Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor
Here's a video of a song called "Snow" by Sleeping at Last. It's a great Christmas song, particularly if you love the movie, "It's A Wonderful Life." It has a lot of allusions and nods to the movie including the line, "Like the petals in our pockets may we remember who we are." (Speaking of Snow, will we have a white Christmas? I do not remember one from NC in my entire life. We've had rain and we've had 70 degree days, but no snow. Could this be the year?) Enjoy:
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, December 20, 2010
The Death of Life
Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor
This is one of my all time favorite quotes on Advent. It comes from Augustine and I think it captures the mystery of the Incarnation perfectly:
Children/Communications Pastor
This is one of my all time favorite quotes on Advent. It comes from Augustine and I think it captures the mystery of the Incarnation perfectly:
Man's maker was made man that He, ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother's breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that Truth might be accused of false witness, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
That Holy Thing
That Holy Thing
by George MacDonald
They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high;
Thou cam'st, a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.
O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail!
My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou may'st answer all my need-
Yea, every bygone prayer.
by George MacDonald
They all were looking for a king
To slay their foes and lift them high;
Thou cam'st, a little baby thing
That made a woman cry.
O Son of Man, to right my lot
Naught but Thy presence can avail;
Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,
Nor on the sea Thy sail!
My how or when Thou wilt not heed,
But come down Thine own secret stair,
That Thou may'st answer all my need-
Yea, every bygone prayer.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Highway Hypnosis
Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor
Me: "I have no idea where we are."
Kristi: "We're on Bells Lake/Hilltop Needmore/Optimist Farm/etc. Your turn is coming up at the next light."
For some reason, I tend to zone out in my thoughts when I'm driving, especially when I'm traveling those old back country roads heading home (I guess they're not so country anymore, but they used to be). All of those bends and turns in the road tend to blend together and look the same in my subconscious. I literally will suddenly come out of my reverie and have absolutely no clue where I am. Dangerous, I know. I'm sure you're excited to be on the same road as I am. Fortunately, Kristi always knows where we are so if she's with me in the car I'm in luck. If not, it might take me a few minutes to remember where I am, where I'm coming from, and where I'm going.
They warned us about this in Driver's Ed. I don't know how you did it in your day, but I took the one-week class during summer after my Junior Year of High School. In between all of the videos of accidents they showed us, my instructor told us about a mysterious phenomenon called highway hypnosis. It sounded like a bunch of mystical mumbo-jumbo at the time, but I was wrong.
I have been the victim of highway hypnosis over the years many times, and not always on the highways! Country roads, back roads, dirt roads, alleyways, it doesn't matter. The hypnosis sucks you in: the cars flying by, the yellow lines, the trees all a blur.
The concept of highway hypnosis got me thinking seriously about a few verses from Scripture. The first is from Hebrews 12:
"Therefore, since we also have such a large crowd of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of God's throne."
Also, from Proverbs 4:
"Let your eyes look forward;
fix your gaze straight ahead.
Carefully consider the path for your feet,
and all your ways will be established."
I really wish that I was so into Jesus that it would be literally impossible for me to take my thoughts off of Him. That my heart would be constantly in tune with God's heart, and that His love would so consume my waking hours that I would be immune to distractions. Not that Christ would hypnotize me or that I'm out in some la-la land (like I get when I'm driving), but I'm compelled because of the Cross to fix my gaze straight ahead, to carefully consider the paths that I walk on, and to keep my eyes on Him. Wouldn't that be awesome?
Children/Communications Pastor
Me: "I have no idea where we are."
Kristi: "We're on Bells Lake/Hilltop Needmore/Optimist Farm/etc. Your turn is coming up at the next light."
For some reason, I tend to zone out in my thoughts when I'm driving, especially when I'm traveling those old back country roads heading home (I guess they're not so country anymore, but they used to be). All of those bends and turns in the road tend to blend together and look the same in my subconscious. I literally will suddenly come out of my reverie and have absolutely no clue where I am. Dangerous, I know. I'm sure you're excited to be on the same road as I am. Fortunately, Kristi always knows where we are so if she's with me in the car I'm in luck. If not, it might take me a few minutes to remember where I am, where I'm coming from, and where I'm going.
They warned us about this in Driver's Ed. I don't know how you did it in your day, but I took the one-week class during summer after my Junior Year of High School. In between all of the videos of accidents they showed us, my instructor told us about a mysterious phenomenon called highway hypnosis. It sounded like a bunch of mystical mumbo-jumbo at the time, but I was wrong.
I have been the victim of highway hypnosis over the years many times, and not always on the highways! Country roads, back roads, dirt roads, alleyways, it doesn't matter. The hypnosis sucks you in: the cars flying by, the yellow lines, the trees all a blur.
The concept of highway hypnosis got me thinking seriously about a few verses from Scripture. The first is from Hebrews 12:
"Therefore, since we also have such a large crowd of witnesses surrounding us, let us lay aside every weight and the sin that so easily ensnares us, and run with endurance the race that lies before us, keeping our eyes on Jesus, the source and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that lay before Him endured a cross and despised the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of God's throne."
