caused by her people:
sickness caused by the lack of nutritious food,
mental illness caused by the uncertainties
and violence of poverty.
A hunger for food,
a hunger for justice,
underlying the needs
that shaped the rhythm of his days.
Perhaps here,
perhaps in this house,
perhaps in this liminal space,
there would be rest,
there would be peace.
They met in the borderlands,
as she sought healing for her daughter,
her daughter left at home,
lying in a proper bed,
not the straw pallets common
for his people.
She sought healing for her daughter
in a world where daughters were disposable,
not usually worth a trip to a healer.
Did she know already that
Jesus had healed the daughter
of a synagogue leader?
Perhaps.
They met in the borderlands,
the woman of high status,
lowering herself before
this peasant healer,
begging in a way
that she had never begged
for anything before.
Was this because she sensed
that she had already taken
more than her due
from his people?
Did she beg because of her shame in
asking for more?
She, who commanded
and it was done.
Was she worried
about a refusal?
Or did she assume
that healing would be granted?
Was she surprised at his response?
Was she surprised at the hostility?
Or did she recognize the justice
in his words:
“First let the poor,
those you have exploited,
finally be satisfied,
for it is not good to take their food
and throw it to the well-fed dogs,
who have always had enough.”
Perhaps she saw justice in his words.
For her response
accepts the rebuke:
“Yes, but even the dogs under the table
can eat the children’s crumbs,”
she says.
Even the dogs under the table
can eat the children’s crumbs.
She is willing to forgo a seat at the table,
willing to be counted among the dogs,
willing to accept the crumbs
that are usually all that the poor receive.
They met at the borderlands,
where she willingly gave up her status
for the healing of her daughter,
where he willingly recognized
her well-chosen words,
and offered the oppressor healing.
He challenged her, yes.
But she also challenged him.
Who changed whom in the borderlands?
But perhaps there was more.
For Jesus’ trek into the borderlands
is bordered in Mark,
by stories about food,
stories about crumbs,
stories about leftovers.
Did the woman know that Jesus
had previously fed far more than 5,000
people with five loaves and two fish?
Did she know
that the whole exploitive economy
on which her people relied,
was being undermined by this teacher,
this healer,
who was able to take crumbs
and turn them into a satisfying meal,
into abundance for all who came?
Did she know that this abundance
was more than they could ask or imagine,
that twelve baskets of leftovers
were carefully gathered up,
that in this economy all were fed,
and excess was carefully gathered,
gleaned for the feeding of those who still hungered?
Perhaps she did.
Perhaps she knew that
at the table Jesus set,
there was always enough,
always enough for the hungry,
always enough for the overfed,
always enough for those who need healing,
no matter who they are.
And if she didn’t know this,
Mark seems intent on letting us know.
For when Jesus heads back
out of the borderlands,
into the land of Galilee,
he once again provides bread.
This time there are more than 4,000 people.
This time he begins with seven pieces of bread
and a few small fish.
This time there are seven baskets left over.
Numbers have meaning in this story.
In the first feeding, Jesus creates abundance
out of five loaves and two fish:
a minuscule amount to feed so many.
And there are 12 baskets left over:
one basket for each of the twelve tribes of Israel.
The leftovers of Jesus’ abundance
are enough to feed all of Israel.
In the second feeding,
Jesus begins with seven loaves of bread.
Seven.
In the Bible seven is the day of completion,
of enough,
of fulfilment.
This time, instead of creating abundance
out of the crumbs of empire,
Jesus is working out of the abundance
of the reign of God.
Of course there is enough for all:
there always was.
And there are seven baskets left over.
Even after all have eaten there is abundance for all.
But that is not all.
There were seven Gentile nations
named in Deuteronomy 7
when the people entered the land.
Seven Gentile nations to be destroyed,
seven Gentile nations
who were not to be shown compassion.
Could it be,
that after Jesus heals this Greek woman,
that after a Syrophoenician woman
is offered the crumbs from the table,
that Jesus is making a statement
about the abundance of the kingdom
being for those seven Gentile nations as well?
If the 12 baskets of leftovers are the twelve tribes,
do the 7 baskets of leftovers represent the fulness of the Gentiles,
all welcome to share in the overflowing abundance
of the bread of life?
