The star

As December goes by in a blur, I'm taking some time to look for the holy. As often happens, the first Sunday of Advent blew past me. I counted Christmas Sunday and therefore miscalculated the first day of the season. My church has chosen not to light the candles on the Advent wreath so I sat through the service none the wiser. It was Wednesday before I picked up my Advent book and realized my error.

In this season, I need a yellow light to slow me down... Even a red light to stop me. A busy, fast life swirled around a cold, damp stable as the King of Wonder entered his human tent. Why should I be surprised if it is the same for me today?

Yesterday Skip, my dog, and I took a hike by the river. Several times I stopped in my tracks as the beauty of heaven and nature singing took my breath away.

NO ROOM, was the Innkeeper's response.

I want to make space for God-child today in my heart.

open hands

This thought floated through my mind as I reached for a pecan I had toasted. Really, the only manner to overcome addiction is moment by moment.

The irony was not lost on me.

I was not hungry at the moment. The pecan was just there at the wrong place and the wrong time. Well, that is my excuse.

A lot of things are up in the air for me right now. As both children enter school in a few days, I am faced with a lot of space and a number of choices. Space is what I have longed for and wanted. When facing space dead on, one can become paralyzed by fear. I’ll never forget snorkeling and swimming suddenly over an area where the ocean floor literally dropped off into eternity. The space massive space threatened to envelop me. It was a moment of terror looking into that deepest blue and realizing how small I was/am.

Gerald May, in Addiction and Grace, talks about the space left behind when one curtails an addictive behavior. “Although this emptiness is really freedom, it is so unconditioned that it feels strange, sometimes even horrible. If we were willing for a deeper transformation of desire, we would have to try to make friends with the spaciousness; we would need to appreciate it as openness to God.”

Living with that space is difficult and exciting. There is no other way to do it than moment by moment.

May goes on: 

The purest acts of faith always feel like risks. Instead of leading to absolute quietude and serenity, true spiritual growth is characterized by increasingly deep risk taking. Growth in faith means willingness to trust God more and more, not only in those areas of our lives where we are most successful, but also, and most significantly, at those levels where we are most vulnerable, wounded, and weak. It is where our personal power seems most defeated that we are given the most profound opportunities to act in true faith. The purest faith is enacted when all we can choose is to relax our hands or clench them, to turn wordlessly toward or away from God. This tiny option, the faith Jesus measured as the size of a mustard seed, is where grace and the human spirit embrace in absolute perfection and explode in world-changing power. Gerald May, Addiction and Grace, p. 128

Will I clench my hands around the pecan (the idol) or will I relax them and let God fill the emptiness? Will I turn wordlessly toward Him?

my rhythm

rhythm: noun; a strong, regular, repeated pattern of movement or sound : Ruth listened to the rhythm of his breathing.

Every year growing up, we traveled to Destin, Florida, early in the summer to the finest, whitest sand known to man. Now, as an adult, I feel incomplete if I don’t get to the ocean at least once a year. And such is my rhythm.

And so this year after the City Swim Meet on July 23, our sweaty and smelly family of five loaded up our van and turned south. This kind of traveling requires commitment and stamina. Thank goodness Matt has the stamina. You put him behind the wheel, and kind of like a bull, he will get there or bust. We got there at 2:00 a.m. For an hour, we came alive and took in our little condo on the 22nd floor. Then we collapsed in the beds for a few more hours of sleep. Most of us had slept in the car too. 

For a week, we enjoyed the beach, the fresh seafood, the view, the ocean and body surfing, the quiet. We unplugged. We rested. Another rhythm. Since returning last night, I have concentrated on finding a new rhythm: re-assembling our home after the madness of re-entry, re-stocking the fridge, re-establishing a daily routine of meals. Re-orienting myself to normal daily life helps me find my rhythm again.

