Matthew B. Harper

Saturday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Cast your burden on the Lord, and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved. (Psalm 55:22)

The stories that sustain us are the ones that remind us of a constant and loving presence. If you ask a child what the best thing about Christmas is, their response will certainly include the gifts of material things. But when you ask an adult, they will talk of wonderful family gatherings, of times spent together, of love that is celebrated and honored.

This verse from the psalms comes in the midst of words of trouble and persecution, of prayers that are begging for revenge and deliverance. In the midst of this heartfelt cry of pain and confusion, the psalmist is resting on the calm and certain assurance of God’s constant loving presence.

The Israelites, God’s chosen people, lived with years of turmoil, uncertainty, and fear. They did not understand why God delayed in delivering them from the persecution they suffered. We can look back and say that they were not yet ready for God, but in truth they were still not yet ready when Christ did come; and we are still not ready today. Christ comes in His time, and our worthiness is not required.

No matter how confused and hectic life gets, especially during the holidays, we know Christmas is coming. We know that Christ has come amongst us, and we celebrate that day of his birth. No matter our physical or emotional trouble, no matter our persecution or captivity, we have the same calm assurance that the psalmist had. Cast your cares upon the Lord, and God will sustain and deliver us.

What is the crying at Jordan? Who hears, O God, the prophecy? Dark is the season, dark our hearts and shut to mystery.

(Hymn 69)

Friday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

For it will be as when a man going on a journey called his servants and entrusted to them his property; to one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his abilities. (Matthew 25:14,15)

How many of us are afraid or feel unworthy? How many of us have felt this way at one time or another? How many of us do not step out, speak up, sing louder, or laugh more – all because we fear our own self-worth in the eyes of another? The simple truth is that we have not been given the same talents, or in the same measure, and that is a difficult and sometimes painful thing.

But being faithful to God does not mean having more talents, it is about using what you have been given to the best of your ability in the ways that God has shown you to use them. All too often we feel like the one who got the last and least talent, and we just want to go and bury it somewhere and not show it to anybody. But the master did not judge his servants by how many talents they had, only by what they had done with them.

If you have ever received a hand made gift from a small child, then you know something of the master’s feelings. Children cannot craft, write, or draw things with great skill, only with great love and total abandon. And we receive them and cherish them because they are indeed precious. They offer whatever talent they have in faithful love to us. So should we offer to our Father.

This Christmas I dare to step out more, and dare to do your best with what you have been given, whatever that may be. I promise it will be enough.

At your great name, O Jesus, now all knees must bend, all hearts must bow: all things on earth with one accord, like those in heaven, shall call you Lord. (Hymn 60)

Thursday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Then all those maidens rose and trimmed their lamps…Watch therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour. (Matthew 25:7,13)

Throughout the Gospel Jesus often likens the Kingdom of God to a lamp burning in the darkness. He calls it a lamp and a light, but as a child I knew it as a candle.

On Christmas Eve the church services would often end in darkness. The choir would light a candle, and the light would spread. The flame would be passed through the congregation, and the light would grow and spread more. If a candle was blown out by a chance gust, it was quickly relit from another candle in the community. In the deepest darkness of a cold winter night the warm glow of light would encompass the church as the voices sang a beautiful and old hymn. Christ was here, Christmas was here, and the celebrations could begin.

It is dark at night in the desert. Away from the city and the community the night becomes heavy and oppressive. St. John of the cross described his desert experiences as the ‘dark night of the soul.’ Prison is just such a darkness for me, and we all have darkness like this in our lives.

Into all of this darkness comes the light of Christ. The kingdom burns brightly with a light that cannot be put out, only spread. As the community grows in faith and joy the light glows brighter. The light always defeats the darkness. Always.

Even in prison it is a holy night.

Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright. Round yon virgin, mother and Child! Holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace. (Hymn 73)

Wednesday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Blessed is that servant whom his master when he comes will find so doing. Truly, I say to you, he will set him over all his possessions. (Matthew 24:46-47)

Every year that I was with the Canterbury Ministry at James Madison University, we went Christmas caroling. Every year here at Greensville the church goes to sing Christmas carols in the Medical unit. Working with my mother for our Cursillo community we helped bake cookies for prisoners going on a Kairos retreat. Now I am in prison, and I enjoy eating theses homemade cookies, cooked with love and ministry.

For many of us, when God calls us to an assigned task, we do not like it. God, as our master, calls us out of our comfort zone, calls us to use talents we don’t think we have, and to do things that the world might not understand or praise. Read again the story of Moses, or of Jonah, or of Paul. When we yield to the calling of our Lord, then we find we have talents that we didn’t know we had. We discover a fulfillment greater than what the world can give.

