Advent, the church calendar name for the four Sundays preceding Christmas, is here again! Advent means “arrival,” or “to come to.” Advent means special candles. Stories. And angels.
Are angels still at work in our world?
Human musings about their sex, wingspans, and celestial footwear (for dancing atop the pearled heads of pins) persist to this day.
Many of us, or people we know, have a guardian angel theory. Or story.
(Our daughter believed that Cindy, her personal angel, lived on the roof and kept robbers away.)
Advent
In Advent (if we do the math) we picture the angel visiting Mary in early spring. Gabriel may have beamed down among scarlet anemones, the widespread windflower known today as kalanit, or “little bride”—a fitting backdrop for a maiden, newly betrothed.
If current weather patterns reflect those of ancient Israel, it would have been mostly sunny with moderate temperatures: sweater weather. No wonder artists rendered Mary wrapped in blue silk damask, or wool.
Not to mention probable goose bumps, raised by her supernatural encounter. Gabriel’s “Fear not” greeting was probably tough to take at face value.
Here, in a poem by Luci Shaw, is one of my favorite meditations on Gabriel bringing the gift of God’s message to Mary.*
Virgin
As if until that moment
nothing real
had happened since Creation
As if outside the world were empty
so that she and he were all
there was—he mover, she moved upon
As if her submission were the most
dynamic of all works; as if
no one had ever said Yes like that
As if one day the sun had no place
in all the universe to pour its gold
but her small room
Afterward, imagine the hush, an amber afterglow.
Have you ever said Yes like that?
Dared to add, Be it unto me according to your word?
Adventure*some
David Steindl-Rast suggests that angels appear today “whenever a life-giving message touches a human heart.”**
Which makes room for characters like bumbling Clarence Odbody, waiting for his wings, and uber-suave Dudley (“It’s a Wonderful Life” and “The Bishop’s Wife,” respectively).
A life-giving message can come from nature, or a book.
Even you. Or me.
Sometimes a mentor or stranger speaks to us, and their words carry a divine charge that we sense in our bones. Our skin. Our souls. We see their mouths moving and know God is speaking through them, to us.
It’s a personal advent of things to come.
Perhaps the message encompasses an image or idea that seizes our attention, then gradually takes shape as a new course of action.
Years ago, I took an all-day workshop with author Susan Vreeland. Later, we conversed privately. She spoke five words to me that still resonate, as if a bell, struck in that moment, keeps sounding a call.
“Be a spokesman for peace.”
The advent of those five words was a summons to stillness as well as action. It arrived as a gift. A lower case, small-scale visitation.
Do you hold sacred, somewhere within, the gift of words once spoken over you?
CREDITS
*Luci Shaw, “Virgin,” Accompanied by Angels (Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2006, p 16)
**David Steindl-Rast, Music of Silence (Ulysses Press, Berkeley, CA, 1998, p xxi)
The “Angel of God” prayer was the first prayer I recited, first thing I ever memorized, as a host of siblings and two dear parents encouraged me from the sidelines… “Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God’s love entrusts me here, ever this day, be at my side, to light, to guard, to rule and guide. Amen” I can still hear the whispered prompts from my loved ones, as I paused to remember each phrase, and it has continued throughout my life. That angelic host of holy family has been at my side, lighting, guarding, ruling and guiding. Somewhere along the way, I left childish prayers behind, and started talking directly to The Lord Most High, but still there were angels, whispering prompts, holding out a hand to steady me, to encourage. I encountered these angels at car wrecks, in hospitals, prayer meetings and the workplace, but they were made of flesh and blood, speaking the very words of God. Your post reminded me of those seemingly “chance”, yet resoundingly miraculous encounters with the Living God as I have journeyed through my life. Thank you! Happy Advent-uring to you!
Pacia, I was so excited to find you on FB today. Thank you, thank you for following my link . . . and for sharing these wonderful memories. What a rich childhood you had. Your beautiful words stir my heart. So grateful to be connected again! Blessings on your celebrations!!
Laurie, I have a friend named Cornelia Seigneur, dreamer and visionary behind the Faith and Culture Conference in Portland. I attended in 2014 and served on the committee in 2015. The connection with Cornelia has been God-ordained both ways, a confirmation when I listened to a still, small voice to move forward into connecting and encouraging writers.
It was a ‘lower-case, small scale visitation’ that continues to this day via snail mail, phone calls and texts. But it began with a still, small voice.
What a treasure those words are to us…
thank you for this encouraging piece (and the Luci poem–amazing as always).
Jody, what a vital connection you two made! I love hearing stories like this. I’m not familiar with that conference but the title makes it sound thought-provoking as well as inspiring. You have a vibrant way of encouraging/heartening people as well as linking them that I admire. And, I suspect, deep loyalty in relationships. So grateful our paths have intersected!
‘Love that poem by Luci Shaw, Laurie. She adds a new, poignant perspective to Gabriel’s visitation to Mary. In answer to your question: I do treasure words spoken over me years ago. My husband retired last year after forty years in the pastorate. During year four, while we attended a counseling-training conference, a wise and mature Christian woman told me I would have a ministry of my own. As the years passed, I thought about that prophecy(?) now and then. Was my ministry raising our three children? Participating in various church ministries? Teaching school? Writing a blog? I’ve never been quite sure, but it doesn’t matter. If I knew exactly what it was, I might be too self-conscious about it, or become prideful over it. But those words have given me great hope that God did have a plan for my life and he would use me to fulfill his purpose. I love the way you expressed the essence of the words spoken over you: “The advent of those five words was a summons to stillness as well as action. It arrived as a gift. A lower case, small-scale visitation.” That’s poetry, too!
Nancy, thanks for your thoughtful response. I like getting a further glimpse into your work and life. This statement of yours strikes me: “If I knew exactly what it was, I might be too self-conscious about it, or become prideful over it. But those words have given me great hope . . .” Doesn’t Oswald Chambers say, somewhere, that when God uses us powerfully we are often?/always? unaware of it?—to which (I think) he adds the thought that this is a merciful safeguard for us. I rejoice in how the “great hope” has held you, all these years.