Tag: christmas

Hopeful Expectation

I read this quote in an online devotional the other day, and it completely captivated me. Theater is one of my favorite art forms. I was still a baby when my dad sent me out on stage for the first time–he was directing a high school production of Annie Get Your Gun, and they needed a little one to go into a papoose. I was smitten–not with acting, but with live theater.

As the child of a theater person, you go to a lot of plays. Not only did I hang out with my dad during high school play practices, but my parents always took my sister and I to at least one professional theater production each year. As a teen, I got involved in theatrical productions myself, though I preferred backstage to onstage, and as an adult I’ve done some community theater directing, too. Just as my parents took my sister and I to the theater, so we have raised our kids on Broadway musicals and community plays, continuing the legacy of love of theater as my niece made her theatrical debut this fall.

Whether you’re in the audience or behind the curtain, there’s a special kind of energy that comes as the house lights dim and a hush falls over the theater. Everyone is waiting with bated breath for the curtain to raise, and our souls are open to wonder and joy and art. The experience is all the more lovely because it is communal–we aren’t waiting alone.

If I’m being honest, I haven’t felt that sense of joyous expectation in awhile. I’ve allowed the constant press of worrisome news and hurt and suffering to weigh down my soul, and I’ve retreated too much in to the armor of cynicism. In many ways, I’ve stopped expecting God to show up.

Yet Advent is a season of hope in the darkness–a reminder that we are not abandoned or forgotten–that something bigger and better and brighter is coming. We wait together, as a people united in Christ, with souls open to receiving the Good News once more. As Buechner writes:

“What is coming upon the world is the Light of the World. It is Christ. That is the comfort of it. The challenge of it is that it has not come yet. Only the hope for it has come, only the longing for it. In the meantime we are in the dark, and the dark, God knows, is also in us. We watch and wait for a holiness to heal us and hallow us, to liberate us from the dark. Advent is like the hush in a theater just before the curtain rises. It is like the hazy ring around the winter moon that means the coming of snow which will turn the night to silver. Soon. But for the time being, our time, darkness is where we are.”

While we may live in a world of darkness, we are still called to be a people of light. It’s easy to feel helpless when you see the effects of war, injustice, sickness, poverty (which is, really, an injustice), gross disregard for humanity, inequality, and hate mongering. Sometimes it feels easier to bury our heads in the sand or snow, or to wrap our hearts in cynicism, or even shout into the darkness ourselves. But the apostle Paul admonishes us against that. In a letter to the Galatians he says:

I love this verse. It’s a reminder to keep moving forward in faith and hope–together. Let us not get tired of doing good…we will have a harvest if we don’t give up. In American culture, we value the individual, and so, our churches often stress the importance of a personal and individual relationship with Christ. And while that is important, scripture shows us time and again that the practice of faith is really about community. We live together in faith. We work together in faith. We don’t do faith alone. Well, we shouldn’t do faith alone.

Therefore, Advent is a season where we wait together and hope together and seek wonder together and bring joy together. Each year, my mother-in-law organizes a massive Christmas event for a nursing home in her community that is comprised mostly of residents who have very little to no income. She brings people from her church community together to uplift the residents of the nursing home, and to remind them that they are not alone in their darkness. It’s a ton of work, but it’s a labor of love that builds expectation and brings light to all those who participate in it.

There are so many ways we can work together to bring light to others in our dark world. But, I would argue that we can’t do it with a spirit of cynicism or despair. Just as audiences wait in hopeful expectation for the curtain to rise, so we, together, work in hopeful expectation of the light that is to come for all mankind. Maybe we grab some friends and go caroling, or make cookies together and deliver them to our neighbors. Maybe we commit to going to church and worshiping with others each Sunday in Advent, or attend a special community Christmas service. Maybe we take some time to spend with our families doing something fun and silly, or leave anonymous notes or treats for our co-workers. There’s so much we can do!

This Advent, I’m choosing wonder and joy. I’m choosing to reach out in community to uplift others. I’m choosing to not grow weary, for I know that the harvest celebration is coming. What about you?

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

Searching for the Light in Advent

unpacking

As Advent is fully upon us once more, I thought this repost from 2016 an appropriate expression of the hope we yearn for this season. As Jesus told his disciples so long ago…the light has come, and darkness cannot put it out.

Wishing you warmth and light this season…

“Do you know where the gloves got put?”

