Central Lutheran Church Advent Devotions...experience the dizzying view from the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, while not totally comparable to being there, was like taking a pre-trip

Central Lutheran Church Advent Devotions

“Lost in the Night… Waiting in Hope”

Advent 2020 – In a time of Covid-19

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Dear Friends in Christ Jesus,

It is going to be a strange Advent, one filled with longing for people of faith who

cannot gather for in person worship. We are defined by gathering for worship and

then being sent out into the world with the light of Christ. We will gather online, but

it will leave us wanting the shared presence in community.

One way to be connected is through this Advent devotional, written by fellow

members, your pastors and deacon. It is one small way for us to seek connection and a

shared life of faith.

The theme for this Advent will be, "Lost in the Night, Waiting in Hope." It is rooted in

the Advent hymn and in our shared waiting in hope. Each devotion will be an

invitation for you to reflect and listen for what is stirred up by what they share, the

hymn text, or by the image of hope.

Thank you for pausing for this daily time of devotion. God is with each of us as we

continue in this pandemic marathon. In this season of Advent, even as it feels like we

are lost in the night we give thanks that we wait in hope for the promise of Emmanuel,

God with us.

God bless your Advent time of waiting and longing in hope,

Pastor Peter

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Sunday, November 29

The Finish hymn, “Lost in the Night,” will be our guide as we wait in hope this

Advent season. The words of the hymn name, in part, what we experience in this

pandemic marathon. Each Sunday we will pause for one verse of the hymn for our

devotional time. The hymn will also be sung, played or reflected on in online worship

each weekend.

Invitation to Centering Prayer

You are invited to slowly pray the first verse of “Lost in the Night.” Then, you are

invited to enter a time for centering prayer. Centering prayer is one invitation to a

deeper, contemplative prayer life. With centering prayer, a single word is used to help

us return to openness and listening for God. When our minds wander or emotions

enter, we quietly return to the word, saying it to center. In this return to the single

word, we return time and time again to God. Begin by lighting a candle to welcome

the presence of God. Breathe in and breathe out. What word or image from the verse

of the hymn is your guide today? As your time of centering prayer concludes, carry

your word or image with you as a reminder of the presence of God.

Lost in the Night

1 Lost in the night do the people yet languish,

longing for morning the darkness to vanquish,

plaintively sighing with hearts full of anguish.

Will not day come soon? Will not day come soon?

Monday, November 30

My father’s senior year of college at St. Olaf was postponed by military service in

WWII. During his first years at St. Olaf, he sang bass under F. Melius Christianson’s

direction. I recently listened to an arrangement of F. Melius Christiansen. It was the

mournful Finnish Folk tune Lost in the Night performed by the National Lutheran

Choir.

I wonder if the melody or lyrics of Lost in the Night returned to my dad as he

served in the Army Air Corps.

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Lost in the night doth the sinner yet languish,

Longing for morning the darkness to vanquish,

Plaintively heaving a sigh full of anguish:

O, Christ is coming soon! Christ is coming soon!

My dad flew weather reconnaissance missions over the Eastern seaboard. His

assignment was to operate the radio. I don’t know if airplanes set off at night in the

1940s, but I can imagine turbulence, poor visibility and anxiety about being off course

accompanying the soldiers during storm-tracking excursions. My dad used to say that

his greatest moment as a radio operator occurred when he intercepted a wave of

energy that carried a baseball broadcast from NYC. Everyone on the plane was, surely,

a baseball fan. It must have been a surprise, a relief and a happy moment to encounter

a normal summertime ritual even as they flew over the roar and foam of the sea.

Now, after the conclusion of a very odd baseball season and ongoing virus battle, we

need to hold onto our daily routines and rituals. Especially, we need to intercept the

signals in our days that offer us profound consolation. We adjust our prayer dials and

trust that help is coming soon.

Compassionate Father, we know that you love each of us. Help us to be patient, to move

the dial of our focus so that we recognize your presence among us. Help us during this

Advent season to wait for the radiant blessing of renewal for our world as we continue

step-by-step to follow your light.

Lorene Gillickson

Tuesday, December 1

Keep Watch

I remember the first time I witnessed the guards on a blustery November night, 25 years

ago, stationed at the various entrances to the Wabash College campus, huddled in

blankets around a barrel, in which a fire was burning, trying to keep warm, stopping

cars as they neared campus, determining their occupants and purpose, intent on

protecting their beloved college from the hated cabal from the south. I thought, what is

this about? Are these guys crazy?

But the more I think about this scene and what these guys were doing, the more I

wonder whether there might be an important lesson here for all of us. Clearly these

young men believed deeply enough in something (whether we approve of the cause or

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not!) that they were willing to risk their comfort and health to keep watch, to stand

guard, to be vigilant.

Keeping watch is such a fitting theme as we begin our Advent preparations. In Luke’s

gospel, the 25th chapter, we hear this clarion call to the faithful: “There will be

signs…people will faint…there is something coming…the Son of Man coming in a cloud

with power and great glory…this generation will pass away, but not my words…Be on

guard…be alert…be strong.” There is someone coming – do you believe, are you willing

to stand and fight, to keep vigilant, to band together as God’s people and support each

other as you huddle around the fire, keeping watch, waiting for the angels to bring you

good news of great joy – for all people?

What do you believe in enough to keep watch? It is our Advent calling. Shall we keep

watch together – for peace, for healing, for reconciliation, for our children, for a living

wage, for a world that knows no hunger, for justice in the land, for a sustainable earth,

for common purpose? Do you care enough to keep watch, to give up your comfort and

safety – perhaps even your life – to do God’s will? There is work to be done, a promise

to be fulfilled, life abundant to know and enjoy. Keep watch!

