Lynne is a Presbyterian minister and author of numerous books and Bible study guides. She lives in Dunedin, New Zealand, where she is a lecturer in pastoral theology. Read more »
Lynne's recently recorded a one-minute video for her departmental website describing what's most important to her in her writing and teaching.
Lynne spoke last year on "Spiritual Practices for Preachers" (recorded as a video on YouTube.) The talk is relevant to anyone in ministry and focuses on how to draw near to God simply as a child of God as well as engaging in spiritual practices for the sake of ministry.
"Lynne's writing is beautiful. Her tone has such a note of hope and excitement about growth. It is gentle and affirming."
— a reader
"Dear Dr. Baab, You changed my life. It is only through God’s gift of the sabbath that I feel in my heart and soul that God loves me apart from anything I do."
— a reader of Sabbath Keeping
To receive an email alert when a new post is published, simply enter your email address below.
Monday December 22 2014
The other day I posted some words focused on what I’ve learned about the incarnation from celebrating seven Advent/Christmas seasons in New Zealand. A few days before that, Dave came home from a doctor’s appointment bearing a Christmas newsletter from the doctor’s office. In it were the words to a New Zealand Christmas carol by Shirley Murray, one of New Zealand’s most prolific contemporary hymn writers. The words do such a great job capturing the flavor of Christmas in the southern hemisphere. When I was looking around online to be sure I had the right words to the hymn, I found a lot of mentions of the hymn in connection with Australia, and clearly the words fit pretty well for that setting. But I want you to know this carol originated here in New Zealand! And I recently received a message on Facebook from a man in Argentina who liked my recent post and wrote, "Someday it would be great to compile a blog/book of church calendar reflections/meditations from a Southern Hem perspective." Yes, indeed. Those of us in the Southern Hemisphere have to think about new (and exciting) connections between the physical world around us, and the incarnation of Jesus, who came to bring life to all people in all places.
Carol our Christmas, an upside-down Christmas:
snow is not falling and trees are not bare.
Carol the summer, and welcome the Christ Child,
warm in our sunshine and sweetness of air.
Sing of the gold and the green and the sparkle,
water and river and lure of the beach.
Sing in the happiness of open spaces,
sing a nativity summer can reach!
Shepherds and musterers* move over hillside,
finding, not angels, but sheep to be shorn;
Wise ones make journeys, whatever the season,
searching for signs of the truth to be born.
Rightside-up Christmas belongs to the universe,
made in the moment a woman gives birth;
Hope is the Jesus gift, love is the offering,
everywhere, anywhere, here on the earth.
(*musterers are ranch hands who round up livestock. The photo is my lovely husband, Dave, in Dunedin's Botanic Garden in December. If you'd like to receive email updates when I post on this blog, go to "subscribe" in the right hand column.)
Saturday December 20 2014
(On her Godspace blog, Christine Sine has an Advent series this year answering the questions: Who do I want to bring to the manger? Who might otherwise be excluded? Here's what I wrote in response to her invitation. The photo is my husband, Dave, on a Christmas hike in Dunedin, New Zealand, on the top of Flagstaff, 666 meters or 2185 feet.)
Who do I want to bring to the manger this Christmas? Who might otherwise be excluded or ignored? Here’s my somewhat odd answer: my body.
Of course, my body isn’t actually separate from myself, but sometimes it feels like it is. Part of that comes from the Christian emphasis on spiritual things. Our redemption in Christ often seems to be more focused on our souls and spirits rather than on our bodies. Another part of my sense of separation from my body comes from my struggles with weight my whole life, which have often contributed to a view of my body as a bit of an enemy rather than as a beloved part of myself.
My conviction that Advent and Christmas are a good time to focus on the significance of our bodies in God’s grand story comes from living in the Southern Hemisphere for the past few years. This Advent is my seventh in New Zealand.
I come from Seattle, where Advent evenings are pitch dark before 5 pm. Here in Dunedin during December, there is still light in the sky at 10 pm. In New Zealand, the red and green colors of Christmas take new forms: strawberries, local zucchini and red peppers cooked together, and lettuce from our garden paired with bright red tomatoes. These are healthy, light foods. Favorite activities of New Zealanders during Advent and Christmas include walking on beaches and hiking in the mountains, sailing and surfing, gardening and strolling among the roses in the Botanic Garden. Here, our physical bodies are not smothered in heavy sweaters and down coats during Advent and Christmas. Bodies seem alive and real this time of year, nurtured by healthy food and lots of physical activity.
At first, a Christmas season full of long, sunny days seemed very weird indeed. I know people in Florida experience sunshine at Christmas, but I seldom had. I missed the candles in the dark evenings, and all that imagery of Jesus as the light shining in the darkness. I missed that sense of hunkering down inside with delicious smells of cooking in the background and green and red decorations in the house. Now the red and green show up in healthy foods, and we focus on the beauty of the light outside and all the growing things we can see from our window even in the evening.
I have come to see the new pattern as a gift, a part of my growth in bringing my whole self, including my body, to Christ in worship and submission. When we think of the incarnation, we remember that Jesus took on flesh in order to redeem us. He didn’t want to redeem just our souls and spirits. Our bodies are an integral part of our selves, and therefore an integral part of our redemption. I celebrate that reality much more profoundly at Advent in the Southern Hemisphere than I ever did up north.
As I walk among the December roses, I remember that God made those gorgeous blooms, just like God made my body, soul and spirit. At this time of celebrating the incarnation, remembering the beauty of creation helps remind me why the incarnation was necessary. Truly I long to return to the purity of what God made, before all that beauty was marred by sin. Truly my whole self – body, soul and spirit – is broken and needs redemption in Jesus.
Yes, this year I want to bring my body to the manger, to bow in worship and surrender, giving my whole self to Jesus.
(If you'd like to become a subscriber to this blog, which means you'll receive an email every time I post something, sign up in the right hand column.)