Hope

 

What do I put my hope in? How easy is it for me to look to something else for hope? What do I hope for this Advent season?

My answer is that I put my hope in God. It is pretty easy for me to look for hope elsewhere on the daily. This Advent season, I hope that I won’t be as easily distracted by the shiny, the worldly, the temporary. 

Hope in God is solid, certain, weighty. It is not from my imagination but from God Himself providing me with the grace to hope. I hope in the lovingkindness of God. 

This morning I hold the hope of God in Jesus. It is not fragile or whimsical. I return to moments of Thanksgiving that I hold dearly. My adult children left yesterday and we put up Christmas decorations. Ornaments with their young faces grin back at me from the tree. Like Mary, I ponder these things in my heart and treasure them. 

I pray that as I sort the temporary and fleeting, God would send His breath and let them float away like so much smoke. The solid will remain. Hope even though not seen is certain. 

Note: The Bible Project has an Advent series. Check it out. These questions came from them.

Wait

The first Sunday of Advent always comes as a surprise to me. Hard to believe since the Sunday ushering in the season is earmarked from now to infinity. I usually am so dialed in to Thanksgiving that on that Sunday, I say to myself: Is today the first Sunday of Advent? Do I have Advent candles? Yes and no. 

This morning I am waiting. It is not a particularly holy place. I can’t think of a sentence that would include holy and Lane Kiffin. But I wait on him, unpopular as he is in my home of Volunteer fans. I am in my own battle between self-hatred and hope. Why do I care what this man does? I will waste no more words on him.

My point is that it doesn’t take long to see how far I have wandered from the Garden of Eden or even from a posture of waiting according to the Word of God. 

In Hebrew the word for hope is qava. The Theological Word Book of the Old Testament expounds on this word:

This root means to wait or to look for with eager expectation. Waiting with steadfast endurance is a great expression of faith. It means enduring patiently in confident hope that God will decisively act for the salvation of his people. Waiting involves the very essence of a person’s being, his soul (nephews; Psalm 130:5). There will come a time when all that God has promised will be realized and fulfilled (Isaiah 49:23; Psalm 37:9). In the meantime the believer survives by means of his integrity and uprightness as he trusts in God’s grace and power (Psalm 25:21). His faith is strengthened through his testings, and his character is further developed (Psalm 27:14).

Not many things show me how undignified I am more than Ole Miss football. Integrity? Uprightness? Not usually if Ole Miss is playing football. We have had a historic season. Every victory each Ole Miss fan feels they have fought for bravely. And now we wait and war. Do we even want him? LSU, really? 

I typically think of the meaning of advent as to wait, but it means arrival. Not only the arrival of Jesus as an infant but more typically throughout church history the second coming. The arrival of Jesus to complete the work of restoring all of creation. 

If Ole Miss football minimally has the purpose of convincing me that I need to be restored, so be it. I am convinced also that what I wait for is infinitely more satisfying than anything this earth has to offer.

I turn to my favorite psalm. 

“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27:13-14

cannot miss

I got a text from a friend this morning. She said she woke up praying for me. She prayed Psalm 139 over me. I felt thankful for her words.

Then in the shower I tweaked my back. One side of my body is doing all the work. That side revolted today.

I had no idea how much I needed her words today, her prayers, the encouragement. How encouraging that these were provided before my need hit, before my back went out. She said to me, "You cannot miss what God has for you in this." What a relief! My sheep brain is very apt to miss something. But not what God wants me to see. I cannot miss it.

Today I am weak. I have fallen in the pit several times. Today I needed to hear that God has me. He holds me. In fact, I cannot flee from His Presence.

And He provided just that. Today.

impermanence

Impermanence means the property of not existing for indefinitely long durations. Everything in this world rises, and everything passes. 

Ecclesiastes says it differently: 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born , and a time to die ; a time to plant , and a time to pluck up that which is planted ; A time to kill , and a time to heal ; a time to break down , and a time to build up ; A time to weep , and a time to laugh ; a time to mourn , and a time to dance ; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace , and a time to refrain from embracing;  A time to get , and a time to lose ; a time to keep , and a time to cast away ; A time to rend , and a time to sew ; a time to keep silence , and a time to speak ; A time to love , and a time to hate ; a time of war, and a time of peace.

I want to fight for permanence. 

The other night I worked over the stove busily preparing our dinner. I use a black iron skillet because, well because is another story. I had about four things cooking on the stove, and I needed to take the top off of the skillet. I reached for it and hastily placed it on our island. Our kitchen island is a butcher block reminiscent of the one I grew up around. It is made of birch and beautifully calls all visitors to come round and partake of rich food and fellowship. 

Later while cleaning up after dinner, I lifted the heavy top to find a perfect black ring on the butcher block. The rest of the night my stomach knotted around a nauseated center. I even said the word out loud. “Impermanence.” I said it softly like some magical mantra could raze the stain. 

Often God uses these daily consternations to teach me something. I thought now I am going to have to go around this island the rest of my life with this stain because I was in a hurry and careless... among other things. I tried several things to erase the stain. That stain was permanent. I told Matt. He took it pretty well. Josh and Sam came in to look at it and add their two cents. We discussed the rest of our lives with the black circle hawking all the attention from the beautiful wood. 

Before bed I tried one more remedy. Lemon juice. My mama taught me a lot about laundry. If lemon juice will take a stain out of white linen, maybe I have a chance with this wood. 

In about 45 minutes the circle was broken. I came in to the kitchen to see the beautiful wood without the disfiguring circle. 

See, I want what I want. I’d like some things to be permanent and some to change. I think God gets a good laugh at my bossing from down here. And I’m grateful for the lesson on impermanence.

do not cling

Lately I have been aware of places in my soul in deep need of grace. I shared some of those places and thoughts with some friends the other night. One precious new friend beseeched me to be gentle and find grace for myself. She said she would pray for me to find that grace. 

It has not even been 24 hours since then and already Jesus is answering. 

This harshness arises from the inner Pharisee (or critic) who stands in judgment of me. Her god is perfection. And when I don’t measure up, she swiftly pounds the gavel. She has relied on performance and approval to get by and to survive. She is hungry for grace but doesn’t know it all that well. 

For some time, in fact for seven years, I have judged our time in Honduras as a failure. Failure is a harsh word. The posture of the critic is even harsher. My eyes are coming unveiled to see what a tragedy it is to view it that way. It arises from an arrogant idea that I know what is best and God does not. I have judged His plan, doubted His care for orphans, and floundered under comparison of our journey with others. 

In reality, I am clinging to an idea of how I wanted things to work. I wanted to stay with those children and see them through graduation from high school. I hoped to never inflict upon them pain and loss. I wanted to keep living the dream of caring for them and fulfilling our calling as I understood it.  

After Jesus had died and was buried, the disciples stood around in the garden for a while. Then they went home. All but Mary. She cried as she stood there, and then went over and peeked in the tomb. She found it empty. She thought she saw the gardener and through teary eyes begged him to tell her where they had put Jesus’ body. When Jesus said her name, “Mary!” her eyes opened and she saw Jesus standing before her. ALIVE! 

He said to her, “Do not cling to me. Go to the brothers and tell them I have ascended to the Father.”

In that moment she transformed from a clingy, fearful, grieving woman to the first apostle to carry the good news on this earth. She let go of the reality she had wanted. Jesus is back. He is alive. Things can go back to the way they were. She grabbed hold of the future as Jesus set forth. “Go!” 

My hands are open. My arms are wide for the Pharisee to come in and receive warmth and grace. My eyes are on the horizon to see the path open wide before me.