New Habits for 2025

The year, I would like to begin highlighting books that have shaped and formed me in the past year. In January, I will be discussing a few from 2024 that I would like to recommend.

 Most influential book for me in 2024—

 Drum roll . . .

 Probably the book of 2024 that has challenged and influenced me the most is Justin Earley’s The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose for an Age of Distraction.

The Common Rule: Habits of Purpose for an Age of Distraction: Earley, Justin Whitmel: 9780830845606: Amazon.com: Books

As we begin 2025, many of us are paying attention to our habits. What habits are unhealthy? What new habits might we adopt that will help us thrive in 2025?

 Earley’s book is all about habits. He likens habits to liturgies—” pattern(s) of words or actions repeated regularly as a way of worship” that “form our hearts.” (7-8)

Earley challenges us to decide what we are worshiping—what we are making as idols through our habits: “Worship is formation, and formation is worship. As the psalmist put it, those who make and trust in idols will become like them (Psalm 31:6). So we become our habits.” (9)

Earley transparently reflects on his own habits before making a rule of life, saying, “I’m not even halfway through my day, and you can see how by not having a program of habits I was submitting to a rigorous regimen of liturgies simply by assimilating to the usual way of life in America. My life was an ode of worship to omniscience, omnipresence, and limitlessness. No wonder my body rebelled.” (10)

Earley emphasizes his key learning that by implementing limits, he actually experienced freedom. (10-12) He compared developing a rule of life to a trellis in a garden that helps plants thrive and grow. We need a common rule to help us set limits in order to experience spiritual freedom and growth.

Earley does not shy away from technology, but offers up his personal experience and ideas for forming intentional habits that encompass technology in our busy lives. Some of the habits he focuses on are prayer, meals with others, turning off the phone for an hour, Scripture before the phone, an hour talking with a friend, curation of media, fasting from something for twenty-four hours, and Sabbath.

If you have not already read this book, I would like to challenge you to consider reading it for the following reasons:

 1. Relevance. First, Earley’s writing in The Common Rule is relevant. Earley, who is a lawyer, father, husband, and someone desiring to follow Christ shares practical, everyday faith that we can all grab a hold of for everyday life. Earley transparently shares how he struggled with an addiction to busyness, and his discovery about how his habits were unintentionally contributing to a lifestyle of stress and distraction. He also shares his journey toward forming a plan—a “rule”—to make habits life-giving and formational to how he lives out his faith every day.

2. Well-Written. Second, Earley’s book is well-written. As a writer, I marvel at how Earley takes complex ideas and makes them simple, but profound. His writing style will appeal to the most well-read person on this subject, but also for person just setting out to learn about spiritual practices or disciplines. Earley’s concise explanations wrapped in non-churcheze help me and you, longtime church people, people new to the faith –everyone—to track with him.

3. Practical. In addition to Earley’s book being relevant and powerfully written, my favorite and most important reason that you should read this book is that it is practical. I am not fond of books that talk merely in theoretical terms, without any practical applications. This book gives feet to the theoretical providing Daily and Weekly Habits with charts and ideas for how to implement these habits into daily life. Earley suggests that people not follow them in book order, but work on them as the Spirit leads. The book is full of graphics and charts that invite people to lean into what Earley is writing about.

4. Tranformational. Finally, I love Earley’s book because it is transformational. I know it has already profoundly shaped how I will be leaning into spiritual practice of faith in 2025. I have shared this book with friends, and they have also said the same. I was surprised to hear of iterations of Earley’s ideas in a youth Bible study that my daughter was invited to, and I saw another variation of these ideas being carried out in a church small group.

I love that this book is for all ages. In fact a Youth Edition is coming out in 2025: The Common Rule Youth Edition - InterVarsity Press

I also stumbled upon this book because of something else that Earley had written which is great for Family Habits: Habits of the Household: Practicing the Story of God in Everyday Family Rhythms: Earley, Justin Whitmel, Troy and Ruth Simons

Earley emphasizes that habits are best formed in community. Perhaps you might consider forming a book club or utilize this book in your small group? If you are interested in joining me, I am planning to form a short-term study on this book via Zoom. Let me know if you are interested.

I believe if we were to take to heart the ideas of Earley’s book, that it would be highly transformative—not only because Earley is an excellent writer and teacher—but because the practices he lays out here help us lean into how we can be formed by God. I hope you will check out this amazing resource.