Paul C. Pribbenow

Wednesday, December 2

“The Times they are a Changing,” sang Bob Dylan several years ago.

So goes our daily lives in this Pandemic time. Everything seems to be changing. We can

do this, but we can’t do that. Keep your distance and don’t forget to wash your hands,

over and over. Wear that Mask. Locked up or locked down? When will all of this end?

Perhaps you can relate to this Pandemic Litany. Read it and reflect on it.

Your people, oh God, are dealing with sickness and illness, physical disabilities and

chronic pain. God, we are in search of a Healer.

Your people, oh God, are often unable to understand what is happening around them.

God, we are in search of a Teacher.

Your people, oh God, are threatened by dangers and uncertainty, fearful of calamities

and accidents. God, we are in search of a Protector.

Your people, oh God, are confused about which direction to take in these perilous times.

God we are in search of a Shepherd.

Thanks be to God, our Changeless Jesus is that Healer, Teacher, Protector and Shepherd

for us as change swirls around us.

So we hope. So we live in hope. So we never give up Hope.

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“Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)

Glenn Nycklemoe

Thursday, December 3

Frederick Buechner, in his sermon, “A Room Called Remember”, wrote, “Hope stands

up to its knees in the past and keeps its eyes on the future.”

Remembering where I’ve seen God at work in the past helps keep hope alive for me.

Jesus is the ultimate example, of course, but I have also had many personal encounters

with God in my daily life through the people who care enough to pray for me, who are

trusting enough to share their personal stories with me, who are nurturing enough to

encourage my spiritual growth, and who are prophetic enough to lead me into a better

way. When I start feeling apathetic or discouraged, their past witness encourages me to,

once again, place my hope in God’s constant renewal.

Buechner went on to say, “...to wait in hope is to have what we hope for already begin

to come true in us through our hoping.” Back in the days of travel, I would pore over

Rick Steves and other trip advisors to plan detailed travel itineraries in European

countries. Imagining what it would be like to buy a pass for the Metro in Paris or

experience the dizzying view from the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, while not totally

comparable to being there, was like taking a pre-trip. It also enhanced the real

experience, because my senses were alive with anticipation when I got there.

Waiting in hope in the present, we are remembering the past and looking forward to the

future. In this uniting of past, present, and future, we are getting a glimpse of eternity.

Gayle Dustrud

Friday, December 4

Lost in the Night, Waiting in Hope

My wife Julie is in the late stages of young onset Alzheimer’s and is in hospice. One of

my struggles has been to accept and embrace ambiguity. Julie is both present and

missing; she is the same person she has always been and yet she isn’t; I feel married and

I no longer feel married. When Julie was first diagnosed, professionals told us to plan

for the worst and hope for the best. But, no one has ever been healed of Alzheimer’s.

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Where to find hope in that.

It is not unlike the time we are living in. COVID is present and we don’t know how

much longer this will go on. Our society has made progress in addressing racism, but

we have discovered how deep our racism really is. We have had an election that we

hoped would have resolved some things, but we have discovered just how divided we

really are.

Can we deepen our capacity to stay on the threshold of change until we are called back

out by God? Can we transform our pain and suffering into something life giving,

without blaming ourselves or someone else? Can we embrace the mystery and

ambiguity of pain and suffering? Can we experience God in the midst of the

unexplainable? One of the mysteries of our faith is that Christ has been, is now, and will

come again. Can we live into that paradox and mystery without having to understand it,

fix it, or change it? Our hope lies in allowing the Holy Spirit to take us there.

Tom Allen

Saturday, December 5

We Christians with immortal souls have been on a journey of ADVENT since the day

we were born, or let’s say, before we were born.

The observation of Advent was first recorded around 1125-75. The word is derived from

Latin “adventus“ meaning arrive or approach. Yes, we are on an adventure. We

Christians have HOPE in a God, whose light shines in a dark place. We strive for

HARMONY in our relationships. We belong in our connections through the Presence of

God.

Christians observe Advent during the four Sundays before Christmas; we observe the

commemoration of the coming of Christ into the world. Yes, it is the light of God

coming into the world through the birth of Jesus. The green of the wreath, the symbol of

eternal life, speaks of the HOPE that Christians live in God.

Go in peace, have a safe journey!

In the December 2020 issue of the magazine Gather, is a good article by Elizabeth

Hunter, titled “Advent is a Threshold.”

Roger Lilleodden

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Sunday, December 6

The Finish hymn, “Lost in the Night,” will be our guide as we wait in hope this Advent

season. The words of the hymn name, in part, what we experience in this pandemic

marathon. Each Sunday we will pause for one verse of the hymn for our devotional

time. The hymn will also be sung, played or reflected on in online worship each

weekend.


You are invited to slowly pray the second verse of “Lost in the Night.” Then, you are




enter, we quietly return to the word, saying it to center. In this return to the single word,

we return time and time again to God. Begin by lighting a candle to welcome the

presence of God. Breathe in and breathe out. What word or image from the verse of the

hymn is your guide today? As your time of centering prayer concludes, carry your

word or image with you as a reminder of the presence of God.

2 Must we be vainly awaiting the morrow?

Shall those who have light no light let us borrow,

giving no heed to our burden of sorrow?

Will you help us soon? Will you help us soon?

