The Space Between

Christmas Day

2009-12-25T08:00:00.008-05:00

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

"The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:14

"In the past God spoke to our forefathers through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word. After he had provided purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty in heaven." Hebrews 1:1-3

-The stained glass impression of the Holy Family was a created for me by my friend, Joy Boake

Christmas Eve

2009-12-24T07:45:00.002-05:00

I began our Advent Season together with a post on gratitude, and I felt it was only right to conclude that way as well.

The Psalm readings this past Tuesday, Psalm 66, 67, 116, and 117, spoke so clearly to my heart about the Lord's work in my life over the past two years that I was brought to tears. Though the writing exceeds me, the heart of the Psalmist could easily have been my own as he thanks God for bringing him back from the brink of death.

The Lord has walked with me through many trials throughout my life; and in the process, He has given me faith to trust Him. During the past two years, however, that faith has been shaken to the core. The cancer diagnosis not only ravaged my body; it became a scourge to my soul. There were days when I wasn't sure my body or my soul were going to make it through.

The Lord has been good to me, though. He has preserved my life and restored my health physically, which is a tremendous blessing. But he has tended my soul and renewed the joy of my salvation.

This body may one day wither, but in Christ, my spirit is growing stronger and stronger.

I am thankful today: thankful for my family, my friends, my church, my health, my house, my job. I am thankful that my life is full of books and art and ideas and opportunities. But I am deeeply thankful for Jesus. Soli deo gloria!

PSALM 116

I love the LORD, for he heard my voice;
he heard my cry for mercy.

Because he turned his ear to me,
I will call on him as long as I live.

The cords of death entangled me,

the anguish of the grave came upon me;
I was overcome by trouble and sorrow.

Then I called on the name of the LORD :
"O LORD, save me!"

The LORD is gracious and righteous;
our God is full of compassion.

The LORD protects the simplehearted;
when I was in great need, he saved me.

Be at rest once more, O my soul,

for the LORD has been good to you.

For you, O LORD, have delivered my soul from death,
my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling,

that I may walk before the LORD
in the land of the living.

I believed; therefore I said,
"I am greatly afflicted."

And in my dismay I said,
"All men are liars."

How can I repay the LORD
for all his goodness to me?

I will lift up the cup of salvation
and call on the name of the LORD.

I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people.

Precious in the sight of the LORD
is the death of his saints.

O LORD, truly I am your servant;
I am your servant, the son of your maidservant;
you have freed me from my chains.

I will sacrifice a thank offering to you
and call on the name of the LORD.

I will fulfill my vows to the LORD
in the presence of all his people,

in the courts of the house of the LORD—

in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the LORD.

Week 4, Day 4: The Longest Day

2009-12-23T07:48:00.000-05:00

Today is my last day of work before a four-day Christmas holiday, and I can guarantee it will feel like the longest day of the year. It's that way every Christmas season; one year, I was sure that I had actually fallen asleep at work and was there into a second day. It felt THAT LONG!

During these especially long days before the holiday, it's tempting just to wish the day were over. To wish that it was already tomorrow and I was sleeping in and celebrating with friends and family the whole day long.

The same temptation is there as we wait on Jesus. Because the Advent calendar ends in Christmas, as we get toward the end, it's easy to just want it to be over. To get there. And the same is true as we wait for Jesus to come again. Especially when the days are long and hard, wanting a shortcut to the end seems reasonable.

But since I stared down death in the past two years and became acutely aware of the reality of my limited days - of all our limited days - it just doesn't seem right to wish any of them away. Finding our way from the first day until our last day isn't just about passing the days, waiting for the end. It's about living each day fully.

It's about getting up each day, regardless of what awaits us, and crying out with the Psalmist, "This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."

Week 4, Day 3: No Mere Simile

2009-12-22T07:42:00.001-05:00

I love a good simile -- you know, a figure of speech that compares the similarities of two things using "like" or "as." No description expresses the nuances of a thing quite like it.

Similes are the stuff poems and songs are made of, like when Elton John described Marilyn Monroe, and later Princess Diana, "like a candle in the wind." Or, the oldie but goodie from Simon and Garfunkel, "like a bridge over troubled waters."

Similes also help us understand our day: "the expressway was like a parking lot." And they give us tried and true, though sometimes tired, descriptions of the world around us: "her eyes were as green as emeralds."

I found myself the object of a wonderful simile when I received my Christmas gift from my six-year-old friend, Clara, last night. On the front was a swirly, squirrelly bluish scene with a a couple of stick-figures. At first glance, I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Then, I looked on the back and found some writing. At first, I thought it said, "You're like a blister," which I was having a very hard time interpreting. Clara corrected me. "It says, 'You're like a blizzard,'" she said, as if that would have a far clearer meaning.

"In what ways am I like a blizzard?" I asked diplomatically, trying hard not to be completely offended. "You are always busy and you get lots of things done and you move around a lot," she explained. "And that's you riding your bicycle through the blizzard," she said.

I got it. This was a compliment; Clara saw blizzards as strong, effective weather systems, which meant she saw me as a strong, effective woman. "I love it," I said.

In thinking about this simile, even though I am in some ways like a blizzard, there are many aspects of a blizzard I hope do NOT define me: cold, destructive, and overwhelming, just to name a few. And the fact of the matter is, I am NOT a blizzard. It's just a simile.

But when Jesus took on flesh in the incarnation, actually became a man, this was no simile. He wasn't like a man. He wasn't being compared to a man. It wasn't just the nice parts of humanity he used to describe himself.