Blessings as you lean into powerful, formational habits in 2025!

Valerie

Epiphany – Finding the “Aha” in the Everyday Puzzle

For every day of Advent this year, I enjoyed working on an Advent puzzle of the Nativity. Each day, I opened a small box corresponding to each day of December. Each box held a little surprise, a patch of the larger puzzle. I love puzzles, so for me this is both a delight and a practice of restraint—refraining from solving the entire puzzle in a day or two, instead of over the course of twenty-five days.

When solving a puzzle in this way, I tend to concentrate more on the shapes and colors, letting the picture emerge, knowing I only have a little portion to work on each day. One night, I was working on the puzzle a bit later than usual. My house was quiet. Everyone else was asleep. I began putting together a portion toward the middle, with many white pieces.

As I worked with a little patch I had put together of five or six pieces, I struggled to see how it related to the bigger portion I was working on. I slid the assembled chunk around, seeing where it might fit. Everything looked the same. And then a flash of recognition hit me, as I realized the L-shaped chunk I had needed was upside down. As I slowly turned it right-side-up, I felt silly. Here, staring in front of me was the face of the Christ child, clothed in white, ready to be placed in the manger!

Suddenly, it all seemed so simple, so clear, but before, all I saw were moving pieces of everyday, hum-drum colors—not the glory of the Christ child! Now Baby Jesus was staring at me face-to-face!

As we approach a new season of the church calendar called Epiphany, I am reminded, that Epiphany calls me to look past the events of my ordinary, everyday life, to see God’s workings, “aha” moments even when things are turned upside down, or scattered pieces lie on the table, to see God’s glory—Christ revealed.

This week from the lectionary, we read the passage where Jesus’ parents accidentally lost twelve-year-old Jesus in the temple (Luke 2:41-52). As a parent, I can only imagine the panic they must have felt when they lost track of their son in the temple flooded with people who had come to celebrate Passover in Jerusalem. Assuming Jesus was nearby, they traveled a whole day’s journey toward home before they realized they had no idea where Jesus was. In a panic, they traveled back toward the temple, searching for Jesus, and were “astonished” when they found Jesus not only in deep conversation with, but “wowing” the teachers of the temple. In their searching, Joseph and Mary missed the glory of Jesus sitting right there in front of them, going about “their Father’s business.”

The parent in me here wants to scold Jesus. How could you scare Mary and Joseph like this?

But after losing track of where Jesus was in my own Advent puzzle—missing Jesus’ presence right in the center of the Nativity puzzle picture—now I look on this story of twelve-year-old Jesus with fresh eyes. Or perhaps the eyes of Baby Jesus stare at me, giving me new eyes.

Maybe, when you are busy doing the day-to-day things like being a parent, or working, or making holiday preparations, maybe it’s a lot easier to lose track of the main thing—the glory of Christ revealed in the middle of everyday life?

Maybe you are like me and you grew up not knowing the meaning of Epiphany? I was not raised where the Church Calendar was used to mark the seasons of the Christian Year. For a long time, I thought the word Epiphany was something only Catholics do. The meaning was completely lost on me.

And even in traditions where I now lead worship, often, Epiphany is looked on as a one-day celebration to be observed on January 6. Because this date falls during Christian vacation, I have been in many churches that downplay or skip celebration of Epiphany altogether.

Epiphany means “arrival” or “manifestation.” It is a season to recognize the manifestation of Jesus as the Christ, Son of God. I think of these manifestations as “aha” moments when we see the glory of Jesus up against the scenery of our common, everyday life.

In Jesus’ early life, we celebrate three main epiphanies: The Magi following the miraculous star to see the gory of the Christ child (Matt 2:1-12), the Baptism of Jesus (Matt 3:13-17; Mark 1:9-11; Luke 3:21-22), and Jesus’ First Miracle at the Wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11). Of course, many more “epiphanies” occur where we see God’s glory revealed in the life of Christ, including in this story of Jesus’ conversation with the teachers at the temple at twelve years of age, but later in his teaching and miracles.

In this upcoming season of Epiphany, we are invited, as the wise men did, to follow the star—to be open to the appearing of Christ—to see Christ revealed as God, here on earth. To go deeper, we are invited to see Christ in the everyday—to see Christ revealed in God, in our everyday life of faith.