Monday, December 7

When we are begging for the day to come, for the light to come, for all darkness to be

vanquished, we might want to be careful about the timing. What can we learn about

being lost in the night that can only be grown in the dark? I did not love how early in

the pandemic my friends were all posting on Facebook about their “silver lining” of this

pandemic. Learning to be a better bread baker is great, but I couldn’t help but dwell on

the monstrous disruption and the mounting death this pandemic had brought us. I

really wanted to fast forward to the good part, to the part when the virus was defeated,

and things were back to normal.

And then George Floyd was killed by someone he knew who had sworn to protect and

serve all of us. I was pretty sure normal was a stretch in April, but I gave up all hope of

ever returning to normal after May. I don’t believe that God creates heartache and pain

in order for us to learn our lessons, but I do believe in a God who existed in only

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darkness before that God yearned to no longer be alone. I do believe that the deep dark

night and the deep dark soil can reveal and grow things in us we never thought possible

in the garish noonday sun.

Normalcy thrives in that spotlight, and we can’t always see what need to be changed,

what needs to be reformed or what needs more love when we have to squint. I no

longer hope for normal, because before all this that normalcy was often defined by a

small group of privileged people. I am much more excited to learn what all these folks

groping around in the night for one another can create because we suddenly need each

other more than ever. When we emerge from the dark, we will never be alone again.

Pastor Melissa Pohlman

Tuesday, December 8

“…knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and

character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us because God’s love has been

poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” Romans 5: 3-

5

HOPE

As the pandemic continues. As the weather gets colder. As more of our neighbors deal

with economic and other hardships. As we face more separation from the people we’d

like to and need to be with….where is hope?

I’ve thought a lot about hope recently. Like you, I’ve been reminded that it’s good to

look for things to be grateful for. Good to have faith that the vaccine will eventually be

available for everyone. Good to share love with neighbor. And I’ve asked God to help

me do and be these things. But I don’t hear much about hope.

When I read Romans 5: 2 to 5, a phrase really jumped out at me. It was “hope does not

disappoint us.” What does that mean? Especially when so many times what I’ve hoped

for has not worked out. I googled a definition of hope and it said, “In the Bible hope is

the confident expectation of what God has promised and it’s strength is in God’s

faithfulness.”

Of course! My hope is in God, the Faithful One, not in circumstances or vaccines or

people. God is giving us the baby in Bethlehem. Christ IS our hope and Christ does

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NOT disappoint us.

Help me, Lord, through your faithful Spirit to keep remembering that YOU are my

hope.

Bobbie Spradley


Lost in the Dark to Life in the Light

In 2018 I experienced the deepest physical darkness of my life. I was staying in a west

Kenyan village in my friends’ family compound, in a small private room. During my

first night there, I awoke to complete darkness – no moon, no outside lights nor lights

within, not even tiny ones from appliances. Electricity there is an occasional thing at

best. And so, I groped through yards of mosquito netting enveloping my bed as I tried

to orient myself. Although not actually lost within that safe, secure room, I longed for

the light, any light! “Will not day come soon?” And of course, it did! A beautiful bright

day when I found my small flashlight and set it aside for later.

The deepest most profound inner darkness came upon me over 30 years ago. In 1986 I

found myself separated with divorce looming while still in seminary. In those days,

divorced women were not allowed, either leaving or transferring to a non-ordination

program. I had initially been reluctant to commit to ministry as I feared it would

negatively affect my friends, my family and my marriage. And now, all I’d dreaded was

coming true, and for what? It seemed I’d not be able to go into ordained ministry after

all. Was this God’s trick or a joke?

I felt lost, alone, absolutely devastated. No light seemed to exist. Then a wise friend

reminded me that creation comes out of darkness, the old dies before the new, and yes,

there is life after death! So I gave up my hopes, let go of my dreams and reached out to

God, placing myself completely within God’s hands.

Long story short: I was allowed to stay at seminary, received a call before graduation

and began that call July 1, 1987. The years have brought more dark times, but never as

deep or complete and never, ever without hope, knowing that the light always comes.

And oh, how I have been blessed! “Christ is coming soon!” And we can already see His

light!

Pastor Judith Stone

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Vision in Darkness

As my late husband, Dennis, was losing his eyesight to macular degeneration, he used a

lighted magnifier when he read, and he underlined phrases to help keep his place on the

page. On his desk I found a copy of “A Vision” by Hildegarde of Bingen, in which he

had marked these phrases: “… such a glory of light that his radiance dazzled me,” and

“… sparks of living light.” Failing eyesight made light of great importance to him, as

perhaps it is to all of us.

It’s no good pretending that darkness isn’t real. We who live in the darkness of a

northern winter know otherwise, just as we know there can come an inner dark night of

the spirit, especially in this strange, dark Advent of 2020. In the words of the hymn, we

may feel “lost in the night.”

Though one may need a lighted magnifier to see the words on the page, the eyes of faith

know that the words are there. Waiting in darkness we watch, like Hildegarde of

Bingen, for “sparks of living light.”

We wait in the faith that the Light is coming. And even in the dark of night, the Light is

here.

Anna Berdahl, 1887-1991

Anna Haugan Berdahl lived to see her 104th birthday. She was a South Dakota legend

(you can Google her), a cherished member of our Sioux Falls congregation, and my dear

friend. Anna was a nurse, educator, administrator and writer, but above all, a nurse.

She served through the Spanish influenza epidemic of 1918, so I’ve been thinking of her

again and again as we monitor this Covid-19 pandemic.

When we celebrated her 95th birthday in May of 1982, she snuffed out the candles with a

spoon. Anna was a nurse of the no-nonsense school and admonished us that blowing

across the frosting was a health risk. I asked if she would tell us her birthday wish, but

she wanted to think about it.

