I have recently discovered the delights of WikiHow – a seemingly never-ending online database of step-by-step, ‘how-to’ guides.

Its homepage reads: ‘We’re trying to help everyone on the planet learn how to do anything!’, and, indeed, WikiHow seems to have a step-by-step guide to pretty much anything one can think of – from the practical, ‘how to stain concrete floors’, to the artistic, ‘how to paint gladioli in watercolour’, to the self-improving, ‘how to be charismatic’, and even ‘how to build trust in a long-distance relationship’. It seems that little is beyond its helpful reach.

So imagine my delight when, during this increasingly stressful time of year, I found a WikiHow entry entitled ‘How to get ready for Christmas’. I couldn’t resist having a look to see if there was a way to avoid leaving everything ‘til the last minute, changing the habit of a lifetime for me. The advice is arranged into four sections, which help you plan gifts, events, food, and setting the scene. I have to report that it didn’t solve my yule-tide organizational issues – I didn’t need to be reminded that I could ‘shop online to avoid the crowds’, or that ‘watching a Christmas film’ might get me in a seasonal mood. But I can pass onto you all the recommendation to ‘make an aroma pot of orange, cinnamon and cloves’, as, apparently, ‘waking up to the smells of the season is a great way to start the day!’.

The very last item on this rather extensive list reads, ‘Find a place to worship (optional)’. I confess I was depressed to see this tucked away at the end, with the ‘optional’ spelled out (even the seasonal smells didn’t come with that caveat!). Preparing spiritually is number 17 on the list of things to do to get ready for Christmas. While I realize that I am, to a certain extent, preaching to the converted here, I wonder what number it is on your list?

‘Getting ready for Christmas’ is, of course, the theme of Advent, when we are told to watch, to wait, and, most importantly, to ‘prepare’. This is particularly so as we begin this second week of Advent, when we hear from the prophets Malachi and Isaiah. Both speak of this necessary preparation, but in different ways.

The most well-known is likely to be the words of Isaiah, quoted by John the Baptist in the Gospel of Luke. ‘Prepare the way of the Lord’, he cries, ‘make his paths straight’. We’re told that ‘every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth’ – this is how we are to ‘see the salvation of God.’

This is all very well, but, perhaps not surprisingly given my Welsh heritage, I am rather fond of valleys, and mountains, and hills. The sheer diversity apparent in the natural world is a source of beauty and wonder. What can it mean for all these to be evened out? Which of us would prefer to live in a world consisting of straight lines, and flat surfaces? Of course, this passage is not referring to our physical world, but rather commenting on our internal landscape, that place where God is closer to us than our own breath, our inner life where we pray, and feel, and ponder. But my point remains: does this necessary preparation for the coming of Christ entail our spiritual and emotional ‘flattening’?

This is worth some serious consideration. Does a deepening of our relationship with God entail the equivalent of an inner bulldozer to make us into some kind of uniform, cookie-cutter disciple? Is this what we sometimes think we should be aiming for? I daresay many of us here have encountered people of faith who present a serene and happy front, who seem to insist that all is pretty straightforward in their internal hinterland, and sometimes we can feel that our own doubts, or depression, or inner turmoil mark us out as unworthy or undisciplined… or just not as spiritually evolved as we might be. I wonder, though, if this is a precarious persona, the result of some of this internal bulldozing, where anything that feels remotely troublesome or subversive needs to be repressed, ignored, tidied away for when God comes to visit by way of our worship and our prayers.

Because some of us will also have experienced that – perhaps inevitable – collapse, when tragedy strikes or strong feelings can no longer be repressed. This can be a desolate place, without the healing acceptance that comes from believing that we are loved and cherished for who and what we are already. Pretending that we – and everything in our life – is perfect is not how all flesh shall see the salvation of the God who is fully conversant with the chaos and grubbiness of human living, and loves and redeems us within all that mess. 

This is why I’m glad we also get to hear the prophet Malachi’s description of how the Lord transforms us if we are willing to allow him. Here, he is described as a refiner, as of silver or precious metals. It is a sophisticated business, refining: a gradual process with many stages, and it requires harsh chemicals so needs to be handled with care, and understanding, and experience, to eventually produce something even more precious and beautiful.