I always try to do the work of the Lord. I try to do those tasks that my God has set me to. I often do them badly, and I often find myself, and my work, blessed.

Caroling and cookies. In prison and out. Same work, different place. Same master, same God, same Lord.

What is God calling you to do today?

There’s a voice in the wilderness crying, a call from the ways untrod: “prepare in the desert a highway, a highway for our God. (Hymn 75)

Tuesday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come to him and eat with him, and he with me. (Revelation 3:20)

God is at your door knocking, always, everywhere. Feels kind of like ‘Big Brother,’ huh? Not exactly.

In prison I am under constant scrutiny. I am constantly checked, interrogated, and searched. It is seldom that I go more than a few hours without having to justify myself to a guard and be touched and searched. When I am not in front of a guard, I am often on a security camera somewhere. And much worse than that is the scrutiny that comes from other inmates. We watch each other constantly.

In prison, it has often been said, in a parody of the slogan of the army, that you can ‘be all that you can pretend to be.’ I cannot count the number of times when men in here, often young and scared, spin tall tales of how famous, dangerous, and rich they were. We often joke that there are no drug addicts in here, just drug dealers. There are no prostitutes in here, just pimps. But under the watchful eyes of other prisoners, true character always comes out.

I long to go to a place away from society and just be quiet and alone for a while. But until that time comes, I use the presence of scrutiny as a chance to witness. I love to study apologetics, and I love to talk and argue; but God needs more witnesses, not more lawyers. Every relationship that we have, in every situation that we find ourselves, there is a chance to model Christian love. There is a chance to witness Christ, even without ever speaking a word.

Surely Christ is always watching us, just as Christ is always with us, and inviting God in will transform every relationship, every interaction. Be a witness today, because somebody is watching you.

Come, O Father saving Son, who o’er sin the victory won. Boundless shall your kingdom be; grant that we it’s glories see. (Hymn 54)

Monday, Third Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Blessed is he who considers the poor! The Lord delivers him in the day of trouble; (Psalm 41:1)

Throughout the Bible there is a clear preference given to those who are poor. In all human economic situations it is unfortunately true that some will have more, and some less. God gives us strong words to remember those who have less, and to get up and go do something about it.

I have a hard time with that. Prison teaches you to be selfish, (in case you didn’t already know how.) We have so very little in here, and we learn to guard our possessions and our emotions, to build a wall around our past histories and our future dreams. I fear when I think about myself as I grow older. What will I be like when I am free? Will I ever be able open up enough to find the true intimacy of a deep relationship? For years I lied about my crimes, and that betrayal prevented the deep intimacy that my fiancé and I longed for in each other. There is no room for deception in a loving relationship.

Christ comes into our lives to tear down our walls. When we invite God into our lives, we slowly become more open to inviting others in as well. We learn to yield to the impulse not just to be giving of our things, but also to be giving of our time, our energy, and our love. We learn to become vulnerable.

Christmas is a time when we often stop to reach out in ministry, or at least to write a check to a charity. But the Bible does not let us off the hook so lightly. Giving and serving is a lifelong part of a Christian life, to always be giving in our things, and more importantly, to be giving of ourselves. We are all spiritually and emotionally poor.

O heavenly word, eternal light, begotten of the Father’s might, who in these latter days wast born for blessing to a world forlorn; (Hymn 64)

Third Sunday in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

“Stir up thy power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, …let thy bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord…”(160)

The above prayer comes from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer. It is a common yearning that we find in the Scriptures, and in the liturgy. We are praying to be delivered, and that the delivery might come speedily! Oh how often we forget the words of the 23rd Psalm. David reminds us that our delivery comes through the valleys, not from them. And it seems somehow unfair to read the 23rd psalm without first reading the 22nd, whose powerful words of painful longing were spoken by Christ on the cross.

I love the Psalms. Every human emotion can be found there. If we are bold enough to read all of the psalms, and not just the pretty ones used in most churches, then we can be surprised. The full breadth of the Psalter shows more of our humanness than it does our holiness. And in my life I can be disappointingly human. I can be petty and angry, I can be depressed and lonely, I can even be lustful and covetous; I am only human. Often the prison atmosphere seems to intensify our worst and least attractive traits.

But Jesus didn’t come to give us a life suddenly free of all suffering, or free from all hardships. Jesus did come to endure them with us, to bring us comfort, to direct our gaze again towards the eternal God, and to bring hope. God’s incarnation into flesh shows us not a freedom from life, but a new and joyful existence in this very life. Jesus comes to us, to be with us, and to guide us into this new existence in God. That’s what Christmas is all about.

