Arise, shine; for your light has come,
    and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you
For darkness shall cover the earth,
    and thick darkness the peoples;
but the LORD will arise upon you,
    and God’s glory will appear over you.

Isaiah 60:1-2

Today is Epiphany, when foreign dignitaries follow a rising star in the night to find and honor the Christ child. As we begin the new year, there is ample reason to fear the world is trapped in the shadow of hatred and violence. But we have seen the promise of new life, born to us in Christ Jesus. We see it in Scripture. We see it in the healing and hope that Jesus brought to those he met in the flesh, and the healing and hope we have seen in our own lives and the lives around us. We see the promise of new life in the life of this presbytery, even new life after a church has closed, but also as new opportunities to serve rise up before us.

I once wrote a response to the Isaiah prophecy that reflects my hope for the new year, and my confidence in God’s provision to us—the light that shines in the darkness, the salvation that overcomes despair, the life that triumphs over death.

Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.
Arise, shine; for the star shines bright shouting hope against the darkest night.
Arise, shine; for the Creator of the Universe hangs a light in the skies
to celebrate the birth of the Christ child,
the infinite possibility—God’s dream of shalom— contained in Mary’s little bundle of joy.
Because you were born homeless,
the lost are found, the poor find their brother.
Because you were born of Mary,
women know they give life to forever.
Because you cry in the night, our cries never go unheeded.
Because cows breathe your lullaby, all Creation is saved.
Because foreign kings sought your star,
love floods the barriers of race and holy war.
Because you submit to the waters of baptism, the unworthy reveal your glory,
and hear the words of the Almighty:
“You are my child, beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Arise, shine; for the star shines bright tearing open the depths of our dark night.
Arise, shine; for the Creator of the Universe hangs a light in the skies
to celebrate our birth, our rising
to catch the infinite in our souls.

May we see the light that Christ brings to us. May we be the light that others need to see as they search the night for a path forward. Happy New Year, everybody.

Giving thanks for Immanuel, God with us,

Wendy

The people who walked in darkness
       have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness—
      on them light has shined.

Isaiah 9:2

Christmas is almost upon us—Merry Christmas, everybody!

Christmas is so foundational to the Christian faith that we tend to forget that Christmas is not a novel idea for followers of Jesus. What makes Christmas important is that the early Christians came to believe that the birth of Jesus was God’s answer to centuries of faithful complaint from a small nation of people who believed that their tribal god, YHWH, was in fact the God of all the universe—and that this one almighty God had a special heart for them! I have often thought of that as a spiritual form of chutzpah—and amazingly, the people of Israel managed to convince untold millions they were right.

However, that chutzpah was matched with centuries of struggle. Israel may have been favored by God Almighty, but in terms of earthly politics, they were but a speedbump between the ancient empires that surrounded them. So there was much to complain about over the centuries, resulting in the deep darkness that provided a rich backdrop for the bright light that we Christians know as Jesus.

The Jewish poet and Bible scholar David Rosenberg restated Isaiah 9:2 in A Poet’s Bible, taking a poet’s heart to this divine poetry:

The people walking on
through darkness
will be overcome by light
those who were locked in the shadow
of death
are released by light

I am intrigued by the image of people locked in the shadow of death being released by light. This weekend has been a very trying one for me, due to a couple hard moments in my personal life and some in the life of the presbytery, and in trying times, I gain strength and healing from bright light.

But Rosenberg’s translation makes me see even the traditional translation more accurately. It’s not just that the people of Israel experienced a moment in shadow; they lived in a land of deep darkness—they were locked in the shadow of death. That makes my weekend of struggle a fleeting disturbance.

Many of us are approaching this Christmas with more worry and tension than gaiety and gratitude. Perhaps some of us are suffering from generations of oppression and pain, as suffered by the Israelites. If that is true, then I hope the star announcing the coming of the light of the world, our Lord Jesus Christ, shines all the more brilliantly amidst your deep night sky.

May our remembrance of Jesus’ birth be the light that overcomes the shadows in our lives, and releases us from even a lifetime of pain and doubt. May those of us who are cast down by despair or regret or fear gather the courage to lift our sights to the night sky, and see a glimpse of the heavenly host announcing the good news of peace on earth. And may we share God’s love, brought to us in Mary’s little baby, with this hurting world. Merry Christmas, and see you in the new year.

In Christ’s love,

Wendy

But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah,
   who are one of the little clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
   one who is to rule in Israel,
whose origin is from of old,
   from ancient days. . . .
And this One shall be peace.

Micah 5:2, 5a

Christmas means many things to different people. It’s almost like a lens through which you can see the values of a person or a culture. For instance, there is the opulence of the rich and powerful, like the White House, where 98 Christmas trees were decorated for the 2023 holiday season; for many reasons, the 2024 holidays are more subdued, so there are only 83 trees throughout the White House this year. In Japan, Christmas traditions have developed thanks to American capitalism, so it’s seen as more of a romantic holiday, and they say (I still can’t believe it) that a popular Christmas food is Kentucky Fried Chicken. For many of our churches, there’s great emphasis on the Christmas Eve worship service, but even in the biblical accounts of the Christmas event, one can focus on the heavenly host singing glory in the night sky, or the fear and excitement of lowly shepherds, or the vulnerability of a little baby born to a displaced couple and placed in an animal feed trough for a cradle.