Here is a helpful explanation of Epiphany: What is Epiphany? - The Presbyterian Outlook

Here is a wonderful beginning of ideas, if you would like to celebrate Epiphany at church and at home: Epiphany Celebration Ideas for Families and Churches | Faithward.org

During my doctoral studies, I did a project that studied the liturgies of the Winter Pascha celebration of Russian Orthodox faith. You can read more here in this beautiful collection: The Winter Pascha: Readings for the Christmas-Epiphany Season: Hopko, Thomas. Hopko likens the celebrations of the Winter Pascha at Christmas Eve to Good Friday and the celebration of resurrection on Easter to Christmastide. In both instances, they celebrate the glory of Jesus for several days and weeks after Christmas and Easter, living more fully into the beautiful revelation revealed in the glory of Christ. In my church tradition, we tend to return to the color of “ordinary time,” which is green, but I love the idea of putting up white, in parallel to the Days of Resurrection after Easter, to remind us to expect the unexpected, to be fully aware of the “aha” moments—to experience the fullness of God revealed in Christ Jesus.

Epiphany reminds us to be open, to expect the unexpected, to know that Jesus is going to show up in new ways. Epiphany reminds us to be ready for the “ahas”—seeing Jesus in the pieces of the puzzle of everyday life, and letting God show us Jesus in new ways.

So, I encourage you, if you have not practiced Epiphany before, to consider beginning an Epiphany celebration or tradition today. Currently we are on the Sixth Day of Christmas. Please note: Celebrating the Twelve Days of Christmas is another wonderful tradition which you can read about more here: 12 Days of Christmas Carol - Lyrics Meaning and History.

But since we still have six days, you have time to prepare to practice and celebrate Epiphany in a deeper way.

Perhaps you might want to mark the Twelfth Night Celebration, or bake a King’s Cake? One of my family’s favorite Epiphany traditions is finding Baby Jesus in the Kings Cake, along with other hidden crowns and symbols related to Jesus.

Even if you aren’t able to celebrate with a cake or party, I do invite you to practice the season of Epiphany. The season of Epiphany is observed in many traditions from January 6, Ephiphany Day, to Ash Wednesday before Lent.

Perhaps we could begin this season by simply keeping a journal, adding to a star garland, designating an Epiphany jar of “aha” noticings, or an Epiphany Wall full of sticky notes, marking the ways we see Jesus working in our everyday life. (See more details below.)

Each day, you might ask yourself: where did I see Jesus revealed in someone or something today?

Now don’t overcomplicate this! And don’t panic if you struggle to see Jesus. That’s part of the spirituality of Epiphany—making ourselves open to what is unseen, to look earnestly without expectation, but to be completely open to the surprise of Christ’s glory.

Epiphanies can be mysterious and abundant, like the face of Jesus staring me in the face of my puzzle. But other times the “ahas” of Jesus can seem almost too simple. We have to be careful not to miss the subtle, almost hidden epiphanies of Jesus. Jesus is revealed in sunlight, in the laughter of a child, in the loving gesture of a friend, in the comfort we feel when we see that God is present, even in a difficult circumstance. Jesus is everywhere, but if we are trying too hard, we might miss the face of Jesus staring directly at us!

That is the spiritual discipline found in practicing the season of Epiphany. By seeking to be more aware, by opening ourselves to the unexpected, we can practice seeing the “ahas” of Jesus in the everyday puzzle of life.

We have “aha” moments every day, but if we can unintentionally miss them. Epiphany invites us to stop, to follow the Star, to see Jesus in the puzzle of our everyday life.

Jesus is here. Jesus rules and reigns over all. But often, in the messy pieces of everyday life, we can miss it.

John 1:14: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Epiphany invites us to stop and ask: “Where did I see Jesus today?”

I invite you to take up the practice of looking for Jesus in this season of Epiphany, to take notice—to say “aha” – that’s the glory of Jesus working in your everyday life.

Simple Ideas for Practicing Epiphany in Everyday “Ahas” at Home, Work, Church:

1. Epiphany Journal. Consider keeping a Journal from Epiphany, Jan. 6 to Ash Wednesday, Mar. 5, 2025. For each day, take a few minutes to ask: “How have I seen Jesus today in someone or something?” Write what you notice. Whether you have clear noticing, or less to notice, pray: “Jesus, help me see you today.”

