Theodore J. Wardlaw, President
THE FACULTY Margaret Aymer Gregory L. Cuéllar Bridgett Green William Greenway David H. Jensen David W. Johnson Bobbi Kaye Jones Carolyn B. Helsel Philip Browning Helsel Paul K. Hooker
Timothy D. Lincoln Jennifer L. Lord Suzie Park Cynthia L. Rigby Asante U. Todd Eric Wall Theodore J. Wardlaw David F. White Melissa Wiginton Andrew Zirschky
For the glory of God, and to proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ, Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary is a seminary in the Presbyterian-Reformed tradition whose mission is to educate and equip individuals for the ordained Christian ministry and other forms of Christian service and leadership; to employ its resources in the service of the church; to promote and engage in critical theological thought and research; and to be a winsome and exemplary community of God’s people. —Mission Statement
Emmanuel, Glimpses of God Incarnate IN THIS ADVENT SEASON, when we eagerly await the coming of the Christ, we reflect on the myriad of faces, forms, and appearances by and through which God appears to us in the Holy Scriptures. Some of these forms and faces of divine presence and appearance might be familiar and comforting; there have certainly been times in all of our lives where we sought, even pleaded, with God to come or appear to us in the form of a shepherd, healer, rescuer, or comforter. Other forms and faces of God might be unfamiliar and even frightening; in a time of climate change and a worldwide pandemic, we are well aware of God in the form of the destroyer. And we hope, pray, and act so that God the destroyer quickly transforms into God the rescuer instead. We encounter God, the one who is with us—Emmanuel—in this life and in our Scriptures in diverse and complicated ways, in a variety of faces and guises and forms. It is this diversity of divine forms we contemplate as we eagerly await for God’s appearance in the form of Jesus the Christ. – Dr. Suzie Park Associate Professor of Old Testament
– Rev. Dr. Margaret Aymer
The First Presbyterian Church, Shrevepor t, D. Thomason Professor of New Testament Studies
Sunday, November 28 Romans 11:17-24
“God as Grafter” IN TODAY’S PASSAGE FROM ROMANS, Paul imagines God as an olive grower tending the sturdy rootstock and precious, luxurious fruit of the olive tree. This tree represents God’s chosen people, holy and beloved, chosen and called, to whom God gave the holy gifts of a name, a covenant, and the Law. It is God’s prize possession, and as a good olive-dresser, God sometimes prunes the tree back, encouraging proper growth. But here, Paul’s metaphor takes an unexpected turn. For how could we imagine that God would graft onto this domesticated cultivar some wild olive branches? No olive grower would do such a thing! Wild olives are often smaller, with less yield, and harder to press. An olive grower might graft cultivated olive branches onto a wild rootstock, but wild onto cultivated? That’s unnatural! (Rom. 11:24) Paul, here, speaks directly to our Gentile ancestors and through them to us, reminding us of the radical grace of God that allows us to share in the blessings of God’s cultivated olive tree. We worship God through God’s good gift, sharing in the nourishment of the Jewish rootstock into which we are engrafted. Through God’s unnatural act, we also become part of God’s chosen people, holy and beloved, chosen and called. We also receive a name, and the covenant, and yes, even the Law. We are strengthened and nourished by the root until we flower, and fruit, and give our own unique harvest to the glory of God. Yet we bear different fruit from the rootstock, for that is the way with grafts. Paul’s extraordinary metaphor also comes with a warning: don’t get cocky. We are not better than the root onto which we are grafted, nor do we get to disparage the root which nourishes us. We, all of us, grow, flower, and fruit at the mercy of the Olive-dresser, whose gift gives us life. As we prepare our hearts this Adventtide, let us give thanks for God’s chosen people, the descendants of Israel. And let us always stand in awe of God the grafter, who shows such grace toward us wild olive branches.
– Rev. Dr. Margaret Aymer The First Presbyterian Church, Shreveport, D. Thomason Professor of New Testament Studies
Monday, November 29 Exodus 12:21-29
“God as Destroyer” WE DON’T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT GOD AS A DESTROYER. There’s a reason for this: if we remember God as the destroyer, as impatient or angry, then this means that there is a possibility that God might get angry at us and that we or someone we love might become victims of God’s wrath. Yet oddly in one of the most formative founding myths in the Hebrew Scriptures, the story about the Passover and the final plague of the death of the firstborn in Exodus 12, it is precisely this form of God—God as destroyer—that is celebrated, remembered, and recalled. In these current apocalyptic-seeming times, we might be tempted to think that all this suffering that we have endured, and still are enduring, is also the result of God’s anger—that these disasters we are living through are further evidence of God’s destructive streak. However, Exodus 12 warns against just blaming God for our problems and against pigeonholing this deity as simply a wrathful destroyer. Notice that in Exodus 12 God does not simply destroy and kill; rather, in preparation for the coming period of death and suffering, God gives the Israelites instructions so that God’s people have a way to save themselves—so that the destroyer will pass them by. Indeed, the Israelites, when they annually celebrate Passover, are told not just to remember God as the awesome destroyer, but also God as the merciful deliverer. As we prepare for Advent this year, let us recall with somberness and awe both God the destroyer and God the merciful savior. Let us remember that our Scriptures tell us that in the midst of destruction, God has not abandoned us and therefore God will not simply leave us with no remedy or aid. Rather, let us in gratitude recall the various ways that God continues to provide for us in this period of death and suffering, be it in the form of miraculous vaccines or equally miraculous technology, as we all wait in eagerness for the destruction to pass by.
–Dr. Suzie Park
Associate Professor of Old Testament
Tuesday, November 30 Revelation 1:8
“Alpha and Omega” THE ANCIENTS THOUGHT THE LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET HAD MYSTICAL POWER. I think they were right. I remember learning to write letters on that paper with two solid blue lines about an inch apart and a dashed blue line halfway between them, running parallel across the page like an empty street. It reminded me of watching the dashes of the lane lines slip past the rear window while my dad drove the car. When the dashes moved, I knew we were going somewhere. Maybe that’s why, early on, I associated reading and writing with dynamism, with going somewhere. Jewish mystics who wrote Sefer Yetzirah (“The Book of Foundations,” 2nd c. CE) thought the letters of the Hebrew alphabet were dynamic. They thought of them as emanations from the Infinite and agents of creation. Through the agency of the three “mothers”—alef, mem, and shin—air, water, and fire come into being. The seven “doubles”—the begadkephat letters and resh, if you remember your Hebrew grammar—create the seven days, the seven (then) known planets, and the openings of the human body. The remaining twelve “simples” give rise to the months of the year and the twelve signs of the zodiac. Everything in creation is rooted in the mystical power of the letters, which are themselves rooted in the mystical being of the Infinite One. It’s easy to think “I am the Alpha and the Omega” means that God brackets the world, standing before “in the beginning” of Genesis and after the “Amen” of Revelation. True, but is there more? What if choosing the first and last letters of the mystical alphabet is a way of claiming the mystery and dynamism of God in all creation, not just its beginning and end? What if Alpha is really the start of a journey from creation through alienation to redemption toward the Omega of consummation? We symbolize the start of that journey every Advent when we begin the Christian calendar anew. But in truth, have we not been on this journey since we and the journey and the world all began in the first sacred alef in the mind of God?
