In the beginning,
Was the Word. And the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him was not anything made that was made. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. In Him there was life, and the life was the light of men. When I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me.
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples, but the Lord will arise upon you, and His glory will be seen upon you. And nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your rising.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, yet the world did not know Him. He had no form or majesty that we should look at Him, and no beauty that we should desire Him. He came to His own, and His own people did not receive Him. He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces He was despised, and we esteemed Him not.
But to all who did receive Him, who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.
And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. And we all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. At one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.
Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For unto us a child is born.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Saturday, December 20, 2008
The Word became flesh
One of my little friends came in the bookstore again today. While her father and uncle browsed, we played house. She was the mother and I was the daughter, and she told me to play with the cars, but I wanted to play with the train. I tried to get her to stop clunking up and down the stairs, creating vibrations that were perhaps not good for our neighbors, by whispering to her that we had to be secret. The next time she came back, she whispered, “I was secret, but Mario saw me!”
And I nodded and listened as she chattered on to me about her household chores and what I needed to do, marveling at the ease and beauty with which she dropped in the participle “ne” in right spot. I can never get that one right. And I tripped over my words in responding to her—was the mele il or la? But she rolled off masculine and feminine articles left and right without any of the hesitation and consequent vague mumbling I threw in.
For some reason it makes me laugh to hear children one-sixth of my age dropping “ne”s everywhere (I use those when I want to show off), or seriously urging another to be careful, “mi raccomando,” a phrase I can never quite get the gist of. “Arrivo subito,” my friend told me this morning, and I laughed. Does everyone here have to learn Italian?
Children are the most patient teachers. They don’t raise a fuss if you make a mistake, just wait till you’ve figured out what you’re trying to say and move on from there. They take mistakes so matter-of-factly, without the smug little grin even the nicest adults can’t help letting slip every once in awhile when you say something stupid. Children just have a lot less of that self-importance we adults have let grow up around our images. No silly pride.
“Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” said Jesus. He knew.
The word became flesh, and learned to speak.
Can you imagine? The one who spoke the universe into existence, stuttering through the Aramaic equivalent of the difference between “angry” and “hungry”. “Angry,” he would say. “No, dear, ‘hungry,’ Mary would respond, until he finally got it.
I had a “conversation” the other day with certain believers who don’t celebrate Christmas. “Jesus didn’t stay a baby,” they said, “So it’s his death and resurrection that are important for us, not his birth.”
“But it is important!” I argued at my mirror later. “His birth as a human baby is part of his humbling, proof of his love; that God became a man.”
“Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven,” this man said.
“He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing…Therefore, God exalted Him, and gave Him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, on heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father,” says the Scripture.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given;And the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be calledWonderful Counselor, Mighty God,Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.
He has another name: Immanuel, God is with us. Let us adore him.
And I nodded and listened as she chattered on to me about her household chores and what I needed to do, marveling at the ease and beauty with which she dropped in the participle “ne” in right spot. I can never get that one right. And I tripped over my words in responding to her—was the mele il or la? But she rolled off masculine and feminine articles left and right without any of the hesitation and consequent vague mumbling I threw in.
For some reason it makes me laugh to hear children one-sixth of my age dropping “ne”s everywhere (I use those when I want to show off), or seriously urging another to be careful, “mi raccomando,” a phrase I can never quite get the gist of. “Arrivo subito,” my friend told me this morning, and I laughed. Does everyone here have to learn Italian?
Children are the most patient teachers. They don’t raise a fuss if you make a mistake, just wait till you’ve figured out what you’re trying to say and move on from there. They take mistakes so matter-of-factly, without the smug little grin even the nicest adults can’t help letting slip every once in awhile when you say something stupid. Children just have a lot less of that self-importance we adults have let grow up around our images. No silly pride.
“Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,” said Jesus. He knew.
The word became flesh, and learned to speak.
Can you imagine? The one who spoke the universe into existence, stuttering through the Aramaic equivalent of the difference between “angry” and “hungry”. “Angry,” he would say. “No, dear, ‘hungry,’ Mary would respond, until he finally got it.
I had a “conversation” the other day with certain believers who don’t celebrate Christmas. “Jesus didn’t stay a baby,” they said, “So it’s his death and resurrection that are important for us, not his birth.”
