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About Jenn Cavanaugh

B.A. Russian Language and Literature, Willamette University; M.A. Theology and the Arts, Fuller Seminary

Advent 2025: HOPE

Leader: As another year ends and begins

People: We light candles as a sign of our insistence on hope

In the face of the hustle and grind of work and school

In the face of political and financial uncertainties

We insist on God’s hope at work in God’s good creation

Hope that hoists colors cheering on the maligned

Hope that shows up for others in the hard times

Hope like morning coffee and good advice

And pancakes on the griddle

Hope for all who fear and grieve and run for their lives

Hope for those doing their best in broken systems

God of hope, help us to turn our attention

From our screens full of bad news

To the people journeying with us

Help us practice kindness, levity, and gratitude

Help us hear Your voice when you tell us:

Do not be afraid to trust, to cry, to put yourself out there

Do not be afraid to keep going

God, You come close when we cry out for You, saying

“Do not be afraid, for your prayer has been heard.”

Amen, may it be so.

The Bible and James Baldwin on Lament

James Baldwin was no stranger to feelings of alienation, disillusionment, betrayal, and fear for the fates of the marginalized. When we reckon with events that threaten our hope for the future and trust in one another, Baldwin and the Bible have words for us.

“James Baldwin” painting by Jeff Benesi

Sad Songs: Singing the Blues and Biblical Lament


Now, you women, hear the word of the LORD;
open your ears to the words of his mouth.
Teach your daughters how to wail;
teach one another a lament.
Death has climbed in through our windows
and has entered our fortresses;
it has removed the children from the streets
and the young men from the public squares.
– Jeremiah 9:20-21

“They gave our sorrow and our danger back to us, transformed, and they helped us to embrace and triumph over it. They gave us back our joy, and we could give it to our children. Out of the depths of the midnight hour, we could laugh.”
– James Baldwin: “Last of the Great Masters”

Where do we go when we’re discouraged? How do we go on when we are too world-weary to put one foot, one word, one thought in front of another? Baldwin likened himself to a blues singer, albeit one who didn’t know anything about music and couldn’t sing. This African-American musical tradition and the Old Testament Writings offer a soulful and honest way through our personal anguish to recognizing and reclaiming our collective humanity.

Write your own Psalm of Lament or Blues Song

It takes powerful language to articulate a powerful experience, to put words to what we feel might be too deep for words.

  • First, tell what happened. In one line. Strip away the context and consequences and even emotion (for now) and describe the worst moment of the whole experience in one telling detail. Pack the rest of the story into three more similar, one-phrase lines. (If you find they rhyme, you’re writing the blues, if not, we’ll just call it a lament.)
  • Take some time to pray. Identify the burning question kindled by this experience. Sometimes it’s simply “Why?” or “How could you?” but it might be something else. Ask the question, and listen for the answer. This doesn’t guarantee there will be one, but listen for it.
  • Now write more freely. What do you want to say now that is completely unacceptable to say? Write it down. Change up the way you describe your feelings. If you could concentrate this emotion on your tongue, what would it taste like? Don’t be afraid to use heightened or strong images. Some of the images in the Psalms are almost too strong to stomach, even theologically problematic (e.g. God bless anyone who bashes in the skulls of the children of the people who did this). Don’t worry about being correct or even fair to all parties. If God could watch this happen, God can handle what you have to say about how it makes you feel. Skip anything that softens it. No euphemisms or “maybes” or “I feel likes,” just what is. Pour it out there. How has the world changed since? End with one concrete example of something you do differently now.
  • Pause to reflect. What do you want or need in light of this? What do you want to be able to do again? Wait for a concrete image of what wholeness would look like now. Ask for it.
  • Describe in writing what it is you are waiting for.

This is the 2nd in a series of 8 devotions that was featured, in slightly altered form, on our bible app in March 2022 as ‘The Gospel according to James Baldwin*

Click here to read the first in the series

The Bible and James Baldwin on Racism: Cursing the Image of God

For the last decade or so, I have been an avid student of the essays of James Baldwin. Today would have been his 100th birthday, and I can’t help but wish he were still with us, talking beautifully phrased and reasoned sense in his uniquely winsome and challenging style of insider familiarity and outsider insight into the Scriptures, Western society, and the human condition.

Baldwin was raised in the church and even preached as a teenager, but he left both the pulpit and the church early in life, too fervent a believer in the gospel that steeped his childhood to allow the church in America’s racist and homophobic trappings to restrict his God-given freedom and identity. Though he gave up churchgoing, and many in the church gave him up for lost, he never gave up on the church. His essays are riddled with exhortations to believers to return to the way of Jesus and reclaim our responsibility to “the least of these.”