Her long, rich life offered much to think about. As the U.S. entered the Great War, Anna

Berdahl enrolled with the Army Nurse Corps. In January of 1918, she was sent to

Jefferson Barracks, Missouri, to serve as head nurse of two pneumonia wards, 50 patients

each. Within weeks, troop trains began to arrive carrying soldiers sick with Spanish

influenza. She served in the Post Hospital throughout the epidemic, facing her duties

with discipline and hope. Were she confronted with today’s pandemic, I daresay she

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would have marshalled the Dakotas into wearing masks long before now.

I remember hearing her speak of the “spiritual nourishment” she received from the

church community. In a letter she wrote of “… God’s grace and daily forgiveness. This

offers Peace of Mind that leads to restful sleep which gives energy and motivation for

daily tasks.” May it be the same for us today.

So what was Anna Berdahl’s 95th birthday wish? She said, “I hope to see another

spring.” And she did, nine times over. What is hope if not the confidence of fulfillment

of the good to come? What is hope if not the grounds for trust in the future?

Louise Griffin

Friday, December 11

Lost in the Night--- Waiting in Hope

An Advent Meditation

At the Easter Vigil last April, Pastor Melissa read a poem by Dan Albergotti entitled,

Things To Do in the Belly of the Whale. I found the poem to be intriguing and uplifting---

very relevant to the opportunities that call us through this long night of the Covid 19

Pandemic. What follows is my list of “Things to Do When Lost in the Night”. I would

invite each of you to Google the Albergotti poem and then make your own list.

Things To Do When Lost in the Night

• Bask in the moonlight, especially if it’s shining on freshly fallen snow.

• Put grips on your boots and go for a walk.

• Make Yak tracks in the snow for others to follow. Look for the tracks others have

made.

• Welcome sojourners you encounter on your walk. Share the light of your soul

with them. Invite them to do the same. We’re all integral parts of God’s one great

spirit.

• In gratitude, follow your own tracks home.

• Light a candle to pray for all those who have no safe place to shelter through the

long winter night.

• Listen to the stories of Street Voices of Change. Add your voice to theirs as they

advocate for change. Write state legislators, city council members and county

commissioners in support of safe, equitable, supportive housing opportunities.

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• Search through your recipe box. Find Grandma Valborg’s directions for

homemade baked beans. Stir up a huge pot. Ladle into several squirrel proof

containers and leave on the doorsteps of surrounding neighbors.

• Identify all the saints whose names appear on cards in the recipe box. Cherish the

memories of meals shared with them in the past. Celebrate the image of the

heavenly banquet, which they now share with one another.

• Fill the house with music, especially at this time of year, a quality recording of

Handel’s Messiah. Sing along on the chorus parts. Only God will hear you and

she will like it

• Make contingency plans for an online family Christmas gathering this year, but

start preparing for a joyous in person celebration in 2021.

• Review your life so far. Confess to God all the “could have’s, should have’s, would

have’s” of the past. Take note of people and situations in need of reconciliation.

Make amends.

• Expect God’s Spirit to show up with new opportunities to show love and make

peace. Be ready.

• Wait in hope, convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things

present, nor thing to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all

creation (not even Covid-19) will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ

Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38 - 39

Ann Oyen


Lost in the night-waiting for hope

I love the Nordic hymn which our Advent theme reflects. However, another verse has

caught my eye. Psalm 30:5.

The NIV version:

“Weeping may stay for the night,

But rejoicing comes in the morning”

The Good News version:

“Tears may flow at night,

But joy comes in the morning.”

I am reminded of the image of an empty manger, looking lonely and isolated in the

inn’s barn. I am reminded of the wisemen looking forlorn and lost in the open fields

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with no way to find the baby Jesus. Again, I am reminded of my own weeping in the

night experience this past summer.

My son and his two children, ages 9 and 10, were living with us and going through a

contentious divorce. Many tears flowed. Coming to agreement has been very difficult

and disheartening. The joy has not yet reached the morning.

In the season of Advent, we know that hope has been fulfilled in the first two occasions.

The empty manger has a baby in it. Jesus, our Saviour, has arrived! We will rejoice on

Christmas morning singing “Joy to the World, the Lord has come. We know that the

wisemen found their GPS miracle when the star shone brightly right over that ”little

Lord Jesus asleep on the hay.”

Although we are still waiting in hope, there have been glimpses of joy. My son’s faith in

the midst of all the suffering has blossomed, matured, and strengthened, guiding him

like the star to Bethlehem. I believe that God is shining that light on him and restoring

his soul.

Karin Abel

Sunday, December 13





weekend.


You are invited to slowly pray the third verse of “Lost in the Night.” Then, you are









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3 Sorrowing wand'rers, in darkness yet dwelling,

dawned has the day of a radiance excelling,

death's deepest shadows forever dispelling.

Christ is coming soon! Christ is coming soon!

Monday, December 14

“Anticipatory hope is not enough anymore. Participatory hope is the only kind that

works now. I want cleats, not ruby slippers.” ~Barbara Brown Taylor

I’ve been thinking about this quote from preacher Barbara Brown Taylor a lot lately.

Hope is often a difficult thing to have during the pandemic, especially as the days

continue to get darker. What I’m learning, from this quote and from all the people who

keep showing up to do hopeful actions day after day, is that hope is a practice more

than it is an emotion. It’s hope to continue to care for others and work for justice, to

teach children and invest in community with friends and neighbors. It’s hope to make

plans, even if they are not the plans we had hoped for, to celebrate Jesus’ birth this year

in the most faithful and joyful ways we can. It’s hope in the midst of waiting that makes

waiting more than despair.