Perhaps the leftovers of Jesus’ abundance
are enough to feed the whole world.
* * * *
How do we read this story?
We who have much
and we who have little?
How do we live into this community
that Jesus is shaping?
A community of welcome
for oppressor and oppressed,
a community of abundance,
where those who live with crumbs
are offered abundance,
and those used to abundance
offer to be satisfied with crumbs.
What do we sacrifice so that
there is abundance for all?
They met in the borderlands.
He challenged her world.
And she challenged his.
Both went their ways
with a fuller vision
of the healing on offer,
with a new vision of abundance.
Perhaps the borderlands
is where we should be.
Amen.
Reconciliation and the Parable of the lost son
Sermon preached at WBB on January 11
Reading: Luke 15:11-32 (Parable of the lost son)
Many people feel connected to the parable we read today. No matter how wild or tame we’ve lived, we recognize how we’ve wandered from God and gone our own ways. We’ve demanded our share of what is coming to us and chosen to live as we’d like.
Yet, when we, like the youngest son, come back to our right minds, we return to God. And who is not deeply moved by the image in the text – the image of a parent who is waiting for us, who runs to us and throw their arms around us to welcome us home? Especially in this difficult pandemic season, this image of being embraced and welcomed is a powerful one.
But is the point of a parable only to comfort us? Shouldn’t it also challenge us and even make us a bit uncomfortable? And this is often where the interpretation of the second half of the parable moves: those of us who have followed God faithfully all of our lives – who have done all that was asked of us – are challenged to be less bitter and judgmental.
And while Jesus certainly commands people not to judge – and this is a real problem in the church and world – such an interpretation misses part of the messiness of the text and part of the invitation of the text to give and receive grace.
I want to acknowledge that it is the work of Amy-Jill Levine that helped me question my own understanding of the parable – her knowledge of the Old Testament helped me see that we should be surprised about the direction the parable moves.
First of all, Genesis tells multiple stories of two sons, like Cain and Abel, Jacob and Esau – and it is the younger who chooses to do what is right. Yet in this parable, the younger son chooses for himself, choosing here to ask for as much as the father could give. There are questions about how appropriate it was that the younger son ask for his share of the inheritance – the version we read today provides, in italics, the interpretation that he ought not to have done so. The text here further explains that the father was good-hearted and loved his sons – and so the father gave in to him, allowing him to make a choice that had the potential for a lot of negative consequences – for both the younger and the older son.
You’ll notice that I’m gently prodding at what the text says about the father. One of the hardest challenges I find in interpreting this text relates to the beautiful image in the parable of the father’s welcome and loving embrace ––this image might shape our understanding so much of the text that we find it hard not to identify the father in the text with God. And thus it is difficult to question how good a father they actually are.
And while I can appreciate the image of God being a parent full of abounding love, I wonder how much of that appreciation has to do with my implicitly centering the story on me. Such an interpretation can easily center on how, on the basis of my own efforts, I came to my right mind and returned to God. Such an interpretation can easily shift to focusing on how I deserve the lavish gift of a banquet and being clothed in the best clothes while the consequences of our actions are ignored, including any harm done to others or how others might be excluded by our centralizing ourselves in the story.
When we look closely at the parable, we see that the older brother, as he is returning from a hard day’s work in the fields, hears the music and dancing. There was a feast going on without him – a feast that would have taken hours to prepare – to prepare the food and gather the guests. And no one in all that time had thought to let the brother know or invite him. And then, to add insult to injury, he needs to ask a servant what is going on: “Well, your father has prepared a great feast for your brother, because he is alive and well.”
And so, not surprisingly, the brother is angry. And he refuses to go in. The First Nations Version says that he refuses to go into the lodge, which helps me understand the weight of the brother’s refusal – he is refusing to go into the place that is home, the place that symbolizes welcome – for it has become a place of not-welcome, a place where he feels he has been excluded.
And so the son speaks angrily to his father: “Why can you not see?!? I have done all that you asked of me.” And in his anger, he distances himself from his brother, naming him not brother – but ‘this son of yours’ and accusing him of wasting all his money on sexual favours with women, an accusation that is not backed up earlier in the text. And so the older brother lashes out at the family who had wrongly hurt him.
