Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day 24 and 25 -- Rests | Forevermore

Rests | Forevermore

 

Merry Christmas, church.

 

I want to thank everyone who took part in our Advent journey. Whether you read a post, watched a Tuesday timeout, attended worship in person or online, or lit a candle with intention, your presence this season was a meaningful source of encouragement and joy.

 

Thank you!

 

It’s hard to believe we're now in the Christmastide season. Over the next twelve days, we celebrate the good news that God loves the world so much and that eternity is revealed in a baby. During the twelve days of Christmas, we reflect on the mystery of Love made flesh, entering history once again and pondering the paradox of God’s grand creation and the particularity of the manger. We hold onto the good news that we are God’s beloved. 

 

So, today, tomorrow, and the days ahead, take time to be present. Listen for the sounds of the angelic choir—whether in Bird songs, children’s laughter, knowledge shared in stories told by the wisest among us, or the soothing silence while drinking your tea—and let it be enough. Because it is—and you are. 

 

One of my favorite theologians, Sr. Ilia Delio has this great poem about today I can’t help but share.

What do the stars say?

The light that meets our eyes after millions of years summons us to look beyond.

The dark that hovers over us is filled with light.

That underneath the appearance of the stable heavens is the bubbling energy of the universe.

We are forming, forming, forming and nothing can stop us.

There is a palpable power of attraction, pulling us toward we-know-not-where.

Love alone is the guide of the universe and the whole universe is in the human heart.

Tend to the heart and the power of love will name itself as God.

 

Today, we celebrate the joyful news that Love rests upon us all. Although it’s a foggy Christmas Day here in Lincoln, it remains a day filled with the illuminating presence of the Incarnation. The darkness of Love’s womb gives birth to the hope, peace, and joy we have been waiting for.

 

Also, for those who woke up feeling a bit tenderhearted this morning and might experience grief at some point today, remember that part of the Christmas story is that God understands what it’s like to be human. God accepts all of our parts and knows how we feel. Not only that, but S/He welcomes them and breathes with us when we laugh and when we cry. I heard it once put that God is as close as the air we breathe and the heartbeats within our chest. I don’t know about you, but that’s some good news.

 

And the thing is, this is good news today and will be good news forevermore.

 

So, as I tried to articulate last night in my sermon, let the story change you. Allow the mystery of the particularity of the Christ child disrupt your life and let the love of God transform your heart. After all, each of us is a little word of the Word of God, a mini-incarnation of divine love.

 

Who knew I had more words left to write? If you read this, thank you! Now, go move the three wise folks a little closer to your creche. But don’t bring them to the manger just yet. They’ve got 11 more days of travel!

 

A very Merry Christmas to all of you!

 

With Deep Love and Admiration,

 

 

The Rev. Dr. Adam R. Quine

Christmas 2025

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word[s] a Day -- Light | Deep

Light | Deep

 

I’ve got no deep thoughts today.

 

I took the Dogs to the park. We walked among leafless trees, brown and gold fields bent down from the weight of snow that’s all but gone, and a low-hanging gray sky empty of Birds. So boring. So ordinary. So quiet.

 

We spend most of our lives in days like these, don't we? At least, I believe I do. I’m comfortable with this reality. I guess it makes the arrival of the Red-winged Blackbird and His ‘conk-la-lee’ call that much more surprising when he returns in February to perch on those dead Sunflowers in that field. Oh, today, during one of the seemingly hundred times I let Tecumseh out, I did hear a flock of Geese flying over. Speaking of Tecumseh going outside, with this unseasonably warmer weather, the frozen yard is now a muddy mess, and there’s a fun trail of paw prints throughout the house.

 

I suppose the Geese and the mud remind me that I’m alive. That there’s life teeming everywhere, especially deep beneath the Earth right now, even if I can’t see it.

 

The ordinariness of a dreary day in the park made me think of how I perceive things. There’s a whole world, of which I am a part but rarely attentive to, alive in places like the park this time of year here in the Northern Hemisphere. The park is breathing: the Trees do, though not like I do, but the same breath I take is an exchange of air with the Whitetail Deer and the Bald Eagle I saw last week. I guess, I’m considering that the world isn’t made up of inert matter but is a realm of diverse, active intelligences (plants, animals, elements) with whom humans are deeply entangled through shared senses.