2. Epiphany Wall. Gather a pile of sticky notices. Designate a wall in your home or at work, your desk, in your classroom, where everyone is invited to write on a sticky note when they notice Jesus revealed in something or someone.” Write on a note at the top of the wall the prayer: “Jesus, help me see you more clearly today.”

3. Epiphany Jar. Keep a jar in your home or on your desk, etc. with paper cutout in stars. Every time you have an “aha” moment where you see Jesus, write that on a piece of paper. Consider reading through all the papers during Lent. This Jar could be kept individually or as a family or as a church. Of course, this could be a variation, displayed in a garland of stars, etc.

Consider keeping your collection of 2025 Epiphany “ahas” to come back to in Epiphany 2026, to remind you of Christ’s presence in your life, family, and world.

Gift of Creation

Link to Piano Music: HOME: Reflective Piano Music by Valerie M. Grissom https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLsr_WUqSsI9byPk4xVXHb2vIcj6Jp5PFM&si=7g2V1bP2CQvC-hLw

Valerie M. Grissom

My son: “Mom, you could just play like you have been doing every night. I just need someone to record some piano music for me. I want to experiment using the piano microphones in the recording studio. My teacher said I could use the recording studio this Saturday. Please!”

Me: “But I’m not ready. I’m really rusty.”

In the past few years, I have been transitioning professionally, which has meant a bunch more research, writing, speaking, consulting, and a lot less leading worship arts, let alone playing my own music.

And to be really raw and honest, when I lost both of my parents three years ago, my mom on December 21, and my dad on December 31, my obsession with Christmas music dropped to zilch.

Additionally, the thought of recording a piano CD of Christmas music seemed bittersweet. My parents had begged me to make a Christmas recording through the years. Unbeknownst to me, during Covid, they had gathered anything my sister and I had put together for church (My sister and I are both church musicians.), that had been recorded for our churches worship gatherings, and played it for everyone they knew. Now that my parents were not here, there just didn’t seem to be a reason to record.

And yet, this year, I felt a new joy on Halloween, my traditional night for breaking out the Christmas music, beginning with playing my Carpenter CD. And I began playing every morning and night, revisiting songs I played and played previous holidays. I had been opening my heart ever so slowly to the rhythms and joys of playing Christmas piano music again.

So, on this day around Thanksgiving this year, when my son, who is an Audio Engineering Major, asked me to play some piano pieces for him, I felt a bit intimidated. I sat in regret. I used to play these pieces so much better. If only I had practiced more this past year. I wish I was more ready for this recording.

All the layers of regret stacked up, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to record.

Then I read a Facebook post from a friend who is a recording artist named Rachel Wilhelm. At the end of the year, when musical artists compare their Spotify viewing summaries, she was reminding them about the danger of comparison. She reminded artists that we do not create to have the most posts or to compare and decide who is the best; rather the Creator, the Originator of all things creative, calls us to create. We are wired to create, and we are to create simply for the sake of creation, rather than seeking a sense of completion, accomplishment, or acclaim. Upon reading Rachel’s words, I felt compelled to create just for the joy of creation.

I contemplated on how being formed and created in the image of God makes me inherently creative. In this season, I reflected on the healing power of my ability to sit down and just play and create, without needing to accomplish anything. That is the joy in my playing that my son had been hearing every night, and he wanted to capture it on a recording.

So I said “yes.”

Of course, the minute the recording button goes on, as a musician, I tend to get nervous and make mistake after mistake. I do not know why I can perform in front of thousands of people and be ok, but the minute someone pushes the record button, I fall apart. During Covid, we had to do so much recording that I learned to handle this kind of pressure better, but still I knew I needed to come into this studio recording in a good mental place.

So I told my son: “I am just going to play, and play, and play. You capture what you want. For me to be able to do this, I need to think of it as a casual jam session. I am going to keep playing, even if I make mistakes. And between playing written arrangements, I’m going to improv some of my own songs on the spot in between, out of the hymnal, to keep myself in the mode of joy.

So I played for a few hours, and my son put on the headset. I was the only one in the recording space—just me and the piano; my son was in a different recording room. And I found myself relaxing, just enjoying the gift of creating in the moment. Every time a song seemed like it was not going well, I just put it away for a bit and played my own improvisation on the spot from the hymnal for a bit. Then I would come back to the arrangement giving me trouble and try again. I told myself to keep playing even if I made mistakes, and no song was played more than three times.

When we were done, I actually realized what a gift it was to just sit down and play. If felt myself able to be fully present in the moment, ok with the mistakes, freedom to play and enjoy as I was playing.