And his father looks kindly on him. He does not address his son’s accusations, nor does he even acknowledge that what he or the younger brother did was wrong. Instead, he reminds him of the family relationship: my son, you are close to my heart. Your brother was dead but now he is alive. We must celebrate this return of the lost, we ought to celebrate the restoration of the family.
As Levine notes, the father’s words are an invitation to reconciliation. More specifically, she notes that in a family with two sons, “if we lose one, the family is not whole.” And so, she asks “Can we recognize that perhaps they can reconcile — perhaps not from repentance, but perhaps because of expediency? There might be something here as well — do we have to wait for someone to say ‘I’m sorry’? Perhaps we can be generous enough to say, ‘You’re welcome. Welcome home. You’re part of the family.’” [Levine: ‘Prodigal son’ forces reassessment of Bible’s other brother pairs]
I find this a beautiful invitation: choose grace, choose reconciliation, choose celebration and God’s abundance. For God is deeply abundant – and it would be so deeply costly to lose a member of the family.
And yet, such an interpretation makes me a little uncomfortable if I place myself in the shoes of the older brother. The words don’t entirely sound like an invitation to grace and reconciliation and even God’s abundance. Instead, they sound like words of expediency and a sweeping under the rug of things gone wrong. How much do these words not echo the words spoken too often by white people to people of colour – can’t we all just get along and move forward? We’re all one family, right?
In light of these questions, the words of the father feel empty – there has been no apology and no talk of consequences, an empty promise of land and freedom with no true listening to the brother’s hurt regarding how the rest of his family had taken from him.
How often must those who have been harmed cry out: Can you not see?!? Why are you not listening?!?
The parable has no happy ending. Sure, there is a feast and celebration – but there’s no guarantee that the family will come back together. No guarantee that the younger son and father will provide restitution for their actions or that the older brother will be reconciled.
It is a messy story, and yet, because of that it fits with our world today.
For many things in life, there are no simple explanations and no simple solutions. Even our pictures of God are not as simple as we’d like – even if I believe the image of God as loving and abundant is true that does not mean all have experienced God to be that way.
And there is no simplistic solution for resolving the damage that we as humans have done to each other.
And yet, there is hope in that. For it forces us to long for grace – grace given to us by God, who when asked to reconcile always says yes. God always works to bring us back to their open arms and welcomes us home – and yet that welcome is also an invitation into the hard work of restitution and forgiveness, of pointing out to each other when we do not see and responding humbly when we recognize how we have not listened to others.
Thankfully we have the Holy Spirit working in us, and we have the rest of God’s family, who are spread from east to west, to help us as we make this challenging journey.
May we trust that God’s ever abounding grace will be with us along each step of the way.
In the name of the Father, the son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen
– Brenda Kronemeijer-Heyink
December 2021 Update
Once again we are inviting you to support us in our work at the University of Toronto. Through Wine Before Breakfast and Graduate Christian Fellowship, we challenge, mentor, and enable students to think, work, and live as Christian disciples in the academy and in their professions. Through wrestling with Scripture and difficult topics, we invite people into radical Christian discipleship, inviting them to rest in the hope of Christ and to participate in God’s work of bringing justice.
The following words from Stephanie, an alumna of the ministry, give an example how God has worked in the past, and continues to work though this ministry into the present.
“I can’t express how much I have enjoyed staying connected via the weekly newsletter and the invitation to virtual gatherings during CoVid19.
This week’s topic [on politics] takes me back to a similar discussion held while I was on campus and there was a federal election. It was formative in my early walk as a Christian and I keep going back to those nuances I took away from that session each time I consider an issue presented in the political fora.
Although I am not I’m able to be present in it, it’s an important reminder to me that my fellow brethren are out there contemplating life with the lens of their faith.”
Grateful for how God uses this ministry to bless people’s lives, from generation to generation of students, we want to thank you for your support and participation, as well as invite you to partner financially with us in the shaping of a vibrant Christian community and witness at the University of Toronto and the wider city.
For more detailed update about this past fall at Graduate Christian Fellowship and Wine Before Breakfast, including how we’ve been meeting in person, see the newsletter.