– Rev. Dr. Paul Hooker Associate Dean for Ministerial Formation and Advanced Studies
Wednesday, December 1 Exodus 3:1-6
“Fire and Presence” A MAN, A BUSH, A CURIOSITY: LITTLE DID MOSES KNOW. Going about his lonely mountainside business, he spots a strange brightness. Upon investigation, this odd flame conceals a voice that knows his name and announces that God is there. This is not just another day at the office, adding on to the series of ordinary life. I would like to think that I, like Moses, would have turned aside to see the flame and be addressed by God. Perhaps I would have been too busy herding the sheep or thinking my solitary thoughts. Perhaps, as Elizabeth Barrett Browning worried, I would have used the light to sit down and have a picnic of blackberries. A man, a bush, a curiosity: little did Moses know that the first reward for meeting God is godly fear. The world is God’s and those with sharp insight see God in many places. God is in the infinite gravity of black holes. God is there as the hawk going about its majestic, lethal business. But we know that God is not the black hole, nor the hawk, nor the dappled rays of sunlight illuminating the fernstrewn floor of a quiet forest. God is in the social world, too. We greet a stranger and believe that she, like me, bears God’s image. Yet we know that, because of sin, the image of God in many of us feels faint as a halfforgotten tune or an old love note scrawled on now-yellowed paper. Even with curiosity, it can be hard to touch the traces of God around us. We wonder: Where is the fire? Where is the voice? This Advent, we once again quietly hope to peek into Jesus’s manger. What do we see? A charming baby, one of many? A symbol of Roman oppression? Little did we know that God among us drinks mother’s milk and reads the scrolls of the prophets. Yet, where the child Jesus is, God dwells. There is the fire. His is the voice that calls to us and gives us our true names. This ground is holy; take off your shoes.
– Rev. Dr. Timothy Lincoln Assistant Dean for Planning, Research Professor in Theological Education, and Director of The Mary B. and Robert J. Wright Learning and Information Center
Thursday, December 2 James 1:17-18
“Father of Lights” IN THIS PASSAGE FROM JAMES, we hear God spoken of as “the Father of Lights,” who is the source of every good gift. As Christmas approaches, it can be difficult to remember God as the giver of all our gifts and as “the Father of Lights” when so much in our culture focuses on buying gifts and lighting up Christmas trees or our home exteriors. The lights around Christmas time may be a continuation of centuries-old celebrations that typically were held around midwinter, the darkest night of the year, sometime in late December. Christians indeed may forget the gifts of God all around us—the gifts of creation—and the lights in the heavenly realm that set our internal clocks for day and night. It is the extraordinary brightness of a single star that led the Magi to the place where the child lay with his mother, Mary, and yet, how often do we get to go outside and appreciate the stars that shine over our heads during the busy days and weeks leading up to Christmas? One reason may be that the amount of light emanating from electrical lights can make seeing the stars difficult. In the fall and spring, when migratory birds depend upon the stars and the moon to guide their epic journeys, this light pollution can be disorienting and even deadly. The American Bird Conservatory estimates that four million migrating birds die each year by colliding into brightly lit buildings. We can spend more time reflecting on the Father of Lights and the giver of all good gifts this Advent season by making sure our outdoor light fixtures are reflecting light downward rather than up to the sky, and that they use the minimum wattage of electricity necessary. During peak seasons of bird migration in the spring and fall, pay attention to “lights out” nights when outdoor lights should be left off if at all possible to minimize the disturbance to migratory birds. By paying attention to our surroundings and our impact on creation, we can respond with gratitude to the Father of Lights who has blessed us with every good and perfect gift, including the gift of stars.
– Rev. Dr. Carolyn Helsel Associate Professor in The Blair R. Monie Distinguished Chair in Homiletics
Friday, December 3 Isaiah 49:1-6
“God as Mother” ADVENT CELEBRATES THE EXPECTATION of the birth of Jesus into the world. In 1966, Renée Cox gave to the world her art-photo, “Yo Mama’s Last Supper.” The montage presents a Da Vinci-style arrangement of the meal with the artist herself standing in the Jesus place, arms open, presenting herself to the viewer, naked. As Jesus offered himself naked on the cross, so she offers herself—he to death, she to life. The table is suggestively laden with fruit. Of the disciples, only the Beloved Disciple is looking at her. The others are about their own distractions. Here is Jesus, the woman, the mother, who brings life into the world in the most intimate and taxing way, through her own body, soul, and strength, with labor both painful and joyful. She then nurtures that which she has birthed, again with body, soul, and perseverance. Her body is both a thing of beauty and a vessel of power that shows the wear of heavy use. The first commandment in the Bible is to be fruitful and multiply. Commonly this is taken to refer to progeny, but its larger meaning is that our own work, our primary work, is to bear life, the fruit that is Presence. I have known several men who have been grasped and graced with the startling vision/commandment to give birth to Jesus, to bring Jesus out from their own selves into the world. Men! What do we know of such things? We all, though, women and men, may be summoned to be the means of the exhibition of Jesus to others, not by words or actions—the common ways that we think to represent Christ—but in totality, with all the labor, pain, joy, physicality, and mindfulness that must require, vessels of beauty and power. How do we embody Christ in such a way as to know such a completeness of Presence? How do we then share that Presence? How do we be the bearer of the living Christ in the fullness of our living being?