I’ve never worn cleats (or ruby slippers) but my understanding is that they help you dig

into and grip slippery or unforgiving terrain. That’s exactly the type of terrain it feels

like we’re being asked to navigate day after day right now and hope in God’s promises

is one of the few things that can help us keep a grip as we go forward. Every time we

prepare for a just and kind future, and every time we honor human worth right now we

put on those cleats of hope and walk in God’s promises a little more surely.

We still wait for God’s arrival among us to complete our justice and joy, but as we wait

let’s dig into the path. Some days we may need others to do the work of hope for us, but

many days taking a step or two in hope reveals that God and neighbors are already on

the way with us. So lace up your cleats and ask, what step in hope will you take today?

Pastor Marissa Sotos

Tuesday, December 15

Lost in the Night…

Lost…family members and friends who have died during this time of pandemic

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Longing…to sing in choirs, gather in person, to travel, for our divided nation to heal

Anguish…seeing and hearing of the suffering of those at the margins or on the streets

and feeling that I am not doing enough to help

Although the tone of the verses of this hymn eventually progresses from languishing to

hopeful, it is the first verse that resonated with me the most during this pandemic time.

The people and things lost, those alone and those suffering beyond measure. As I was

thinking of how to write a meaningful, hopeful devotional, the year that my

grandfather, great-grandfather, and a great uncle, who all died within a few months of

each other, came into my memory. It was a great time of sadness in our family. I was a

young girl, but I was especially close to my grandpa. I loved going to the barn with him

and loved how he sang hymns to the cows. One of those hymns was “Day by Day”.

Sometimes he sang in Swedish, and sometimes in his lilting, accented English. Some of

those hymn lyrics that I hold now in my heart are like a prayer for strength and hope

during this Advent season: “Day by day and with each passing moment, strength I find

to meet my trials here; He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day

what He deems best; every day the Lord Himself is near me with a special mercy for

each hour; help me then in every tribulation so to trust Thy promises, O Lord.”

What is in your heart this Advent season? For what are you hopeful, for yourself and for

others? How will you pray for yourself and for others?

This is my prayer for all of us: Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in

prayer. (Romans 12:12)

Susan Troselius


The haunting Advent hymn, “Lost in the Night,” was unfamiliar to me. “O Little Town

of Bethlehem,” written in 1868, is a beloved classic Christmas carol that includes the

phrase. “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” Worldwide,

people share hopes and fears, acknowledging this challenging time of a pandemic, civic

and political divisiveness, and racial injustice. We long for compassion, racial equality, a

Covid vaccine and the end of the restrictions. And yet we fear what might come next.

In November 2010, we traveled to the Holy Land, excited to visit the ancient places from

the Bible, and humbled to think about walking in Jesus’ footsteps. We expected to have

a meaningful faith journey. It became transformational when we passed through a check

point to our first stop in Bethlehem.

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Before we traveled, our small group read and discussed what we would see and

experience. Ron and I thought we understood about Israel as the Jewish homeland, but

we were not prepared for the complex and difficult realities for people living today in

the occupied Palestinian territories. In Bethlehem, we saw the treasured sites from Jesus’

birth. We also worshipped with Palestinian Christians at Christmas Lutheran Church,

ate at the adjacent International Center of Bethlehem, and toured the new campus on a

hill, Dar al-Kalima University College of Arts and Culture. At dinner, Rev. Dr. Mitri

Raheb, church pastor and college president, shared his vision for the people of Palestine

to have lives of abundance while locked behind walls. That visit informed us and

shattered our previous perceptions. We learned that Palestinians, who live where hope

was born, have been waiting in hope for decades. We returned with a commitment to

learn more and to make a difference in the lives of our siblings living in Bethlehem

today.

Romans 15:13 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing that you

may abound in hope.” This year, as we celebrate Jesus’ birth, how can we be

peacemakers and unlock hope for others here and around the world?

Kathy Fiscus


There is mystical beauty in the juxtaposition of things we don’t expect to see in the same

space and at the same time. Some of my favorite images in nature include green plants

growing out of driftwood on the shore of Lake Superior and flowing streams under icy

boulders and landscapes. Perhaps one of the most powerful and beautiful contrasts I’ve

seen is the amazing seedlings that grew from the charred earth after the devastating fire

in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area a number of years ago. The tender green saplings

growing from the scorched earth was simply breathtaking.

I love these images because they remind me of possibilities; they remind me that God is

in the midst of all things. With God, everything is possible.

This is the beauty of Advent – that something remarkable – even when we least expect it

is coming. The prophets bravely told God’s people that a Messiah was expected – one

who would save them from the brokenness of the world. The challenge is that – just as

God’s people would have to wait – so do we. Trust and faith and patience and

confidence are all part of the journey.

~ 18 ~

In the beautiful hymn that guides our Advent reflections, I am struck by the phrase

“rivers of life through its deserts are streaming, bring all peoples a Savior redeeming.”

As we wait for the birth of Jesus and as we wait for resolution to all the other

complexities of our lives, it’s important to remember the words, do not be afraid.

In this season when daylight is short and starlight is abundant, an interesting question

to consider is where you see and experience God’s surprising presence. It might be in

the generosity of others; it might be in a kindness extended by a neighbor or friend.

Wait for it and watch for it.

Like plants growing from dead wood and water flowing under ice and snow, God

appears in remarkable ways and in remarkable places – even as a baby in sleepy town

called Bethlehem.

