All day long I’ve been hoping to see Incarnation or at least John the Baptist. Late this morning I turned on ESPN for background noise. A sports news program, Outside the Lines, was on, focussing on American football players and prayer.

Those of you in the rest of the world may not realize this but what God cares about most in all the universe is american football., No it’s true, Quarterback Jon Kitna said so this morning as he recounted praying that God guide his arm and make every pass true, a modern David with his sling. He was backed up by Linebacker Ray Lewis who praised God for the opportunity to take another vicious hit on an opponent. ( I lived in Atlanta when Mr. Lewis was on trial as an accomplice to murder. Two men killed by someone in his entourage the night before the Super Bowl, but Ray ain’t no snitch and the murderer is still not known).

Advent is waiting for God’s Incarnate Word, promised, not realized. John leaps in the womb at Mary’s arrival. Elizabeth sings her blessing and Mary sings her joy, putting the powerful on notice

My soul doth magnify the Lord / and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.For he hath regarded / the lowliness of his handmaiden.

For behold, from henceforth / all generations shall call me blessed.

For he that is mighty hath magnified me / and holy is his Name.

And his mercy is on them that fear him / throughout all generations.

He hath shewed strength with his arm / he hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.

He hath put down the mighty from their seat / and hath exalted the humble and meek.

He hath filled the hungry with good things / and the rich he hath sent empty away.

He remembering his mercy hath holpen his servant Israel / as he promised to our forefathers, Abraham and his seed for ever.

Tonight I’m listening to the wind blow through the eaves, there’s a change coming, there’s a change coming

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One Response to watching

  1. And apparently neither John Kitna nor Carson Palmer were so blessed yesterday, on the feast day of the Lord.
    But — thanks be to God — I was present last night, in the place where the three rivers converge, to watch Carson Palmer’s blessed throwing arm wither up into a limp ineffectual appendage, as the mighty Steelers put a mighty whooping on them.
    I hate to call such an event a thing of beauty — at least not in a naked post. But here in this relatively hidden Reply, I will say to you, O biking buddy, “Glory!”

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