–Rev. Dr. Whit Bodman Professor Emeritus of Comparative Religion
Saturday, December 4 Matthew 1:22-23
“God is Present” ADVENT AT OUR HOUSE, like many others, means an Advent Calendar to help us count down the days until Christmas. Ours has tiny wooden doors for each day of the Advent season, and behind each one is a piece of a miniature nativity set which our children build over the course of the season. (Don’t worry, there’s a piece of candy behind each door, too!) When our oldest was two, she joyed in opening the tiny doors each morning as soon as she woke up, equally as enamored by the miniature shepherd, sheep, or camel as she was by the M&M she would surely find. As Christmas approached, even with our focus on Jesus’s birth as the true story of Christmas, her toddler excitement about Santa Claus could not be denied. Cam and I, being a clergy couple, felt a bit disappointed in ourselves that she wasn’t more excited about the impending birth of our Savior than about Jolly Old Saint Nicholas. Finally, Christmas morning arrived, gifts from family were piled in the living room, and the Advent Calendar sat in the corner with one last, tiny door to open. Zanna awoke before anyone else. We woke to Zanna’s high-pitched squeal and then heard her exclaim, “It’s JESUS! God’s here!” She ignored all of the gifts that littered the living room floor and ran to find us, holding the baby in the manger, saying “It’s true. It’s true. It’s Jesus. God’s here!” Her delight in the gift of Emmanuel reminds me that God comes to us in the person of Jesus bringing joy, new life, and mercy. We understand the gift of Emmanuel anew every season of our lives, unpacking what it means for Jesus to truly be Word made flesh, God here with us. As we hear once again the story of Jesus’s birth, may we, too, shout with delight, “It’s true! It’s true! It’s Jesus. God is here!” Emmanuel; God indeed is with us, today, tomorrow, and forever.
– Rev. Dr. Sarah Allen (MDiv’07, DMin’19) Director-elect of Ministerial Formation and Advanced Studies
Sunday, December 5 Philippians 2:9
“God as Exalter” IN THE BEGINNING, eternal power was established when a few words were uttered, and creation was called and obediently responded. The earth, the moon, the sun, and stars all took their appropriate places on stage as God declared, “Let there be.” God continued to speak, and voids were filled as the earth took form, the waters divided, and the day separated from night. With the “where” now in place, God spoke through love and the “who” came to life. On the sixth day, before a much-deserved rest, God’s image was shaped from the dust of the ground, received the breath of life, and became a living soul. Through time and choices this cherished relationship, nurtured in Eden’s garden, became strained and in need of repair. Thankfully, through divine wisdom, God had already answered the “when” and “how” in eternity. In perfect time, after 400 years of silence and through forty-two generations, God revealed the solution when the Word became flesh and dwelled among us. With no room in the inn, he was born in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes, announced by angels, sought after by Herod, identified by a star, and witnessed by shepherds. Although despised by an earthly king and rejected by his own, he was highly exalted by God with a name above every name. At the sound of his name every knee will bow, and every tongue must confess that Jesus is Lord. Advent reminds me of the love God has for me, that salvation is intentional, and through exhortation God creates. Through Christmas God creates a window that allows humanity to see the heart of God. Through the incarnation of the Word, we have the opportunity to embrace God and become a new creation. As we approach Christmas, my heart rejoices as I am reminded God still speaks, just like in the beginning. God’s Word is active and can be born anew in our lives, and God’s love is a sacrificial gift with an eternal life-giving promise to all who are willing to accept him.
– Rev. Dr. Dar yl Horton (MDiv’15) Lecturer in the Certificate in Jewish-Christian Relationship Program
Monday, December 6 Genesis 21:15-19
“One Who Hears and Sees” Hagar’s Prayer When the water in the skin is gone … gone too my hopes, my faith, my dreams, my future, and not mine alone, but his, squalling ’neath the wood, life just begun … I turn away. Best not to watch the end. Quiet, little one. Death draws near. Hyenas haunt these wastes like ghosts, near almost to touch. Their laughter, never gone, mocks fate, curdles in my ears. The end is in their snarling grins, not in my dreams. A prayer for mercy, then, ere end’s begun, whispered not for my life, but for his. Dreams! Dangerous to hope that his life matters, that prayer could beckon near some angel whose dark ministry, begun on bleak nights in covenants long gone, may yet haunt the corners of the old man’s dreams. Angels begin what only death can end. And yet I harbor hope that at the end some angel will appear and with him, his salvation, this infant of my dreams, who nurtured at my breast yet draws me near and bids my terrors, phantasms be gone and limns a path to dawns not yet begun
but inkled in the darkness. Here begun would hints and premonitions of the end be loosed in time—though time is not yet gone— and worlds reshaped, aligned with love, and his the face to whom those worlds draw near. I dare to hope, to pray, to sleep. To dream. A mother has so little left but dreams when birthing’s over and hard life’s begun. But here’s the truth: though dark of death be near dreams yet endure and love withstands the end, and gath’ring ’neath the wood they trust in his embrace, spread wide, ’til dark of death is gone. O Angel! Bide ’til dreams and ghosts are gone! Bid lives begun in death at length be his. For nearest dawn is darkness at the end.
– Rev. Dr. Paul Hooker Associate Dean for Ministerial Formation and Advanced Studies
Tuesday, December 7 Genesis 22:15-19
“God Our Provider” THESE FAMILIAR WORDS OF BLESSING AND PROMISE have been with Abraham since God called him out of Haran decades ago. They echo throughout his entire journey, but this time these words appear within arguably the hardest moments of his life. The story of almost sacrifice describes Abraham’s faithful action regarding Isaac’s death, but never mentions his demeanor. I wonder what his steps to the altar were like. Did he feel tears stream down his cheeks—see them drip into the dust? Did his hands tremble as he laid weight of the wood on Isaac’s back? Did his heart crack when he grasped the rough handle of the knife? Then voice from heaven stops Abraham’s hand over his promised son causing relief to crash in, answering the pulsing adrenaline, and forcing sorrow to release its grip. His breath escapes with the words—“the Lord will provide” (vs. 14). God never promised Abraham a smooth or easy journey, but God did promise to go with him and bless him. Over long years— in Egypt, in Sodom, in Canaan—Abraham witnessed God’s provision throughout his life. So even here, facing the onslaught of tragedy, Abraham continues to place one foot in front of the other with trust that God has provided before and will do so again. The Advent season comes in with joyous expectation, but for most of us there are also moments of sorrow. After a long season of stress and strife, our steps toward the manger side feel heavy with deeply felt sadness over a broken relationship, a past due bill, or an empty place setting. Still, we move forward with hay crunching beneath our feet, because the infant who meets us reminds us of how far God reaches out to go with us, to bless us. We feel the promises made to Abraham ring throughout our own lives as we peer over the crude cradle’s edge and gaze in wonder at God’s ultimate expression of love for humanity while a breath escapes—“God will provide.”