I was free to play and create. It was a healing experience for me.

My son asked me which recordings I wanted to keep, and I said: “You decide. I probably won’t want to listen back to this. But thanks for bringing me to do this.”

Fast forward a couple of weeks. This Sunday before Christmas we were in the kitchen scurrying about, finishing making Sunday dinner, while listening to a Christmas music playlist. The music of “Feliz Navidad” played over and over, and I finally couldn’t take it anymore: “Please play something else.”

Suddenly, the music switched to something more relaxing, and I kept working in the kitchen. After five or so minutes, my son asked: “Mom, how do you like this playlist?”

I told him that it was more relaxing and thanks for changing it. He asked again: “What do you think of this song?” I confessed that the music was a bit quieter, so I couldn’t distinguish what song was playing.

He turned the music up a bit, and asked again: “What do you think of this song?”

Realization dawned on me, as I listened to myself playing “What Child Is This?”

I didn’t know it, but he had been working for the past couple of weeks to edit the music. He explained that he had about 51 minutes of playable recordings edited.

We listened to this music throughout dinner. Part of me felt vulnerable and exposed, as the rest of my family, including my husband listened to the recording. Part of me relaxed, realizing there were some beautiful moments from a Saturday morning of creativity.

Every once in a while, we would be talking at dinner, and all of a sudden, I would hear something, and joked, “That pianist missed that progression right there,” or “You can tell that she is improving there because she doesn’t know what the notes should be.” We would laugh, but my 11-year old insistently said: “Mom, our band teacher said that most people will never know if you make a mistake, so just keep playing.”

And I agree. I will keep playing because I am realizing that I am created by God to create. I will not be playing for perfection, but maybe to bless a few with my creativity, but most of all to bask in the creativity of the creative God who has breathed in me the gift of creation.

So, my gift today here is my casual recording session. Even if it only blesses one, I am thankful for the gift to create. And I humbly offer it as music for you to play in the background of your holiday celebrations.

But I also want to challenge you all as we move into 2025 to create.

You may say: “Valerie, I am not creative!” And I would reply that this is simply not true.

Our Creator God whose handiwork is seen throughout the world—delicate snowflakes amongst the grandeur of mountains, design intricacies throughout the human body, and musical tones that delight our ears and warm our hearts—so many expressions of creation can be seen throughout our world. But that same creator has instilled in us the ability to create.

Creation can take shape in music and art and dance, but it also comes forth in words, bodily movement, building, repairing, mending, shaping. Our unique abilities to create are as vast as the creativity of our God seen around the world. And God delights in the wonder of creation (Genesis 1; Psalm 104:31). God delights in our creation.

So I encourage you today, as we lean into this time of gifts and a New Year, that you lean into—to delight in—how God inspires you to create.

As I write this, I recognize that, for my son, he delighted in the process of creating a recording. Maybe your creative talent might be gardening, or playing a game, or cooking...so many expressions of creativity exist. And all of them teach us how to lean into what it means to be created in the image of God.

May you find, as I have, that it is not about what you create, or how you create, but that you create, and how you delight in the gift itself of creation.

Blessings on your Christmas and New Year,

May you find delight in the gift of creation,

Valerie

Gaudete and Promise Rose

Gaudete and Promise Rose

Valerie M. Grissom

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. —Isaiah 11:1

The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the Lord, the majesty of our God. —Isaiah 35:1-2

Sixteen years ago my husband came home early from work at 9 am—a total surprise. I looked down at my very pregnant belly. We were scheduled to have a C-section the next morning. Ben explained that he had gone into work, and they gathered up all the workers, and said, “Go home. We are closing down everything today.” Now, here he was, standing in front of me, in shock. In the last month, we had gathered all we owned and moved across the country thinking Ben would be working at this confidential military job permanently. But when a new President took office, many military operations were shut down immediately, including this location. 

In this moment, it felt as if the floor had fallen beneath me. I tried to look in front of me, but tears flooded my vision, and panic overwhelmed us both. We had just moved all our possessions there, moving miles away from anyone we knew, signed a new lease, taking a risk financially to make this move. Now, what would we do? 

In that moment, everything looked dark, bleak, with no hope in sight.

