I grew up going to church with my family. My spiritual practices have changed a fair bit, but there are ideas and verses that really stick out in my memory. One of them is Proverbs 7:3: “write/engrave (God’s commandments) on the tablet of your heart.”

Tablets of old were sturdy things: a slab of stone, a wooden board with wax upon it. Meaning was created by carving out space and lines. There was mindfulness in this writing –no easy do-overs when you are chiseling away at a hunk of stone. Even the wax tablet required effort to edit: you needed heat and a scraper to smooth old inscriptions.

This association brings up questions. What is the tablet of my heart like? How much attention do I pay to the different things I have engraved in this foundational area? There have been many stories written there, beliefs that have been deeply etched and have changed me. Helpful, unhelpful, used-to-be-helpful…how do you edit what has been written on the heart?

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I read that Advent encompasses all of time: it’s about waiting (present) for the fulfillment (future) of that which has been hoped for (past). It’s a time of reflecting on the old stories and hoping for the new ones that will be written. For many of us, both in and out of church, the practice of regarding the past and anticipating the future also shows up in resolutions and intentions for the New Year. What has happened, where are we in our lives, and what do we hope for in the coming year?

So often I think of events or things. I hope to change this habit or meet that goal/person. I don’t always let my awareness hit on the beliefs and stories carved on the tablet of my heart and manifesting in the ways I see/interact with the world around me. This year my prayer and intention is to resemble the wax tablet rather than the stone. Let gratitude be the heat that smoothes the worn out stories, and let my surrender to the Divine allow for the inscription of new stories on the foundation of my heart.

It is the beautiful task of Advent to awaken in all of us memories of Goodness and thus to open doors of hope. Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger

Christy Morgan lives with her dog in Anchorage, Alaska. She has an editing and transcribing business: http://markmywordstranscription.com 

Stump is a blogging project of Claremont Presbyterian Church

Things are going very well for Zechariah. Some people might be sent to serve God in the hinterlands of Boise or Staten Island or Ferguson, but not Zechariah. He serves in THE Temple in Jerusalem. He’s in the Order of Abijah. And let’s face it, everyone wants to be in that club. Am I right?

His wife is descended from Aaron. He’s got it all. So when he was chosen randomly, by lot, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense, we can imagine he saw that as confirmation of his blessedness. Some days our privilege gets in the way.

We’ve never been behind the curtain in the Temple, so we’re a little vague about what usually happens when the priest takes the incense back there. But we suspect not everyone has the same experience Zechariah did. The angel Gabriel appears to him at the altar, and tells him his prayer has been heard and his “on in years” wife Elizabeth will bear a son, whose name will be John, and he will turn the people to God and he will prepare the way of the Lord! Zechariah is told good news of great joy by no less than Gabriel himself, and he still somehow seems to think it’s all about him. “How will I know this is so?” he asks THE angel of the Lord, pointing out details of the situation for Gabriel’s edification. Ahem.

Poor Zechariah. Do you think he realized his error as soon as the words were out of his mouth? Or did it not begin to dawn on him until Gabriel started glowing even brighter and made himself twice as big and then screamed at him in his terrifying angel voice, “I AM GABRIEL. Do YOU know God? Because I do. I’m God’s own messenger and I go over to God’s house to play bridge, so just who do you think YOU are to question me?!”

Privilege is like that. We assume we are where we are because of our own righteousness and hard work. And that can certainly be important. But some days we are behind the curtain in the Temple only because our name was chosen by lot. We ascribe our success to our own blameless living, and we forget we were born to a family name that opens doors and offers career advancement.

Luckily, he’s not smited (smote? smitten?) there on the spot. Gabriel takes away Zechariah’s voice, leaving him to observe life in silence for a while, forcing him to offer a witness of presence instead of a witness of words.

Once John is born, and Gabriel’s word is fulfilled, Zechariah gets his voice back and offers a prophecy. But this time it is not all about him. It is about deliverance, and the tender mercy of our God. “The dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet in the way of peace”. (Luke 1:79)

Zechariah finally realizes the light of God is not supposed to shine in his own face, illuminating his brilliance. It is supposed to be held up, as a candelabra, to shed God’s light in a world who sits in darkness. Privilege brings responsibility. Is the silence of the privileged the best way to find out where God’s light needs to shine for those who sit in darkness?

Marci pastors Southminster Presbyterian Church in Boise, Idaho and is a graduate of Columbia Theological Seminary and Trinity University. She blogs at www.marciglass.com and Huffington Post’s Religion Blog about religion, freedom of religion, feminism, and adoption. She serves on the Boards of the Presbyterian Mission Agency, Ghost Ranch, and the Covenant Network. She and her husband Justin have two teen sons and spend a lot of time on the soccer field. 
You can find her on Twitter @MarciGlass.

Stump is a blogging project of Claremont Presbyterian Church

The bear is a wondrous creature. Able to outrun a human being, hibernate in the winter, and catch a salmon mid-jump as it bodysurfs with its brethren along the waterfalls of the Sierra Nevada. That last part may not be completely true, but it achieved its purpose if it gave you paws. Get it? Pause, paws?

Anyway, there is a very interesting story in the bible that involves the prophet Elisha being insulted by a group of small children. In retaliation, he does not lob small objects at them or shout at them to “get off his damn lawn”. Instead, he chooses to send an envoy of mammals to forcefully and violently teach them a lesson about insulting the bald. That is to say, he sends a duo of she-bears to smite 42 of the children, many of which probably did not agree with the situation, the situation being composed of both the name-calling and the subsequent death by large furry creature.