– Katrina J. Olson Visiting Instructor
Wednesday, December 8 Psalm 27:1
“God is Light” JESUS WAS NOT BORN ON THE 25TH OF DECEMBER. The exact day of his birth is uncertain. Why then do we celebrate it on that day? After the annual day of longest darkness, ancient humans rejoiced as the amount of sunlight began to increase. Mistakenly the calendar of the Romans indicated that this transition, the winter solstice, took place on December 25th. To welcome this rebirth of the sun they held extravagant celebrations, not unlike our Mardi Gras. In the fourth century, some Christian leaders, unsympathetic with the December 25th pagan sun festival, suggested that the God who made the sun—and in particular the birth of the son of that God—should become the centerpiece of that day and season. Over the centuries most Christians, with relapses along the way, have remembered that December 25th is about the birth of Jesus, the light of God incarnate. “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” – 2 Corinthians 4:6 Like a magnifying glass, Jesus spoke words about God’s light which, when written, made God’s way plain. Like a mirror, Jesus reflected God’s light into the dark corners of our institutional and personal lives. Like a prism, Jesus demonstrated in his ministry the beautiful diversity of God’s light. Like a lamp, Jesus focused God’s light to enable our walk on the path of discipleship. Like a telescope, Jesus brought distant, rarely understood aspects of God’s light closer to us. Luminaries in a park, neighborhoods brilliantly aglow, courthouses festooned with bulbs, lights on your own tree, candles on your church’s Advent wreath—as you enjoy the illuminations of the season, be reminded that Christmas is about celebrating the birth of the One sent to bring God’s light to the world. “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” - John 1: 9
– Rev. Dr. John R. “Pete” Hendrick (MDiv’52) Professor Emeritus of Evangelism and Missions
Thursday, December 9 Genesis 2:4-8
“God as Creator” ON THE ONE HAND, the Creator, transcending the whole of creation. On the other, a baby in a manger in first-century Bethlehem. The astounding distance is collapsed through kenosis fired by agape. Agape was “in the beginning”: if a single image could portray the Creator in Genesis who blesses, delights in, and cares for all creatures, it would be the image of a sweeping bow down and a gathering up of every creature in loving embrace, an image of kenosis fired by agape, a reality unnamed but vividly portrayed “in the beginning” and realized to the nth degree in its incarnation as a helpless infant amongst marginal peasants. This divine passion—passion for others, passion in service to—is the “burning coal” on the lips of Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, so that, as Amos cries out, “Who can but prophesy?” It is the passion of saints and prophets of every religious tradition, the passion of Gautama Buddha, the passion of bodhisattvas and, of course, the passion of Jesus—no supersessionism or divide among faiths here. Agapic passion for others disrupts modern Western rationality’s passion for self (enlightened or no) and for power over—the passion of Caesars, Herods, and their modern equivalents. Agape is a passion worldly powers seek to crucify. It is no surprise that from Herod to our day, worldly powers have sought to “X”-out Christmas and to scapegoat faiths. It is no accident the brutal story of Herod’s merciless slaughter of infants and toddlers is a Christmas story. Modern Western secular historians like to point out there is no historical evidence for the story—“The Herod story is not true!” they exclaim—amidst a world of massive global inequity saturated in greed in which tens of thousands die of hunger every day. “Let those who have eyes see,” says agape incarnate, who cannot but prophesy on what is, thereby, a sure path to crucifixion, a sure path to a cross wherein the transcending reality, undefeated, shines all the more intensely: “forgive them, for they know not …”
– Dr. William Greenway Professor of Philosophical Theology
Friday, December 10 Psalm 23
“God as Shepherd” MY PERSONAL ENCOUNTERS WITH SHEEP comprise only a few roadside stops to “ewe and awe” at a herd of sheep. My encounters with shepherds amount to exactly one, but it changed how I think about Psalm 23. That encounter, ironically, happened not too far from Bethlehem. We’d just finished touring a disputed Israeli settlement and were looking over a barren area of rough and tumble hills stretching down to the Israeli-Palestinian border. All of the sudden we spotted some movement as a man wearing faded pants and a heavily soiled shirt appeared over the top of a hill. His pant legs were tucked into rubber work boots and over his shoulder he’d slung what looked to be a burlap sack of potatoes. He disappeared down the hill into a ravine and re-emerged on a hill nearer to us. From this closer vantage we could see that it wasn’t a bag at all over his shoulder, but a sheep. The lamb struggled a bit and the shepherd tried tucking it under one arm before eventually holding it close, clutched to his chest. The sheep didn’t appear terribly amused at the situation; neither did the shepherd, as he was constantly readjusting his grip on the squirming animal. When he topped the hill nearest us, he set it down to take a breather, all the while keeping one hand firmly on its neck. That shepherd was “covered in sheep.” He was not unaffected—in looks or smell—by his recent proximity to sheep. His clothes were stained not by his own mess, but from dealing with the sheeps’ mess; his boots showed he’d trod where his sheep had trod. It dawned on me that the work of a shepherd brings you into the thick-of-it, into the messes and troubles of your sheep. From this disheveled Israeli herder I learned that being a shepherd means drawing close and getting down in the dirt with the reality that sheep live. In light of that brief encounter, I now read “The Lord is my Shepherd” quite differently. Certainly God is protector, leader, guide, but maybe most importantly, God as my shepherd reminds me that God gets down in my dirt and in my mess. God draws near, maybe not in spite of our foibles and troubles, but precisely because of—and amidst— the troubles and mess we create for ourselves. During Advent we are reminded of this God, who, as shepherd, enters our mess.
–Dr. Andrew Zirschky Research Professor in Youth Ministry
Saturday, December 11 Genesis 1:1-3
“God the Gardener” IN THE BEGINNING FORMLESS VOID, faceless deep, wind-blown water, and … the word, the Logos. In the beginning, the preparation and the pattern for life: The darkness where seeds of new life germinate in soil, in wombs, in burial caves. The water without which the gardener has no garden, without which people’s bodies shrivel and shrink, the living water without which the soul languishes in eternal thirst. The wind who spreads pollen grains, carries Jesus’s words, and sweeps in to bring the church, the new body of Christ. The light who pulls plants up and up and up out of soil, who marks our days, who illumines the empty grave, and who is not overcome by the darkness. In the beginning God declared darkness, water, wind, and light good just the way they are. Yet, as a gardener knows, their goodness includes the ways they prepare for something new to grow. The elements themselves anticipate what is yet to come, and it is good. The pattern from the beginning includes preparation for new life as a good itself. Advent reminds me that preparations are already underway for our new life— life saved from COVID, from earth’s degradation, from our own crooked little hearts. I cannot see these preparations being made nor, honestly, can I see how our salvation works out. During Advent, though, I practice trusting in the preparations with anticipation, waiting to be surprised. After all, the pattern from the beginning is full of surprises: God came to us not as a full grown man to be king or in the form of a golden object to be worshiped but as a baby. Advent reminds me to trust that a surprise is here now and is to come.