 

Okay. I’ll admit it – that’s too deep.

 

Know what else is deep? God’s love – both deep and wide. We are preparing for the good news that the love of God is infused throughout all creation. I think it’s Paul in Colossians who was one of the first of our tradition to say this when he wrote, “Christ is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things were created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” Some call this a deep incarnation!

 

The Christ mystery holds us together. God’s love binds us together. It’s this energy and love of God that stitches us together like sinews and bones and muscles – our bodies.

 

'Know what else is deep? God’s love isn’t just an idea. It’s real. It’s alive. It’s felt in how we relate to each other. I experienced it—I saw it in the light and darkness of our Longest Night | Blue Christmas service last night. Over twenty of our friends gathered to witness our individual and shared grief and joy. I felt God was—and still is—near. It’s like that line from the poem by Mark Nepo we read last night, “I am so sad and everything is beautiful.” [I’ll post the poem below so you can see this line in its proper context.]

 

Goodness, our lives, as ordinary as they are at times, are full of depth. On well-worn paths and padded pews, I encountered the supernatural in the natural – aren’t they the same?

 

Take a deep breath. Sit in the dark and light a candle. Do you perceive it? You are alive. So is that plant, albeit a little thirsty, on your shelf. That spirit-breathing-life that you take in, that gives light to the candle, is the deep love God has for us – and that matters.

 

And so do you.

Here is the poem "Adrift" by Mark Nepo

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.
I am so sad and everything is beautiful.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day 18 & 19 -- Spirit and Name

Spiri & Name  

The word for the Wednesday of the third week of Advent is Spirit.

I think it comes from Mary’s Magnificat. The part where she sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior…”

Know what I love about this line?

It’s a statement of reflection. She names her source of joy and hope.

Here’s what I mean.

After this line comes this one, “for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed, for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name…”

God … has … done … great things.

Okay, Mary keeps going.

"He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty. He has come to the aid of his child Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."

Mary sings about what God has done and, thus, what she knows will be because of the Holy One. So, despite her current reality, the circumstances surrounding her, and the uncertainty, her soul magnifies God, and her spirit rejoices because she knows God is one of liberation. She has heard the stories, and she is preparing for the same thing!

In her song, Mary highlights a few major notes. First, the Herods of history were defeated. For Mary, God's promises alone are enough to accept her role. She understands that, even amid an oppressive empire [redundant], God's past actions serve as proof for her to trust and follow the Holy One into what lies ahead. She also acknowledges, “Yes, I know there are hungry people, and conditions may worsen. But God appears in unexpected and unimaginable ways to provide.”

Mary also does what the prophets and prophetesses did before her. She sings of God’s promises, yes, to comfort those who hear her song – but also to remind God of God’s words. Now, this may seem strange to some. Here’s what I mean – go back and listen to Jeremiah and the other prophets argue with God not to forget what God promised to the people. Even if the promises are unrealized, or appear to be unkept, we remember what God has done for our ancestors in Scripture and for us, and we rejoice knowing it won’t always be this way.

Who are the people in your life who help you remember God’s promise? Who are the people who gave you the faith to name your hopes and fears, and the comfort in God’s with-ness?

My Grandfather's highlights from Isaiah.

Included in today’s post is a photo of a Bald Eagle I snapped along the banks of the Kickapoo Creek. Immediately, I thought of my Grandpa Quine and how his deep faith still comforts me. For the sake of time, I won’t go into why – but take me out for coffee, and I’ll gladly tell you – but through the struggles and celebrations of life, at the end of his life, he proclaimed “To God be the glory.”

One of the last times I visited with him, I asked what his favorite passage from the Bible was. He smirked and said, “Grandson, there are many.” And then he quoted Isaiah 40.31. Of course, he kept going! I smiled.

Indeed, God has done great things – and my spirit rejoices in God who rescues with Love.

What is causing your spirit to rejoice these days? Name them. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. Maybe take time to name those who have lifted your spirits when you needed it most. Maybe name a season when you remember Love lifted your spirits and remember your unshakable goodness. 

Hang in there, friends. Advent is giving way to Love. I can feel it in my soul. Can you?