No, the miracle of the incarnation is that it is no mere simile. At Christmas time, we celebrate God becoming a man: fully, truly man. Taking on both the good and the bad.

The world has never been the same since.

Week 4, Day 2: The End

2009-12-21T07:29:00.000-05:00

On Saturday, I heard a very touching interview with Vicki Kennedy, the widow of Senator Edward T. Kennedy.

One of the questions she fielded was about a sense of "the end" during those days between his cancer diagnosis and his death. "Was there a moment in the last few months that you looked at each other and knew these were the last few months?" Scott Simon asked Mrs. Kennedy.

It's a question that is answered more in the asking than the telling, because it's something we all want to know: will I have the same sense when my life is nearly over? Will I have time to finish things and make things right?

Having come face to face with death myself through my own cancer diagnosis, it's a question I asked myself a hundred times. If these are my last days, am I living them the way I should?

This is not just a question for our deathbeds, however. This is an Advent question. Jesus will come again, and if our days on earth don't end individually in our own death, it will only be because Jesus has ushered in the end of all days on earth collectively by returning as He promised.

Since no one knows when either of those days will be, the only logical conclusion is to live every day as if sensing this might be our last. This is precisely why God has not told us our last day, even though he knows it as well as our first. He wants us to find certainty in the uncertainty; to live by faith everyday we wait for him.

"When the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?" Luke 18:8

Week 4, Day 1: Help

2009-12-20T18:59:00.000-05:00

I am rejoicing tonight over this morning's sermon on Immanuel, "God with us." The main point? "Real hope comes from God's help through Jesus."

"God with us" means we never have to do it alone.

Wishing you a happy Fourth Sunday of Advent. Only five days til Christmas.

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. -- The Collect for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, from The Book of Common Prayer

Week 3, Day 7: The Gift-Giver

2009-12-19T19:14:00.001-05:00

Keeping Christ in Christmas continues to be a challenge as we celebrate in a consumer culture more concerned with secular tradition over spiritual disciplines.

Earlier this month, as I put together a company-wide newsletter at my work, I had to refer to photos of office decorations as "holiday" images rather than using the word "Christmas" since I was writing as a representative of my employer. The other night I saw a story on the NBC newscast about a man who depicted the manger scene using cutouts of the cast of the Today Show. And even the more altruistic requests for donations and contributions appeal to the "goodness in our hearts" rather than a reflection of our love for Jesus.

Even when we try to keep the focus on Jesus, it's not easy.

A dear friend of mine has decided in her conscience that it is best for her family if they do not pretend that there really is a Santa Claus. So, from the time they could understand, she has told her sons the truth about the fabled man in red -- at the same time, always careful to tell them that other families may participate in this "fun" tradition, so they should not be spoilers.

This year, as she was explaining once again about the tradition of St. Nicholas, her oldest son said, "You're lying. I know there's really a Santa." How ironic, I thought, as she told me this story, laughing.

One aspect of Christmas that is particularly difficult for me to consider counter-culturally is gift-giving. Our consumer culture often focuses more on gift-giving than the Gift-Giver, and I have certainly grown accustomed to this tradition as part of my own Christmas celebration. In fact, time spent ordering, buying, wrapping, and giving gifts is usually intertwined throughout my Advent celebrations, and Christmas gatherings with friends and family almost always include a time to give and get gifts.

What would it mean to forego this part of Christmas? How do I untangle myself from the complex emotional and traditional ties of gift-giving? If I don't spend money on others, how else can I show them that I care? And most importantly, how am I celebrating the Gift-Giver as I give gifts to others?

I don't have the answers this year. But I do sense that there is one gift I haven't thought of yet, a gift that won't be purchased, wrapped, or mailed. I sense that in the midst of my wrestling through this issue of gift-giving, that Jesus has something on His list that only I can give to Him. And I pray that when He reveals it to me, I will be ready to give to the Gift-Giver out of the same love He has given to me.

Week 3, Day 6: Peace

2009-12-18T18:30:00.001-05:00

Last night, while trying to unwind after a busy day, I caught about 20 minutes of a Saturday Night Live Christmas special on TV. The skits were as boisterous and profane as usual, and also, if I'm completely honest, sort of funny.

One skit showed a family sitting down to Christmas dinner, and with every sound out of one of their mouths, the whole table would erupt into arguing and bickering. There were obviously old conflicts brewing, and any little reminder stirred them all up.

Then, in a few seconds of calm after one of their more bitter fights, one of the men got up and began singing "Silent Night." One by one, the other family members joined him, adding harmony and background singing. By the end of the song, they had arms around each other and were swaying to the music as one.

But true to form, as soon as they finished the carol, the man who had began the song said, "I wanted to do that as a solo!" and the contention started all over again.

It really was a clever spoof on the kind of holiday truce many of us make in our otherwise un-peaceful lives. Throughout the year we find ourselves angry and bitter in many of our relationships, but it seems "unseemly" at Christmas.

And yet, we spend more time with our friends and family in Christmas parties and gatherings, and the stress of over-spending and holiday traffic and too much to do becomes a lot to handle, and inevitably, the peace we try so hard to keep ends up slipping just a little. Or at times, a lot. What is it about the holidays that sets us up to fail more than ever at the peace we desire?

For one, we often think of Christmas more as a sentimental holiday, rather than a spiritual holy day, and during this brief season we redouble our efforts to live at peace with one another because it just seems right. At other times of the year, we don't even have the expectation of getting along, so when we don't, no one is surprised. During the holidays, we just expect more of ourselves and each other.

