Fuller Lectures

The Magnificat is the canticle (or song) Mary sings in Mark 1:46-55. The name of the poem comes from the Latin translation of the verb for “magnify” in the first line of her song: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior” (Mk 1:46–47). Throughout our reflections this week we will be meditating on the Magnificat. For today’s reflection, try singing this first line of the poem; the tune does not matter, but try it on as a song. (If you’re not the musical type, go ahead and just speak it, but I find singing connects us with God in a special kind of way.) If you are in the practice of morning prayer, you can open or close with this line (and if you are not in the practice, what better day to start?). Sing slowly and focus on the words. When you are finished, take a moment to reflect. What does it look like for your soul to magnify the Lord today? How does your spirit rejoice in God your savior? Throughout today, try to take some time out at various periods, bo

“Then Mary said, ‘ Here am I , the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her.” –Luke 1:38 Throughout the Bible, when God speaks a word to God’s followers, the signal that they hear and are prepared to answer the call is marked by their response: “Here am I.” When God calls on Abraham and Moses, they respond, “Here am I.” Samuel, perhaps slower on the draw, responds, “Here am I,” three times before he figures out it is the LORD who calls him. Mary’s response, marked by this same signal, shows that she is included in this line of those called by God for a purpose, and that she has the strength and faith to respond, “Here am I.” But unlike those who have come before, here a  woman  is shown answering this call. This breaking of the gender barrier signals a shift in what God is doing in the world. When Mary offers her own, “Here am I,” it is to a wholly new work: God’s own birthing into the world, taking on flesh to walk amon

Today's offering comes courtesy of Julie McLaughlin. Thanks, Julie! A Thrill of Hope Can you remember the time when you first began to anticipate the joy of the holiday season?  Being good Americans, I’m certain your first memories include things like cartoon Peanuts specials, promises of seeing reindeer, and awkward shopping mall Santas.  Can you recall when you were committed to niceness over naughtiness, for nearly an entire month?  How about combing Toys 'R Us catalogs (or Sears or Children’s Palace, for you much older folks) and being enticed by oodles of the most fantastic advertising, promising that Santa could fulfill your gift request, there? Do you remember the difficulty falling asleep, once you were hip to the Santa scene?  The television newscasters played along, giving “special reports” of Santa being on his way.  The younger folks among us have fond memories of searching the net to track his progress on NORAD.  It was happening!  Santa was on the m

Today's offering comes from Jeff Lookabaugh , courtesy of his blog. Thanks, Jeff!

In lieu of lighting an Advent wreath, this year Blue Ocean Faith Columbus is featuring a painting each week by Pastor Brian Whitton. These are his thoughts on the painting he unveiled for Week One: Advent invites us to a time of twilight and anticipation of the coming light of Christ. In this painting I tried to represent that dawn time when dark and light tones of color share the landscape. I tried to represent how Advent is both a time of anticipation and waiting with movement and activity as we prepare our hearts for Jesus. Finally, the painting shows only part of a a larger picture. It only gives us a glimpse and leaves the rest to mystery and imagination. And so our future as humanity can only be seen in part through the promises of God, but will only be known fully when the time comes.

Read Part One The stranger sighed and gave her an indulgent smile. "You're gonna be a momma, Mary," they said gently. "And not just any momma. You're gonna be pregnant and grow your own little one, not just in your heart but in your belly too, and believe me when I tell you your child is going to be incredible." And with that announcement, Mary completed her journey to speechlessness. No more stammering, no half-formed protests – she couldn't even decide if she wanted to laugh or shout, let alone make a coherent sentence. As if in a dream, she found herself tilting the half-empty laundry basket so it fell on the floor, and once the couch was clear, she half-fell onto it, her eyes never leaving the stranger, who was waiting patiently all the while. "This isn't happening," she finally decided. Never mind that her pulse was so loud in her ears she could barely hear herself speak. Never mind the shaking in her limbs. Never mind the static