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day 16 -- Found

Found

          

   The sun found me lost in thought. My mind was restless, scattered, bouncing from one distraction to another. I reach for my phone, then turn to the computer to check emails, go back to the phone, and then I remember I did that thing today I put on my list, so I can scratch it off and get a hit of dopamine. What else on this list can I cross off? Better check my phone and see if I found anything worth writing about for today’s word. I wonder what tomorrow’s word is. Better log on to Facebook, but I won’t get caught up in the noise. 

Noise. My furnace isn’t running as much as it has over the past two days. It’s kind of nice to have this silence—unless, heaven forbid, it’s broken or something. I mean, if it is broken, at least it’s not below zero temperatures. What a great perspective. Wait. What’s tomorrow’s word? Tomorrow is Tuesday of the third week of Advent. It’s also Center day. Wait. Wasn’t I supposed to meet Andy at Hope on Fifth to give them the artwork the students created and the $670 raised from this project? Let me check my phone real quick.

Brigid enjoying the snow!

Yes, Andy says to be there at 5. It’s only 4:15 p.m. I’ll add ‘attend the meeting at Hope’ to my to-do list – more dopamine! Did I post about the Center last week? Is it too late to share one about how tomorrow’s the last gathering for the semester and 2025? Goodness, time flies. But does it? How is it already December 15th? Next week is Christmas. That doesn’t seem possible. Know what else didn’t seem possible? The Bills were victorious over the Patriots after trailing by 21 points, but Josh Allen found a way to lead them to victory. There was a funny meme about that I should send to my brother. I think it was on Facebook. Oh, right, tomorrow’s word.

What time is it? Oh, good. Plenty of time. It’s 4:20. Tomorrow’s word is... wait, did Tecumseh bark to go out? Yeah, he’s barking. Alright, let him out. Then what were you going to do? I wonder if Zack found a song for today’s word. I wonder what he might come up with for tomorrow’s word, which is… 

Yes, Tecumseh. I hear you, and I’m coming. Give me a minute, buddy. I’ve got to find my phone. Why do you need your phone to let him out? Let him out, then come back and finish whatever you were going to do. How much time do you have before you need to leave? It’s not even 4:30. Plenty of time.

That’s when the sun found me. It had already set, casting a gentle glow across the darkening December sky, but I didn’t see it outside my window. If I’m honest, I’m not sure I would have noticed it if I hadn’t stepped away from my desk and stopped searching for my phone. And look what I found—a shade of yellow you can’t see on the beach or even in July in the Midwest. I swear, the untouched snow holds the light the way a child clutches her teddy bear as she heads off to bed.

After grabbing my camera, with half-tied boots and no coat, I found myself outside. I remembered how this season's light highlights the golden tones in the Dogs' cream-colored coats. Truly a golden hour if there ever was one. I felt my cheeks reddening from warmth, not from the sun, but from the joy of playing and smiling a bit. Between photos, I breathed in this most ordinary of moments, allowing the slow fade of the setting sun on this winter day, and its traces of pink light be a balm to my weary eyes.

Serotonin in the simplicity of accidentally paying attention.

The sun found me when I didn’t even know I needed to be seen—a mystical moment on an ordinary Monday and all before 4:47.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day 15 -- Least

Least

"Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt in solitude, where we are least alone." Lord Byron

 

I’ve thought about this word all day.

 

Least.

 

The word is inspired by this line from the primary Gospel lesson for the third Sunday of Advent:

"Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”

 

There’s that “upside-down” perspective of Jesus. Those with the least power are greater than the prophet who called people like me “brood of vipers.” The story of God focuses on the unlikely, often underestimated group pushing forward through the wilderness. The thing about God is that, despite the claims of the powerful with their predictions and reports about this or that, the Holy One offers a path opposite to the direction of the world and its oppressive, dehumanizing, and destructive systems.

 

The story of God is not one of least resistance. Rather, the way of God. Perhaps that’s why there are so many occasions in the Bible where servants and the like are told, “Do not be afraid,” because the ways of justice and peace are brutal. I guess that’s why I like hearing the stories we listen to during Advent. They are full of tales of our ancestors who went against the status quo, proclaiming that love will rescue us.