Also, most of us haven't really considered the radical approach Jesus spoke of when he blessed "peacemakers" in his Sermon on the Mount. Rather than working through conflict and seeing it as an opportunity to glorify God, we become "peacefakers," avoiding conflict at all costs, or "peacebreakers," dealing with conflict with raised voices or angry words. Peace faking and peace breaking do nothing to address the real issues in our hearts.

Finally, we don't always connect the process of building peace with each other to the Gospel of Peace that Jesus came to bring on that Bethlehem night, or later, on that afternoon on Calvary, or on that morning at the Garden Tomb.

The kind of peace Jesus brings is radical reconciliation at great cost. And out of that peace with God within, we are often called to make significant sacrifice ourselves to make peace with others.

This Advent we have been waiting on Jesus in the hustle and bustle of an American Christmas season. One more place we can expect Jesus to come is in the messy, complicated relationships we find ourselves in. Wait for Him there, pray that he would show himself in the midst of the difficult times with others, and seek the peace that only Jesus brings.

Week 3, Day 5: No More Sniffles

2009-12-17T17:17:00.000-05:00

For the past couple of days, I have been sniffling and sneezing, coughing and aching. I haven't felt horrible enough to stay home from work or any of the holiday activities I've had planned. But I did feel horrible enough to not get up early this morning to write. Sorry to those who were expecting a post here this morning.

In fact, I am only writing now for a minute or two before I head off to my six-year-old buddy Alex's school Christmas concert, and when I get home, I'm sure bed will be on my mind. I've heard rest is the best medicine for these little bugs like I have.

A thought that has been sustaining me today, however, is that the wonder of Advent is looking forward to a day when Jesus will heal sickness once and for all, a day when the pain and sadness of this earth will be wiped a way with one sweep of His hand. In the midst of the fun and joy of the holidays, it takes a day of feeling bad to remind me that this is not the end of it all. Even the good days on earth will pale in comparison to seeing Jesus face to face.

So, hopefully after another good night's sleep tonight, I will feel back to myself and will be up bright and early to continue on with our Advent celebration in the morning. Blessings.

Week 3, Day 4: Ready for Christmas

2009-12-16T07:38:00.000-05:00

We've been asking each other the question for a couple of weeks now, but the frequency is picking up as we mark off the December days on the calendar. Just yesterday, in fact, the question was posed to me in the break room at work.

Are you ready for Christmas?

I have been both the asker and the answerer to this question; it's kind of like December's "How about this weather?" when you want to start a casual conversation. And though there are probably some variations, we all generally understand the question to be commercial: have you finished your Christmas shopping? And social: are you holding up under this hectic calendar of activity? And aesthetic: do you have your Christmas tree up?

And yesterday, when I answered the question with an enthusiastic, "Yes!" I had all of those things in mind. So did the person who asked me, when she responded back, "I'm not. I don't even have my tree up!"

But this holiday question that's on everyone's mind very rarely reflects what we should really be asking each other, what we've been working toward this whole advent season.

Are you ready for Christ?

NOT, do you have your life cleaned up? Are you ready to start living better? Are you finally going to start going to church? INSTEAD, have you come to the end of yourself? Do you realize you can do nothing apart from Jesus? Are you ready to believe in the God who took on flesh because He loved you?

By all means, finish your shopping and put up your tree and make sure you don't double book your holiday parties. But also take some quiet time alone, now that we're in the thick of the holiday hoopla, and make sure you are ready for Jesus.

Week 3, Day 3: Rosemary

2009-12-15T07:48:00.001-05:00

This year, since I didn't actually put up my artificial Christmas tree, and since, remarkably, I exercised self control and did not buy the $69.99 one I had my eye on at Target, I decided to splurge on a $12.99 rosemary tree I saw at the grocery store.

I have cooked with dry rosemary for years, and a few years ago, I tried to grow my own rosemary in my garden. But it's a plant that's hard to get started, and it doesn't usually work as a perennial in this part of the world. So, for the last couple of growing seasons, I had given up dreams of growing the herb.

But it's always there at Christmas, adorning the floral departments of the stores where I shop. So this year, I decided to start my own tradition of rosemary for Christmas.

But I was curious about the connection between rosemary and Christmas. Was it simply its evergreen shape?

Apparently, rosemary's affiliation with Christmas may have evolved from the legend of Mary, the mother of Jesus, who was said to have been sheltered by a rosemary bush as she rested on her escape into Egypt. As the story goes, she threw her blue cape on the bush to dry and the white flowers turned to blue. Since then, the plant was called "the rose of Mary."

The plant has taken on mythical qualities over the years: Greek physicians used it to relieve mental disorders and to enhance memory. Others believed rosemary would grow only in the gardens of the righteous (which doesn't bode well for me with my earlier rosemary experiences!). And during the Middle Ages, rosemary became part of wedding ceremonies as a symbol of remembrance and fidelity.

So far, for me, my little rosemary tree has been nothing more than a decoration and a flavoring for my beef and noodles last night. But as in all aspects of Advent, I am thankful that my little rosemary bush will be something I can carry with me into all of the seasons of the year, reminding me of these few days in December when we all longed for Jesus together.

Week 3, Day 2: Food

2009-12-14T07:31:00.000-05:00

As someone who loves to cook, and loves to eat, food always plays a big role in my celebrations of any kind, especially holidays.

It's not necessarily the same foods each year, though I do look forward to Jim's pancakes at our annual Sunday School class Christmas brunch. And the holidays just wouldn't be the same without some of my mom's homemade peanut butter balls or some of Renae's sausage biscuit bites at her annual Christmas open house.