– Melissa Wiginton ice President for Education Beyond V t he Walls and Research Professor i n Methodist Studies
Sunday, December 12 Lamentations 2:2-5
“God as Enemy” THIS DEVOTIONAL INVITES US TO REFLECT on what different scriptural images tell us about God who was born into our world. I admit I do not think of the image of God as enemy at Christmastide. But the image of enemy brings another image to mind. I will come to that. The book of Lamentations is five chapters, five lyric poems of lament. These particular verses are among the most vitriolic of the entire book, detailing what God the warrior has wrought against Jerusalem. The narrator laments the anguish of a suffering people and the razing of the holy city and its Temple by invading armies. Verse after verse attribute this devastation and horror to God. And more: not only is God the enemy, God is also the unresponsive enemy. Unlike the book of Job, God remains silent in Lamentations. Some interpreters want me, the reader, to be assured that I, too, can lament, that Christian communities can lament, that lament is a faithful part of being in relationship with God. The book of Lamentations is rightly used this way by both Jews and Christians during annual services when the book is read for what it is, as lament and as funeral dirge. And yet the accusations against God make me wonder again—why did God not stop such destruction and death? Was God their enemy? Is God our enemy? This is not what I think about at Christmastide. Except. Except that, for those of us using an old pattern of readings in the church we will hear outright frightful texts in the early weeks of Advent. The gospel readings announce images of divine judgment, wrath, and destruction. Surely God is as enemy in those texts, too. But an enemy of injustice, of unrighteousness. God as enemy makes me think of God as judge, the coming of Christ in judgment, of Christ born as enemy to sin and death. If this is what God as enemy means then I hope to stand watchful, awake, and busy with “least-ofthese” discipleship at the day of Christ’s coming, which we await.
– Rev. Dr. Jennifer L. Lord The Dorothy B. Vickery Professor of Homiletics and Liturgical Studies
Monday, December 13 2 Peter 2:4-9
“God as Rescuer” I USED TO WONDER why bad things happened to good people. It didn’t seem right or fair. Why did bad things happen to me when I was trying hard to follow my calling and do God’s work? Throughout my life I’ve pondered on that. As an immigrant to the US, I have been looked down on for my accent, for just being Latina. I’ve been thought of as being ignorant and uneducated. As a woman I’ve been intimidated and overlooked. And as a leader working out of my calling from God to serve my Latino community, I have received my share of envy, personal attacks, exclusion, shaming, discrimination— coming, disappointingly, from fellow Christians and peers. What I have learned is that I can’t get rid of these attacks. No one can. Jesus never promised us an easy life. Hardships and afflictions are ever-present in the Christian life. Jesus said take up your cross and follow me. This is not a onetime thing but a daily struggle. Every time I have faced those attacks, I have presented them to God. And I have prayed the same prayer, “God, I leave it up to you. I know you will defend and rescue me better than I ever will.” Jesus was the most righteous person to walk on earth. He endured an incredible amount of affliction. Jesus was born in a lowly manger, escaping persecution, living as an immigrant and a refugee. He endured severe emotional and physical pain. He was betrayed by those closest to him, was mocked, beaten, and tortured. If Jesus suffered affliction, as Christfollowers we can expect nothing less. I have partaken in Christ’s sufferings and as I faithfully continue, I will hold on to him as my sustainer and my rescuer, knowing that he will be the one to avenge me, because “he knows how to rescue the godly from trial, and to keep the unrighteous under punishment until the day of judgment.” In him, I find rest.
– Mónica Tornoé Director of Latina/o Programs
Tuesday, December 14 Exodus 15:22-26
“God as Healer” “I WILL NOT MAKE YOU SUFFER the diseases I sent on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord who heals you.” I imagine many of you have pondered “God as healer” as we have navigated the world of pandemic. You may have lost family, friends, or congregants to this pestilence; you may have performed more funerals than you can count or visited more deathbeds than you imagined possible. Disease and death have surrounded us. If we are not yet completely numb, we are surely crying out with the Psalmist, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” We are pleading with God for this pandemic—which has already taken nearly five million lives created in the image of God—to end. Why, oh God, have you forsaken us? ***** God had already shown Godself faithful to Israel, liberating them from Egyptian bondage and leading them safely through the waters of destruction. In Exodus 15, God also assures Moses that God is the LORD who heals. This image occurs throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. For example, Malachi proclaims, “the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings!” The New Testament retains this theme, reminding us that one day God will dwell with God’s people and death will be no more (Revelation 21:3-4). And yet, as COVID reminds us, that is certainly not the world we live in now. ***** Breaking out our Christmas decorations at Thanksgiving often occludes the reality that Advent is a season of waiting. We so easily skip the darkness and anticipation of Advent to embrace the light and celebration of Christmas. However, at Advent we long for God to break into the world again, eagerly crying “Maranatha! Come, Lord!” We acknowledge the profound brokenness of our world and plead with God to make things right. In a sense, Advent grants us permission to embrace the real despair caused by the pandemic while still acknowledging that God is ultimately Healer. While we are presently experiencing the not yet of the world, we rest in the hope of the already enacted by the Risen Christ who heals all creation.
