A poetic Christmas message (final episode of 2022)
One week until Christmas day. Wild!
This will be the last episode of the podcast for 2022. We put something out every single week since launching in January. And I really feel like we’re just getting started here. We have such a beautiful sense of community growing around the pod, and I love hearing stories about the connections facilitated through these episodes. I know that they have created space for really courageous conversations to continue. So thank you for being part of that, as one of our listeners! And stick around in 2023 as we continue to create conversations and resources to let any misfits listening know, you are not alone.
To wrap out the year, here’s a sermon I’ve dug out that I preached around Christmas in 2019. It’s a little different as I built it around three poems I wrote that year in the lead-up to Christmas. And so, it is kind of a hybrid poetic sermon of sorts.
But looking back, the timing of it is really interesting in hindsight. For one, this was just on the brink of 2020. We had no clue what was coming. And in fact, as I make reference to in the sermon, the skies at the time were smoke-filled, as the Black Summer bushfires were in full effect. In many ways this was on the eve of what has become such a transitional point in history for us.
It was also at a transitional point for me personally, as I knew at this point in time that in 2020 we were going to start this alternative faith community called Meeting Ground. And at the time I remember really feeling like I had so much love for the community of the church I was on staff at — yet I also felt so strongly that the people I was most interested in being with had largely left church spaces like this one.
Given the recent context of fracturing denominational lines and recent episodes on that I think this message is actually even more pertinent.
So, long story short, I wanted to share it with you, as some final thoughts to wrap out the year. It’s a message about what God is like, who God is with and how God chooses to be revealed.
A God who draws near.
Love to you my friends. I hope the final days of 2022 treat you kindly.