But it's thinking about, preparing and shopping for, and then cooking and serving and eating food that's especially significant to me. Holiday food takes into consideration more than just sustenance. It's an opportunity to consider others' tastes and to share; it's an opportunity to be a little extravagant and to give thanks; and it's a way to bring in all of our senses - hearing, seeing, smelling, touching, tasting - as we experience the joy of celebrating.

Jesus also used food as a way of celebrating, but also remembering and looking ahead, when he broke bread and drank from a cup. He took ordinary food, food the disciples would serve to each other again and again, and he made it holy by connecting it to himself. This wasn't so that the disciples would eat bread and drink wine only in church. But so that each time they ate bread and drank wine, wherever they were, they would remember Jesus, both his sacrifice and promise to return.

That's what I want my holiday food to be like this Advent: not something I eat only on a special day or two. But food I eat all year that reminds me there's something more than eating and drinking. So that even while I am eating bread, I might remember that man does not live by bread alone.

Week 3, Day 1: Prayer

2009-12-13T13:01:00.000-05:00

Today, I am praying, during this third Sunday of Advent. Praying with my voice, my hands, my guitar, my pen, my keyboard, my mixing bowl, and my heart. Praying that these comings of Jesus would really matter in my life, in your life, in our lives together.

Stir up you power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen. -- A prayer for the third Sunday of Advent from The Book of Common Prayer

Week 2, Day 7: Beyond Redemption

2009-12-12T17:16:00.001-05:00

Way beyond what seemed reasonable to me, my lettuce mix thrived and grew on the back porch this fall. Each time the temperatures dipped or I woke up to frost on the ground, I checked the pot of mixed greens, and the little leaves continued to hold up their heads.

I harvested a salad from the pot sometime in mid-November, and even then, there was new growth poking up from the dirt. As long as the leaves were green, and the stems were firm, there was hope it would last a little longer.

So I continued to water the determined plant and adjust it for maximum sunlight and hope for the best. Even though I had already de-potted most of the other annuals and put the pots to bed in the garage, I decided to wait out the lettuce, just to see.

This past week, however, the plant reached its inevitable end. With temperatures dropping and staying well below freezing for days at a time, and a wintery mix falling off and on over several days, the little plant just couldn't make it. The signs were all gone. Some of the leaves were turning black, and the stems were hanging their heads: the lettuce was beyond redemption. So, I dragged the pot into the garage, planning to clean it up when the weather was a little better.

Sometimes, that's the way I approach my life in general, living by sight, not by faith. As long as the signs are all there, I have hope. If my job seems secure, my test results continue to come back normal, and the people around me are happy, I have hope.

But at the first sign that something is wrong, suddenly the situation, or my entire life, seems beyond redemption.

I hear this viewpoint expressed all around me, too. Just this week, while grieving over a difficult situation her son is in, a friend asked, " What is God doing in this?" I overheard another conversation about a girl who was so out of control her parents had given her up and she was rejected by one foster family after another. "She's beyond help," they were saying.

On a starry night more than two thousand years ago, another woman must have felt this way. Engaged to be married to a good man, she suddenly found herself with a pregnancy scare that didn't go away. Though she had been visited by an angel who assured her this was of God, she hastily went away to stay with relatives for three months. When she finally returned home, she soon discovered the government was forcing her to make an unexpected trip to her husband's family's hometown for the census. Just weeks, days, before she expected to deliver the baby.

At that point, I could easily imagine Mary walking with Joseph's family on the road to Judea, feeling their doubt and cynicism with every look, wondering if the situation was beyond hope. "What is God doing in this?" she no doubt asked herself.

But not for the first time.

How often in the next 33 years did she wonder again, "Are we beyond help?" At Jesus' birth in a barn? Or while they were fleeing to Egypt? Did the questions go away for a while during the good years, when Jesus grew and became strong, only to return when the Pharisees began questioning him fairly early in his ministry?

And did it seem that all hope was lost when he was arrested, tried, beaten, killed?

The signs were gone. Mary and her Son were beyond redemption. "I knew it," she might have said to herself at the foot of the cross, tears streaming, heart breaking. "I knew from the first night the angel spoke to me, I knew it when we left Galilee, and I knew it when we were in that stinking barn. There's no hope."

OR . . .

From that first night on the road between Nazareth and Bethlehem, did Mary look beyond the signs and believe with faith the words the angel had spoken, "For nothing will be impossible with God"? And did she return, again and again, to those heavenly words, even when the situation seemed hopeless, and believe that nothing, no one, was beyond redemption?

This morning, with the sun shining and the temperatures easing up above the freezing mark, I found myself piddling around the garage a bit, eventually making my way over to the last of the flower pots I drug in during the coldest day last week. It had been too cold and windy to do anything about them then; I just didn't want them to freeze to the back porch or crack in the bitter temperatures. I thought today might be a good day to get them cleaned up.

As I examined them a little closer, I noticed the lettuce in the pot seemed green again. Surprisingly, the leaves were shining, the stems were standing upright, and it seemed like there might even have been some new growth since I brought them in. So, once again, I put it back out in the sun, just in case that lettuce had a little life left in it.

I may not be able to harvest another salad out of the pot, but seeing those little plants standing upright after what they had weathered reminded me yet again, there's always hope in Christ.

"And he said, The things which are impossible with men are possible with God." Luke 18:27

Week 2, Day 6: The Post of Advent Past

2009-12-11T17:42:00.003-05:00

This morning, just before my waking up time, I had a dream about the future. It wasn't a glamorous dream, just me taking a journey, filling a role, making a difference. I wanted it to last forever.

