CHICAGO, IL (December 12, 2008) - John Weborg is Professor Emeritus of Theology at North Park Theological Seminary and a longtime columnist for The Covenant Companion. Today’s installment first appeared in December 1994.

By Dr. John Weborg

Theodosius Harnack, Luther scholar of note, said that for Luther the imperative was to have “God deep in the flesh.” Christmas celebrates just that: God deep in the flesh. So great was God’s longing for his creatures’ redemption, says Luther, that God’s preference for human nature over angelic nature might even have provoked the angels to jealousy! But Psalm 8 nudges that issue: what are human beings that you are mindful of them? They have been made a bit lower than angels, but crowned with glory and honor. A preference for humans: in that lies the Christmas gospel.

Preference translated into participation. God deep in the flesh. Deep in Mary’s womb. Peter Chrysologus, fifth-century bishop of Ravenna, tried to bend his mind around that act of condescension:

Truly blessed, for she was greater than heaven, Stronger than earth, Wider than the universe. She who welcomed in her womb The One whom the world cannot contain, The One who rules the universe. She became the mother of her creator, Nourished him who sustained all living things.

There is God in the flesh, thriving in a placenta, protected by a water bag, bouncing on a donkey ride to Bethlehem where his folks had to meet the local IRS. No different than any other baby at the time. While God preferred human nature to the angelic, God asked no human favors and got none. When inns are full they are full. Sleep where one can. God deep in the flesh became God deep in the straw. Mary, the mother of the Creator, sustained the one who sustained all the living.

About a century and a half after Luther, a German Pietist, Johann Albrecht Bengel, said that people need to climb up through the humanity of Christ to the divinity of Christ. That is why the gospel stories portray a Jesus not only deep in the flesh, but deep in the crowds, deep in controversy as he extended care to the same kind of people who visited him when he was deep in the straw. I mean people without civil rights like shepherds and total strangers like the Magi. Now he returns the favor: they visited him, representatives so to speak of humanity who found their consolation deep in the straw, the one for whom they had long been waiting. Now he plunges into human life to visit those whom shepherds and Magi represented. No one is off limits. The welcome that Mary and Joseph extended at the manger is now offered by their son. Mary trained him well! His humanity was the access point to God - God hidden deep in the flesh.

And finally, there is God deep in the grave, sharing the same earth from which all humans had been made in the first place. The story doesn’t end six feet under. Just as he shared a death like ours, so we will share a resurrection like his.

My new favorite quote (courtesy of Kara):

“Waiting is our destiny as creatures who cannot by themselves bring about what they hope for. We wait in the darkness for a flame we cannot light; we wait in fear for a happy ending we cannot write. We wait for a not yet that feels like a not ever. Waiting is the hardest work of hope.” - Lewis Smedes

This sentiment fits my life in so many seasonal and long-term ways right now that I can’t believe it! While I am no good at waiting, whether for Advent or anything else, I KNOW that it is indeed good to work on that practice - even good to embrace the tension that I feel while trying to wait. The reality that our creaturely-ness means that we cannot ultimately control what it is that matters, and what it is that we most long for, is one I will likely never tire of needing a reminder on. The truth is that I cannot bring about what I hope for - not really at least, and not in the way I would want to - and I alternately cannot seem to get away from deluding myself for short moments into believing that it is, after all, really up to me. Waiting, trust, hope, faith - good for the dark days of wintery advent, good for this woman’s soul all year round.

Advent: Hard Sayings: God With Us!

CHICAGO, IL (December 5, 2008) - John Weborg is Professor Emeritus of Theology at North Park Theological Seminary and a longtime columnist for The Covenant Companion. This installment first appeared in December 1993.

By Dr. John Weborg

Annie Dillard says that, “It is the fault of infinity to be too small to find.” Might it also be the fault of God to be too small to find? That a person needs to look once, twice, even three times before one can find God, nearly always more hidden than revealed? Like Luther said, “God on the straw,” overshadowed by his parents, dwarfed by animals, swallowed by a cave. Too small to find.

In even more provocative speech, Luther said that if we had been at the city well in Nazareth, and Jesus had come to get water, whether for Mary to cook with or Joseph to use in carpentry, we could either say, “there goes Jesus carrying a bucket of water, or “there goes God carrying a bucket of water.” Both would be correct. Is it the fault of God to be too small to be found? Is it also the fault of God to be too hidden, too overshadowed, too dwarfed, too swallowed up in something else to be found?