Looking back at some of my Advent-season columns, it seems that I tended to focus on the hope that comes with the birth of baby Jesus, especially when the world needs his promise of restoration, now more than ever. What is most important to you about Christmas?

In my life, I have often been intrigued by God’s choice to bring the salvation of the world through a small, unimportant nation in the Middle East. Israel was never a great power in the world; in fact it was but a speedbump between great empires like Persia and Egypt and Rome. At that, Jesus didn’t come from the local powers in Judea; his birth was the fulfillment of Micah’s prophecy, that the ruler of Israel, the great one of peace, would come from Bethlehem, “one of the little clans of Judah.” Why wouldn’t Jesus come from Rome, or Egypt, or even China?

But that’s the point. Repeatedly, God chooses to work through the small and the weak so that God’s wondrous works can be seen as God’s, not the efforts of great human powers. The role of God’s vessels of glory, like the young girl Mary, is not as initiator of the miraculous, but the one who says “yes” when God comes with a call. Mary could not give birth to the savior of the world on her own—but when the angel Gabriel suggests the perplexing and the impossible, she discerns the will of God and agrees.

In our little presbytery, I have suggested that God is working wonders among us. I have even called what is happening at Live Oak Community Church in Temple City as miraculous. Since then, I have had a couple of churches say “why can’t we do what Live Oak did?” But that’s the point of miracles—they are far beyond what we can call up for ourselves. That doesn’t mean God doesn’t will for the best for all of us, but it will happen in different ways, on God’s initiative. Our job is to pray, and ask for guidance— and to dare to say “yes,” whether God suggests what is within our plans for the future, or if God suggests the improbable. 

For me, this is the great hope of Christmas—that God sees every one of us, even the small and the seemingly inconsequential, and God can do great things through us and for us, regardless of our ability to do for ourselves. Even if we worry about the troubles of our world, and wonder about the future of our church, we can call out to God, and keep our eyes open for God’s response, trusting that God knows and is able to do what is best.

As we continue through Advent, may we wait with confidence in God’s love, and God’s blessings for us, not because we have earned it, or can dictate to God what we want or need. But we can appreciate how God can do what is so much more than we can even imagine—and then we can join with shepherds and cattle and foreign wise men and choirs of angels to give God all the glory, held in the miracle of baby Jesus’ birth, carried forth by all of us into this hurting world.

Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to all who know God’s favor. AMEN.

With thanks and praise for Christ,

Wendy

John said to the crowds coming out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? Bear fruits worthy of repentance.”

Luke 3:7-8a

I don’t know how many Presbyterian pastors preach the lectionary. I don’t think it was common at all back in the day, and many folks are still not familiar with the liturgical year or the lectionary. But I think that the lectionary has helped us standardize the narrative arc of the Advent season, so during Advent we are used to hearing one Sunday pointing to Christ’s second coming, at least one Sunday referencing John the Baptist calling for repentance, one Sunday on Mary’s pregnancy, and the leadup to Jesus’ birth.

There are many images of John—prophet, forerunner and rival of Jesus, cousin of Jesus, evangelist, baptizer, preacher, and, let’s face it, wild man yelling out in the desert. His message, delivered with shocking invective, is supposed to be the good news that salvation comes through repentance. I’m sure most people ignored him—I doubt he’d be able to do what he did in the middle of genteel society, which is probably why he was out in the wilderness, in his clothes of camel’s hair eating his diet of locusts and wild honey. In spite of being pretty “off the grid,” he managed to attract some followers, whom he greets with affectionate terms like “you brood of vipers.”

Repentance is the act of changing one’s thinking, away from self-centered sin and towards God. But honestly, I have to wonder how people listened to this very unusual, passionate, and brutally graphic prophet—would he be your idea of someone to receive guidance from? And what would you need to repent from?

My imagination has led me to consider that those who listened to John were willing to recognize the divine wisdom of this wild man, and that they must have been willing to repent from the good common sense that we are used to. And if I had to apply this scenario to today’s world, it reminds me of the many suggestions to Democrats of what they need to change to win back the many folks who turned to Donald Trump, who uses graphic and almost violent language to demand change, and who has succeeded in attracting some seriously passionate followers.

Of the many theories of what Democrats must repent from, the most intriguing to me has been a self- proclaimed moral superiority. I’m sure that I am guilty of this too many times to count! But what I remember best are the times when I have felt that arrogance directed towards me, especially by well- educated dominant culture liberals who see my Asian-ness or learn of my Christian faith, and assume I am conservative or not woke enough, and are happy to teach or correct me when I do not align with the proper vocabulary of the moment. This became most clear during discussions about an overture to last summer’s General Assembly, when I realized how reticent I was to attempt to articulate my concerns for fear of the backlash that I’d face. When I did write to one colleague, I felt the need to first list my “cred” by pointing to the decades my family and I have been vocal advocates for the cause—he then publicly pointed to his own advocacy, and others followed suit, because we live in such a polarized society that if you don’t follow the most outspoken thought leaders, you’re dismissed as ignorant or behind the times, or worse.