So, when the alarm went off, I quickly hit the snooze, and as I had hoped, I sank right back into my dream. Though it was of the future, I was young, ambitious, beautiful, sought after.

So when the alarm went off again, I couldn't resist a few more minutes of the dream. So I hit the snooze. Again.

This happened for an hour and a half until finally I realized I would be late for work if I didn't get up. There was no hope for time to write.

So, if you were wondering what happened to me today . . . I was being visited by the future. And as a result, I have reached back to my archives for this space today. I wrote what's below on week 2, day 6 of Advent, 2006. So much has changed in the past three years, and so much has stayed the same.

My apologies . . . But enjoy this Post of Advent Past.

As I was doing my daily blog surfing today, seeing what people are thinking about in the middle of December 2006, I stumbled onto a post by author Al Hsu. He was summarizing a recent lecture by Lauren Winner about retrieving our Hebrew roots at Christians.

One point that particularly struck me in Hsu's commentary was the idea that the spiritual practices that are so crucial in Judaism are effective because they are practiced in community. And practices like observing the Sabbath, because it is interpreted so variously now in Christendom, are difficult for Christians to adhere to because they are not practices and priorities of the community. Hsu summarized it like this: "If a community does not practice the practice, then the individual cannot (or is far less likely) to practice the practice."

I think this sentiment was significant to me on a couple of levels. For one, I've struggled to understand what a Sabbath observance should like in my life for this very reason. I don't live in a community that emphasizes a day of rest and quiet.

But I also thought about practicing our practices in community with regard to Advent. My church doesn't celebrate Advent per se, with the candles and the readings and the prayers, though we do spend a great deal of time reflecting on the incarnation. I visited a church last weekend that does celebrate advent, and I realized as I slipped into the pew and noticed the Advent candles just the the left of the pulpit, that this month of reflection and meditation would be easier with a community that practiced together.

Even if I don't have a group of people around me to light candles with, I certainly am not alone in worshiping Jesus and wanting this season to be about Him. This is what I think of each time I am invited to a Christmas party during the holidays. With an unrenewed mind, it could just feeling like a lot of busyness, but really, these occasions of getting together help me remember that one of Jesus' best gifts to us when he left was that we would be waiting together for Him to return.

I agree with Al Hsu that we are far less likely to practice the practices apart from a community. And the take-home message about community during Advent is that we MUST have people around us as we wait for Jesus. This "community" may not be ideal or what we expect, but without the encouragement we offer each other during good and difficult times, we might forget that the promises Jesus made to come back are true.

Week 2, Day 5: Breathe

2009-12-10T07:28:00.001-05:00

Traffic is picking up,

the calendar is nearly full,

the temperatures are dropping,

the presents still need to be wrapped,

bills are already piling up,

The checkbook is nearly empty,

More parties, more meals together,

And family gatherings need to be planned.

But today . . .

I just breathe.

and out.

I just pray.

Lord,

I'm yours.

Today, take five minutes to just be with Jesus.

"Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him." Psalm 37:7

Week 2, Day 4: Day by Day

2009-12-09T07:37:00.000-05:00

Getting up and writing these personal reflections about Advent each day has become more than just a writing exercise. By now, it is more like a spiritual discipline, an act of faith that when I sit down to write each day that Jesus will have done something in my life and I will have the spiritual eyes to see it.

Some days, what to write about is literally right in front of me - like the day I opened my blinds to see the first snow. Other times, I observe my friends, or even my own life, and think about the experiences for a few days, determining what the Lord might have for me.

Some days, I've got nothing.

I guess it's not entirely true that I've got NOTHING. There's always some thought, some truth knocking around in the back of my head. If I needed to, I could write about that. But if it's not ready, if I don't know exactly what Jesus is trying to teach me yet, if I haven't experienced in my soul, then it's dry. And often, when I try to plan too far ahead, this is the case.

This daily reliance feels remarkably similar to my default survival mode since my cancer diagnosis more than two years ago. Many days during the first year, and even some days since -- though now I've been cancer free for more than 18 months -- the sum of my days, the unknowns of the future, the hard things in life all feel like too much. So I interrupt my own thoughts and anxiety to ask myself about TODAY.

"What does Jesus have for me today? Do I believe His promise to be with me? With no thought for tomorrow, can I do what Jesus is asking of me today with His help?"

Sadly, the longer I find myself cancer free, the more I start planning for the future and relying on myself. When actually, this daily living, obeying and walking with Jesus for just this day, is the true calling for all our days in this space between Jesus' comings.

So if you are wondering what I going to write about tomorrow, I really don't know. I don't really know what tomorrow holds at all. But I do know that if I am walking through tomorrow, it will be with Jesus. Tomorrow and every day, until I go Home or He comes again.

Also, I mentioned here a couple of times that I had some unexpected tests last week. They were unexpected to me, but not to my doctor. I just was not aware of the schedule. And I am thankful and happy to report that after multiple scans and lab tests, I continue to be clear and free of cancer. Thank God for is mercy!

Week 2, Day 3: All Things New

2009-12-08T07:44:00.000-05:00

This past weekend, when it was finally time to begin decorating for Christmas, I just couldn't bring myself to set up my 15-year-old artificial tree again. It was a thoughtful hand-me-down from my mom to me about 8 years ago. And for many years, it has been a staple of my Christmas decorating.