– Dr. Josh Kulak Adjunct Professor in Evangelism and Missions
Wednesday, December 15 1 Corinthians 1:26-31
“God as Chooser” AMONG ALL THE CLAIMS OF FAITH, the idea that “God chooses the weak” is perhaps the most difficult to believe. As absurd as the doctrine of Jesus’s “resurrection and ascending” may sound, even this becomes more palatable when wielded by power. But the idea that God chooses the weak over the arrogant, the despised over the celebrated, the poor over the rich, and the lowly over the crème de la crème is like pouring salt into the wound in a time when so many of the lowly are being destroyed by the violence of natural and moral evils. Here in America, our collective sins of racism, sexism, homophobia, and ableism are getting the best of us, eroding even the nation’s core convictions of toleration, universal equality, democratic freedom, and resistance to tyranny. For the skeptic, this simply raises the question: God chooses the weak for what? It is all too obvious that the arrogant choose the weak for exploitation, violence, and marginalization. The claim of the text is that God chooses the weak to nullify or cancel out the boasting ability of the arrogant, which, theologically rendered, finds its ultimate expression in claims to divinely inspired exceptionalism. In mysterious ways, God chooses those who are not wise by our particular social standards, those who are not influential and among the “power players,” and those born in the ghettos looked down on by fat-cat hills or across the borders we wall out to challenge our claims that “God is on our side.” And even as we continue to ask “Why Lord?” in regard to the sufferings of the weak, we must not miss the biblical claim: that God chooses the weak and the oppressed, and that if God also chooses the strong, God chooses the oppressed first. This means that God’s spirit and grace are already present in the places written off as “morally bankrupt” by those who are arrogant; that the oppressed should be understood as sources of communion rather than commodification; and that our imperial culture has become the mission field, in need of divine intervention on behalf of ourselves and the world. – Dr. Asante Todd (MDiv’06) Associate Professor of Christian Ethics
Thursday, December 16 Isaiah 54:5-8
“God as Husband” THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART features a sixteenth-century painting by Jusepe de Ribera depicting the vision of Catherine of Alexandria who claimed to have married the infant Jesus in the presence of the Virgin Mary. While the notion of God as our husband may seem strange, it discloses a hidden truth of Advent. Equally odd to modern ears is the writer of Isaiah’s portrayal of Israel as an immature wife who “married young” and was sent away, whom the husband compassionately “brings back.” Even though these gender roles sound binary and paternalistic, jarring to modern ears, we may yet find truth in the image of God as a husband, wed not only to Israel. Although the ancient Near East was not subject to today’s romanticism in which love is reduced to a saccharine inner feeling, marriage was not even then reducible to mere pragmatic pursuit of wealth and status. Then as now, marriage at its best involves being seen in the eyes of love’s compassion and generosity. A husband is one who sees, as no one else, a spouse’s idiosyncrasies; knows their stories, desires, wounds, and gifts; eats their cooking; hears the songs they sing in the shower; and dries their tears. If the husband truly sees the spouse, they find themself coming alive to their true self precisely as the husband’s co-respondent—I am called forth in relation to Thou. Because of the beauty the husband finds in the spouse, he is compelled to protect and provide for them. He gives the gift of truly seeing the spouse, and they return the same gift to him. Together, shaped by their shared blessing of “seeing truly” each other, the two become blessings to the world. Advent finds me wandering in the desert, rummaging in the basement of my own ego, when my Beloved One draws near. In the compassionate and generous gaze of my Husband, my God, I am awakened and drawn into love’s generosity for the world. This is the gaze we meet in the New Testament as a babe in a manger, the one in whose gaze we are seen and in which we see the humility of love. The entire cosmos exists in the field of that husband’s gaze.
– Rev. Dr. David White The C. Ellis and Nancy Gribble Nelson Professor of Christian Education
Friday, December 17 Ephesians 4:6
“God the One” GLIMPSES OF GOD IN SCRIPTURE, as in Ephesians 4:6, convey identity markers that help us understand who Jesus is and what his birth means to our world. As the very name “Emmanuel” means, the Advent season is about the scripture as divine word, that in Christ’s resurrection from the dead all things are become new. This message of hope is there for us to embrace each day no matter how heavy the burden of disappointment and the sense of loss may weigh us down. Thank God that the divine message of Easter hope does not depend upon our ability to translate its reality but upon God’s amazing grace by which God makes all things new: the dayto-day of the life born and cultivated each day in faith ... thanks be to the God of Easter hope, especially in the face of tragic loss and dreadful acts of human brutality for which we seek divine help for deliverance. It is time for us to celebrate the miraculous interventions of the God who makes all things new in the day-to-day experiences of our lives. There are so many examples of such interventions if we but open our eyes to these moments of “God with us” in our daily walk. It becomes a matter of our longing to behold them. God, it would seem, is far more eager to help our vision than we are to have new eyes—Easter eyes, as it were. May it become a sincere longing of the heart for each of us in our daily journey to celebrate God’s new day, hand in hand with one another, as the new day of resurrection hope becomes the beacon guiding our footsteps into the new day of God’s blessed promises. Amen.
– Rev. Dr. John Alsup The First Presbyterian Church, Shreveport, D. Thomason Professor Emeritus of New Testament Studies
Dec Saturday, December 18 -21 Proverbs 8:12-14
“Holy Wisdom” O come, thou Wisdom from on high, who orderest all things mightily; to us the path of knowledge show and cause us in her ways to go. “O Come, Emmanuel,” Glory to God 88 THIS HYMN STANZA paraphrases an ancient prayer for the final days of Advent: O Sapientia—O Wisdom, coming from the mouth of the Most High. In the prayer and the hymn, we can hear these verses from Proverbs, where God speaks as Wisdom. Alongside the gifts of wisdom—advice, insight, strength—there is also the curious word attain: “I attain knowledge and discretion.” Wisdom is the speaker. What does it mean for Holy Wisdom Herself to “attain knowledge”? Sages, leave your contemplations; brighter visions beam afar. “Angels from the Realms of Glory,” GTG 143 These Epiphany Magi also seek wisdom. Something is increasing for them: an Epiphany star, an Advent road. Maybe the contemplations they set aside are not tranquil, but, like ours, weary, sorrowful, dis-eased. These Wise Ones must be ready for something else, because they meet us with a question: Where is he? Their question and their road are also ours. What visions beam far or near? Where is Wisdom-with-Us, born in a manger? Shepherds watch and wise men wonder; monarchs scorn and angels sing. “Who Would Think That What Was Needed,” GTG 138 Writer Toni Morrison said in a 1991 lecture, “Wisdom is not merely what works or what succeeds, nor is it a final authority. Whatever it is, it will always be a search.” Searching is everywhere in the gospel birth stories— roads, vigils, questions, flights, stars. Matthew and Luke must have wellworn copies of Proverbs on their shelves. They teach in dreams, signs, songs, and wonders; even the boy Jesus, says Luke, increased in knowledge. This is Emmanuel: God-with-us, loving us enough to grow alongside us. Who would have thought, indeed?
– Eric Wall Assistant Professor of Sacred Music & Dean of the Chapel
Sunday, December 1921 Exodus 14:21-23 & 27-30
“God as Deliverer” MUCH OF THE PAST TWO YEARS has been a real journey into the unknown and, dare I say, unprecedented. COVID hit and the “normalcy” of life changed drastically. The concept of “deliverer” took on more meanings during the pandemic as many began to have provisions delivered to their homes in addition to the more usual pizza or parcels. Obstacles arose that challenged everyday existence in so many ways. The interruption to the supply chain reared its ugly head. Employment conditions changed overnight. Zoom became everyone’s best friend and worst enemy all at once. Restrictions imposed by governmental agencies, schools, stores, and just the sea of expectations encompassing us all seemed to send “pillars of fire and smoke” to obscure a clear path forward with nowhere to retreat. Not to mention the very real threat that sickness and possibly death lay directly in the path ahead. All of this threatened individual and collective mental and emotional health as worry for loved ones increased and the witness of the suffering and loss of persons worldwide drew daily attention. This is nothing new. The perils faced by humankind have always been a part of our journey. Our text recounts perils of a physical nature as well as questions of personal faith and dependence upon a “Deliverer” when we face that which we cannot overcome on our own. In our context, questions were raised which were met not only by strong leadership but just as importantly a willingness of the people to encourage one another to get through such dire straits. We have been challenged by myriad justice issues: racial, immigrant, civil, employment, and issues of care for the very young and old unable to advocate for themselves. If we approach this season recognizing Jesus as “Deliverer,” claiming to have him living within us, we must follow the leadership of his spirit of love and concern for all others. Only then will we have truly gotten a glimpse of Emmanuel.