“James Baldwin” painting by Jeff Benesi

Racism: Cursing the Image of God

“With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness.” – James 3:9 (NRSV)

“I am saying that when a person, when a people, are able to persuade themselves that another group of people or breed of men are less than men, they themselves become less than men and have made it almost impossible for themselves to confront reality and to change it. If I deny what I know to be true, if I deny that that white child next to me I simply another child, and if I pretend that that child, because its colour is white deserves destruction, I have begun the destruction of my own personality.…

I tremble when I wonder if there is left in the Christian civilizations… the moral energy, the spiritual daring, to atone, to repent, to be born again; if it is possible, if there is enough leaven in the loaf, to cause us to discard our actual and historical habits, to cause us to take our places with that criminal Jew… put to death by Rome between two thieves, because He claimed to be the Son of God. That claim was a revelation and a revolution because it means that we are all the sons of God. That is a challenge, that’s the hope.”

— James Baldwin: White Racism or World Community?

Baldwin interpreted the unforgiveable sin against the Holy Spirit mentioned in Mark 3:29 to be the ways we treat one another as less than human, thereby desecrating the image of God the other represents. Baldwin consistently expressed how destructive racist systems were not only to the oppressed, but also to the oppressor. Into what categories might we sort others so that we can dismiss them as unworthy of consideration? What do we destroy in ourselves and others when we do so? The best way to claim our status as beloved children of God is to extend that status to others.

Call to Action: Is there someone in your life you’re having trouble seeing as a fellow child of God? Look for an opportunity today to affirm them, even if it’s something as small as LOLing their only social media post you actually find funny.

*This series of 8 devotions was featured, in slightly altered form, on our bible app in March 2022 as ‘the gospel according to james baldwin*

Public Domain Stations of the Cross

Gallery

This gallery contains 14 photos.

DIY Stations of the Cross this Lent with images from the public domain Continue reading

Advent Peace: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

..

Open the heavens and come down, O God of peace.

Bring Your peace so near we can feel it

like floating weightless,

effortlessly buoyed by still waters.

..

We have seen glimpses of Your peace

when we reach the point in our quarrels

where we can remember again that we’re on the same side.

When we can admit our faults and hug it out, 

we know Your presence.

Teach us to be still before You and with You

in every situation—even the least serene.

.. 

We have heard Your promises:

That you offer respite from our burdens

and that Your peace prevails in chaos and uncertainty.

Every person will be valued as the work of Your hand.

Wars will cease.

Anxiety will no longer consume our thoughts and bodies.

.

..

Jesus, Prince of Peace, violence wastes our lands

and precious lives, and no end is in sight.

Give us peace with justice and imagination

for a world beyond tooth and nail and suppressed hostilities.

..

Anoint us with Your Spirit so we may be

makers of a peace on earth that begins with You, not us. 

Re-create us as we rest in You

beneath starry skies. 

.

We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s peace,

that bids us lay our grievances down

and quiet our sharp tongues and elbows

to trust a Savior so right and reliable

we have no need to jostle for power.

.

O come, Immanuel. 

.

This year’s liturgies written with collaborative input from parishioners of Bethany Presbyterian, Seattle

Advent Joy: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of joy.

Bring Your joy so near we can taste it—

like eating French fries!

in Mexico!

on Christmas!

We have seen glimpses of Your joy

not only when we visit our favorite places and people

but in some wildly unexpected places and people as well.

Whenever a child is born to us, 

we know Your presence.

Where our pleasures now are partial and fleeting,

give us energy to keep up with a joy that endures.

We have heard Your promises:

that You came to bring the great joy of reconciliation

to absolutely everyone

and that none of our faults can separate us from God.

When we bring you our grief, you collect our tears

to water orchards producing perfect fruit.

Forgiveness flowers wherever You walk.

Jesus, You come to make our joy chock-full,

complete, whole, limit-bursting, and exuberant.

Enlarge our capacity for unbounded delight

in Your world and in each other.

Anoint us with your dancing Spirit

to bring good news of your continued favor

to everyone muddling through the rough places.

Reconnect us to the Source of all joy.

We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s joy,

that calls us out of our corners to play along,

harmonizing with an ecstatic angel chorus

jamming to the music of the spheres.

.

O come, Immanuel. 

.

This year’s liturgies composed with contributions from the wreath-lighters of Bethany Presbyterian, Seattle. There may or may not have been a five-year-old involved this week.

