Christmas, Advent....Keeping Watch - Finding a purpose in the wait...

Here it is the middle of December and I’ve put nothing about Advent or Christmas on this blog yet!  It’s been a strange season so far.  A large part of me longs for the days when my kids were little and the biggest question of the season was, “When can we open our presents?” Although I hated that question when they were younger because I never wanted Christmas to be about that.  So much feels in flux this year, and holds ambiguous waiting within it. I guess that’s exactly what ADVENT is all about. - Waiting, unsure of the how, if or when?

To appease our kids while they waited for Christmas we used things like an advent calendar which held little surprises – usually a sweet chocolate - for each day, or maybe a routine, like reading a Christmas book every night before bed.  Whatever it was, it kept the fire of anticipation stoked, refocused their gaze and reminded them that although Christmas is not here yet, it will be soon!  They were too young to really know why it was such a big deal that God showed up on the scene as a baby.  They just knew Christmas was special - goodness and love showed up for the day, and who doesn’t anticipate that?

To be honest, I don’t have much anticipation this year.  I feel caught somewhere between “Come thou long expected Jesus” and “Deck these stupid Halls with stinking Boughs of Holly” ….fa-la-la-la-la-la is about all I can come up with. 

Perhaps in the chaotic suspense I've become numb and cynical.  Its wearisome waiting for life to somehow make its grand appearance and certain things to be made right…Waiting for direction, waiting for relationships to be healed - ones that despite my best efforts remain as is. Waiting to know if my dad’s stem cell transplant will work.  Many of you, like me are waiting for things too sacred to share.  Humorously, even our car is in flux as we wait to find out if we can drive it come January, and if Volkswagen will correct their rather blatant “oops” in their diesel vehicles. 

In some form or another we all wait.  It is the human condition.   We “second-advent” wait for God to bring our stories to completion in His.  Stories that when we look too far ahead lack direction…stories that are rendered incomplete and less than perfect for the time-being, with chapters we would like changed.  These are the stories Jesus entered in first Advent when he took his first breath in a mucky trough.  They were "waiting stories" that long searched for deliverance.  Yet God purposed the wait.  He was preparing a people for himself - a people who did not know the when, if or how.  As Jesus came ‘in the fullness of time’, many could not discern his arrival.  Only a few recognized the events as sacred….they were the ones who kept watch and stayed patient in the long pause.  They were the ones whose eyes may have been weary yet they found a way to steady their gaze, open the windows of advent and taste for a moment the sweet goodness to come.   How do you and I, in the midst of sacred anticipation and chaotic distractions, wait well?

Isaiah 40:3-4 says to prepare a way for the Lord, make a straight path, every valley be raised up and every mountain made low.  There is a purpose in our waiting.  This 'already - but not yet' life is preparing a way for Jesus if we let it.  Mountains, valleys, crooked paths…these are the things that inhibit our ability to receive the arrival of God.  Pride shows up (as it did for the Pharisee) in the high places causing us to look down upon fragile flesh.  Shame finds secret refuge in the valley, mocking our sacred self of all that needs redeeming and tells us we could never be worthy.  In our waiting, we become bored and distractions turn up to divert our path. We shift our gaze and try rewriting a chapters we don't like.  But what if we stay…what if we stay long enough through the boredom and the muck to let God enter our shame and love-level our pride?  What if we let Holiness companion with us through the crooked wait and discover the long awaited gift, the present, is actually his presence…. sight comes.  A star high above appears and journeys us further up and further in to the heart of God.  Our story, swallowed up into His, is redeemed. 

So let us wait…let's crack open the door of our shame and let love in. It won't be pretty but through it God will birth beauty.  Let's listen to our heart and own its arrogance that says, "I am better", and let;s fast from entitlement…lets look for windows of goodness and love happening in the mucky ordinary…and let us ask the Lifter of our head to set our eyes to the sky to keep watch for the star... and we will journey – one step at a time – to Him.

"Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along the way.  If we don't know how or what to pray, it doesn't matter.  He does our praying got us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans.  He knows us far better than we know ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God.  That's why we can be so sure that every detail of our lives of love for God is worked into something good."  Rom 8:26-28

Sticks In the Ground

(This post is a continuation to the post from January 1, 2014) 
...When a rose bush has been pruned it is not much prettier than before the pruning began.  The stems are appropriately trimmed or removed, but it still looks like a bunch of dead branches set in the ground.  Nutrients have been worked into the soil for good systemic growth but blooms and foliage have yet to appear.  Pruning is something a gardener does for a future bloom – a future beauty and harvest.

I noticed as I read through the previous blog that after pruning I skipped straight to the beauty that’s found in the bloom.  Isn't that what we often want to do - skip past what is difficult or unlovely?  However, as I walked back outside and noticed the roses along our front walk, I could not deny the fact that they were still just a few sticks popping up from the ground with no real apparent beauty. They were still dormant and without the welcome of soft blooms, they could still prick an unsuspecting-someone as they walked by.

That is the picture of a pruned heart.  There’s no visible evidence of the work that has been done except for the thorny sticks in the ground.  It’s quiet and unadorned.  At times when others come close our thorny places still impose unexpected pain because we are not yet ready to extend a soft welcome and let them in.  We wait, like the rose…

...Under the ground, where no one can see, there is work being done.  There is a private fellowship with the Trinity where systemically, God is pouring nutrients into the soil of our heart as we let ourselves stay “dormant” and close to Him.  It happens as we place ourself before his word and hold it as a light unto our feet.  It comes alive as we sit silently before him inviting his presence to come near.  It becomes active when we discipline our steps toward his love in and through us.  And it comes tangibly as we let others share the winter with us among the thorns. 

The sight of the sticks in the ground outside of my front door is a visual reminder that just sticks in the ground are OK for a while.  I needn’t hurry the blooms…


How are you, like me, tempted to hurry the blooms?

Where are the thorny places in you that may bring accidental pain?

How are you engaging God's word in the process?

What feels vulnerable as you consider letting others and God in?

How are you letting God and other's in, even when it means being a bit "thorny"?

"Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side. Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain.  Leave to thy God to order and provide: In every change, He faithful will remain.  Be still, my soul: Thy best, thy Heavenly friend...
...Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end."