“Which box is our comforter in?”

“Do I have any pants?”

These are the questions I field at least once a week since we moved in June.  With each request, I go searching through the house–looking into random closets, digging into partially opened tubs and boxes and rummaging around shelves I can’t see the tops of.  Eventually I find that pants are on top of a dresser, the comforter is in a vacuum sealed bag and gloves, well, it’s not that cold yet.

The searching in our house these past few months has been reflected in my spirit, too.  I seem stuck in a cycle of perpetual searching.  I’m searching to find my place in a new community, searching to define myself as an author, searching to establish myself in a new career, and even searching to figure out who I am now that I’m 40.

I have to be honest, searching for gloves, comforters and pants is a lot easier.

I feel like, after a season of mountaintop living, I have been thrust back into the wilderness.  I’m trying to find the light of God’s leading, but there are no bushes ablaze around me.  There’s no pillar of fire going before me into the darkness pointing east or west.  There’s just me kicking up sand and wondering if I’ve passed this rock before.

wilderness

Lent has traditionally been the time for wilderness wanderings; however, Advent finds us in the wilderness, too.   Jesus didn’t enter into a world festooned with mistletoe and holly.  He entered humanity in a time of violence, fear, uncertainty and injustice.  He came when people were seeking a light to dispel the darkness of poverty, injustice and oppression.  He came when people were seeking hope.

The world hasn’t changed much since Jesus first came.  We might string mistletoe and holly more freely around our homes, but there is still violence, still fear, still uncertainty, still injustice.  Like the people of Jesus’ time, we are still seeking a light to dispel the darkness of the world around us.

Advent provides us with the opportunity to wait, in hopeful expectation, for the Light of the World to come.  And come he will, because he’s always been there.

lantern

In the beginning was the Word
and the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
The Word was with God in the beginning.
Everything came into being through the Word,
and without the Word
nothing came into being.
What came into being
through the Word was life,[a]
and the life was the light for all people.
The light shines in the darkness,
and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light. John 1:1-5 (CEB)

Whatever you find yourself searching for this Advent, embrace the uncertainty of finding it.  Give yourself over to God’s work in your life.  Wait in hopeful expectation for the Light that was, is and will come.

Blessings and Peace,

Sara

To Be Known

The other day, as I was talking to my 15-year-old in the kitchen, I noticed that he was sporting a new watch–a Hello Kitty watch. Where’d you get that?, I asked. And then answered my own question before he could get there. His buddy, _____, of course.

This is the same friend who got my son a copy of Thomas Paine’s Common Sense for his birthday, and who encouraged him to learn the guitar. This is the same friend my son competes with on a daily basis to see who can get first chair in band, score the highest on a math test, bench the most at the gym, and get the fastest mile on their bikes. These two challenge each other, celebrate each other, and just generally get each other.

As a parent, watching your child form meaningful and lasting friendships with people who get them is one of life’s greatest blessings. There’s something wonderful about being known–about being understood. You don’t have to explain your reasoning, justify your thinking, or apologize for your emotions. You can proudly wear a Hello Kitty watch to high school because it’s funny and weird and that is who you are and your friend understands that.

One of my favorite passages of Scripture comes from the Gospel of John. The “beloved”disciple begins his tale as all great tales start–in the beginning.

John establishes an almost symbiotic relationship between God and Jesus, both floating in the amniotic fluid of the universe and nursing new stars into being–each needing the other to bring forth their cosmic masterpiece. In the darkness of deep space light burst forth, and John tells us that the light was life spoken by the Word, and that this life-giving light of God was for all people. God, Jesus, and Spirit were one, and they enfolded humankind into their midst. Talk about a knowledge too great and wonderful for me!!

Often, when it comes to faith, I think we know (or think we know) a lot about God. We read Scripture and learn the stories of faith. We listen to teachers and understand the key points. We can say that God is good, or just, or merciful, or righteous. We can quote our favorite verses, and maybe list all of the books of the Bible. But knowing about someone isn’t the same as knowing them. To know someone goes so much deeper than being aware of the key events in their lives and maybe their favorite colors. We get to know others through relationship–in talking and sharing and laughing and crying and listening and understanding and journeying together. It takes time, and it takes effort, but the result is something so deep and beautiful and lasting that words can’t accurately convey it. It’s love distilled to its purest and simplest form. And it is what Jesus brings into the world.