The next morning, my C-section started with a bit of a hiccup. They whisked our newborn girl up because she failed to breathe on her own. Later, in recovery, my husband joined me after running out to assist the nurses with the baby. He came up to me in his blue garb, head to toe, and held my hand gently but said nothing. I looked at him, and said, “What’s wrong?” And he couldn’t speak. Again, I asked more insistently, “What’s wrong?” The nurse attending to me could sense my alarm and spoke up and prompted him, saying, “Tell her the baby is fine.” I could breathe again. And Ben nodded, but still failed to speak. Later, he shared with me how the young nurse attending to our new baby panicked, and a tall, forceful woman, the head of the NICU, stepped in, pushing the young nurse aside,  grabbing our new baby and holding her frantically by her feet, slapping her back, working to help her breath. And then Ben said the cries began, but it was one of the scariest, most helpless moments of his life. That's why he couldn't speak.

My recovery from this C-section was tough. I had nausea and dry heaves so bad I was ripping all my stitches out from vomiting, so they would not let me go right away to see my new baby. If I turned my head even an inch, I would begin vomiting all over again. But I was determined to see my new little girl. 

In the middle of the night, hours later, I finally convinced them I could walk enough and come to see her. When they brought me to her and placed her in my arms for the first time, she immediately looked up at me with a smile. Now, I know many people would say that it was just gas, and that I was imagining her smiles, but the thing is, this girl has been smiling ever since.

Unknowingly, but very fittingly, we named our beautiful baby girl according to the liturgical calendar: Promise-Rose. Years earlier, a beautiful, vivacious young woman named Promise introduced me to my husband. Promise died at 26 years, after her third battle with cancer. At her celebration of life, I turned to my husband and asked: “If we ever have a daughter, can we name her Promise?” My husband nodded. So we had planned this name earlier, but this name Promise took on new meaning in this time of uncertainty. This baby symbolized God’s Promise to always be with us, no matter what. And God, Emmanuel (“God with us”) was with us.

Later, I found out that my daughter was also born on the Third Week of Advent, when some people celebrate Gaudete Sunday.  You can read more about Gaudete Sunday here: What is Gaudete Sunday? Meaning, History, and Traditions 

Gaudete, in Latin, means “Rejoice.” Gaudete Sunday originated during Medieval times, but is still celebrated in traditions today by lighting a pink candle, instead of the purple or blue ones that mark the other three weeks of Advent.  

Later, I discovered that some traditions will celebrate Gaudete Sunday by laying a pink rose on the Advent wreath or altar. In some ways, this is like making a cheer at half-time, when the game seems hopeless, but cheering anyway, knowing that the players are going to have a rough time in the minutes to come, but holding out hope, when things seem hopeless. The Third Week of Advent is just past the half-way point. And that is the way it is in the midst of our deepest struggles, our pain. We enter into difficult times, when hope is out of sight, but we know, we trust, that God will bring us through. 

It’s a lot easier to begin or finish a struggle, but to stick with it, to attend to it in the middle, at the deepest point, is the worst. We can feel so alone, lost, overwhelmed. It’s a lot easier to celebrate a God who is with us when we are finished with a struggle—when we feel victorious. It’s much more difficult to “rejoice” when all seems lost, and things are not resolved—when God has not swooped in to save the day in the way we think.

So we put out the pink rose in the Third Week of Advent, on this Gaudete Sunday, to remember, even in the midst of darkness, even in the deepest place of despair, that we can rejoice in the hope that God is with us and will continue to be with us, and that God is making all things new. Christ will return, just as Christ came to Bethlehem so long ago—Christ will return and will make all things right.

Here are the first words of the Introit for Gaudete Sunday:

Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete. Modestia vestra nota sit omnibus hominibus: Dominus enim prope est. Nihil solliciti sitis: sed in omni oratione et obsecratione cum gratiarum actione petitiones vestræ innotescant apud Deum. Benedixisti Domine terram tuam: avertisti captivitatem Jacob.

Translated, these words are: "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. Lord, you have blessed your land; you have turned away the captivity of Jacob." (Phil. 4:4-6; Ps. 85)

Advent means “arrival,” “coming,” or “appearing.” During Advent, we not only remember Christ coming to earth, but we also look forward in anticipation when Christ will return, to make all things right. Injustice, poverty, suffering, disease, hunger, death, war, pain—Christ will return; Christ will redeem. 

We practice Advent each year to enter in and remember the story of Christ’s first coming. We remember the anticipation that the people of the Bible felt, waiting for their Messiah for over 2,000 years. In Scripture, Jesus was promised, but they waited, in darkness, but also in hope that the Light of the World would come.