But over the past couple of years it has taken on a rusty, metallic smell from the aging metal holding the limbs together. Also, for an artificial tree, it sure had shed a lot. I have had to stategically place very large ornaments over her bald spots for the past couple of years.

And so, contrary to my sense of loyalty, I chose aesthetics over tradition: my decorating is complete and the tree is still packed away on the top shelf in the garage.

But here's the rub: I felt a little reluctant to chop down a living tree, and until the prices are cut dramatically the day after Christmas, I won't be able to afford a new artificial tree. So with the decision made to not put up the old tree and to not buy a new tree, I had a challenge on my hands.

My solution was to comb through all of the other Christmas decorations I had stored in the garage, and maybe forage around the house a little, to come up with something new. So, a piece of pottery made by my aunt became the basis of this year's advent wreath. The evergreen wreath that used to hold the candles is now hanging on the wall, lighted and sporting several of my favorite ornaments. A tiny Christmas tree given to me by a friend sits on a table in the corner of the dining room with a few more favorite ornaments and a giant strand of lights. And then there's my favorite thing this Christmas.

I gathered several branches that had fallen from my trees in the yard this fall, wiped them off, collected them in a pot, added lights and ribbon. And now, I have the look of a starry night in a winter forest right in the corner of my living room.

Now, I'm realistic enough to know that my decor is the kind that only a "mother" could love. But more than the "look" of what I created, I love the "stuff" it was created from. This is my old stuff: stuff that had lost its purpose, it's shine. But now, with some care, it's new again. And it's got the message of Advent written all over it.

When Jesus came to earth after Israel's long wait, he came to make things new. He brought a new covenant, a new command, a new kingdom, a new hope. The traditionalists didn't like new things and insisted on the old, even with its metallic smell and bald spots. So, Jesus took the useless, discarded things, the least likely, and the outcast, and he gave them His newness.

When Jesus comes into our hearts, he gives us new life, a new spirit, a new purpose. I was a discarded thing once, even now I often live like I have no meaning. But Jesus continues to bring newness to me each day: His mercies are new every morning.

And when Jesus comes again, he will bring a new earth and a new heaven, and he will give us a new name and we will sing a new song.

So my repurposed Christmas decorations are really more like Advent decorations, a daily, seasonal reminder that in Christ, all things are new.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come." 2 Corinthians 5:17

You can see some pictures of my "repurposed" Christmas decorations by checking out Week 2, Day 1.

Week 2, Day 2: Something New

2009-12-07T07:27:00.000-05:00

We had our first snow last night, and the white crystals have done an amazing job of making everything new this morning: new day, new week, new world.

I was excited to write about the newness of Advent this morning, but when I sat down at my computer and opened the blinds, out the window I see cars backed up all the way from the stoplight half a mile down the road. Some things are NEVER new!

So, in order to make it to work on time, my writing time will now be spent in the car, in a much longer than usual commute.

I'll listen to the radio, I'll know I won't be late because I'm leaving early. Really, it will be fine.

But it strikes me that THIS really is something new: my attitude is not resistant this morning, not bitter because my plans have to be changed. My heart feels a little more pliable.

I am thankful this morning that even as all things look new and fresh outside, Jesus is doing a new and fresh work inside my heart today, continuing to work out what he started.

So, for now, there's a car sitting in the garage with my name on it. Tomorrow, Lord willing, we'll talk about more new things.

Week 2, Day 1: Preparation

2009-12-06T18:30:00.002-05:00

I am writing late today because this Sabbath day has truly been a day a rest and worship. And also a day to prepare for this season of Advent.

This morning, preparation for my heart as first I read from the Psalms and prayed and lit the second candle while in my pajamas . . .

then, as we read aloud Isaiah 40:1-11 in my local assembly, and together prayed the Collect for the Second Sunday in Advent from The Book of Common Prayer.

This afternoon, preparation for my house as I gathered bits of nature and scraps of ribbon and decorations from Christmas past to create something new for this season.

Tonight, preparation for my body, enjoying a warm dinner, resting after taking a walk in the park with a friend, and heading to bed early because I am mortal and must die every night a little.

Until tomorrow, friends . . .

Week 1, Day 7: Anger Management

2009-12-05T09:06:00.003-05:00

So, it's just really been one of "those" weeks. I came back from vacation to a difficult week at work. My regular doctor's visit yielded unexpected tests, and unexpected waiting. Same was true for my dog, Precious, at her annual vet visit. Then, it hits: that one-too-many thing that pushed me beyond my limit. An errroneous bill from a doctor I saw two years ago.

It was only $120, and besides that, I knew I didn't owe it and eventually the issue would get resolved. But for some reason, it made me angry. And I wanted everyone to know it.

So, first the moaning and complaining. If you talked to me in the past couple of days, you probably heard about it. I used words like "malicious," "underhanded," and "incompetent." Then, the self pity. "Why, in a week like this, do I have to deal with THIS mess, too? Why me?" Then, the demanding phone calls. "I am very angry and demand that you resolve this at once."

It wasn't pretty.

And thankfully, it was only a day or two until I stopped raging long enough to hear the whisper, "Don't sin in your anger," and "A gentle answer turns away wrath." And then, it wasn't just a whisper, but actual words coming out of my friend's mouth as she was correcting and training her sons in the midst of their own anger over who got to eat off the Batman plate.

"It's just a Batman plate," I was thinking to myself, just before I also thought, "It's just a doctor bill."

How did I let myself get so worked up over a simple doctor bill? And one that could be resolved, to boot. It would be too easy to blame my stressful week, or even to play the cancer card, because I was anxiously awaiting the results of medical tests. But the fact is, I was just sinning because things weren't going my way.