One of my good friends, a non-binary young woman–she doesn’t identify with either gender but still chooses to be referred to as female–named Quinn, once asked of me questions about my faith where she brought up this story. She wondered why the Lord would agree to the wish of this man and send two bears to maul 42 boys (she also asked if the number had any significance; I replied that it was the meaning of life.)

I was a bit confused. Then, I came up with the answer. As a symbol, bears represent power. Elisha was blessed by the Lord, being a prophet, and had at least some power. That is to say, if he invoked the name of the Lord when requesting something, chances are it would happen soon.

Power is a dangerous thing. It can be used wisely and misused. In this story, Elisha was more than a little bit miffed that he was being insulted, and thus, used his power to send two she-bears to mass murder relatively innocent children. Somewhat reminiscent of when King David used his power to send Uriah to the front lines in order to marry Bathsheba. Both represent misuses of power, and this is what I said to Quinn.

The bear signifies power, and the ability to misuse it. The bear can use its strength to find food for its young and to help them hunt; the bear can also use its strength to murder an inordinate amount of children for a small slight on the state of a person’s cranial growths. The difference is in the intention: does it use its power for good or for evil, as cliché as it sounds. We all have our own bears, and we always have a choice. Do we use our bears for selfless or selfish reasons? I’d like to think the former is the better answer.

Angel Ku is a student at Cal State Long Beach. He has many hobbies but is not particularly good at any of them; these include video games, guitar, reading, drawing, and surfing TV Tropes. Many of them at the same time, which probably explains the lackluster performance. When not partaking in his hobbies, he can usually be found partaking in his hobbies. How’s that for a Logic Bomb?

Stump is a blogging project of Claremont Presbyterian Church.

The raven is a curious animal to focus on, especially at a time like this.

Ravens are more readily associated with death, then with the holiday cheer of Christmas. It seems antithetical to consider the end of life when Christians gather to celebrate the birth of Christ.  Yet, death is one of the only certainties in life. We all grow older, some of us are gravely ill, some choose death of our own accord.  We all greet death, and come away from those meetings affected in some way.

I have sat with people who would willingly knock on death’s door, listening to the sorrow and pain of a hole so dark as to be unimaginable. These experiences changed me, and I expect that most of us have come away changed from the loss of a loved one.

Advent, the season of waiting.

Waiting for life.

Waiting for death.

Waiting for salvation.

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
-The Raven

With recent events, I’ve been slipping into the thoughts of the poetic narrator. I have flown from my friends, literally. Recent deaths tax my hope, figuratively. The ravens I see have brought death, and on their wings my hope flies away. My social media outlets are often filled with stores of another assault of a queer person, a senseless death of a person of color, or the threats of sexual assault against a woman.

However, clutched in these ravens’ talons is the bread of life. People are talking, marching, rioting in the streets at times. The message: #blacklivesmatter; our police may not always serve–may even fail to protect.

Ravens may signify death and dying, but we must be ever mindful of the rebirth that comes from death. These stories are reminders that stir our passions, and give us life. From the death of Michael Brown, Eric Garner and Deshawnda Sanchez to the children of Sandy hook Elementary, or the moviegoers in Aurora, CO–at this time of year where we celebrate a birth of long ago, let us not forget these recent deaths. Let the ravens wings provide the nourishment we need, not to survive in the valley, but to come up from it, and give us the strength to say “nevermore”.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel

Andrew Trindle is a queer cisgender male whose mind wanders the galaxy. His delusions of grandeur might qualify him as one of the clients he serves at a community mental health agency in Washington state..  His sparse tweets can be found at @trindlea

Stump is a blogging project of Claremont Presbyterian Church.

In this time of advent there are only two things that we have to think about. First, try to control ourselves with sweets, because, man, the struggle is real! Don’t eat to many cookies. Second, God will forgive you if you walk beside him in this time of preparation.

So I am going to talk about the Advent, which is the time for preparation for the coming of Jesus Christ. He is, as everybody knows, the messiah, the one who will lead us to salvation. And as the song says: “Oh happy day! When Jesus washed all my sins away!” And I ask: What is this belief that we have? It is a promise! It is the faith that we have in the Old Testament promise that the messiah will come to save us. This is the search and the preparation for that happy day. That is advent.

For this Blog Post my pastor asked me to read 1 Kings 8:22-53 and try to relate it to Advent. I read it and said: Impossible. In this passage of the Bible, King Solomon (I’m totally paraphrasing) says; “Lord, here I am at the gate of the temple praising you and asking you to keep the promise that you gave to Moses and my father, king David. If the leader of the Israelites and the people themselves walk beside you, if they act according to you my Lord, you will actually help them”. Then from verses 33 to 53 Solomon states all those different circumstances where the Israelites are able to come back from sin and be forgiven.

I honestly struggle to relate this topic to Advent. I mean if you look at it in the angle of King Solomon the wise, he is wise indeed! I mean, who would know straight up all those circumstances of forgiveness out of the blue! in one prayer! Outside of the temple! Respect.

We all need to be wise from time to time, knowing what to ask for, what to pray for. Even my grandmother has to decide which rosary we are going to pray on Christmas Eve. She always relates it to something that is happening in the family right now, and it actually helps us. You need to be wise for that, and you need to prepare to do that. There is Advent, so, BOOM! I did relate it to advent!

But how do you relate the gate of the temple to Advent?  What does the gate mean? For me, the gate is a promise. When you pray, you pray with your heart open, talking about wishes and desire and asking for something for you or for someone you love, saying thank you God beforehand for everything you give me every day. The gate is a promise.

Advent is a promise! because WE all are the people of God and if we do it correctly God will help our cause. And maybe even if we don’t. Merry Christmas.

Alejandro Salas is a member of Claremont Presbyterian Church and currently enrolled at Citrus College in Azusa, California. He is the Original Mexican.