This is a profound mystery—Christ feeds and cares for the church; He loves the church so much that he gave himself up for her.

Submission is not a word we like to hear. It sounds harsh; it sounds restricting. But maybe that’s because we’ve got it wrong. We think: I’m weak; therefore, I submit. I’m conquered; therefore, I submit. I’m commanded; therefore, I submit.

In other words, we submit because we are forced to submit. We are forced by circumstance, society, or even the Bible, and so we submit.

BUT…

I love; therefore, I submit.

That’s what Christ does.

Christ submitted to me, and not because I could make him. I couldn’t, and I can’t. Christ loved, so He submitted.

It is a profound mystery. Inexplicable. Unknowable. Yet, it is.

The beauty of the Gospel is found in this mystery. Don’t try to dissect this love. Don’t over-analyze and over-process this love. Bask in it. Marvel in it. Accept it, and live in it.

I love; therefore, I submit.

What do you think about submission and love in all of your relationships (God, spouse, parents, children, friends, coworkers, etc.)? Leave a comment below.

However, in this week, we’ve been focusing on love-the advent of love. And each night I’ve been reminded of the power of light. When I first started this journey, the one lit candle signifying hope didn’t even cast enough light by which to read the Scripture. Now I light four candles every night, and the light shines throughout the house. But I didn’t notice until love.

Hope…Peace…Joy…I’m glad it doesn’t end there. The greatest of these is love. The light has grown stronger each week; and, in the same way, our lives shine brighter when hope, peace, joy, and love are evident in our lives.

Early this week millions watched as a total lunar eclipse occurred on the longest night of the year. And while I gazed into the sky I couldn’t help but think of the power of light.

That’s the beauty of Advent. Light, both Christ’s and ours.

Preferential treatment always feels good, at least to the person receiving it. Did you ever get the bigger bowl of ice cream? Were you ever the teacher’s pet? Or maybe you were picked first for the team. It always felt good as a kid. You were special. You were special because someone thought you were special. It even feels good as an adult.

There is so much focus on fairness. Someone how we’ve come to believe that justice and equality mean being fair. But I don’t think that’s true. Fairness is a myth. In reality, I can’t treat everyone fairly, but the myth of fairness keeps me from acting at all. Because I can only do for one, I end up doing for none. I love that Christ restores justice and equality, but I’m not sure he makes it all fair. In fact, Christ isn’t fair. Is it fair that I, living in America, enjoy a rich lifestyle compared with the rest of the world? Christ saves both me and the person living in sub-Saharan Africa, but that doesn’t mean we live fairly. Is it fair that I have served Christ my entire life while others deny him up until just before their last breath, yet we both enjoy Him eternally? No. It’s not fair, yet it is just and equal. Christ didn’t and doesn’t make things fair.

Moreover, is it fair that I couldn’t pay the price for my sin so Christ did? No. I receive preferential treatment. God preferred me above Himself. And that’s the secret of joy. We wait for the coming of joy; but instead of listlessly waiting, let’s invite joy and force it’s appearance. Extend preferential treatment.

One of my memory verses as a child was from the King James version of Romans 12:10, and it has stuck with me. It says prefer one another. I love that. Give preferential treatment. Everyone, young and old, gets this. Preferring someone gives them joy, and, mysteriously, brings us joy. Being fair will rob you of the joy of Christmas, because you can’t give to everyone (including yourself) you give to no one. Being fair will rob you of joy the other 364 days also.

Joy comes when you give preferential treatment.

The person who is most joyful by themselves is missing the fullness of joy. Just like the person who claims they connect best with God by themselves and don’t need church. It’s not complete. Paul’s joy was made complete when the believers came together. In the same way, your joy is made complete with other people.

Hopes should be confessed. Peace should be…made/felt (if anyone can find the word I’m looking for it ends with a similar sound). And joy must be expressed.

What do you think? How do you express joy? And what’s the word I’m looking for?

Joy is a choice. Going to the gym is a choice. Going to the gym requires discipline, and so does joy. I hope my joy-discipline is better than my gym-discipline.

Other people help you, just like the gym. They can’t do it for you, but the help you.