Advent Love: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of love.

Bring Your love so near we can feel it

not just in our hearts, but on our skin,

like the sun on our upturned faces.

.

We have seen glimpses of Your love in communities 

that surrounded us with care, stood by our sides, and had our backs.

When we heard confidence and optimism in our children’s voices, 

we knew Your presence.

Give us eyes keen enough to catch Your love in action,

and spirits quick enough to reflect Your grace,

as water catches and reflects the light.

.

We have heard Your promises:

that You love us no matter what,

with a love greater even than faith and hope.

Where Your love rules, everything changes.

The stranger will be met with a smile.

The hurt will find a healer.

.

Jesus, lover of our souls, come soothe where hate burns. 

Help us to love one another as You have loved us,

with an untamed love that is not safe, but it is good—

a love that spends its life for others.

.

Anoint us with your Spirit to bring good news

to all in need of Your healing touch.

Restore what has been broken in rage.

Make us crafters of beauty from ashes.

.

We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s love

that sets up camp among us,

tending the displaced and the wounded,

then sends us out to do the same.

O come, Immanuel. 

.

(This year’s Advent candle-lighting liturgies are crafted around the 2023 lectionary texts and input from congregants of Bethany Presbyterian Church of Seattle)

Advent Hope 2023: A Candle-lighting Liturgy

Featured

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Open the heavens and come down, O God of hope.

Bring your hope so near we can taste it—

Crisp and refreshing as apples,

Warm and tingly as a spiked hot chocolate.

.

We have seen glimpses of your hope in communities of solidarity and recovery

and in rich conversations with our brothers and sisters in the faith.

When the local whale watchers protected the humpback calf from harm,

we knew your presence.

Give us hope to trust you are at work in ways we cannot see,

like an ambient melody

that elevates and alters a space.

.

We have heard your promises:

that you have good plans for each of us

and that you will be with us wherever we go,

in heaven, on earth, and in every place they meet in You.

Every child shall have vision for a future beyond politicking and conflict.

The young shall teach us to build one another up in mutual respect.

.

Christ, our hope, make a way through the desert of despair.

Lead us to campsites in lush meadows by hidden pools.

Comfort us and give us hope,

that we may comfort others in your name.

“Hope” by Sliman Mansour

Anoint us with your Spirit to bring good news

to those sleeping outside and suffering in war zones.

Inspire our leaders.

Restore our humanity.

.

We are God’s people.

We light this candle as a sign of God’s hope

that brightens grey skies

like the rosy brushstrokes of dawn

and the glow of the turning leaves

O come, Immanuel.

.

(This year’s Advent candle-lighting liturgies are crafted around the 2023 lectionary texts and input from congregants of Bethany Presbyterian Church of Seattle)

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: PEACE

Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we pray for your peace
that is sometimes loud and sometimes quiet
that quells conflict between people and nations
and calmly putters around fixing the unfixable

We find your peace
when we let others go ahead of us
and when we let our broken bits
of anger, anxiety, and frustration
flow through our fingers like sand
into your caring hands

We find your peace in creative mode
and in the nuzzles of the family dog,
in the lap of waves along the shore
and in the scents of vanilla and lilac,
a peace like a long drink of water
after a walk through the tall grass

Donostia, photo by Jenn Cavanaugh

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents of your astonishing peace
in our homes, streets, and schools
at such unlikely times
as when we ourselves are in pain
or caring for another’s pain

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of the peace of Christ
who comes to us as a deep breath of fresh air
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel

Advent Wreath-Lighting Liturgy: JOY

Jesus, as we enter again
into the odd story of your unusual arrival,
we find your joy where we’d least expect it–
in hard conversations, in hard lessons learned,
in hard circumstances, and in the hard angles
of a feeding trough in the West Bank

Yours is a joy unforced,
an unconditioned calm only you can create,
discovered with delight in the simple things
and in openness to the complex and novel–
a joy found in stillness and in running,
in random observations and chance encounters

We find your joy
in the flow of our projects regardless of outcome,
in the unanticipated win and the inexplicable
closeness of other cheering fans,
in the unforeseen camaraderie of co-workers,
fellow students, and other players in survival mode

Volunteer usher passing around homemade cookies

Awaken us to our role
as astonished agents of your astonishing joy.
Open our hands and hearts
so your promised future may unfurl
for the unsafe, the unfed, and the unfulfilled
with and without our agency

We are God’s people.
We light this candle
as a sign of God’s joy
who comes to us as dappled sunlight
and makes a home among us.
O come, Immanuel