Advent Devotional

Written for the 509 Community, based on II John 1:4-6

In just a couple of days, I will see Redwoods for the first time. Ever since I learned about these massive trees, I’ve dreamt about standing beneath them. There is something mightily sacred about the hundreds of years represented in those ancient giants, and I just want to be a part of it.

Our culture might value innovation, but we cannot forget our roots.

I think that is what John is getting at in this passage. I read II John 1:4-6 as an urgent whisper to those who have grown cold. He wants the reader to know that this is nothing new. It’s as old as Moses- older even. It’s from The Beginning. I imagine him leaning in close to the desk, eyes flashing across as the paper (or papyrus or whatever) as he writes, “Remember.”

And what is the root of roots?
That we love one another.
Even when we don’t feel like it.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it seems there is nothing to love.
Even when they don’t love us.

Don’t forget.

John reminds us because we need to be reminded. We are so good at justifying indifference, that insect-apathy works its way into our branches.

Brothers and Sisters, let us be pruned. The roots of our faith are deep. We will regrow what we have lost.

God of Adam,
You bring all things into being and sustain them with your mighty power. We praise you for your patience with an imperfect creation and confess our need for rescue. Save us from our hardened hearts. We want to love as you love.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost; As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be: world without end. Amen.

-Rachel Whitehurst

Advent Devotional 2

Written for 509 Community, based on Philippians 3:4-14

I am what is called a “process artist.” My favorite creative outlets involve steps- image development, layered painting techniques, crafting a ceramic piece...etc. It has been 4 years since I’ve had my hands in clay, but when I read this passage from Philippians, I couldn’t help but think of forming, drying, and firing it.

Isaiah 64:8 (and tons of other places in Scripture) uses the analogy of a potter and clay to describe our relationship with God. We all begin as mud. It takes a death of fire to perfect us. Even if a piece looks perfect, until it’s put through the kiln, it’s extremely fragile.  It’s unfinished.

We can bear the appearance of Christ, but until we become like him in dying to ourselves, we aren’t truly following him. In the Philippians passage, Paul talks about how he counts all of his religious accomplishments as loss in comparison to his life lived in fellowship with Christ. None of it mattered until he gave up just existing for himself.

We can say the right things, and even do the right things, but it does matter what we are doing them for. The difference is between bearing the fragile appearance of Christ, or actually being like him.

We must “forget what lies behind and reach forward to what lies ahead.” We must “press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.” It’s about orientation. Rather than face the potter’s wheel where we discovered our beauty, we must face the cross of the kiln. Our beauty is still present, but now we are strong enough to be used. No longer are we just for show, we can be filled and emptied without breaking.

Holy and perfect Jesus,

We thank you for your death. We praise you for your Spirit that enables us to die as well. We confess that we are prone to the narcissism of pride and the narcissism of self-loathing. Mold us, Heavenly Father, to be like Christ not only in appearance, but also in spirit. May we decrease that you may increase.

For Your Glory alone, Amen.

-Rachel Whitehurst