Necessary Urban

What a day. Full of family, friends, food, and several other wonderful things. And yet, as we speak, a wonderful woman is also denying herself life-giving sustenance in order to draw attention to the needs of her people. Chief Theresa Spence has been without food since December 12th. In light of this, I found the following Christmas meditation to be incredible enlightening and challenging. If you’ve had a happy and content Christmas, this perhaps isn’t for you. If you are still longing for something more, read on.

Hell Fire at Christmas!

by Brian Walsh (reposted from empireremixed.com)

For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. (Is. 9.6)

You’re already humming the tune, aren’t you?

“For unto us a child is born,
unto us, a son is given,
unto us, a son is given …”

That Handel had some good chops and knew how to fill a tune with enough hooks to reel in everyone in the hall.

There are many verses that capture the heart of Christmas,
but this is surely one of the most evocative,
a verse that fills us with hope that somehow in the birth of this child,
all of our deepest longings will find fulfillment;
that in the birth of this child world authority shifts
from the forces of darkness,
from the powers of foolishness, idolatry, oppression and violence
to one who will embody wisdom,
bear the authority of the Creator God of blessing,
be to us a loving father,
and bring peace in his wake.

Kind of hard to imagine at the end of 2012, isn’t it?

Kind of hard to imagine after another year of civil war in Syria,
violence between Israel and Palestine,
ongoing strife throughout Africa,
hundreds upon hundreds dead in the drug wars of Mexico,
suicides of First Nations sisters and brothers
on the streets of our cities and on our reservations.

Kind of hard to imagine after Newtown, Connecticut.

A child is to be born?
Hard to imagine when twenty children have been murdered in one school.

Peace?
Not so easy to be found when your life has been torn apart,
not so easy to embrace amongst the dead bodies,
not so easy to see when there is blood everywhere.

Isaiah knows what I’m talking about.

You see, his prophecy happens amidst the ruins,
in the wake of the carnage,
with the blood still running in the streets,
or down the halls and in the classrooms of an elementary school.

Here is the verse that immediately precedes our wonderful prophecy
of a child who will be born:

For all the boots of the tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire. (Is. 9.5)

Yes, the people who have walked in deep darkness
have seen a great light.

Yes, a deep joy will overtake the sorrow.|

Yes, a child will be born, a son will be given.

And yes, O God, let it be yes, his name will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace.

But first those boots that have walked through blood
and those blood stained clothes must be burned.

Such blood has no place in the Kingdom that this child brings.
Such blood has no place where this one has authority.
Such blood has no place if the world is ruled by wisdom.
Such blood has no place before the throne of a Mighty God.
Such blood has no place in the presence of such a Father.
Such blood has no place in a world suffused with Peace.

Such blood bears witness to a world of violence
and it has no place in a world of Shalom.

So burn the boots and burn the clothes.

Take the blood stained shrouds of the dead in Palestine and burn them.
Take the bloodied clothes of the children of Syria and burn them.
Take those army boots and don’t recycle them, but burn them.
Take the uniforms that are put on child soldiers and aged veterans
and throw them in the fire.
Take the clothes, those beautiful clothes of the children of Newtown,
those bloodied shirts and skirts, pants and sneakers, and burn them all.
And burn the clothes of the adults who tried to save them.
And take the bed clothes of Nancy Lanza, murdered with her own weapons, and burn them.
And yes, take the bloodied clothes and shoes of Adam Lanza, and burn them too.

But while you’re at it,
take the dry cleaned and well pressed suits of those politicians
who support the gun lobby,
and burn them too.
And take the suits of the executive of the National Rifle Association,
those perfectly clean suits, that are stained with blood nonetheless,
and throw them into the fire.

If this is what hell fire damnation is all about,
then I say, bring it on.

Hell fire at Christmas!

A fire to burn the boots of oppression and the clothes soaked in blood.
A fire that destroys and in so doing, just might cleanse as well.

There will be no child born to us,
there will be no son given to us,
there will be no authority placed upon him,
there will be no Wonderful Counselor,
no Almighty God,
no Everlasting Father,
and certainly no Prince of Peace,
without such a fire.

For all the boots of he tramping warriors
and all the garments rolled in blood
shall be burned as fuel for the fire.
For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
and he is named
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Merry Christmas.