Come, O Father saving Son, who o’er sin the victory won. Boundless shall your kingdom be; grant that we it’s glories see. (Hymn 54)

Saturday, Second Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

O Lord my God, I cried to thee for help, and thou hast healed me. (Psalm 30:2)

There is great pain in the Hebrew Bible, in the laments, in the prophets, and in the psalms. Throughout all of the pain is a sure confidence in the deliverance of the Lord. But not all of our hopes will be realized on this side of heaven. That is a true and painful reality. Yet we live in hope. We cannot give up on hope because it is not enough just to survive.

In prison you cannot even try to do God’s work preaching a message of mere survival and morality. We must preach, teach, live, and show forth hope. And this hope cannot simply be an empty hope of freedom or material things. The hope that guides us and gives direction is a hope that comes only through, and from, God.

I daydream of blue waters and open seas, but even more I daydream of living my life over again, living it better. And it is a painful truth I must live with that my crimes can never be undone; they can never be satisfied; there will never be complete healing, and I may never see freedom. I have watched too many men in here die, old and forgotten, to be able to deny that possible reality.

But the hope endures. Hope has been called the most dangerous thing in prison, and it is. It is also the most liberating.

In God all our hopes and dreams will find fulfillment

No eye has known the sight, no ear has heard such delight: Alleluia! Therefore we sing to greet our king; forever let our praises ring. (Hymn 61)

Friday, Second Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Thus you witness against yourselves that you are the sons of those who murdered prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of your fathers. (Matthew 23:31-32)

If God were to hold the full measure of our wrongdoing against us, who could possibly stand? And if the sins of our ancestors were added to that tally, we would be condemned indeed. These words of Christ do not sound much like a welcome, and come instead as a warning. It is a common expression in here that if we were to be sentenced for every crime we had committed, then we would all be serving multiple life sentences.

During this time of year we like to throw parties. As a free man my family often threw big and wonderful parties during the holidays. Before each party we spent days cleaning the house, polishing the furniture , and washing the crystal. Preparing our house was a way to honor the coming guests.

Unfortunately many men in here recognize the honor and majesty of Christ, without recognizing the loving mercy. They know very well their crimes and sins, and insist that their lives would need serious spiritual housecleaning before Christ would be willing to enter in. But Christ loves us so much that he enters our lives when they are broken and messy. He comes to the site of the party weeks in advance, when the dirty laundry is on the floor and the dishes have spots. He loves us so much that he comes, and then he helps clean up the mess we have made of our lives.

These words of warning are also words of invitation. There is no cleaning that we could do to clean up our sins, or the ‘measure of our fathers.’ In the midst of brokenness and strife, God speaks warning, but brings healing.

Lo! The Lamb, so expected, comes with pardon down from heaven; let us haste, with tears of sorrow, one and all to be forgiven; (Hymn 59)

Thursday, Second Week in Advent

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by Matthew B. Harper

Do not fear what you are about to suffer. Behold, the devil is about to throw some of you into prison, that you may be tested. (Revelation 2:10)

Prison is horrible. Prison is a deeply and profoundly negative experience that wounds and damages people. But not all people. As much as it is difficult, for some people prison is a test, and an opportunity. Prison can be a chance for society to seek healing and punishment for the penitent, and for the penitent to seek wholeness.

But that does not happen without the presence of God. Prison has often been likened to a church or monastery, but it isn’t. Church lifts you up and directs your gaze towards heaven; prison crushes you down, and grinds you to the depths of pain and longing. But yet, when God is present, it can be transforming.

In this barren desert a highway can be formed. In the barrenness of a concrete cell, on the arid stone of a human heart, something blooms. When nothing else works, where nothing else can go, then we notice God’s presence.

Each of us must discover on our own who Christ is. Each of us must be willing to meet Christ, and if we are willing to invite God in then we must be ready to accept what God is offering. C. S. Lewis once said that God accepts us as we are, but loves us too much to leave us as we are. When Christ is here, then everything is different.

Any time can be a test, and God is here with us. With God’s constant presence then every moment and circumstance can be transformed. This simple presence is the greatest gift we could imagine. In prison the presence of God, and the presence of loved ones, is the greatest Christmas gift there is.

Give the transforming gift of your presence this year.

The King shall come when morning dawns and light triumphant breaks: when beauty gilds the eastern hills and life to joy awakes. (Hymn 73)