ADVENT:
A CALENDAR
OF
DEVOTIONS
2020
JENNY SMITH
ADVENT: A CALENDAR OF DEVOTIONS 2020
Copyright © 2020 by Abingdon Press
All rights reserved.
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Scripture quotations are taken from the Common English Bible, copyright 2011. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT
Sunday, November 29
If only you would tear open the heavens and come down!
Mountains would quake before you like fire igniting brushwood or making water boil.
—Isaiah 64:1-2
The author of our text today makes an emboldened plea for God to come close and make things right. We’re reminded of God’s glory and faithfulness and of our very human response to wither like leaves, to wander away, and to ignore the One who created us.
Many journeys begin with this realization: I want to be over there. “Over there” may mean a new state or country. It may mean a new phase in a relationship. Or maybe it’s on the other side of confronting a difficult truth. Either way, we realize that our current situation is not enough, and now we can’t unsee it; we must go.
Advent offers us the opportunity to confront our nature. In the busyness of this season ahead, we intentionally make room for quiet and reflection. We ask new questions. We challenge our assumptions. And to begin this journey, we’re invited to name the awkward truth that we wither, we wander, and we ignore God. A lot. We don’t bother to hold on to God.
Take a moment to gaze upon your life in this season. Where do you feel alive? Celebrate with God. Where are you stuck? Hold on to it with love. Where is your fear extra loud lately? Talk to God about it. You are beginning a journey deeper in God’s love this Advent. Let’s go together!
Closing Prayer: God, I begin this journey with a little unease, a few awkward truths, and an insistent desire to welcome you in my life in a new way. Come close, O God.
Monday, November 30
But now, LORD, you are our father.
We are the clay, and you are our potter.
All of us are the work of your hand.
Don’t rage so fiercely, LORD;
don’t hold our sins against us forever,
but gaze now on your people, all of us.
—Isaiah 64:8-9
Imagine yourself as a lump of clay in a dusty corner. Maybe you feel stuck, abandoned, lonely. But then someone walks over and gently picks you up. You sense their curiosity about what you might become. Apprehension and anxious curiosity rise in you. “Do I want to become what this person is going to create? What if it hurts? What if I’m not on board?” But alas, you’re along for the ride. This potter seems to have an idea in mind, and you surrender in your spirit to what’s about to unfold.
The potter gently sets you on the wheel. Tools are ready, water softens the space, the machine whirs to life. You anticipate the molding and reshaping. You lose parts of yourself. They drop to the floor. As the potter’s hands lovingly bend and shape you into something new, fear melts into peace. You feel held and supported in a stronger way than you could ever manage on your own.
The potter appears to come to a stopping place. You feel their gaze as they walk around you in a circle, stopping to look and assess this new creation. Then you feel it. You anticipated judgment or criticism, but the potter is looking at you with astonished wonder. With joy! With deep love. You are the work of someone who knows what they’re doing.
This Advent, our hearts are invited to take a similar journey. God so lovingly sits with us in our fear and spends time with us this month. We’re invited to surrender and invite the Divine to mold us and shape us into a new creation. Are we ready for the work ahead? Are we willing for parts of us to be removed because they no longer serve our abundant life? Do we trust the One who made us?
As you go about your day, pause to receive the gaze of God. It’s given with deep love and compassion, not a critical eye. You’re fully loved today before you do anything. You can’t earn more of God’s love this day. It’s awaiting you, my friend. May it feel like coming home.
Closing Prayer: God, help me see you as the potter today. Breathe new life into the dusty corners of my heart. I am yours.
Tuesday, December 1
Shepherd of Israel, listen!
You, the one who leads Joseph as if he were a sheep.
You, who are enthroned upon the winged heavenly creatures.
Show yourself before Ephraim, Benjamin, and Manasseh!
Wake up your power!
Come to save us!
Restore us, God!
Make your face shine so that we can be saved!
LORD God of heavenly forces,
how long will you fume against your people’s prayer?
You’ve fed them bread made of tears;
you’ve given them tears to drink three times over!
You’ve put us at odds with our neighbors;
our enemies make fun of us.
Restore us, God of heavenly forces!
Make your face shine so that we can be saved!
—Psalm 80:1-7
When my five-year-old wants something, he says it. And to be honest, he’s not really asking. He demands. He pleads. He cries out. As an adult, I balk at the simplicity of his demand. “Child, don’t you know life doesn’t work that way? We care about people’s feelings, we ask respectfully, and we patiently wait for an answer.” Do you think that answer satisfies him? No way.
But when it comes to conversations with the One who made us, my son is on to something. King David was too. The language in our psalm for today is direct, pleading, and passionate. David didn’t beat around the bush or dance around the question. David was frustrated, angry, and disappointed.
Do you notice how many active verbs are in this text? Listen. Show yourself. Wake up. Come. Restore. These are demands from the heart of a desperately searching man. And they can be our words too. Sometimes we’re too