Find the lesson in this story. An old man and his grandson headed on a trip with their donkey. They casually paced themselves over the hills with grandpa leading the animal and the lad following behind. As they entered the first village they heard several say, “How silly to walk. You ought to ride the donkey.” Well, the old man didn’t want to look like a fool so he jumped up on the beast and the boy continued along side. 

The Fraser River is birthed in the Rocky Mountains by a spring near Mt. Robson. It wanders through rock and forest, pulled by gravity for 1,375 km until it empties in the Pacific. It invites various creeks and tributaries until it reaches a flow of 3,500 cubic meters a second. It gathers sediment like baggage - a full 20 million tonnes. In other words, this river is unstoppable - until it reaches the sea and then becomes something different. The river is welcomed into vast sparkling waters, far greater than could be imagined by the trickle it once was. So, it becomes a metaphor for your life and mine.

Unlike my arms, legs, eyes and ears, my head and heart do not always work in tandem. I assume you find the same. Occasionally our heads pace ahead of our hearts. At times, our hearts rule our heads. This syncopated offbeat rhythm can be awkward when one is faster than the other.

Change by its very nature is an exchange of give-and-take. The changes of geography, calendar, family, or friendships all bring something to gain and something to lose. If there is no plus or minus, then there is no change; life remains the same. And of course it never does! With my permission or without, change occurs constantly. Since change always carries a ledger measuring credits or debits, we resist and avoid the transitions.

Those born in 1900 had to be the most patient people on earth. Consider the historical events experienced by those who arrived at the beginning of the 20th century. Two world wars, a global influenza and the great depression. These global crises unfolded one after another. They consumed the world’s attention for years.

I have a morning ritual. After showering the night off of me, I take my coffee and toast to the den to begin my day. At 5:30 am, the den is dark. I read from my devices and have no need for lights. I prefer the silence of shadow. I do need my coffee, so before dawn I sip and read. The time is peaceful and quiet, most of the time. But there is a flaw. I like to place my coffee on the side table and I habitually find my target.

Many assume that Advent and Christmas are the same thing - but you know better. Christmas is the story of Christ’s birth - an angelic choir, a guiding star, a manger and magi - all part of a specific event. Christ is born! But Advent is the story of waiting - months, years and centuries of waiting for that event. Christmas proclaims God is with us. Advent whispers that God is coming. 

God was once your size. He was as small as you have ever been. The vastness of infinity was tucked into the confines of our physical frame. God was small enough to be seen in His wholeness. He was reduced to a size that could be carried. His greatness shrank to embryonic proportions. That is the Christmas truth and miracle of the Incarnation.

Icons are common in our society. They can be celebrities that have transcended their personal identity and become representative depictions of their field. Mention “Gretzky” and we automatically think hockey. But there are more icons in our culture than superstars. A picture of an Apple makes you think of computers. A Green Giant points to peas and corn.  And of course, a cross on a building or necklace is filled with meanings of faith.

Every believer tastes the distance of God. When the clouds of life smother us with darkness, it is common to look up and see no light. Abraham, David, Elijah and Job form a quartet questioning, “God where are You?” It is a question that presses against the head and heart of those who love and follow God. Advent is an answer to the dilemma.