In Sacred Rhythms, Ruth Haley Barton suggests some practices for helping us keep our lives on a path of spiritual transformation. She addresses topics like solitude, reading scripture through lectio divina, prayer, self-examination, discernment, sabbath and establishing a rule of life. The rule of life helps us answer two questions: Who do I want to be? How do I want to live?

At the beach, I spent some time contemplating what I want my rhythm to feel like. Silence must be part of my days. I’d like to intentionally make Sabbath more about rest and play. My Bible will become more of a love letter and less of an instruction manual. Undoubtedly, a yearly trip to the beach is something my soul and spirit must have.

rest & rhythms

Hammock and rest go together like oreos and milk.This morning I woke up with a sabbath highway expanding in front of me. Both of my younger boys are in Mississippi with my mama. I could have slept in. Instead my eyes flew open at 6:20. I attempted to sleep longer to no avail. 

So Skip, our dog, and I were on the patio early in the cool of the morning with birds singing us awake and good strong coffee to ensure the job.

As I began the Sabbath thus, I thought about the rhythms of life and why rest is so necessary. I’ve been reading Ruth Haley Barton’s Sacred Rhythms. She describes a way to live and settle into a rhythm of work and rest.

Barton writes:

There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our existence as human beings - physical bodies in a world of time and space. A peace descends upon our lives when we accept what is real rather than always pushing beyond our limits. Something about being gracious and accepting and gentle with ourselves at least once a week enables us to be more gracious and accepting and gentle with others. 

I realize that sometimes I ignore my human limitations. I work past the point of exhaustion thinking that the world will somehow cave if I don’t keep on going. Rest eludes me. Often illness forces the rest. 

As I am maturing, this happens less and less. Part of the humbling work God has done in my heart is repentance in this very area... a shrinking of myself and an enlarging of who He is. I am learning to acknowledge my need for rest and to allow it. When rested, I am less likely to grab at things of this world to fill me. I am more likely to let the Spirit instruct me on the next steps. 

I want to give from a place a fullness and when I am empty,  let the Spirit fill me to give again. 

Today, on this Sabbath, will you rest?

welcome

To welcome is to give space to someone. As I wait, I welcome Jesus to my life, to my reality, to the chaos, to this moment.

The King of the Universe, the One Who spoke stars and planets into existence entered our world as an infant - a dependent and vulnerable baby. Is there any greater paradox? If so, I don’t know it. This King doesn’t need my welcome, mind you. But in another paradox, He waits for me to welcome Him. 

Given my pace of life and the intensity, one could assume that the point of Christmas is lost on me. The lists, the menu, the coupons, the sales; all add up to the notion that if I don’t to it, Christmas won’t happen. 

I may welcome Christ into the first 20 minutes of my day. Often, sadly, I have the attitude: Use this 20 minutes, Lord, because I am busy later. 

But do I welcome Him when I realize that I have put 3 tablespoons of baking powder in the rolls instead of 3 teaspoons? What is the posture of my heart when I am negotiating with my brother-in-law who will spend Christmas where? 

Usually I quickly calculate how I will get it done. What will be required? How long will it take? How many other people will I have to involve? Rarely do I stop and say, “I am the Lord’s handmaiden. May it be as you have said.”

This Christmas, as I shop, as I bake, as I love my family well; I want most of all to welcome Christ into my space - to be a womb for the Son of God to dwell. 

Mary’s response to the angel changed her life to be sure. Her “yes” grew from a microscopic zygote to a man who won forever the war on sin and evil. His life, death and resurrection changed the world. May I have the courage, May you have the courage to say “YES” and create a space for God to come and dwell. Our hearts are enlarged in the waiting, in the welcoming.

 But if God himself has taken up residence in your life, you can hardly be thinking more of yourself than of him. Anyone, of course, who has not welcomed this invisible but clearly present God, the Spirit of Christ, won't know what we're talking about. But for you who welcome him, in whom he dwells - even though you still experience all the limitations of sin - you yourself experience life on God's terms. It stands to reason, doesn't it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he'll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus, bringing you alive to himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With his Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ's!

Romans 8:9-11