Also, from Proverbs 4:
"Let your eyes look forward;
fix your gaze straight ahead.
Carefully consider the path for your feet,
and all your ways will be established."
I really wish that I was so into Jesus that it would be literally impossible for me to take my thoughts off of Him. That my heart would be constantly in tune with God's heart, and that His love would so consume my waking hours that I would be immune to distractions. Not that Christ would hypnotize me or that I'm out in some la-la land (like I get when I'm driving), but I'm compelled because of the Cross to fix my gaze straight ahead, to carefully consider the paths that I walk on, and to keep my eyes on Him. Wouldn't that be awesome?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Prophets
Prophets
by Ann Porter
Once in the Advent season
When I was walking down
A narrow street
I met a flock of children
Who all came running up to me
Saying that they were prophets
And for a penny they
Would prophesy
I gave them each a penny
They started out
By rummaging in trash-cans
Until they found
A ragged piece of silk
It's blue, they said
Blue is a holy color
Blue is the color that
The mountains are
When they are far away
They laid the rag
On a small fire
Of newspaper and shavings
And burned it in the street
They scraped up all the ashes
And with them decorated
Each other's faces
Then they ran back to me
And stood
In a circle 'round me
We stood that way
In a solemn silence
Until
One of the children spoke
It was the prophecy!
He said that long before
The pear tree blossoms
Or sparrows in the hedges
Begin to sing
A Child will be our King.
by Ann Porter
Once in the Advent season
When I was walking down
A narrow street
I met a flock of children
Who all came running up to me
Saying that they were prophets
And for a penny they
Would prophesy
I gave them each a penny
They started out
By rummaging in trash-cans
Until they found
A ragged piece of silk
It's blue, they said
Blue is a holy color
Blue is the color that
The mountains are
When they are far away
They laid the rag
On a small fire
Of newspaper and shavings
And burned it in the street
They scraped up all the ashes
And with them decorated
Each other's faces
Then they ran back to me
And stood
In a circle 'round me
We stood that way
In a solemn silence
Until
One of the children spoke
It was the prophecy!
He said that long before
The pear tree blossoms
Or sparrows in the hedges
Begin to sing
A Child will be our King.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Advent Summons
Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor
Another Advent Poem...
Advent Summons
by Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C.
Come forth from the holy place,
Sweet Child,
Come from the quiet dark
where virginal heartbeats
Tick your moments.
Come away from the red music
Of Mary's veins.
Come out from the Tower of David
Sweet Child,
From the House of Gold.
Leave your lily-cloister,
Leave your holy mansion,
Quit your covenant ark.
O Child, be born!
Be born, sweet Child,
in our unholy hearts.
Come to our trembling,
Helpless Child.
Come to our littleness,
Little Child,
Be born unto us
Who have kept the faltering vigil.
Be given, be born,
Be ours again.
Come forth from your holy haven,
Come away from your perfect shrine,
Come to our wind-racked souls
From the flawless tent,
Sweet Child.
Be born, little Child,
in our unholy hearts.
Children/Communications Pastor
Another Advent Poem...
Advent Summons
by Mother Mary Francis, P.C.C.
Come forth from the holy place,
Sweet Child,
Come from the quiet dark
where virginal heartbeats
Tick your moments.
Come away from the red music
Of Mary's veins.
Come out from the Tower of David
Sweet Child,
From the House of Gold.
Leave your lily-cloister,
Leave your holy mansion,
Quit your covenant ark.
O Child, be born!
Be born, sweet Child,
in our unholy hearts.
Come to our trembling,
Helpless Child.
Come to our littleness,
Little Child,
Be born unto us
Who have kept the faltering vigil.
Be given, be born,
Be ours again.
Come forth from your holy haven,
Come away from your perfect shrine,
Come to our wind-racked souls
From the flawless tent,
Sweet Child.
Be born, little Child,
in our unholy hearts.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The Risk of Birth
Nathan Stam
Children/Communications Pastor
I thought I'd kick off December and the Advent season with an Advent poem from Madeleine L'Engle (probably best known for her A Wrinkle in Time series). I'll try to post some more of these as Christmas approaches.
The Risk of Birth (Christmas, 1973)
Madeleine L'Engle
This is no time for a child to be born,
with the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.
That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour and truth were trampled by scorn-
Yet here did the Saviour make His home.
When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn-
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.
Children/Communications Pastor
I thought I'd kick off December and the Advent season with an Advent poem from Madeleine L'Engle (probably best known for her A Wrinkle in Time series). I'll try to post some more of these as Christmas approaches.
The Risk of Birth (Christmas, 1973)
Madeleine L'Engle
This is no time for a child to be born,
with the earth betrayed by war and hate
And a comet slashing the sky to warn
That time runs out and the sun burns late.
That was no time for a child to be born,
In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;
Honour and truth were trampled by scorn-
Yet here did the Saviour make His home.
When is the time for love to be born?
The inn is full on the planet earth,
And by a comet the sky is torn-
Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.
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