If I’m struggling to make a decision, it’s usually because I’m distracted by scenarios of possible outcomes, other people’s expectations, worries and doubts. However, if I can stop ask myself that question – really, what am I looking for? – I can get back to the heart of the matter.

The story of Jesus’s baptism is a story about us too; the voice of God is meant for us too. God wants us to know that we’re beloved.

We don’t have a big, obvious sign in the sky inviting us forward, but if we look carefully, we can notice subtle signs of God leading us. As we move away from despair and anxiety and toward compassion, connection, and love, we are following God.

They are the holy family, not because their life was idyllic but because, despite their difficulties, they kept going, loving God and each other. One could even say their life was “unprecedented.” Except that it wasn’t. As Christmas goes, it was the first, but families have been living with uncertainty, disappointment, and loss since the dawn of time. Our broken and imperfect families are holy in our striving, not in our perfection. It’s God who makes us holy.

May we pray for what Mary had, her audacity or foolishness or courage, that made her say yes to God. May we, too, stay open to what God asks of us and risk when we’re called to.

What better time to bring about a revolution of joy than the season of Advent? Now is the time to push back against the darkness, resist despair, and proclaim hope. There’s no way to vaccinate ourselves against a pandemic of joylessness; we have to work hard to overcome it. In Gospel language, that means we must bring glad tidings to the poor, heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and announce a year of favor from God.

When it comes down to it, aren’t we all just children seeking comfort in the darkness? In this season, I feel soothed by the image of Christ’s mother preparing a way for him to enter the world in love and care and safety. I too open to the tender care of God, and then I can respond to God’s call for change and growth.

we open ourselves to deep gratitude, praising God in joy and thanksgiving, and then we notice our deepest longings and act on them. Our desire for more fuels us on to bring about the kingdom of God.

I can be kind of a troublemaker, possibly even a goat, but if I lose my way or climb a tree, Christ will still come after me. My call is show up for others too.

Being children of the light means shining a light on the work to be done – and doing it. We stay awake by staying woke, and staying woke is an ongoing process of growth and hard learnings and perseverance.

We each need to be attentive and responsible, open to God, and true to ourselves. If we discern well, we’ll know whether life circumstances call for generosity or for setting a boundary. So, be wise virgins, everyone. Strengthen your back and soften your heart and be attentive to the presence of God.

Who are the holy ones, both living and deceased, who can mentor us through our time of suffering? And who needs us to reach out and carry them a little as they struggle?

The term “neighbor” implies a mutuality in our relationship. It’s not me-and-them, but us, loving each other.

In the moment, I might not see how God is present, but I can look back on events and make meaning from what happened, and this meaning-making is as much the work of God as the circumstances themselves.

What would it be like to unveil ourselves, to free ourselves from assumptions and suspicions so that we see and love each other as we are? What would it be like to lay down our defenses and create a safe space for each other?

God doesn’t ask us to deny our heartbreaks, but God does want to protect us from the further harm that comes from ruminating on negativity. Equally real are the things that are of God, things which are true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, gracious, excellent, and worthy of praise.

Words are just words, but doing God’s will means saying yes when you mean yes and following that with the kinds of actions that also mean yes.

If God is within me but also grander than me, than all of us, than the universe, then I have somewhere outside of myself to find God. I have somewhere to seek when I’m in need and feeling the limits of my very insufficient humanity.

Which kind of anger am I embracing, nourishing, and putting out to the universe? Once I’m able to name the anger, how is God calling me to respond?

When I see care and compassion expressed in my communities of really unique people, I see how community is not about perfection but about love. I am incomplete on my own; I need to be in relationship to see God manifested. Even though communities are imperfect, God is present in them.