Now, I want to emphasize here that laying a pink rose on an altar does not bypass pain or suffering or darkness, and it does not ask us to take a break from the darkness; instead, the rose calls us to enter even more deeply into our journey with Christ. We bravely put out the pink rose even though we are still sitting in sheer darkness. We do this as a defiant gesture toward hope—facing the darkness and despair bravely and stubbornly—holding onto the hope of Christ. This is why we place a pink rose on the Third Week of Advent—this Gaudete Sunday.

Gaudete Sunday invites us, in the midst of our deepest struggles, our darkest hours to put out a pink rose, to light the pink candle, to recognize the glimmer of hope, even in the midst of our suffering, pain, loss. We can put out the pink rose in faith, in hope, knowing that all is not right yet, but that out of the stump, something new is growing (Isa. 11:1) A flower will blossom abundantly, and we will rejoice with joy and singing, seeing the fully glory of God. (Isa. 35:1-2)

"Gaudete in Domino semper" or "Rejoice in the Lord always." These are the opening words in the liturgy for the Antiphon on Gaudete Sunday.

Today, we celebrated my daughter’s sixteenth birthday, giving her sixteen pink roses. I shared with her the significance of her story, of our story—how I rejoice for the symbol of hope her name brings to us—Promise Rose. The Rose of Sharon is coming to make all things right. (Song 2:1; Rev 21:5)

Promise-Rose brought her roses to church this Sunday morning and shared the story with our pastor, and they lovingly placed a pink rose on the altar, and her other roses in the church to celebrate God’s faithfulness. Our pastor held up the pink rose, daring to hope, declaring joy in the midst of darkness. 

Today I encourage you to bravely set out your rose. It may not be a pink rose or pink candle, but maybe you might have some way of remembering the rose that is flowering up—that Christ has come and will redeem all things. Maybe draw a rose and place it on your refrigerator, or put a rose on your home page or screen. In your own way, I encourage you to hold up your rose.

Our path after Promise-Rose’s birth was not easy. Two weeks after she was born, my husband had to move out to the West Coast to work, while I remained on the East Coast with a newborn and a two-year old, in a strange new place, where I knew hardly anyone. Later, we would eventually make a move across country. And it was tough. So, I will not sit here and say that because I put a rose out, everything turns out great. But I will say that I have been learning to lean into joy, to rejoice in the midst of the darkest trials, to bravely hold up the pink rose, even when I am not sure if God is there, or if God is present.

Today, I challenge you to hold up your rose. What are the ways that you struggle to see joy in your current season? Maybe you are tired and weary. Maybe you don’t see how God could ever make things right. Sadness and despair overwhelm you. You feel lost. All you can see is darkness. You don’t feel like putting out a silly pink rose. I totally get it.

But put the rose out anyway (or whatever symbol of rose you can muster!)!

Putting out that pink rose is a step of faith,  knowing that the rose calls us to joy even now—not a paste-on-your-face fake kind of joy, or pretending that everything is alright, but rather, a defiant, stubborn joy that calls out “Rejoice!” 

Our pink rose foreshadows the joy, maybe only giving us a glimpse or glimmer as what is to come when the true Rose comes—when the true Rose of Sharon is in full bloom, making all things new.

So go ahead, lay out your pink rose, light the pink candle, put on the pink scarf, set aside the pink ornament on your tree, or whatever might symbolize to you joy in the midst of this Advent season.

This weekend, my daughter sang this song at a choir concert on her sixteenth birthday. These words invite us to put out, to lift up, to anticipate, to celebrate the Rose:

Lo, how a Rose e'er blooming

From tender stem hath sprung!

Of Jesse's lineage coming

As men of old have sung.

It came, a flower bright,

Amid the cold of winter

When half-gone was the night.

Isaiah 'twas foretold it,

The Rose I have in mind:

With Mary we behold it,

The virgin mother kind.

To show God's love aright

She bore to men a Savior

When half-gone was the night.

This Flower, whose fragrance tender

With sweetness fills the air,

Dispels with glorious splendor

The darkness everywhere.

True man, yet very God,

From sin and death He saves us

And lightens every load

Source: German, 15th century, Theodore Baker, translator

Link to Music : Lo How a Rose E’er Blooming - The Tabernacle Choir