Pastor Stephanie Friesen

Friday, December 18

Keepers of Hope

The deep blue of Advent symbolizes the dark night, but with just a hint of pre-dawn

light. We have to strain to see that first glimmer, but the night is clearly ending. Have

you been awake at that hour? We look and see only darkness. We look again and see,

ever so faintly, the coming of a new day.

Advent calls us to keep watch for that new day. It invites us to enter deeply into our

story as God’s people, and into the hope of God’s promise. It gathers us together with

the faithful throughout the ages, who have watched and waited, trusting in God’s

promise that salvation is coming, for us. A new day is dawning that will drive back the

darkness of our broken world.

And don’t we yearn for that? The ancient Finnish folk hymn expresses the despair of a

night that goes on too long. This year, this long night seems even longer, and darker.

Sickness and death surround us; violence and division are on the rise. Creation itself

seems to be turning on us in fury, with storms and floods and fires. The pandemic is

deepening our sense of isolation and despair, keeping us even from the solace of

gathering with friends and family. This year, our cries to God to “Come!” are more

urgent. We need some hints of light to break through the current darkness, just as so

many generations of our faith ancestors have needed in their times of suffering.

~ 19 ~

The good news is that the promise of God that gave them hope still is ours today. God is

faithful. God has been at work on our behalf all along, through scientists and doctors

and peacemakers and ordinary people like us, helping one another; bringing light. Their

work is evidence of God at work. This is our reason for hope.

The darkness will never swallow us up. Dawn is breaking. In the midst of whatever

darkness may surround us, notice the light, as it grows ever brighter. In Advent, we are

keepers of hope.

The Rev. Barb VanDrasek


Advent: arrival, coming of Christ at the Incarnation, What a season of joy and

anticipation in waiting! But during this pandemic, how do I greet Advent? Isolation by

itself brings a kind of emotional pain, but yet the isolation must prevail to save me from

Covid-19 illness and possible death. So, I embrace this darkness of isolation and yet long

for the light of a vaccine cure. I try to be patient in the darkness. At times I languish and

flounder - and feel restless or even a bit angry during this waiting. Sometimes there is a

strange kind of comfort in the wombed darkness of isolation. It offers me time to rest,

regroup, reflect and appreciate the friends and loved ones I virtually connect with.

Advent during this peculiar year really does mean longing for and praying for Christ’s

saving presence and comfort. During fleeting moments of being in centering prayer, the

Spirit has helped me to feel Christ’s comfort and solace from the pandemic’s desolation.

May we seek and find the adventurous nature of Christ’s love during these dark times

and have faith that the mystery of being in Christ’s care will sustain us in peace and

help us to reach out safely to our neighbors.

Lois Wolff

Sunday, December 20

I’ve read the text of this hymn over and over, sang it a few times too and it makes me

sad. Sad that the emotions invoked are more real than ever. Sad for all the people for

whom languishing and waiting and sorrow is not a new situation. Sad about all the

~ 20 ~

restrictions from the pandemic. I mourn not doing things I enjoy (choir!). But…I also

have what I need. I am not living on the street. I am employed. My family is well. I have

books and Netflix, and my friends still answer my phone calls and text messages. But

joy and hope so often seem outside my grasp.

I keep thinking of a trip to Arizona in December 1989. My parents were newly retired

and this first “going to AZ” drive included me, my 9-year old niece and 7-year old

nephew. We left MN in time to arrive in Phoenix on Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve,

we stayed in Springerville, AZ for the night. It was not a comfortable night because it

was my turn to share the sleeping bags and floor with my nephew so that others could

have the beds. My nephew was concerned that Santa would not find him so far from

home. He hung his stocking on the clothes hooks and we tried to sleep. About

midnight, he whispered to me “I hear Santa”. I told him “close your eyes tight and be

very quiet” or Santa might disappear without leaving presents. He immediately closed

his eyes, turned his body into mine, and I pulled him close. Morning came and with it

gifts from Santa.

This is the vision of hope that I keep in mind. My nephew trusted my words. He knew

how to BE STILL and wait with hope. My prayer, even when I’m sad, is that I remember

and be assured by the familiar and trusted word of God. Then I know that a radiant

dawn is coming with gifts of joy and hope.

Judith Hedman





weekend.


You are invited to slowly pray the fourth verse of “Lost in the Night.” Then, you are









~ 21 ~

4 Light o'er the land of the needy is beaming;

rivers of life through its deserts are streaming,

bringing all peoples a Savior redeeming.

Come and save us soon! Come and save us soon!

Text: Nordic hymn; tr. Olav Lee, 1859-1943, alt.

Text © 1932 Augsburg Publishing House, admin. Augsburg Fortress

Monday, December 21

The words “Lost in the Night” trigger for me a difficult memory from the years I taught

high school English and debate at an American school in Taipei, Taiwan. At the end of

a long busy day of teaching and coaching, I gathered my book bag, purse, and backpack

and headed for the bus stop to catch a bus that would take me the 40 minute route home

to my apartment in the nearby town of Danshui. The sun was setting and rain had

started on that chilly evening. As the bus made its route of stops and starts, I dozed off

peacefully, tired from the day, until an hour later I was jolted from my sleep by the bus

driver shouting back to me in his limited English, “Must get out! Last stop. Must get

out!” Seeing I was the only person on the bus and I had clearly missed my stop, I

gathered my bags and stepped off the bus. The bus quickly drove off into the dark. I

looked around me: no streetlights, no buildings, no homes, no businesses, no vehicles,

no umbrella, only open land rain in all directions as far as I could see through the rain. I

was literally “Lost in the Night.” Determined to control the rising panic in my mind, I

started walking in the direction the bus had been travelling. After ten minutes of

walking, I noticed the flickering of lights from two directions far ahead. I chose one and

headed for it, now drenched from the rain, with somewhat reduced panic. Another 20

minutes of walking and I reached the flickering of lights and soon after noticed a

landmark I was familiar with that allowed me to wend my way back to the oh-so-

welcome apartment, a hot shower, and dry clothes.