– Rev. Serena McMillan A djunct Professor in Hebrew Bible
Monday, December 20 Isaiah 43:1-7
“God the Redeemer” THIS TEXT IS ROOTED IN THE BABYLONIAN EXILE, when the Hebrew people were captive in the capitol, Babylon, for sixty years. This passage was written at the end of that time, and it describes God as “redeeming” Israel (v.3). God is about to do something new. Perhaps there are survivors who remember what it felt like to be free in the land of Judah and who expect things to go back to the way they were. God offers something else. God is true to God’s promises, remembering and delighting in God’s people. This implies that, by forming them long ago and redeeming them, God is faithful to the covenant made (vs. 1). Also, if people are concerned that some will be forgotten, the prophet reassures them, saying God will reach out to everyone and include them in the new changes taking place (v.5-7). Finally, and most importantly, God accompanies Israel in an intimate way as they change. When they return, they do not go to the same Southern Kingdom, but rather resettle in the north. How does God redeem Israel? Most important, God promises to be with Israel, passing through rivers and walking through fire with them (v.2). Although these challenges will still be present, they will not take over in the same way. God redeems Israel by intimately walking into a new, seemingly insurmountable situation with them and helping them face it. This past year, many have lost loved ones and precious institutions have changed. God’s promise to redeem Israel suggests that God is present to us, traveling with us as we go through change. When we go through changes, we often expect things to return to the same, but God promises to be with us as we meet new challenges. We still may travel through rivers and fire, we still may face an uncertain future, but God accompanies us, even as we feel unprepared for an unpredictable future.
– Rev. Dr. Phil Helsel Associate Professor in the Nancy Taylor Williamson Distinguished Chair of Pastoral Care
Tuesday, December 21 1 John 4:7-8
“God is Love” THESE VERSES ARE BOTH AN ASSURANCE AND AN INDICTMENT. The assurance is in the character of God. God loves. If we love, it is because God’s love flows through us. Loving others is the knowledge of God. The indictment is the opposite: If we do not love, we do not know God. Our words don’t matter. Our tenets of belief are beside the point. If we do not love others, we are estranged from God. But love is not so simple. It rarely is the case that we love or we don’t love. Our love is all mixed up. We love some people, but some we do not. We can be deeply in love one day, and infuriated the next. Sometimes we simply don’t care about someone. Sometimes we hate. This means that at times we know God, and at other times we do not. Our love is not constant. It varies, and our knowledge of God varies with it. If we choose indifference, or if we choose hate, we turn our backs on the God we claim to know. When I was in college, the novel Love Story appeared on the bestsellers’ list. It was quickly followed by a movie and then a hit song. In the novel (and the movie) one of the principal characters said, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” That is nonsense. Our loving is so variable, and can be so hurtful, that we often must apologize. Our thoughtlessness, our anger, our jealousies, our carelessness wound those we love. We often must say that we are sorry. We probably do not say it often enough. We must also say it to God. Our failures of love are sinful and we must repent. These are the times when we most need the assurance that God is love. Our repentance, difficult as it can be, is not futile. God’s love comes to us as forgiveness. Our hearts often condemn us, and we writhe in shame and remorse. But the author of this letter assures us: God is greater than our hearts.
– Rev. Dr. David W. Johnson Associate Professor of Church History and Christian Spirituality
Wednesday, December 22 Matthew 25:31-46
“The Least One” WHEN WE CALL JESUS “EMMANUEL,” we remember that God is with us. That should comfort us, but it should also make us squirm, a little: God is invested in how we live, what we do, and especially how we treat others. It’s not a matter of earning salvation, but it is a matter of living right now into the eternal life that is ours. To reach out to others as God has reached out to us is to be who we are as those God is with and for in Christ. It is to be free, as the sheep in Matthew 25 are free, to feed and clothe and visit. I have a friend who is at our door with dinner any time a member of our family is sick or grieving. She sweeps in and sets it down and the food is always good. She is like those sheep: acting so seamlessly as an extension of who she is that she looks almost confused when I thank her. I don’t believe she has any strong religious convictions. Is this passage saying she will go to heaven, even if she never professes belief in Christ? That is the kind of question we often ask about this parable, but it is the wrong question. Judgment is not in our job description — it is the privilege of the Son of Man. Neither is the challenge to the sheep, to my friend, or to any who reach out to others in love. The challenge, rather, is to us goats who presume that our technical belief that God is with us is the ticket that will get us into the kingdom. It turns out that belief, when it is mere assertion, isn’t the ticket any more than good works because there isn’t a ticket at all. Eternal life does not come through transaction, but by transformation. This Advent, may we be so cognizant of God’s presence with us that we are driven to be with others in unexpected ways, giving to them so freely that we are almost surprised by their gratitude.
– Rev. Dr. Cynthia L. Rigby The W.C. Brown Professor of Theology
Thursday, December 23 Acts 10:34-48
“God as Impartial” GOD SHOWS NO PARTIALITY, BUT I DO. I’m intuitive and decisive, or so I tell myself, which results in a lot of sorting—sit by this person, follow up with that person, give more attention, listen more carefully, include, invite, prefer this person. It turns out, in fact, those are precisely the things partiality means: prejudice, preference, favoritism, subjectivity, one-sidedness, preconception, jaundiced eye, soft spot. SOFT SPOT! Keep going and the thesaurus will give you: fancy, liking, inclination, penchant, fondness, affection, nepotism, bias, discrimination, prejudice, and preferentialism. (To be transparent, “soft spot” appeared in that list as well.) These, these are the things God does not show, and Advent’s persistent persuasions to more and more embody the spirit of God-With-Us reveals to me how often I do. Jesus: Going about doing good and healing all who were oppressed. Me: Making little mental notes. Sigh. “But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord’” (Luke 2.10-11). This shattering announcement made “to you” was made to the least-preferred folk in David’s city. He-who-was-born grew up and repeatedly went out of his way to embed among those folk; the least, the last, and the lost. Some would insist, in fact, that God-With-Us does show partiality—a soft spot—for those whom others dismiss. Read Acts 10 for a reminder how astounded the “insiders” were as the gift of the Holy Spirit poured abundantly on the “outsiders.” Impartially, insistently, Spirit fell upon them all. Perhaps God’s lack of partiality reveals a soft spot for us all because, as Peter preached, “he is the Lord of all.” All means all is a challenging concept in decidedly divisive times, is it not?