“But it is important!” I argued at my mirror later. “His birth as a human baby is part of his humbling, proof of his love; that God became a man.”
“Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven,” this man said.
“He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing…Therefore, God exalted Him, and gave Him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, on heaven, and on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father,” says the Scripture.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given;And the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be calledWonderful Counselor, Mighty God,Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.
He has another name: Immanuel, God is with us. Let us adore him.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
More English Follies
From my dearly beloved students:
(trying to say, "I enjoyed myself") "I am amusing."
Then: "Christmas morning, we discard our presents..." (who knows why the dictionary has both "discard" and "unwrap" for the same word)
(reading the Christmas story in English, and trying to translate to herself in Italian): "Mary kept all these things in her...ear?!!! ("heart" and "ear" are kind of a difficult distinction sometimes.)
(trying to say, "I enjoyed myself") "I am amusing."
Then: "Christmas morning, we discard our presents..." (who knows why the dictionary has both "discard" and "unwrap" for the same word)
(reading the Christmas story in English, and trying to translate to herself in Italian): "Mary kept all these things in her...ear?!!! ("heart" and "ear" are kind of a difficult distinction sometimes.)
Friday, December 12, 2008
between the wishing and the coming true
"Buon compleanno! E tanti auguri per un giorno con molti...surprises," said my temporary-roomie Deborah yesterday morning, while I was still thinking about how to turn off the alarm without reaching out from under the blankets.
"Yes, that's just it!" I said. "How did you know?" (well, maybe that's not exactly what I said to her. But it's what I thought.)
I settled in to read my psalm for the morning, a little fretful in spirit over a plan of mine that wasn't working out exactly as I thought it should.
"Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain," said God's word. "Oooh," said I.
I'd handed him my blueprint, complete with directions: "Okay, God, all you have to do is step A, then step B..." But of the two of us, he is the carpenter. I guess I should learn to hammer nails.
I had two messages on my phone. One was a birthday greeting, the other a verse: "The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promises, as some demand..."
My morning off work I stayed in bed and read fairy tales. I like fairy tales. This one says about another, "What a good thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a hundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who were not worthy of her? And did she not come awake exactly at the right moment when the right prince kissed her? For my part, I cannot help wishing a good many girls would sleep till just the same fate overtook them. It would be happier for them, and more agreeable to their friends." She didn't have much choice in the matter, I'll grant you.
Anyway, the princess in this story slept too. She was under a curse that never allowed her to be awake during the day. But at the right time, when the right prince came, she woke up-- and saw the sun. (I think if I had been a princess in a fairy tale, I would have a talk with the prince after we were married and tell him he would have to learn to curb his impulses to go around kissing princesses, no matter how dead and beautiful or old and ugly they looked).
That Psalm talked about sleep, too: "The Lord gives to His beloved, even in their sleep."
Aaah. I am His. His beloved. And while I am sleeping, He's protecting, and building, and preparing gifts, so that when I wake up there will be surprises waiting. Maybe daylight. And I can say, "Just what I've always wanted all my life!" and the readers will laugh.
I think it's bedtime now.
"Yes, that's just it!" I said. "How did you know?" (well, maybe that's not exactly what I said to her. But it's what I thought.)
I settled in to read my psalm for the morning, a little fretful in spirit over a plan of mine that wasn't working out exactly as I thought it should.
"Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain," said God's word. "Oooh," said I.
I'd handed him my blueprint, complete with directions: "Okay, God, all you have to do is step A, then step B..." But of the two of us, he is the carpenter. I guess I should learn to hammer nails.
I had two messages on my phone. One was a birthday greeting, the other a verse: "The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promises, as some demand..."
My morning off work I stayed in bed and read fairy tales. I like fairy tales. This one says about another, "What a good thing, for instance, it was that one princess should sleep for a hundred years! Was she not saved from all the plague of young men who were not worthy of her? And did she not come awake exactly at the right moment when the right prince kissed her? For my part, I cannot help wishing a good many girls would sleep till just the same fate overtook them. It would be happier for them, and more agreeable to their friends." She didn't have much choice in the matter, I'll grant you.