In this time of pandemic, as in other times of uncertainty, challenge, pain, fear, panic, we

hold tight to the hope of Advent, the coming of Christ, to remind us to keep walking,

keep moving, keep heading toward that light.

Vicki Bierlein

~ 22 ~

Tuesday, December 22

Day after day, news cycle after news cycle, message after message, we are reminded of

endless division, long-standing and widespread inequalities, rising Covid cases and

deaths. And then there’s the isolation — If only we could be together with family, with

friends, with our church community. Sometimes I’m simply rendered speechless,

spiritless. It does indeed feel like being lost in the night.

And then I remember Isaiah’s words, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a

great light.” I think of John’s assurance, “Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness

has not overcome it.”

I read these words over and over. I sit with them. I let them sink in, until I hear the

words of a favorite Advent hymn:

“Yet I believe beyond believing

that life can spring from death,

that growth can flower from our grieving

that we can catch our breath

and turn transfixed by faith.” Wm Gay ELW 252

The words of other saints of the church come to mind: German pastor Dietrich

Bonhoeffer — “God is the beyond in the midst of life, not simply where human powers

give out at the borders, but in the center of human achievement and joyous living.”

Long time preacher of The Protestant Hour, Edward Steimle—“God’s all over the place,

hoping that we’ll have eyes to see and ears to listen to his coming.”

I rise rejoicing, knowing that in the midst of present chaos, division, grief and fear, God

comes with healing and hope.

Lynda Minnick


Advent. In some ways it’s all about waiting. This year our waiting seems brutally

enhanced. Waiting for certified results of an election. Waiting for a vaccine. Waiting for

an Amazon delivery. Waiting for Grubhub. Waiting in line six feet apart for just about

everything.

~ 23 ~

Much of the music we hear in Advent is the embodiment of this - waiting. There’s a

pleading quality embedded in some of the melodies. Think of the divinely modal “O

Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” the Taizé chant “Wait for the Lord,” Luther’s hymn

“Savior of the Nations, Come.” And, of course, “Lost in the Night” - the hymn on

which this year’s services are based. In actuality, this Finnish folk song from which the

tune was lifted, was a love song - a song of separated lovers - “Will you not come

soon?” Prolific Swedish hymn writer Lina Sandell Berg retained this feeling in her text

that ended “Kommer du ej snart?” Long-time St. Olaf faculty member Olav Lee’s genius

translation has a different but related ending for each stanza. “Will not day come soon?”

“Will you help us soon?” “Christ is coming soon!” “Come and save us soon.” Each of

these phrases seems to be made for this Advent. Help us. Save us. Come, Lord Jesus.

Deacon Mark Sedio

Christmas Eve, December 24

One summer when my, now college age, granddaughters were about six and eight years

old (seems like yesterday), we spent some time at Crosswoods Camp in Wisconsin

where my son always took his youth group. Since we weren't part of the youth group,

we three "girls" got to stay in a lovely cabin by ourselves, which was approximately two

city blocks from the main gathering building and the other cabins.

After the evening activities were over the first night there (we did participate in some

activities), the three of us headed back to our cabin with one flashlight, in a pitch black

night, with no moon or stars to light our way. There are bears in that area, by the way.

As we walked next to an opening in the mostly wooded area, the girls thought they saw

something moving in the middle of the field. They were scared and I was feeling a bit

nervous myself. So, I suggested we sing a hymn, Jesus Loves Me, as loud as we could, to

scare anything away, that might be near. It worked! The kids started laughing

nervously while shouting out the song. It wasn't until we got into the cabin and lit the

kerosene lamps, that the flood of relief spread across those little faces (and mine!)

If it wasn't for the beam of that one flashlight, we would have lost our way home. If we

had not had lamps to burn at the end of our journey, we would have remained in fear

and darkness. Even in our darkest moments, we do have a light to guide us as we move

along the path...the light of Jesus. John 8:12 "Again Jesus spoke to them (the scribes and

pharisees), saying, 'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in

darkness but will have the light of life.'" He is there at the end of our travels in life to

~ 24 ~

illuminate his love and care for us in ever increasing brilliance. It is also comforting to

read in Revelation 21:23, "And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the

glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the lamb."

Bonnie Weisenburger

Christmas Day, December 25

Hope

It seems that hope is always present. When I was a child in fear of the night, hope was

there in the comforting words of my mother. When I was a boy in defeat from a batter’s

slump in Little League, my father’s encouragement gave me hope. When college took a

turn that I couldn’t keep up with, there was hope for something beyond academia.

(After all, one hopes for what is not seen.)

Hope has a way of lingering, badgering. As if one moment we’re walking down the

street in lonely misery and four seconds later the sky above shows a sunset that

absolutely must mean there is beauty, even reconciliation somewhere ahead.