Imposter syndrome and trust
InterVarsity’s Emerging Scholars Network recently published a helpful post about imposter syndrome and how it gets in the way of our trusting God fully. More specifically,
The core problem isn’t that we feel bad about ourselves but that Imposter syndrome distracts from action. Fear and inadequacy are like weights around our ankles preventing us from running full speed by keeping our eyes fixed on our inadequacy. As long as we’re preoccupied with our inability rather than God’s ability, we will live a life of fearful restraint and small goals, never plunging deep into the waters of faith. Imposter syndrome stands between us and following God’s call, convincing us we’re not good or able enough.
Denise Margaret Thompson
To hear more about the challenges of imposter syndrome, I encourage you to read the full article: Imposter Syndrome, The Bible and Grad Students – Emerging Scholars Blog.
Elijah leaving – prayers of the people
The following prayers of the people written by Mike Walker were used in our Wine Before Breakfast service on October 26.
Gracious God,
God who comes to us in whirlwind and fire,
God who offers us both caution and courage,
We come before you humbly this morning.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we can accompany each other.
In our world, there are many doubtful voices,
Voices that cause us pain.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we can strengthen each other.
We intercede for many who need courage
and caution this morning.
We pray for those who seek to resist climate change.
We cry out for refugees and migrants
in Europe, the Middle East, and everywhere,
And we mourn with all those whose lives
are disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic.
We pray for our country of Canada as well,
Especially for truth and reconciliation
between Indigenous and settler peoples.
Give us Elisha’s courage,
so that we may offer reparations
to our Indigenous siblings.
We ask for prudence like Elijah’s too,
So that we can use our natural resources wisely.
Give us Elijah’s wisdom,
and grant us large portions of your Spirit,
so that we can do your work.
(prayers silent and spoken for justice
in Canada, and in the world)
God of passion and prophecy,
We pray for our communities in Toronto,
And in every place where we are.
Be with our loved ones, God,
Especially those in physical,
spiritual, and financial need,
And help us to be with them too,
even from a distance.
Help us to support our street-involved siblings,
And all those who are marginalized.
At this time, in every way open to us,
We pray for our communities and our loved ones.
(prayers silent and spoken for our loved ones)
God who calls us out of our comfort zones,
We pray for ourselves.
Give us Elijah’s spirit,
so that we can sense your presence.
In our hearts,
with our mouths,
through our hands,
We offer you our conviction and our confusion,
Our faith and our fear,
Our longing and our love.
In all these ways, Holy One,
we pray for ourselves.
(prayers silent and spoken for our own needs)
We pray all these things in your name,
The name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer.
Amen
Subtle clues in the text: The word of the LORD in 1 Kings 17-19
In 1 Kings 19, Elijah comes exhausted to God. You would think that a prophet, especially one like Elijah who had done so much for God, wouldn’t need to be reminded of how much he needs God’s power and strength. Yet, if you look closely at the text, you’ll see how it subtly suggests that Elijah has been trying to do things for God on his own strength instead of doing things with God.
If you look back at 1 Kings 17 and 18 where we are introduced to Elijah, you’ll notice how often the word of the Lord comes to Elijah.
The word of the Lord came to Elijah to tell Ahab there was a drought, then to go to the wadi, then to travel to a foreign land where the LORD had commanded a widow to take care of him. And the word of the LORD comes to Elijah to tell Ahab that the drought will end.
On the way to Ahab, Elijah meets Obadiah and scorns how Obadiah has been serving God. And then there is the contest between Baal’s prophets and the LORD.
When the text has mentioned the word of the LORD in directing almost everything Elijah does, it is noticeable that in these last two interactions – with the other prophet, Obadiah, and with the contest between Baal’s prophets and the LORD, the word of the LORD is not mentioned.
God still shows up and sets the altar on fire, because God can still work despite us. But there’s something off with the story and the story ends in a strange way – with Elijah killing all the prophets of Baal. And while there are more times in the Old Testament where God commands people to be killed in God’s name, that command is noticeably absent at this point in this text – instead, there are subtle allusions in the texts to other killings – like that of Moses who killed the Egyptian and then also fled into the desert, fearing for his life. (Thomas Brodie, The Crucial Bridge, 12, footnote 18.)