Anyway, the princess in this story slept too. She was under a curse that never allowed her to be awake during the day. But at the right time, when the right prince came, she woke up-- and saw the sun. (I think if I had been a princess in a fairy tale, I would have a talk with the prince after we were married and tell him he would have to learn to curb his impulses to go around kissing princesses, no matter how dead and beautiful or old and ugly they looked).
That Psalm talked about sleep, too: "The Lord gives to His beloved, even in their sleep."
Aaah. I am His. His beloved. And while I am sleeping, He's protecting, and building, and preparing gifts, so that when I wake up there will be surprises waiting. Maybe daylight. And I can say, "Just what I've always wanted all my life!" and the readers will laugh.
I think it's bedtime now.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
He shall reign for ever and ever
I went to the library today, and in a flash of inspiration, looked to see if Handel’s Messiah was available on CD. Happily, it was, so now I am listening to it and the Christmas season has officially started.
Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world.
Someone wrote to me the other day, and said they were praying that I would not be especially homesick at this time of the year. God has heard their prayer—I have been feeling wonderfully and happily “Christmasy” for a long time now, and not homesick; just full of joy.
Rejoice greatly, oh Zion, shout, O daughter of Jerusalem, behold, thy king cometh unto thee.
Maybe it started back in November, when I spent a weekend with other Americans and we sang Christmas carols trundling down the mountain in the dark, with the lights of the city spread out before us. I was struck more than ever by the internationalism of Christ’s mission. “Joy to the world! Let earth receive her king! He rules the world with truth and grace and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness and wonders of His love!”
For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.
Through the end of November, I was impressed with the necessity of waiting on God. “Commit your way to the Lord, trust in Him, and He will act.” Isn’t this, too, what Christmas is about? About waiting, trusting. Then—God acting!
Thus saith the Lord of Hosts: yet once a little while, and I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land, and I will shake all nations, and the desire of the nations shall come.
When I went to St. John of Lateran’s cathedral and St. Peter’s in Rome, I was overwhelmed with sadness. They looked as if each pope had tried to outdo the one who came before him in expensive reminders of themselves to leave to posterity. How different from the One who “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing.”
Come unto him all ye that labour, that are heavy laden, and he will give you rest. Take his yoke upon you, and learn of him, for he is meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls.
I decorated my apartment Monday (in about 30 seconds). I have a tree (about 6 inches high—almost as big as the star on top), a stocking, candles—and lights!
Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen above thee.
The city is decorated too—lights over every street in the center. It gets dark before 5 o’clock (yes, we are pretty far north!), so when I walked home from the library this evening, they were shining forth bright and cheery through the rain and darkness.
The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light, and they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.
I hadn’t realized how “Christmasy” I was feeling until I went to lunch with some believers recently. I forgot that some of the believers here don’t celebrate Christmas, and politely inquired as to their plans for the holiday. In return, I received a lecture on the facts that we don’t know when Christ was born, God having hidden that time, because for us what is important is his resurrection. I agreed that without the death and resurrection of Christ his birth wouldn’t be important—but since we do have those, I like to celebrate it because it is a reminder of the fulfillment of God’s promises.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
One acquaintance recently said to me, “I can’t bring myself to believe in the idea of a divine entity…”
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with suffering.
Another looked at me with the eyes of someone suffering loneliness, despair, depression, more sad than ever at Christmas, more sad in hearing of my joy in the season and not accepting it.
Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto his sorrow.
I said to someone recently that God gives us salvation, freely, as a gift. “But we have to be worthy of it,” she said.
Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows: he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him. And with his stripes we are healed.
And I marvel at the grace, the patience, the mercy of this God and this love that he has shown us.
Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by his blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever.
Hallelujah.
Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away the sin of the world.
Someone wrote to me the other day, and said they were praying that I would not be especially homesick at this time of the year. God has heard their prayer—I have been feeling wonderfully and happily “Christmasy” for a long time now, and not homesick; just full of joy.
Rejoice greatly, oh Zion, shout, O daughter of Jerusalem, behold, thy king cometh unto thee.
Maybe it started back in November, when I spent a weekend with other Americans and we sang Christmas carols trundling down the mountain in the dark, with the lights of the city spread out before us. I was struck more than ever by the internationalism of Christ’s mission. “Joy to the world! Let earth receive her king! He rules the world with truth and grace and makes the nations prove the glories of His righteousness and wonders of His love!”
