PEACE & JOY: The Dust We Still See

Thank goodness Spotify Wrapped doesn’t include December because I would be doomed. I fear my top five would look something like “Mariah Carey, Pentatonix, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra, and Michael Bublé” (not kidding). 

There's something about Christmas music that instantly puts me in a good mood. Crying over finals? Christmas music. Overwhelmed about the future? Christmas music. In a funk? Christmas music!

However… I’ll admit, I’ve been a little off my A-game this year. Of course, Spotify Christmas playlists and Porter’s Gate’s Advent album have been on REPEAT, but I’ve also found myself gravitating toward other music too… music related to Jesus but not exactly related to Christmas. Music like “Wake Up, Jesus” (also by Porter’s Gate):

Jesus, when you gonna wake up

When you gonna wake up and calm this raging sea

Jesus, when you gonna wake up

When you gonna wake up

How can you sleep when we're in need

Just one word from the Maker and all the waves be still

Just one touch from the Healer and all will be made well

[...]

So won't you rise up

Won't you rise up

I’m not entirely sure why this song feels so relevant to me, specifically within the context of Christmas, but it stopped me in my tracks. I'm fixated on its words. And in a time where we, as Advent people, focus on peace and joy (pardon my dual blog... Peace Week was also finals...), I'm especially drawn to images of a raging sea, a sleeping Jesus, and a plea for God to rise up. Yeah... there's something here.

Let Justice Roll Down

Last summer, on our fourth night of worship (another summer camp story!), two of my coworkers led a prayer experience. Before the service, we instructed campers and chaperones to write down injustices they had experienced or seen firsthand. Campers often wrote down words like "racism," "homophobia," "sexism," and "bullying," and as we sang our third song during worship, two staffers carried the once-empty boards down the aisles onto our stage.

It was painful to see. It was painful to watch the campers write. Always, the boards were full. But the prayer was not designed to simply be painful. 

As our camp congregation read a litany, proclaiming, "Let justice roll down!" my coworker and I poured pitchers of water steadily down the boards. Slowly, our makeshift waterfalls washed away the written injustices. Reds, blues, and greens flowed together to reveal the dark board underneath. The visual was powerful—a representation of God erasing our greatest battles, our greatest hurts. It alone was a prayer.

But, for me, up close, I could see what the campers couldn't: the chalk never fully washed away.

The board was textured, and no matter how hard, quickly, hesitantly, or slowly I poured, the board, full of what seemed like an impossible to-do list of insurmountable injustices… Well… I could read every word. My pour wasn’t enough. Injustices remained—on the board or otherwise... But you could only see it if you were right there.

Won’t You?

I learned a lot about God, kids, and the world while working camp this summer, and like these lessons, the leftover chalkdust stays with me. In some ways, camp is like a bubble—a haven, a safe place, a sanctuary. It’s hard to adjust back to normal. And it’s hard, like I was reminded when I came home in July, to come back and face the injustices our world has not yet washed away. Even now, months later, it’s hard.

There was a school shooting this week. Again.

Jesus, won't you rise up?

Unhoused people are everywhere, and it’s getting cold.

Jesus, won’t you rise up?

There’s a student who’s worried about coming home to a family that's neither loving nor kind.

Jesus, won’t you rise up?

Sometimes, it feels like there's no peace. There's no joy. Even during Advent. So "Wake Up, Jesus" rings in my head:

Jesus, won’t you rise up?

…

Well, Allie... won't you?

I had this thought the other day, and it took me by surprise—the kind of surprise that scares you, convicts you, and relieves you all at once. Won't you?

And I did feel relieved. Don’t we all feel relieved by the idea that we can do something?

So maybe it’s just hope—a coping mechanism. Or maybe it’s a call that’s deeper than hope. Maybe it’s a call that lives in every inch of our chalkdust-covered world… won’t you?

When we encounter injustice, with kindness, compassion, hope, and open hands... won't we rise up?

We Can Too

Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that the Christmas story is just the beginning.

Just as we prepare the way for Jesus, Jesus prepares the way for us. Just as we anticipate God with us during this Christmas season, we can be God with us in our world.

We are not perfect. We are not Jesus. But we are called to follow the teachings that this little baby, born to humble refugees who found shelter in a stable… that this little baby would grow up to preach, teach, and die for. 

So as I sit and wonder, God, my God, won’t you be the Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love in the world, I must also look in the mirror that I sometimes avoid and ask myself, “Won’t you?” Won’t we all?

We are the peace God promises. We are the joy for our neighbors. We can be the eyes that see, the hands that write, the hands that pour out God's justice, and the towels that scrub when our first pours don't cut it:)

And good news! We are not in this alone:) So we do not have to be afraid. 

On this Advent week, on this week of Joy, following a week of Peace, preparing for a week of Love, hold your people. Thank God. And fight for our neighbors like God is asking us to. Because God is.

The dust we still see will not win. Because Jesus is coming. And Jesus is rising, with hope, peace, joy, and love. We can too. Thanks be to God.