Dealing with my ugly sin didn't feel very conducive to the expectant Advent spirit I have been fostering in my soul. But in fact, according to John the Baptist, realizing and repenting of our sin is exactly the point as we wait on our Messiah.

In those days, John the Baptist came preaching in the wilderness of Judea, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." For this is he who was spoken of by the prophet Isaiah when he said, "The voice of one crying in the wilderness: 'Prepare the way of the Lord; make his paths straight.'" Matthew 3:1-3

And according to the Apostle Paul's letter to the Philippians, only in the fullfillment of Advent -- Jesus' ultimate coming -- will we ever truly be done with the sin within us.

"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6

Waiting for Jesus also means looking forward to the day when I will finally be through with sin and will be perfectly conformed to the image of Jesus.

Week 1, Day 6: Hiding

2009-12-04T07:31:00.000-05:00

Even though he is only two years old, my nephew Kole has an uncanny sense of the thrill of surprise. Any time he hears a car pulling into the driveway, his 16-year-old brother coming up the stairs, or his dad coming in from the garage, he gets an urgent look on his face and scurries about the room yelling, "Hide, hide!"

Then, with a less canny sense of space and proportion, he hides behind anything he can find: a chair, a banister, his mom, a toy. And at just the right moment, when he is sure his unsuspecting victim has looked and looked and will never find him, he jumps out, hands outstretched in front of him, doing his best impression of a monster, or a lion, or maybe just his brother, who no doubt taught him the thrill of the hide.

After the appropriate shock, then laughter, he usually follows up with one of his other favorite words, "Hug, hug," just so everyone knows it was all in good fun. It's a joy to watch; it's even more fun to be the one he is surprising, going through his whole routine just to give you the thrill of finding him.

We celebrate advent each year precisely because God also knows the thrill of hiding. When we are with God in his fullness, we won't need to foster our sense of longing for him. We will be completely satisfied in his presence.

But until then, we expect and wait and cry out for him because He is a God who hides. But why? Why does God seem to keep his distant, especially at times when we often need him the most?

In Phillip Yancey's Reaching for the Invisible God, he describes God's sense of hiding this way:

If God merely wanted to make his existence known to every person on earth, God would not hide. However, the direct presence of God would inevitably overwhelm our freedom, with sight replacing faith. God wants instead a different kind of knowledge, a personal knowledge that requires a commitment from the one who seeks to know him.

God is not hiding to keep us away; He is hiding so that we will come and look for Him. Only in looking for the hidden God will we truly be able to find Him.

That's what we do during Advent, and all year long, for that matter: we seek our hidden God. And we when find him, there a spiritual hugs to go around.

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you," declares the LORD." - Jeremiah 29:13-14

Week 1, Day 5: Greater Distractions

2009-12-03T07:36:00.000-05:00

Even as I was writing yesterday about the distractions of the holidays, in the back of my mind I was wishing that tinsel and holly were my greatest obstacle in worshiping Jesus. Oh, that this would be true for all of us.

But in the midst of a season in which we are fighting against Hollywood and Hallmark to focus on what truly matters at Christmas, we also wrestle against the circumstances of our own lives. For many of us, financial difficulties, job stress, and strained family relationships take our attentions away from Jesus far more than a Christmas tree or twinkle lights ever could. What does Advent mean to our real lives, where flat tires and broken arms compete for our attention?

It was important to me that I write down these thoughts this morning, BEFORE I get back the results of some blood work the doctor ordered yesterday. Waiting on news from the lab is my great distraction this morning, and if the results are good later today, I'll forget about the anxiety and mind racing that I am fighting through right now.

But if the expectation of Advent doesn't usher me through this morning, how will I possibly make it through all the rest of my mornings? The truth is, Advent reflecting doesn't just help me see more of Christ at Christmas, it helps me see more of Christ in all of life.

It's all about waiting on Jesus.

And it's all about Jesus waiting with us.

For the past few months, I have been memorizing Romans 12:9-21 as part of my women's Bible study. One of the verses, verse 12, has been especially helpful to me this morning, and many mornings before, as I awoke with an anxious heart.

This is my Advent prayer for you today:

"Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer."

Week 1, Day 4: Bare

2009-12-02T07:18:00.001-05:00

If you stopped by my house this afternoon, you would have no idea that I am full of the Christmas spirit. There are no twinkle lights hanging from the eaves, no colorful Christmas trees in the flower beds. Inside, there is no dazzling evergreen in the corner or well-lit wreath on the table. In fact, I haven't even purchased the advent candles yet.

To be frank, my house is bare.

My Christmas-less house is more a product of timing than intention. But the fact that it is the fourth day of Advent and I find myself free of many of the trappings of Christmas feels like a blessing more than a burden.

Without the soft glow of white lights and candle flicker in the evenings, I am not tempted into the sentimentality that I often muster in my heart this time of year. Without the shiny wrapping paper beneath the tree, I don't find myself so caught up with gift giving . . . and receiving.

I still feel all of that temptation each time I step out of my house into the real world of retail, but inside my house, the only Christmas spirit I feel is what Jesus is doing in my heart.

This Christmas, I want the spirit of the season to be about worship and longing more than tinsel and holly.

I have plans for decorating for Christmas; there's no way I could make it all the way to December 25 and not hang at least one strand of twinkle lights! But as I decorate this year, I am praying that Jesus will help me see these holiday chotchkes as an extension of what He is doing in my heart, not a distraction.