“As Paul Tillich said, Christianity started in the cemetery, not at the cradle.”

It isn’t only Christmas that possesses this issue. What about the irony of God overwhelmed by a political system that put him to death? In a way, the cross dwarfed him – imagine, God strung up on a cross. And the grave swallowed him - the big black hole of death consumed him in its voracious appetite to prove that life cannot win and that love, if disappointed long enough and disillusioned repeatedly, will give in to the obvious: the foolishness of committing oneself to anyone or anything.

But then, as Paul Tillich said, Christianity started in the cemetery, not at the cradle. Might it be the fault of God to be too hidden, always seeming to show up under opposites - in straw, on a cross, in a tomb, yes, even stalking cemeteries? God shows up where God is most needed, not as the stoic observer or as the hero showing up at the last minute, greedy for glory and gluttonous for gain. This God in Jesus, carrying buckets of water, washing the feet of others, touching lepers, enjoying meals with outcasts, praying for his killers - this God appears too small to find and too hidden to be helpful.

Wherever the need is the greatest, the testing severe, the pressure enormous, and someone comes along to pick up the load with us, it is the same God in Christ who carried buckets of water, showing that it is not the fault, but the genius and gift of the Infinite to be so small as almost not to be found. Those whom he joins along the way often feel that small anyway.

The season of advent has already begun! It’s one of my favorite times each year and one marked by preparing, waiting, and listening. I think I welcome advent as a structured, seasonal time because preparing, waiting and listening are often activities that I have a hard time doing, but long to do more of because they are so good for me. Intentionally doing these activities puts me in a posture where I slow down, I remember where my identity truly comes from, and I can prioritize life again.

I find myself jumping into advent this year from a too-full schedule and feeling behind, unorganized and un-centered. All the more reason for me to stop, breathe deeper and slower, carve out some time to wait and prepare, and try to listen and re-center around the amazing truth of Emmanuel-God with us.

One of my favorite resources (for Advent and throughout the year) is the Center for Lived Theology - here is their first week of Advent reflections:

Advent: a Season of Waiting We spend much of our lives waiting; waiting is at the heart of our human condition. Often we get tired of waiting. Sometimes our waiting is filled with dread. Sometimes we joyfully anticipate the happy conclusion of our waiting.

All of us are, consciously or not, waiting for God. Every unfulfilled, increased or new desire is an echo of our deepest longing for ultimate fulfillment in the God whose daily coming is always more than we can take in, and whose coming will only be fully experienced at the end of our lives and our world.

Advent takes us to the spiritual heart of our waiting. Let us wait with the confidence that Jesus himself is coming. Let us wait like Elizabeth, “filled with the holy Spirit” (Luke 1:41), like Mary, living a life that “proclaims the greatness of the Lord” (Luke 1:46) and with the faith that the coming of Christ will renew us, transform us and raise us to the joy of his kingdom!

“In your mercy keep us free from sin and protect us from all anxiety as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” –a prayer from the Roman Catholic mass

Walking in Darkness, Yet Seeking Light Lord Jesus, Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas.

We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day.

We who are anxious over so many things look forward to your coming among us.

We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom.

We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence.

We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking light. To you we say, “Come, Lord Jesus.” Amen. —Henri Nouwen

One of my new favorite songs is all about hope and renewal; here are the lyrics to “The Sun Will Rise” by Brendan James:

The sun will rise the sun will save me The sun will change me change the way I feel The day will make this heart a fortune from the fruit of a hundred orchards From the water rivers bring

The sun will rise the sun will save me from the night the sun will change me Change the way I feel I’ve had enough of the hard and harder times are tough and I’ve drifted farther Farther from myself

I won’t dwell baby on my failures It won’t help baby it won’t bring changes I won’t run baby when all I want is to run I won’t forget the morning’s sure to come

The sun will rise the sun will save me from then night the sun will change me Change the way I feel The love I want the love I need is sure to come is sure to lead me Lead me home again

The light is low the night is burning, my head is still but my mind is turning Turning round again If only I can make it through this lonely night if I can do this If I can drift away

Then the sun will rise the sun will save me from the night the sun will change me Change the way I feel