Advent, Jan Hus and other revolutions
„Unexpected God. Your coming startles us!“
This is the traditional Advent prayer of the Anglican Church: „Unexpected God, your advent alarms us.“
This doesn't necessarily go well with the sweet music, decorations and equally sweet biscuits that we culturally associate with the Advent season and rightly love. I, at least, love Advent calendars, Advent wreaths and other traditions. However, I can happily do without department stores' music.
But the Anglican prayer also fits in with the fact that God's coming often upsets things.
Where things are godless, something is going on when God comes.
I'm currently reading a biographical novel about the Czech reformer Jan Hus, who fought like a lion against the abuses in the church at the time. Just a few: Three popes were at least two too many, priests who could buy ministries and profit financially from the compulsory levies of the faithful without being pastors on the ground, selling indulgences to finance the war that the popes waged against each other.
The coming of God - in the form of the reformer Jan Hus and his friends - brought light into the darkness of the time. It startled many. Some to shock and repentance and new joy and freedom in God. Others to even more hatred and cruelty in order to defend the darkness - unsuccessfully - against the penetrating light.
The grippingly written book Jan Hus, the firebird of Constance has shaken me up. So much so that I couldn't fall asleep for a few hours today. It's so amazing how one man and his friends recognised the truth step by step and brought light into the pitch-black darkness.
Less like a spotlight that suddenly illuminates everything. But more like candles that were lit one after the other. Candles whose luminosity was limited, but which, candle by candle, realisation by realisation, spread further into dark corners.
What Jan Hus and his friends achieved - at great personal sacrifice - in order to bring light to future generations makes me weep. With pain. And gratitude.
Godless does not necessarily mean corrupt and exploitative, as in the church before Hus.
God-less can simply mean - God hasn't got there yet.
I wonder:
Where am I godless?
- Where has God not yet come in my life?
- Which corners of my heart do I still keep closed?
- Where is it dark in me, my trade, my heart, my thinking?
That will be my prayer for the Advent season:
Unexpected God. Where I am godless, shake me up. To renewal. To more light. To more life.
Bringing practical light
The pragmatist in me also wants to bring light into people's lives in a very practical and tangible way.
In the form of trees that I want to plant in Afghanistan. Where dark forces have chopped down millions of fruit trees in cruel wars, I want to plant hope.
Hope like candles. They bring light piece by piece.
My goal: 100 trees for Afghanistan. Or more.
Planting a fruit tree costs just 5 euros.
A tree can make a decisive contribution to a family's nutrition and income.
I would be delighted if you would join in. At the moment (as of 1 Advent morning) I'm still waiting for an answer, then the project will be activated for fundraising. But you can already become a fan now. And then join in as soon as it has started.
Light inwards.
Light to the outside.
It's going to be a good Advent.
