the second sunday of advent
the PRAYER. . .
Stir up our hearts, Lord God, to prepare the way of your only Son. By his coming give to all the people of the world knowledge of your salvation; through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.
the READING. . .
[John] went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness…”
the DEVOTION. . .
Last Sunday evening, I was with Sherice, over at the church building. She was finishing up a project for work; I was keeping her company – and, at the same time, working on today’s devotion. Meanwhile, just two doors down, Midland Chin Immanuel Church was singing songs and saying prayers and preaching the word! With drums and electric guitars and keyboard! Even with the doors closed, we could hear it! And somewhere along the way, I saw that phrase, again: The voice of one crying out! Crying out just like this! Just like them!
But throughout my life, I’m realizing, there’s been very little “crying out.” At least, as far as believing is concerned. Valleys were filled, to be sure. Mountains made low. The crooked straightened. But it’s, always, been quiet, hushed. Like anyone, I’ve listened for the windstorms and the earthquakes and the fires. But god’s still, small voice, it seems, can be heard only in sheer silence. Nothing shouted. Nothing screamed. Never more than a whisper. A sigh. The voice of one crying out? Hardly. For me, it’s always been nothing more than god’s fingertips brushing against the sky.
Bob Barndt, pastor