A Sign of God

December 21, 2025

Guest House by Jalaluddin Rumi and Matthew 1:18-25

I have had a hard time being grateful for the guests that have come, the ones that have found their way to the door of my heart. I love this poem by Rumi but I confess that it has been difficult to see what has unfolded recently is a gift and a guide from beyond. I have struggled to make space for feelings and experiences- the guests that have come. The bleak

thought, the sorrows from the soul- I definitely couldn’t meet them at the door laughing, but I couldn’t help but invite them in. Because I decided that it was better than living in denial that they were there at all.

These feelings have been like guests arriving unbidden. But what good does it do to turn them away? And still not every guest gets to come in, I don’t want revenge for example. Or greed. Or fear. Or unkindness as the default. I don’t want to accept that meanness is the new norm.

At this time in our history many guests have found their way to us, sadness and surprise, anger and resentment, confusion from the chaos. How do we grieve and keep going? How do we know what to look for as signposts for a new direction? How do we know when it’s a sign of and from God? How do we know which guests are the ones we are to host for a while? Or which ones have something to teach us, to serve as guides from beyond? How do

we know what we are supposed to internalize and what to let go of because it’s not ours to hold?

Last week our house was awakened at 4 a.m. when our daughter tearfully pushed open the door to tell us the news that one of our cats had died over night. We had just taken him to the vet, but he was too fragile, and it all just happened really fast. We thought we had more time. But just like that everything was different. Our patterns compelled to a new formation. And there in front of me was the guest of sorrow. Our cat Cesar was 13 and had a good run, in fact when Jeremy and I were in India, we got a call from the shelter on Orcas Island asking us if we knew about a cat from California. When we lived on Orcas for the time before moving here he escaped and roamed the island. I have often wondered about the adventures he had that we didn’t know about it. He had a good run but it feels like another loss in a year with a stack of them. And yet it feels like a stinging reminder of how quickly things can change in life. We have it mapped out in our mind and then… things are different.

There in front of me was the new arrival: the guest of change, the guest of loss, the guest of grief. Can these guests be guides from beyond? Then after 30 hours of no power in our house, the National Weather Service issued a warning about dangerous conditions in South Boulder with winds over 100 miles an hour. “Get the go bags ready” my husband announced. I hate that phrase. We decided to leave with the dogs. Passports and other important documents in the fire safe were put in the entrance, along with our daughter’s bin of childhood mementos, emergency supplies, the dog supplies so they knew right away they were coming, then into my suitcase went my journal, my bin of research and writing about Mary Magdalene, some of my favorite things- my yellow shirt from qualifying for and finishing the Boston Marathon in 1999, the bracelet from my husband’s grandma, the tiny New Testament from my great grandma Lois, my pair of red original 501 Levis from my mom. After we had scurried and hurried to get out before the roads closed and I looked at what we had packed and stuffed into both cars- how clarifying to see what matters. And how weird it would be if I was left with just these things. When the guest of change shows up and shouts, it’s time to go! We see what and who we are- what is brought out in us, where we are defensive or reactive, where we are prone to anger or inaction, what is that we really value?

And how do we feel what we need to and then let go and keep going? How do we remain flexible and soft instead of cynical and hardened? How can we continue to be able to respond quickly when the signposts appear? And the question I was asking myself this week was how can I, how do we bend and not break?

Of course there are thousands of ways to interpret and understand this ancient story we have about the birth of the radical revolutionary Jesus of Nazareth, but part of how I am seeing it this year, part of what I notice now is this is a story about being willing to cooperate with God, to extend hospitality to the guests we might have asked for- the teachers of unraveled plans, the teacher of change, the teacher of mystery. What mean is that especially in a time like this, when uncertainty is the default and “what will they try and tear down next?” is the question many of us rise asking, what if one of the things this story is meant to offer is us the reminder that when the guest of changed plans shows up in our lives we can resist the next best step toward love or we can be flexible, we can bend. We can be angry that this isn’t what we would have designed, or we can look for the signs of beauty in the midst of it. We can remember that whatever name we have for God, it is a lifeforce that is with us, Emmanuel, God with us. We can be sad at how this moment isn’t living up to what we wanted or we can be ready to understand that this is a season where love will build new capacities in us if we let it.

In this version of the story we heard from the Gospel of Matthew, there in front of both Joseph and Mary was the new arrival: the guest of surprise, the guest of change, the guest that forced a different path than the one they had crafted – a reminder of how quickly things can change in life. We have it mapped out in our mind and then suddenly the choices before us are different, sometimes not all of them good or easy. But still, can these guests be guides from beyond? Can they be signs from God to know what to do? It wasn’t until Joseph connects with the Divine in a dream that he gets clarity. He won’t dismiss Mary. He will instead be open to the next best step toward love. Instead of turning the guest of surprise away, he welcomes it in. He cooperates. He responds. He is willing to change course. And not because he understood why or at least the text doesn’t tell us that, but

because he trusted that something good would come, even in the unraveled plans and he trusted Mary and his own inner voice. He decided to believe her. He decided to not be angry and that made space for what incredible unplanned thing that was going to happen. Many reduce this birth story to a mistranslation and a misunderstanding of the first century

context of the word virgin, which is parthenos in Greek, which really means Temple maiden in Greek. We miss so much when we make this miracle about a lack of sex.

The miracle is that both of them dared to bend with God, to move with love, to respond to the reality of what was happening instead of living in denial of it. As Chelsey Harmon writes of this text in Matthew, in a story of miracles and challenging circumstances one of the most important parts is Joseph’s cooperation with God is! God’s redemptive work happens from commitment. As it is told here, Joseph does not have a DNA bond to this baby, rather the bond is a shared willingness to do the next right thing for love. That’s the miracle! When we dare to welcome the uninvited guest of surprise, of change, of mystery, in allowing us to be expanded…

The miracle is when we feel what we need to, to let ourselves process it to let go of what isn’t ours and to keep going without being angry. The miracle is remaining flexible and soft instead of cynical and hardened. The miracle is being able to respond quickly when the signposts appear. The miracle is bending instead of breaking. I felt a little like there was another storm sweeping through this week with dangerous conditions- a storm that threatens more of what we love- healthcare for transgender people, listening to women’s voices, NCAR. How do we remain flexible, open, soft to protect what and who we love?

Knowing there are signs of God all around us, there are in us, there are in our dreams, in our hearts, in the guests who arrive unbidden. Would we still be here if Joseph hadn’t agreed to cooperate with the call of love? What if he had turned his back on what was happening because it wasn’t his plan? What if the miracle is each of us remaining kind and adaptable? What if the real Christmas miracle is being willing to keep cooperating with God, our Greater love, whatever unfolds?

Communal Reflection

How do we practice welcoming the guest of change, and bending instead of breaking? What are signs of God for you in this time? How can we practice being flexible as part of our spiritual journey?

Beloved of God, even when things don’t go as planned, let us stay soft and flexible and open so that we might bend and not break. May it be so. Amen.