Hope at Christmas

When I was growing up in Bristol, one of the old buildings which always appealed to me was the Chapel of the Three Kings of Cologne, part of the Foster's Almshouses, at the top of Christmas Steps (full of exciting Dickensian shops!). It was built in 1504, by John Foster, a Bristol merchant, who, it's thought, had seen the Chapel of the Three Kings in Cologne Cathedral, named after the magi who came to visit the baby Jesus after the nativity - whose bones were transferred there in the 12th century. 

On my other blog, I wrote about being interviewed about the end of life by Channel 5, and received this comment from "Leafyschroder", which I liked and thought I'd repeat here.

"Coming towards the celebration of the coming into the world of Life itself, I find your article, and indeed all that is being said about this subject profoundly moving.
"It's difficult to comprehend just how difficult life must be for some and one wishes that they could be enveloped by Love and deeply feel how valuable their life is. I have been listening to this beautiful song about hope: Cologne Cathedral and the Jewish song, 'Inscription of Hope'". 

Suzette, from whose blog this comes, wrote this about the song:

"The basement (of the cathedral) also became the hiding place for Jewish families hiding out from Hitler. At the end of the war, fragments of a poem, believed to have been written by a Jewish child, were scrawled on the wall. Those words from the poem were taken and put to music, the melody coming from an old Russian folk tune, and was turned into the choral arrangement, 'Inscription of Hope.' The music and choral arrangement were done by composer Z. Randall Stroope. Below are the lyrics of the first stanza of the song, taken from the words inscribed on the wall of the Cologne Cathedral:
Inscription of Hope
I believe in the sun
even when it is not shining
and I believe in love
even when there's no one there,
and I believe in God
even when he's silent.
I believe through any trial
there is always a way."

There's a poignancy reading this again at the time when we recall another Jewish child being hunted down by an oppressive régime. Whatever your circumstances this Christmas, I wish you a hope-filled season and the knowledge within you that Love came down at Christmas. Emmanuel - God is with us

Long reigning Queen

Today saw the service in Westminster Abbey celebrating the 60th anniversary of Queen Elizabeth's reign. I've been struck by the times I have heard her accession to the throne described as a "vocation". I believe that is a good description of how she regards it, not a very popular concept these days.

In my 3 Minute Retreat reading today, based on Isaiah 49.6 ("I will make you a light to the nations...") I read this comment: "Each of is called to be a light to the nations. The light is generated when we are true to our vocations in life. And when each of us acknowledges and develops the talents that are part and parcel of our vocation, the light we bear brings salvation (restoration) to the world. We become co-creators with God in the work of salvation. How do we do this? Through the action of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is God's life at work in and through us. The more we open ourselves to the movement of the Holy Spirit, the brighter God's light of salvation shines."

"Spirit of God, move through me.
Help me to use my gifts in cooperation with God's plan of salvation."

I like the idea that when St Paul said, "Christ in you, the hope of glory", he was meaning the hope of glory for others. May we be faithful in whatever place and state God has called us.

Stephanie's Hope

I've mentioned Bo Stern, whose husband has ALS/MND like me, before. I hope she won't mind my copying her latest blog post here. I know you'll appreciate it.

"Oh, I love this guest post by my sweet friend, Stephanie Nelson. Never let go of hope.

'Hope.

It was her middle name. 

All we knew was that she was on her way; we didn’t know her gender or her diagnosis yet.  One Sunday morning, our pastor preached about hope, defining it as “confident expectation.”  I leaned over and whispered to my husband that I liked it for a name if we have a girl.  He playfully rolled his eyes at me, standing firmly in his resolution not to discuss baby names until we find out the gender. 

But I tucked it deeply into my heart. 

It was tucked into her heart too.

Photo credit:
http://www.etsy.com/transaction/39221728

Evelyn Hope was born with so many congenital heart defects that at 12 days old, in the NICU of a prestigious research hospital, the doctors told us there was no hope for her and that we should let her go.

I knew where she was going and I knew I’d go there too someday.  I had days that were full of faith, but also days that were full of tears.  Sometimes the line between the two is very blurry, especially when your eyes are puffy, and brimming with a constant and thin veil of salty water that runs down your cheeks at all the moments you wish it wouldn’t.

The truth is I that I had never before really longed for Heaven.  It was a default option because I didn’t want to go to Hell.  I realize this isn’t very spiritual of me, but it’s true.  So much of grieving is learning when to hold on and when to let go.  Having – and losing – Evelyn was God’s gift to me so that I could place my hope in His promise of Heaven. 

Letting go of what I thought my life should be.

Holding this view of Heaven before me every day.

Heaven is where I will embrace her again, and spend endless days by her side worshipping Jesus together.  Knowing this gives me courage that I can greet every morning with faith, and rest in knowing that I am in His hands.  My trials and triumphs are hand-crafted by Him in order to bring me into a deeper relationship with Him.  Even when I want to call it quits in the midst of the dark days and even when I feel that sadness might rend my heart, I hold on to hope.  Knowing Christ more fully is worth the pain it might take to get there.  And spending eternity with Evelyn, compared to the breath that is this life, is just the icing on the cake. 

I did let Evelyn go.

But I will never let go of hope.' 

Stephanie Nelson is the author of “See You in a Breath,” and wife to Chris and mother to Clara and Jonathan. Her passions, in order are: Knowing Christ, loving her family and church, writing, reading, politics, and talking her friend’s ears off."

There's a lot I identify with in that, including her old default position on Heaven and hell! "Having - and losing - Evelyn was God's gift to me..." - that is some statement.