That, to me, is how God effects his will in us. Where we feel there is a blemish or rough edge, this is carefully, lovingly, gently smoothed. Where there is a tangled, confusing mess within us, we are tenderly led back onto our designated pathway. Where the depths are low, and lonely, and filled with despair, we are brought back to the safety of the level ground. And when the mountains are too steep to climb because we are overcome with weariness and the weight we carry, we are patiently encouraged, and affirmed, and enabled to grow in love.

And so we realize that God is more master craftsman than Bob the Builder; that it is God’s work in us that makes us ready to receive him. Our charge of preparation, then, is to ready our hearts to invite God in; the prophets indicate that it is a case of allowing God to do God’s own work within us. The task is not entirely ours.

This, of course, has its own difficulties, because we often don’t want God to do his work in us. This refining business can be uncomfortable, and lengthy, and can bring about change that – let’s face it – is not always welcome. We get used to those things that imprison and limit us, and cling to our idols and insecurities because we cannot imagine an inner landscape whereby we are unhindered, and free.

I believe this is where the Church comes in. We are called to grapple together with this task of making the path straight so God can get to work. This Advent, here at the Cathedral we have some sessions after today’s service and next week’s in a new format, designed to be accessible and thought-provoking, where each of us, with all our different needs and expectations, can be supported in reflecting on how we might be refined, in our different ways. It is a delicate process, so we are using art, and poetry, and music; it is a thoughtful endeavour, so we are hoping to encounter theology in a way that is exciting and undaunting; it is a creative act, so we encourage one another to read or think or draw in a way that perhaps we haven’t done before. At its heart will be the opportunity to consider Scripture that we think we know well in a way that invites God to show us something unexpected, to make connections we hadn’t seen.  Last, but not least, these sessions can be precious time spent together, in the midst of our busy and complex lives, where we might allow ourselves to be surprised and transformed by one another.

Come, if you can, and enjoy the space to reflect on the most important preparation you can do in the run-up to Christmas. Come, just as you are, and find your own way to listen and respond to God, and allow him to do his holy work in you. This Advent, let us cooperate with God as he prepares us for the arrival of Christ; and when he comes, may we greet him with eager and open hearts, made ready to see the glory of the salvation of God.

Its homepage reads: ‘We’re trying to help everyone on the planet learn how to do anything!’, and, indeed, WikiHow seems to have a step-by-step guide to pretty much anything one can think of – from the practical, ‘how to stain concrete floors’, to the artistic, ‘how to paint gladioli in watercolour’, to the self-improving, ‘how to be charismatic’, and even ‘how to build trust in a long-distance relationship’. It seems that little is beyond its helpful reach.

So imagine my delight when, during this increasingly stressful time of year, I found a WikiHow entry entitled ‘How to get ready for Christmas’. I couldn’t resist having a look to see if there was a way to avoid leaving everything ‘til the last minute, changing the habit of a lifetime for me. The advice is arranged into four sections, which help you plan gifts, events, food, and setting the scene. I have to report that it didn’t solve my yule-tide organizational issues – I didn’t need to be reminded that I could ‘shop online to avoid the crowds’, or that ‘watching a Christmas film’ might get me in a seasonal mood. But I can pass onto you all the recommendation to ‘make an aroma pot of orange, cinnamon and cloves’, as, apparently, ‘waking up to the smells of the season is a great way to start the day!’.

The very last item on this rather extensive list reads, ‘Find a place to worship (optional)’. I confess I was depressed to see this tucked away at the end, with the ‘optional’ spelled out (even the seasonal smells didn’t come with that caveat!). Preparing spiritually is number 17 on the list of things to do to get ready for Christmas. While I realize that I am, to a certain extent, preaching to the converted here, I wonder what number it is on your list?

‘Getting ready for Christmas’ is, of course, the theme of Advent, when we are told to watch, to wait, and, most importantly, to ‘prepare’. This is particularly so as we begin this second week of Advent, when we hear from the prophets Malachi and Isaiah. Both speak of this necessary preparation, but in different ways.

The most well-known is likely to be the words of Isaiah, quoted by John the Baptist in the Gospel of Luke. ‘Prepare the way of the Lord’, he cries, ‘make his paths straight’. We’re told that ‘every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth’ – this is how we are to ‘see the salvation of God.’