For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee. And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.
Through the end of November, I was impressed with the necessity of waiting on God. “Commit your way to the Lord, trust in Him, and He will act.” Isn’t this, too, what Christmas is about? About waiting, trusting. Then—God acting!
Thus saith the Lord of Hosts: yet once a little while, and I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land, and I will shake all nations, and the desire of the nations shall come.
When I went to St. John of Lateran’s cathedral and St. Peter’s in Rome, I was overwhelmed with sadness. They looked as if each pope had tried to outdo the one who came before him in expensive reminders of themselves to leave to posterity. How different from the One who “did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing.”
Come unto him all ye that labour, that are heavy laden, and he will give you rest. Take his yoke upon you, and learn of him, for he is meek and lowly of heart, and ye shall find rest for your souls.
I decorated my apartment Monday (in about 30 seconds). I have a tree (about 6 inches high—almost as big as the star on top), a stocking, candles—and lights!
Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen above thee.
The city is decorated too—lights over every street in the center. It gets dark before 5 o’clock (yes, we are pretty far north!), so when I walked home from the library this evening, they were shining forth bright and cheery through the rain and darkness.
The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light, and they that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined.
I hadn’t realized how “Christmasy” I was feeling until I went to lunch with some believers recently. I forgot that some of the believers here don’t celebrate Christmas, and politely inquired as to their plans for the holiday. In return, I received a lecture on the facts that we don’t know when Christ was born, God having hidden that time, because for us what is important is his resurrection. I agreed that without the death and resurrection of Christ his birth wouldn’t be important—but since we do have those, I like to celebrate it because it is a reminder of the fulfillment of God’s promises.
And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.
One acquaintance recently said to me, “I can’t bring myself to believe in the idea of a divine entity…”
He was despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with suffering.
Another looked at me with the eyes of someone suffering loneliness, despair, depression, more sad than ever at Christmas, more sad in hearing of my joy in the season and not accepting it.
Behold and see if there be any sorrow like unto his sorrow.
I said to someone recently that God gives us salvation, freely, as a gift. “But we have to be worthy of it,” she said.
Surely he hath borne our griefs and carried our sorrows: he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities, the chastisement of our peace was upon him. And with his stripes we are healed.
And I marvel at the grace, the patience, the mercy of this God and this love that he has shown us.
Worthy is the Lamb that was slain, and hath redeemed us to God by his blood, to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing. Blessing and honour, glory and power, be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever.
Hallelujah.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
English mishap of the day
By an anonymous student.
"Christmas day, I go to my grossmother's house..."
So what if "grande" and "grosso" are the same.
"Christmas day, I go to my grossmother's house..."
So what if "grande" and "grosso" are the same.
Monday, December 08, 2008
Longing to be
I don’t know if you pay much attention to the English, but I can tell you we have some words that confuse non-native speakers, especially since we can use the same word in completely different ways, especially if we add something little, like a preposition or whatnot.
Do you belong? What a nice phrase. Fitting in, being in the right spot, doing what you were designed to do, filling a niche. But I bet there are times at least when you don’t feel like you belong. When things go from, “everybody loves me, wow I’m special,” to “nobody could care less.”
Have a preposition.
It would help us out a lot if we thought more about belonging “to,” and less about belonging. Because when I know who I belong to, I know that I’m in the right spot, doing the thing I was designed for, fitting. He who made me and bought me will fulfill His purposes for me. I’m thinking not about myself, and what I’m doing—I’m thinking of the owner. And He knows what He’s doing.
I belong here—in this state of belonging to Him.
Do you belong? What a nice phrase. Fitting in, being in the right spot, doing what you were designed to do, filling a niche. But I bet there are times at least when you don’t feel like you belong. When things go from, “everybody loves me, wow I’m special,” to “nobody could care less.”
Have a preposition.
It would help us out a lot if we thought more about belonging “to,” and less about belonging. Because when I know who I belong to, I know that I’m in the right spot, doing the thing I was designed for, fitting. He who made me and bought me will fulfill His purposes for me. I’m thinking not about myself, and what I’m doing—I’m thinking of the owner. And He knows what He’s doing.
I belong here—in this state of belonging to Him.
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