 

I understand. It’s difficult to accept, especially considering everything happening in the world. But you’re not alone in questioning. John the Baptist sent his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one to come, or should we wait for another?” I believe his cousin needed reassurance that Jesus genuinely is the one who will offer salvation and new life amidst the empire’s systems of violence and fear. At the very last, John needed some comfort that his prison sentence wasn’t in vain -- not for himself, but for his community. [He uses the plural form of the verb meaning “to look or wait for” (prosdokomen). This indicates that he is just one person in a community of people waiting for Christ to come.]

 

Know what else I love about this question? It’s how Jesus responds – and he doesn’t give a theological declaration. Doctrine and dogma were the least and farthest things on Jesus’s mind. Instead, Jesus gives a call to action – of course, he did. Jesus answered them,

"Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

 

Jesus says that it’s the least, last, and left out—those pushed to society’s margins—that the good news comes to not only in words but through embodied love. It’s an experience, not just a sermon. It’s like what professor Karri Alldredge says about this when they write, “Those most vulnerable in society—like John in prison—receive the gospel not only through words but through actions and community relationships. Caring for those who are most vulnerable, oppressed, and ostracized is a sign of living out the good news, just as Jesus did throughout his ministry.” The good news as experience—woah.

 

What I hear in all this is a question I least expected: Am I … are WE … the ones who will join God in bringing forth the world Mary sang about in her Magnificat?

 

Maybe we don’t feel very confident in ourselves. Or like we can actually do this work. Yet, isn’t that the irony or paradox or whatever the word is regarding God’s reign of love? It shows up in the least likely of places … in the least likely of people.

 

Least.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word A Day 12 -- Blessed

 Blessed

 

What is opening you up to the presence of God in your life right now?

  I love that the first lesson Jesus teaches in Matthew is about being blessed. And it isn’t about a future moment but right now. It isn’t “Blessed will be” but “blessed are…”

Barbara Brown Taylor says it this way, ““Blessed are the poor in spirit”—not because of something that will happen to them later but because of what their poverty opens up in them right now. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness”—not because God is going to fill them up later but because their appetites are so fine-tuned right now….”

  God draws near to those who are mourning, hungering, and celebrating. Of course, this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t work to liberate systems that oppress people. We absolutely must do that work. It also means that whatever we are enduring “may need blessing as much as they need fixing, since the blessing is already right there.”

  The blessings Jesus offer in the beatitudes remind me that the task of the blessing – to be called blessed – is to simultaneously look outward and honor the reality of what is happening, while looking inward to name the inner experience and resources within. It doesn’t avoid the reality of whatever season we are in, and it summons forth the presence of the Spirit and that She is up to.

  I’m certain that doesn’t make any sense.

  In my experience, when I face heartache and grief, and prayer becomes a lament or mourning, knowing that God joins me in my suffering allows me to handle the pain differently. It doesn’t lessen the hurt, and the wounds remain tender, but the added meaning makes them easier to bear.

  I’m unsure how this resonates with you all. I hope it doesn’t come across as dismissive to anyone experiencing deep suffering. Over time, I've seen that in our pain, God approaches us gently, aiming to bring healing. God provides us with what we need to be part of Her healing presence in each other's lives.

What I love most about being blessed is that God's blessings are available to all of us. While we have tried to turn faith into a formula for achieving perfection and have equated faithfulness with health, wealth, and success, God’s focus is on our wholeness. It is in accepting our wounds that we receive God’s blessing.

Our lives are a blessing. Isn’t that how our story begins? An original blessing that declares we are unshakably good. Ours is a story of blessing—and God’s mercy, ensuring everyone knows they are blessed. This mercy is made real when the hungry are fed, those who are pushed down are lifted up, gatherings include those who have been pushed out, the privileged relinquish their power, and all the things that cause people pain are lifted and broken down. 

What does that look like in real time? To offer a blessing, as JOD says, “is a sacred act that honors the visible and invisible, a "circle of light" woven around someone to protect, heal, and strengthen them, bridging the human heart to the divine by recognizing the sacred in daily life and moments of transition, acting as a window to deeper spiritual reality.”

So, be a blessing. Be blessed. Stay blessed.

 You are blessed. You are a blessing. You are the beloved.