This is all very well, but, perhaps not surprisingly given my Welsh heritage, I am rather fond of valleys, and mountains, and hills. The sheer diversity apparent in the natural world is a source of beauty and wonder. What can it mean for all these to be evened out? Which of us would prefer to live in a world consisting of straight lines, and flat surfaces? Of course, this passage is not referring to our physical world, but rather commenting on our internal landscape, that place where God is closer to us than our own breath, our inner life where we pray, and feel, and ponder. But my point remains: does this necessary preparation for the coming of Christ entail our spiritual and emotional ‘flattening’?

This is worth some serious consideration. Does a deepening of our relationship with God entail the equivalent of an inner bulldozer to make us into some kind of uniform, cookie-cutter disciple? Is this what we sometimes think we should be aiming for? I daresay many of us here have encountered people of faith who present a serene and happy front, who seem to insist that all is pretty straightforward in their internal hinterland, and sometimes we can feel that our own doubts, or depression, or inner turmoil mark us out as unworthy or undisciplined… or just not as spiritually evolved as we might be. I wonder, though, if this is a precarious persona, the result of some of this internal bulldozing, where anything that feels remotely troublesome or subversive needs to be repressed, ignored, tidied away for when God comes to visit by way of our worship and our prayers.

Because some of us will also have experienced that – perhaps inevitable – collapse, when tragedy strikes or strong feelings can no longer be repressed. This can be a desolate place, without the healing acceptance that comes from believing that we are loved and cherished for who and what we are already. Pretending that we – and everything in our life – is perfect is not how all flesh shall see the salvation of the God who is fully conversant with the chaos and grubbiness of human living, and loves and redeems us within all that mess. 

This is why I’m glad we also get to hear the prophet Malachi’s description of how the Lord transforms us if we are willing to allow him. Here, he is described as a refiner, as of silver or precious metals. It is a sophisticated business, refining: a gradual process with many stages, and it requires harsh chemicals so needs to be handled with care, and understanding, and experience, to eventually produce something even more precious and beautiful.

That, to me, is how God effects his will in us. Where we feel there is a blemish or rough edge, this is carefully, lovingly, gently smoothed. Where there is a tangled, confusing mess within us, we are tenderly led back onto our designated pathway. Where the depths are low, and lonely, and filled with despair, we are brought back to the safety of the level ground. And when the mountains are too steep to climb because we are overcome with weariness and the weight we carry, we are patiently encouraged, and affirmed, and enabled to grow in love.

And so we realize that God is more master craftsman than Bob the Builder; that it is God’s work in us that makes us ready to receive him. Our charge of preparation, then, is to ready our hearts to invite God in; the prophets indicate that it is a case of allowing God to do God’s own work within us. The task is not entirely ours.

This, of course, has its own difficulties, because we often don’t want God to do his work in us. This refining business can be uncomfortable, and lengthy, and can bring about change that – let’s face it – is not always welcome. We get used to those things that imprison and limit us, and cling to our idols and insecurities because we cannot imagine an inner landscape whereby we are unhindered, and free.

I believe this is where the Church comes in. We are called to grapple together with this task of making the path straight so God can get to work. This Advent, here at the Cathedral we have some sessions after today’s service and next week’s in a new format, designed to be accessible and thought-provoking, where each of us, with all our different needs and expectations, can be supported in reflecting on how we might be refined, in our different ways. It is a delicate process, so we are using art, and poetry, and music; it is a thoughtful endeavour, so we are hoping to encounter theology in a way that is exciting and undaunting; it is a creative act, so we encourage one another to read or think or draw in a way that perhaps we haven’t done before. At its heart will be the opportunity to consider Scripture that we think we know well in a way that invites God to show us something unexpected, to make connections we hadn’t seen.  Last, but not least, these sessions can be precious time spent together, in the midst of our busy and complex lives, where we might allow ourselves to be surprised and transformed by one another.

Come, if you can, and enjoy the space to reflect on the most important preparation you can do in the run-up to Christmas. Come, just as you are, and find your own way to listen and respond to God, and allow him to do his holy work in you. This Advent, let us cooperate with God as he prepares us for the arrival of Christ; and when he comes, may we greet him with eager and open hearts, made ready to see the glory of the salvation of God.