These subtle clues in the text are confirmed with God’s response to Elijah. God does not directly tell Elijah that he is wrong, so much as Elijah is redirected and reminded that he is not alone, nor does he need to do things alone on his own strength. God provides a helper for Elijah in Elisha. God promises Elijah a new king, who will punish all those deserving of God’s judgment. Last of all, God reminds Elijah that he has never been alone – there are seven thousand in Israel who have not bowed down to Baal.
While our own stories are not yet fully written, may we still have the courage to look back at our own stories to wonder what subtle clues might be inviting us to imagine anew how God might work in and through us.
I’m done
Sermon on 1 Kings 19; preached at WBB on October 12, 2021
Many people love superheroes, as they inspire us and help us imagine a different world. Stories about superheroes feel especially important in this season when so much continues to be asked of us.
If anyone could be called a superhero in the Old Testament, it would be Elijah. He speaks and acts with great courage. He is able to run faster than a chariot and even raises the dead. And yet, when we meet him in the passage we read today, Elijah is exhausted: he is terrified for his life, feeling deeply alone, and complaining to God about his situation.
As much as I believe that God used Elijah when he was speaking and acting with great courage at the top of Mount Carmel, it is when Elijah stops doing all those things – and brings to God how difficult the situation is – I believe it is in this moment that we see God most clearly. When the difficulties of his situation force Elijah to recognize that he cannot continue alone in his own strength, that is the moment when we see God’s grace and God’s power in a profound new way.
Exhaustion – and the sense of not being able to continue the way things are – is a hard place to be. Yet, it is also an opportunity to pause. Do we keep trying as hard as we can? Or do we seek God’s presence and allow God to do something new?
Looking back at the previous chapters, we see in 1 Kings 17 and 18 that God cared for Elijah, through providing him food in the time of famine, and God used Elijah to do incredible, powerful things, like raising the widow’s son. The story found here in 1 Kings 19 might then come as a bit of a surprise. How can this be the same prophet that called down fire from heaven? What happened to the superhero we saw in the previous chapters? And why does Elijah declare that he is alone, especially when we see Elijah interacting with another prophet, Obadiah, at the beginning of 1 Kings 18?
What is going on here?
Exhaustion seems to be part of the explanation. Elijah is tired from serving God, he has been isolated from other prophets – all of whom fear for their lives – and he is ready to give up.
And so Elijah does what he can to escape: he flees to the wilderness and there he rests. An angel comes to him, not once, but twice, and gives him food. And this restores Elijah enough for him to take a journey to come further into God’s presence. And there God meets Elijah, encourages him, and invites him into a new journey.
Restoration is something I think we all long for, especially at this stage in the pandemic. We are tired of being apart from people we care about. We are tired of making decisions about what is safest. And we’re not sure how long this will last or what our jobs or even church will look like in the coming year.
Like Elijah, we may be feeling done with all of this. And while hopefully we do not – like Elijah initially asks – desire for God to end our lives, there are many small and large ways that we can escape our lives – we can escape through Netflix or books, through becoming absorbed in work or by clicking on one more link on the internet. We can feel deeply alone and forget that God has not actually asked us to be superheroes.
Looking at the text, it can be easy to say that the solution to our exhaustion is simple. If we just take care of ourselves well enough – that we, like Elijah, would just eat healthier meals and get more rest then we’ll be better. And while God can and does work through food and rest and exercise to restore us, the weariness that Elijah was facing – and that we are facing today – is something deeper than can simply be restored by finding the right diet or the right motivational tools.
This exhaustion that we are feeling – as hard as it can be – can actually be a gift of God. It can provide incentive and space to recognize that our efforts – no matter how hard we try on our own – will not be enough. This weariness is an invitation – are we going to try to keep going as we have been, or do we enter into God’s presence and listen to what God might say to us?
Looking back at the text, we see that for Elijah food and rest were not enough. Elijah’s soul is still weary. Elijah is still done. Verse 10 gives us Elijah’s words: I have been very zealous for the Lord, for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life.”
God answers not by correcting Elijah but instead inviting Elijah to come further into God’s presence – to the mountain, the place where God dwells, for God is about to pass by.