But, we ask, why would we step back from offering our insights that so benefit the world? Thank God for Scripture reminding us to “live in harmony with one another; do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly, do not claim to be wiser than you are.” (Romans 12:16) We would need a small dose of this Scripture lesson just to open to the possibility that we were wrong, especially considering where this new guidance might be coming from!

As we await again the coming of the Lord breaking into our human history, may we remember that when God’s beloved child came into this world, he came not to a palace but to a cow’s stall, and the heavenly messengers announced his birth not to the rich and powerful but to shepherds. If the Savior of the world entrusts those most lowly outsiders with this astounding truth, how do we open to the wisdom that God is giving to the outsiders of our world today?

As we enter into these days of wonder, may we keep our eyes open to the blessings that God offers, even if they are borne by the most unlikely agents of grace.

Praying and waiting,

Wendy

“Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

Luke 21:28

Yesterday I heard a truly inspiring sermon. I wasn’t the only one; a 91-year-old woman told the preacher it was one of the best sermons she’d ever heard! Good to know that we have the opportunity to hear the gospel proclaimed so effectively and faithfully in our presbytery.

After the service, I met with the pastor and his wife, and we talked about several things that were very important in my formative years as a seminarian: spirituality, discernment, and sermon writing. More specifically, we discussed how to edit sermons to meet the 15-20 minute limit that most Presbyterians expect in a sermon. I remember my mentor saying that if you preach every week, it’s easier to let go of a particular point because you know you can pick it up some other Sunday.

I remembered that last week, because when I was writing my column about letting go of worry, this voice inside me kept saying “Don’t be a Pollyanna—you still have to be alert!”

Yes, letting go of undue worry does not mean letting go of our senses. I’ve always felt that the best modern-day demonstration of God’s sovereign grace and constant protection is the LA freeway system. I think it’s a miracle that 4-6 million commuters hit the road in LA County every day, with an average of 111 accidents—that’s about 1 accident for every 45,000 drivers! While we don’t need to be overwhelmed with worry about being one of those unlucky 111, we still use our seatbelts and stay alert on the road.

Even with all the comforting Bible passages about God’s care for us, the first Sunday of Advent in all three years of the lectionary includes a Gospel passage warning us to be alert. So yesterday’s passage was Luke 21:25-36 which includes these warnings from Jesus:

There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” with power and great glory. Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near. . . .

Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day does not catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.

Note that Jesus is warning us not to be distracted by “the worries of this life.” So the concern is not that we become careless, but that we be clear where we put our attention. In fact I do believe that we fall short of the bold obedience that Jesus calls us to by focusing on small worries of our own imagination. We focus so much on worries about what might happen that we don’t dare attempt what can transform the world. We worry more about what other people will say or do, and dismiss God by either assuming God will forgive anything, or we doubt that God will protect us if we take the risk of doing God’s will. But God has provided for us; perhaps not exactly as we would wish it, but we have reason to trust that God knows best.

Because I don’t know the mind of God, I cannot guarantee that those who follow God’s will are immune from hardship. But neither can I say that those who hide themselves away from risk are immune, so why not try to do as God suggests?

I share this not because I am so bold. When I served a Native Hawaiian church, I was impressed with how closely they seemed to feel the Spirit, and once they discerned God’s will, they felt resolved to move ahead without fear. One of the lay leaders stated that she could tell when God was speaking by her sense of certainty of the right course to take. I, on the other hand, sensed God’s will with great fear and trepidation. Do you know that if there’s a fire in your building, you should keep the doors shut, especially if you feel the door and it’s warm? Well, that’s how I felt about following God’s will
—as if I’m going through the door that is warm with fire! But even though I’ve taught myself to go through that door in spite of my fears, it doesn’t mean that I don’t keep my eyes open when I go!

And surely, the path that God lays out before us can have its potholes. But there will also be grace, and confirmation that God is with us, and God is pleased. And that is what I have witnessed in the life of San Gabriel Presbytery.

As we begin the season of Advent, we know that this season of anticipation includes warnings to be alert, and the declaration of righteous disruption that comes from the young pregnant virgin Mary. But when we look around—to the continued violence in Gaza, the impacts of climate change, our seeming normalization of gun violence, and suffering in unseen places like Sudan and Congo— disruption is necessary. The great leap of faith for us Christians is to see the potential for salvation not in a spectacular reversal of world events, but in the birth of a baby to a displaced family in an occupied land. How great is our God, and how wondrous is God’s wisdom, to save the world in this quiet and unexpected way!

As we journey with Mary through her pregnancy, as we share the hushed anticipation and hope of a hurting world, as we await the inbreaking of grace the baby Jesus brings, may we stand up and raise our heads, confident that all this and more are part of God’s bold plan of salvation. May we stay alert and trusting in God’s merciful power, even in the face of trouble and doubt. And may these holy days ahead be full of hope and signs of glory—for you and for all the world.

Praying and waiting,

Wendy