A favorite Advent hymn reminds me “I’m looking for the coming of Christ, I want to be like Jesus.” I’m not. Not yet all accepting and all loving, yet already accepted and loved. This, beloved, is the persistent now/not yet persuasion of Advent.
– Rev. Bobbi Kaye Jones (MDiv’80) Professor in the Louis H. and Katherine S. Zbinden Distinguished Chair of Pastoral Ministry and Leadership
Christmas Eve Isaiah 9:2-7
“The Prince of Peace” THIS REMARKABLE PASSAGE (which echoes with refrains of Handel’s “Messiah” whenever I read it) heralds a coming king. We typically associate kings with power, possessions, and prestige. Kings extend their power with armies, economic might, and colonization. But the king that Isaiah announces displays different characteristics. This king ends oppression while burning army boots and garments stained by the blood of battle. This king announces the end of the vicious cycles of violence that is typical of kings and their reigns by showing us a different kind of power: the power of peace. Jesus is born into a world that celebrates the ravages of power: a Pax Romana that keeps the peace through well-armed soldiers. Is our world that different? In the United States, even in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, it can be easy for many of us to insulate ourselves from violence. We simply shut the door and pretend it doesn’t exist. But turning our heads from violence doesn’t mean that its power is not still pervasive. When we celebrate the birth of the Savior, the God who is born into our world, we recognize that perhaps our world isn’t that much different from the Mediterranean world of the first century. The king in Isaiah, however, makes another way possible: his authority grows in proportion to peace, a peace that is not simply the absence of conflict, but which actively seeks justice and righteousness. This peace grows out of God’s eternal promises to God’s people, which makes us agents of peace in our own time, anticipating the endless peace of God’s reign. Isaiah’s vision heralds the coming of the Prince of Peace. No wonder that Handel’s refrain ends on that phrase. Advent, above all, is a season of peace, inviting us to become peacemakers in all facets of our lives: in our homes, neighborhoods, nation, and world. This year, how will you celebrate the arrival of the One who establishes peace?
– Dr. David H. Jensen Academic Dean and Professor in the Clarence N. and Betty B. Frierson Distinguished Chair of Reformed Theology
Christmas Day John 1:1-14
“The Word” IN JOHN’S GOSPEL, the text for this Christmas Day does not speak of mangers and angels and shepherds and stables. There is no mother and child, no donkeys or camels, or wise men bringing exotic gifts. Instead, the story is more abstract. It begins “in the beginning”—before time, before music or candles or organs or choirs. Before stained glass or soaring churches or Santas or vestments or fonts or tables or Christmas trees. “In the beginning,” there is a cosmic quiet, a deep darkness. Perhaps if we could hop a ride onto a SpaceX rocket, we would be able to experience the scene that John begins painting in this text. It is a picture of time bathed in darkness. There are no lights, no people, no words. In our time, of course, there are indeed words. The words of the news on the radio, the words we launch like weapons, the words we use to build up or to destroy, the words with which we lie or tell the truth. But in “the beginning” that John is talking about, before there are words—an infinity of words, words, words—there is nothing. Except the Word. The Word with a capital “W.” To be clear, it’s not just any word. It is a particular Word, one that “became flesh and lived among us”—one that is true because from God and through God and to God, this Word reveals God in the very act of beginning and remaining in relationship with God. The Word, of course, is Jesus. We know this Word, because, as John puts it, “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.” John Philip Newell, a Canadian contemplative, has said that “at the birth of every child, the holy is born … The gospel of Christ reveals … the dearest and most hidden of all truths: we are what Christ is, born of God…At the heart of every human being and every creature is the light that was in the beginning and through whom all things have come into being.” So on this day, and on every day left for us, we show this light and thus show the world that the Word lives among us, and we have seen his glory!
– Rev. Dr. Theodore J. Wardlaw President and Professor of Homiletics
THANK YOU FOR SPENDING SOME TIME WITH US THIS ADVENT, exploring the diverse incarnations of the divine along with the Austin Seminary faculty. Please know that Austin Seminary’s dedicated and loving community of faith is not complete without you. Did you know: • Our students come from more than a dozen denominations, and our alumni serve in forty-nine U.S. states and in twenty different countries across the world. Typically, more than 80% of our graduates are called to congregational ministry. • Ninety percent of our students receive some form of tuition assistance. • This year, more than 50% of students entered Austin Seminary already having educational debt averaging more than $36,500. Your gift to Austin Seminary enables us to provide scholarships and financial aid that help these students graduate from seminary without additional debt, more prepared to serve Christ’s church wherever they are needed. • Your support underwrites the finest theological faculty and an administration committed to upholding the highest standards possible with respect to the unique vocation of ministry. Every gift is significant, appreciated, and put to work right away to make a real impact. Please send your gift today.
Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary wishes you a Joyous Christmas!
Theodore J. Wardlaw, President
THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES Keatan A. King, Chair James C. Allison Lee Ardell Janice L. Bryant (MDiv’01, DMin’11) Kelley Cooper Cameron Katherine B. Cummings (MDiv’05) Thomas Christian Currie James A. DeMent Jr. (MDiv’17) Jill Duffield (DMin’13) Britta Martin Dukes (MDiv’05) Peg Falls-Corbitt Jackson Farrow Jr. Beth Blanton Flowers, MD Stephen Giles Jesús Juan González (MDiv’92) William Greenway Cyril Hollingsworth
Ora Houston John A. Kenney Steve LeBlanc Sue B. McCoy Matthew Miller (MDiv’03) W. David Pardue Denise Nance Pierce (MATS’11) Mark B. Ramsey Stephen J. Rhoades Sharon Risher (MDiv’07) Conrad M. Rocha Lana E. Russell John L. Van Osdall Michael Waschevski (DMin’03) Teresa Welborn Elizabeth C. Williams Michael G. Wright
Trustees Emeriti Lyndon V. Olson Jr., B.W. Sonny Payne, Max Sherman, Anne Vickery Stevenson
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