First, there is a wind – so strong that it could shatter rocks – but the Lord was not in the wind.
And then there is an earthquake – but the Lord was not in the earthquake.
And then there is a fire – but the Lord was not in the fire.
And after the fire, there was sheer silence.
And when Elijah heard that, then he went to the mouth of the cave and he spoke to the LORD. Once again, he says the exact same words to God: “I have been zealous for the LORD, for the Israelites have forsaken you. I alone am left and they are seeking my life.”
Once again, the LORD does not correct Elijah. God doesn’t remind Elijah of his fellow prophet Obadiah. God doesn’t remind him of how the people had turned to God after God had sent fire from the sky to light the water-drenched altar. God doesn’t tell Elijah to change his tone and to come back when he sounds a lot less angry – to come back when he is more hopeful and trusting.
Each time Elijah speaks, God hears Elijah. Instead of God telling Elijah to work a little harder, God invites Elijah at this pivotal moment into recognizing the truth behind Elijah’s words. Elijah feels alone because he has been trying to do it alone. And he cannot do this on his own anymore. Elijah desperately needs God’s help.
When God responds to Elijah, God is agreeing with Elijah – yes, you are feeling alone. You must be exhausted. For you cannot follow God faithfully on your own strength.
And so God invites Elijah to trust God again and to imagine a new way of serving God – not on his own but with others. God provides a helper for Elijah in Elisha. God promises Elijah a new king, who will punish all those deserving of God’s judgment. Last of all, God reminds Elijah that he has never been alone – there are seven thousand in Israel who have not bowed down to Baal.
Like Elijah, we, too are invited to come into God’s presence. We are invited to bring all of our troubles to God and expect God’s comfort. We can let go of our own efforts of trying to do things on our own and instead accept God’s help, including through other people.
I invite you thus to join me this week in taking some time to bring your situation, your emotions, and whatever else might be troubling you to God. Be as honest as you’d like, as God can handle our complaints. And I pray that God will show us all where we might be trusting in our own strength and where we could use God’s grace and encouragement, including through other people.
And I believe that just like God shows up to Elijah, God will show up to us.
Perhaps God will show up through silence or through a windy walk, through thundering music, through a fiery conversation, or through meditating on a prayer or biblical text.
As God appears to you, may you know that you are not alone and that you do not need to do things on your own strength. God has provided us with people to help us and God’s grace and power are enough for us all.
In the name of the Creator, the Redeemer, and the Holy Spirit. Amen
– Brenda Kronemeijer-Heyink
Video: Taking Leave of the office
The following are prayers said as a formal way of saying good-bye to the ministry space at Wycliffe that Wine Before Breakfast and Graduate Christian Fellowship used for twenty-five years.
Prayer: Like Mary…
We share with you the following prayer by Amanda Jagt, in the hope that it will help you in creating space for the hope and joy that comes with Jesus’ coming.
Holy God,
like Mary, our lives have been changed this year;
after nine months, our hearts have given birth to many things:
frustration, acceptance, anger, futility,
contentment, sorrow, confusion, malaise.
Each day the night deepens further, and we wait.
Come, thou long-expected Jesus.
[Silent, spoken and written prayers of the heart]
Holy God,
‘tis the season of promises and fulfillment.
A child will be born unto us;
the lowly will be lifted up, the hungry fed,
all things made new.
And yet, like Mary we are restless, on the move;
we want to run into the arms of another,
we want to be greeted with joy,
we want to be reassured that all will indeed be well.
Each day the night deepens further, and we wait.
Come, thou long-expected Jesus.
[Silent, spoken and written prayers of need and struggle]
Holy God,
what is it that you call us to,
in this season of wants and wishes?
You call us to believe and so be blessed,
to believe, and so be fulfilled.
Help us to believe, O God,
with our hearts, our minds,
and in the work of our hands.
Each day the night deepens further, and we wait.
Come, thou long-expected Jesus.
[Silent, spoken and written prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving]
Holy God,
you made the night and declared it good.
And so, in the comfort of the night
our spirits sing of the wondrous things
that you bring to the ones who wait.
May you live into the coming of Jesus, and may you make space for whatever the Spirit is birthing in your life in this season.