These are random thoughts after a full day and accompanied by a head cold. But I choose joy. I choose joy because I can. And I choose joy because it’s better than the alternative.

How are you choosing joy this week?

So what have I learned? Peace is hard. Zephaniah defines peace as being content with who you are and being content with where you are (Zeph. 3:13, MSG). Pretty good definition, yet seems opposed in some ways to hope.

Aren’t our hopes born out if discontentment? Even holy discontentment? Wasn’t Habakkuk’s vision received in response to Habakkuk’s complaint?

Paul says he learned to be content in all circumstances, be thankful in every circumstance, and be joyful always. But did it take multiple beatings, rejections, and near-death experiences to learn it? That’s quite a price to pay, but is it worth it?

It’s easy to want what someone has, but most people don’t want what it took to get it.

So I’m no where. Just wondering. Searching. Asking.

I’m hopeful. For a lot of things. And I’m hopeful for peace. And for tonight that will have to be enough.

I’m kind of glad tomorrow begins a focus on joy; yet I am also concerned that these things may get progressively more challenging.

Peace still seems to be elusive, but my thinking right now revolves around the idea that peace is something that is fought for. It is something that is made. Why else would God bless peaceMAKERS?

I’ve wanted to be a peacemaker, but I’ve also always considered it a third-party job. Peacemakers are mediators or arbitrators. Someone from the outside stepping in. But I think God is blessing those who choose to make peace in the circumstances of which they are intimately involved.

I haven’t learned how to do that. The fight for peace seems to create more chaos/activity/restlessness in my life. Yet if I wait for someone or something outside to step in to be peacemaker…

Not there yet. Still learning. What do you think? Is peace war? How do you make peace without getting caught up in the frenzy of the making?

The problem with trying to control all your issues is that there are too many issues with too many facets to ever be at peace. I read a verse last week that has been working it’s way into my soul. Sometimes the things have God continue to bore through our harden exteriors until they reach the softened heart. This verse has been doing that; it reads, “Live carefree before God; he is most careful with you” (1 Peter 5:7, MSG). I can be carefree with God because He is being careful with me. I can have peace because the Omniscient Ancient of Days has established his kingdom and I am a part of it.

I’m anticipating a challenging but very rewarding time letting God weave peace into the fabric of my being.

At first you might think it’s something like, “Thus sayeth the Lord,” (maybe in a deep Charlton Heston or James Earl Jones voice); the angel didn’t say, “Me and God know what you did last summer,” (which would scare most of us even without the B-rated horror movie). There are a million scarier things that I can think of that the angel might have said. But these were his words, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.”

Now, I haven’t done any research on this portion of Scripture, as to why these words may trouble her, and, although I’ve heard sermons on it before, I can’t seem to remember them now. So tonight as I heard this story I thought, “Maybe Mary has never been greeted like that. Ever.” She probably didn’t grow up hearing that she could be whatever she wanted to be. She could be a ballet dancer, a doctor, or even President. She wasn’t highly favored; and the reason she knew she wasn’t was because no one had ever told her she was.

The people who are highly favored seem to have the highest hopes. But they didn’t just wake up feeling that way. Someone told them they were. Someone told them they were gifted. Someone told them the were smart. Someone told them that opportunities awaited them. And strangely enough they believed it.

Your words matter. A simple greeting matters. You have the ability to speak the seeds of hope into someone’s life. The drug addict. The unemployed. The abused. The lonely. The poor, simple young woman about to find out she’s pregnant.

You may not be able to give someone hope. But your words plant the seeds. Sow well.

In other words, I don’t need evidence or inclination or previous experience to hope. I can hope.

But it isn’t hope that pleases God; it’s faith. I can hope for almost anything and everything, but not so with faith. In order to move from hope to faith I narrow down and provide substance. It doesn’t have to from within me. The substance can be from God or from others. But faith needs substance. 

The point of Advent is not to just hope for a God-With-Us Savior, but, instead, to transform our hope to faith, to go from Advent (waiting) to Christmas (celebrating).

As this first week begins to wind down, I wonder what hopes will be transformed to faith. What things will I begin to give substance, moving them closer to reality?