Week 1, Day 3: Longing for Home

2009-12-01T07:41:00.000-05:00

The theme of home has been resonating around me over the past several weeks. From an inner-city teenager who finds a home with a wealthy Memphis family in the movie, The Blind Side, to the young, wounded soldier who barely makes it home alive in the Karen Kingsbury novel, Sunset, I have been confronted again and again with what it means to come home.

While these portrayals make the idea of home to be rather sentimental and nostalgic, the more sober and realistic depiction has been the Marilynne Robinson book I have been reading for the past couple of weeks, simply called Home.

In this book, a brother and sister both return to their childhood home where their aging father is spending his final days. Their father has changed very little since they were young, and the house itself is eerily similar to their growing up years. But interestingly, the brother and sister also do not seem to have changed much, except to have become older. And the idea of being forced to come home after a lifetime of moral failures makes each of them more bitter than nostalgic.

While I like to hold on to romantic notions of home with the best of them, the fact is, home as an earthly concept will always leave us a little disappointed. Things were never as good as we remember them, and they can never be the same even if they were. Home, here on earth, is just a temporary idea.

Robinson captures this concept magically in the first few lines of the book:

"Home to stay, Glory! Yes!" her father said, and her heart sank. He attempted a twinkle of joy at this thought, but his eyes were damp with commiseration. "To stay for a while this time!" he amended, and took her bag from her, first shifting his cane to his weaker hand. Dear God, she thought, dear God in heaven.

In Tim Keller's The Prodigal God, he carefully unpacks the problem of home as our greatest, yet most unmet human longing:

Home, then, is a powerful but elusive concept. The strong feelings that surround it reveal some deep longing within us for a place that absolutely fits and suits us, where we can be, or perhaps find, our true selves. Yet it seems that no real place of actual family ever satisfies these yearnings, though many situations arouse them.

Keller goes on to describe how human attempts to go home are forever doomed to failure because of the greater problem of sin. Only as our heavenly Father reaches out to us, and we respond back to him with faith, can we ever hope to find that place we belong, where we can be our true selves.

And thus, Home becomes an Advent theme, not because of the sentimentality of the holidays, but because we will only truly be home when Jesus comes again. So the longing for home we feel so strongly is really another aspect of our longing for Jesus. As Keller says,

Jesus will make the world our perfect home again. We will no longer be living "east of Eden," always wandering and never arriving. We will come, and the father will meet us and embrace us, and we will be brought into the feast.

Week 1, Day 2: Grace to Get Up

2009-11-29T17:42:00.001-05:00

The days of darkness are upon us.

As I write, it's 4:16 p.m. central standard time -- I'm writing from my brother's house in Wisconsin -- and we haven't seen the sun for a good 15 minutes. By 5 p.m. it will seem as if it is midnight, and we won't have any relief until sunrise tomorrow, about 6:45 a.m.

I find myself a little lazier and little less motivated during these dark days of winter. Going to work and getting off work in the darkness makes me really want to just sleep, if I'm honest.

During the long days of sunlight and brightness, I find myself eager to continue the productivity of the day. I often go outside and dig around in the garden for a couple of hours, plus make dinner, and do the dishes after work. During the winter, I'm lucky if I make a sandwich and throw away the paper plate before landing in the recliner for the night.

In the prayer for the first Sunday of Advent from The Book of Common Prayer, I always understood the phrase "give us grace to cast away the works of darkness" to mean help for the more obvious sins of darkness. Those deeds which the Apostle Paul says are "shameful even to mention."

But there's another aspect to works of darkness about which the good Apostle exhorts us. And that's where Grace finds me: sinning in my sloth.

But it is not the discipline of alarm-setting or the self-control of arm-chair avoidance that moves me from laziness to productivity, pursuing the works of the kingdom and the growth of my own soul. It is grace.Advent is another opporunity for us to open our lives to the light of Jesus, to throw off the covers, as Paul suggests, and

"Wake up, O sleeper,
rise from the dead,
and Christ will shine on you."

Week 1, Day 1: From Gratitude to Longing

2009-11-28T18:58:00.001-05:00

Thank you.

Please.

Every year it seems an ironic chronology that we move within days from counting the blessings of Thanksgiving to longing deeply for the Jesus of Advent. How is that I can possibly say to Jesus, "thank you, I have everything I need," while at the same time maintaining the sense of expectation that says, "I will never truly be happy until I am with you forever?"

The Apostle Paul spent some time on the nuances of this theme as he ended his second letter to the Thessalonians. There, he told them to give thanks in everything as part of the goal of being preserved complete for the coming of our Lord. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-24)

But I felt more at home in the tension as I pondered it with a full belly over the past couple of days of eating Thanksgiving leftovers. The meals I have eaten have been rich and delicious. Each time I eat, I can't imagine ever being hungry again. I am completely filled, more than satisfied.

Thank you.

And yet, remarkably, a few hours later, my stomach reminds me of its continued need. I feel the rumbling; I have a wave of lightheadedness. I long to eat again.

Please.

Gratitude. It's not just for Thanksgiving anymore. Thank you, Jesus, and please, come again.

A New Home

2009-11-28T11:09:00.000-05:00

For the past several years, I have been posting daily Advent reflections on my personal webpage. This year, to make posting, reading, and subscribing a little easier for everyone (including me!), I have created this new space.

I hope you will find a place you will feel comfortable coming each day -- bring your cocoa or your eggnog or just stop by before work. But please come, and together, we will experience again the anticipation of Jesus.

Blessings and see you tomorrow!