John says that the Word became flesh and dwelt among us–we sing about it each December. But Jesus’ birth isn’t a pretty story to tell in the dark and cold of winter, it’s an opportunity to be known by the One who created us deep within our mother’s wombs. Because of Jesus, we can know God–we can walk and talk with him just like Adam and Eve did in Eden. And in Jesus, John tells us that the meaning and purpose of the universe–of life itself–comes into focus. Jesus invites us to know God as one of our closest companions, and it is in that knowing that our lives take shape.

At Christmas, we don’t celebrate the end of a story–rather, we celebrate the beginning of a deep and meaningful relationship. God made himself flesh and dwelt among us to bring us closer to him. How deep the Father’s love for us, indeed!

Merry Christmas!

Sara

The Advent Dilemma

“Slow down!” I called, pulling in with both arms on a leash stretched taut between our big baby of a Great Dane puppy and my hand–her barreling down the trail and me being dragged behind. “You go my pace! I don’t go yours!” I cried as she finally came to a standstill, looking back at me with an expression of annoyance that clearly communicated I needed to do a better job of keeping up.

The problem of ploughing pell-mell through the woods (beyond a dislocated shoulder) is that we miss the wonder and beauty and peace that comes from contemplating all of creation on display around us. There’s not time to pause and ponder the bright yellow leaf that has fallen, absolutely perfectly, into the middle of the path. There’s no time to stop and stare eye-to-eye at the brown-eyed doe tentatively assessing whether it’s safe to cross the path. There’s no time to marvel at the way the crisp, cool air expands your lungs, and the how the earth smells sharp and rich as it seeks to reclaim the leaves and twigs and smashed nut shells of the previous season. There’s just no time…

This is how I often feel during the season of Advent (yes, it’s still a thing; no, it’s not a countdown to Christmas), like I’m being pulled through something marvelous that I really want to stop and enjoy, but there’s just no time. Where Christmas is bright, big, and boisterous, Advent is retracted and reflective, requiring a certain amount of stillness and awareness. These are qualities our society does not endorse. And so we sprint through it to take in as much of the holiday hoopla as we can instead of waiting and watching and listening for the arrival of the holy, like those wise bridesmaids Jesus spoke of in the gospels.

In the above Scripture passage, the prophet Micah is lamenting the path the people of Israel have chosen. They have relegated God to an afterthought, and instead of listening for him, instead of watching and waiting for the deliverance God longs to bring, the people are living as they wish. The people of Israel rush around seeking to make themselves happy in a misguided attempt to close the gaping hole that no amount of money, power, luxury goods, or food seems to fill. There is conflict and animosity, injustice and idolatry in the wreckage of God’s perfect order.

And then there is Micah, who must feel like he’s screaming into the wind, compelling the people of Israel to remember before it’s too late that God only wants these things from them: to be just, to choose love, and to walk in humble obedience with God. But God’s path is a slow one, filled with detours and unexpected pit stops, and the people have no desire for such a seeming waste of time. So Micah sits, pulling his cloak around him, and waits–believing with every fiber of his being that he will see the Lord’s salvation when it comes. Micah stops to watch. He stills himself to listen. He doesn’t check his watch, add to his to-do list, or strategize a shopping plan. He just waits. And hopes. And listens. Do you know what Micah hears in the waiting? He hears the voice of God.

This is the beauty of Advent, if we truly allow ourselves to indulge in it. As we wait, as we watch, as we still ourselves to listen, we, too, can hear the voice of God. Sometimes it comes in wonder, as we gaze at God’s beauty in nature or in the companionship of those we love. Sometimes it comes in song, as we pause to listen to Christmas hymns both new and old. Sometimes it comes in Scripture, as we take time to dive into God’s word and find revelation anew. And sometimes it comes in the quiet of our stilled thoughts…a soft and gentle whisper nudging us in a specific direction or wrapping us up in acceptance and love.

Newbery Award Winning Author Madeline L’Engle puts it this way:

Advent calls us into a holy stillness. While the world whirls in a carousel of frenetic energy, blurring our thoughts and confounding our senses, we are called to hop off the ride and sit, like Micah, on the side of the road…waiting and watching…believing with every fiber of our beings, that we will see the salvation of the Lord. Come, Lord Jesus….

Blessings and Peace,

Sara