So now there is Covid. And we wait anxiously for it to conclude. For us to be together in

the pews with hymnals again. And talking at the tables. Right now, to me, it’s kind of

like we’re waiting for the dawn and every spark or flicker of light can brighten our

journey. Every star, every act of kindness. Each ray of moonlight, every “Hello, how are

you” can help us along the way. I think hope, love, and openness are more contagious

than this virus, and also spread faster. We have to follow the safety guidelines with all

our hope guiding us safely.

Our hope can bring us through this. After all, surely hope does not disappoint. We

remember Abraham, we remember Moses, we remember Ruth, the prophets, the Maji,

Mary and Joseph. But most of all, we look to that baby of Bethlehem who shines a hope

fulfilled and a gentle steadfast love into all our hearts.

Now that is something to hope for.

Ben B. Longman

~ 25 ~

Saturday, December 26 – First Weekend of Christmas

Lost in the darkest of nights

Just like the Amish black fabric

The stars are dim

The heart is heavy.

The blackness continues on and on

No light is appearing

The enemies of God are all around

Seemingly only capable of using the reptilian portion of the brain.

There is no peace in the blackness,

Lost continues in the march of time.

The march has a steady beat

Like the beating drum of the heart

But the steps in the blackness are two steps behind

Desolation is deep and wide.

The blackness of the night continues on and on

When will the sunrise begin?

Family and friend structures have been changing in this blackness with new life and

new death.

The unwanted grief is so black in deaths, events, and celebrations delayed until

sunrise!

2020 year of the nurse and midwife declared by the World Health Organization and

Professional nursing organizations, celebrating the 200th birth anniversary of Florence

Nightingale

Florence taught how to care in epidemics, using knowledge from God.

She too wandered in the black of night, needing to change the concept of nursing

and its providers.

Masks, and more masks making you very aware of your breathing---inhale, exhale,

rapid, and slow,

Causing you to pay attention to your body’s reactions

You long to see total facial expression

Can the eyes tell the whole story?

Longing for hope is in the unseen

God’s angels give you a warm tap on the cheek with no apparent heating device

~ 26 ~

around you.

The blackest of nights begin to change in the eastern sky.

Horizon colors begin to slowly change, the black turning to purple-brown, then

shades of pink, until the sun bursts forth in brilliant yellow.

The mystery glory Christ in us which is the hope of glory.

Just as in the art of iconography with no external light—no shadows but the light is

glowing from within---the mystery of the divine light of Christ.

Marie Wiegert

Sunday, December 27 – First Weekend of Christmas

On the trail, in the minus teens, on a Scouts’ zero hero night left me with the knowledge

another false peace. That the crushing cold can bring relief from the struggle of tired

muscles burning the calories that bring warmth and the fuel to finish the trip.

It takes a love of life, practicality, and preparation to recognize the false comfort of

giving into a false peace. The Good News is that the gift of faith brings with it the peace

that passes all understanding. A true peace that prepares us to finish the trip of the joy

that God planned and lived in his creation.

William Nicol

~ 27 ~

Prayer Suggestions and Two Poems

Prayer for Healing and Wholeness

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work or watch or weep, and give your angels

charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, give rest to the weary, bless the dying,

soothe the suffering, comfort the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake.

Amen.

Prayer for Peace

O God, it is your will to hold both heaven and earth in a single peace. Let the design of

your great love shine on the waste of our wraths and sorrows, and give peace to your

church, peace among nations, peace in our homes, and peace in our hearts; through

your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

Prayer for all who seek

Gracious and holy God, give us diligence to seek you, wisdom to perceive you, and

patience to wait for you. Grant us, O God, a mind to meditate on you; eyes to behold

you; ears to listen for your word; a heart to love you; and a life to proclaim you; through

the power of the Spirit of Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

Amen.

Prayer for Commitment

Almighty and eternal God, so draw our hearts to you, so guide our minds, so fill our

imaginations, so control our wills, that we may be wholly yours, utterly dedicated unto

you; and then use us, we pray, as you will, but always to your glory and the welfare of

your people, through our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

A prayer attributed to Francis of Assisi

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where

there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where

there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant

that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to

understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning

that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Amen.

A prayer of Julian of Norwich

~ 28 ~

In you, Father all-mighty, we have our preservation and our bliss. In you, Christ, we

have our restoring and our saving. You are our mother, brother, and savior. In you, our

Lord the Holy Spirit, is marvelous and plenteous grace. You are our clothing; for love

you wrap us and embrace us. You are our maker, our lover, our keeper. Teach us to

believe that by your grace all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of

things shall be well.

Amen.

Light Comes

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

What I know is

that it loves

searching out

what is hidden,

what is lost,

what is forgotten

or in peril

or in pain.

I cannot tell you

how the light comes,

but that it does.

That it will.

That it works its way

into the deepest dark

that enfolds you,

though it may seem

long ages in coming

or arrive in a shape

you did not foresee.

And so

may we this day

turn ourselves toward it

May we lift our faces

to let it find us.

~ 29 ~

May we bend our bodies

to follow the arc it makes.

May we open

and open more

and open still

to the blessed light

that comes.

By Jan Richardson from A Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons

Kneeling

Moments of great calm,

Kneeling before an altar

Of wood in a stone church

In summer, waiting for the God

To speak; the air a staircase

For silence; the sun’s light

Ringing me, as though I acted

A great role. And the audiences

Still; all that close throng

Of spirits waiting, as I,

For the message.

Prompt me, God;

But not yet. When I speak,

Though it be you who speak

Through me, something is lost.

The meaning is in the waiting.

By R. S. Thomas, Collected Poems

Documents

Central Lutheran Church Advent Devotions...experience the dizzying view from the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, while not totally comparable to being there, was like taking a pre-trip