After 30 Days, Then What?

I heard an interview with a man who helped after the bomb exploded in Boston. After 30 days, he was questioned about his involvement and how he is healing. His voice cracked. He stammered a bit, but was able to tell how he had stepped over some hurt people to get to the ones who were near death. The memories haunted him and when asked if he thought he could move forward now, he wondered how he would. It might take a lifetime.

I also watched a young woman be interviewed after barely escaping from a car that exploded on a bridge in California, killing all of her friends.. Traumatized, she cried on camera, saying she wanted to go back and pull her friends out of the car, desperate to save them from the raging flames. Those memories will haunt her for a long time.

Tragedies seem to be constant and more and more horrific. We are exposed to the raw details of the event, experiencing the daily devastation from our own safe homes. We cringe when we listen to the report of three little girls held captive for ten grueling years. And as we drive down our own streets, we wonder if that could ever happen to us.

And if it did happen to us, how could we ever move forward? Recover? Heal?

One man said, "I have to put this behind me now and move on."

One man looked down and wept. It will take him longer.

One woman could not speak. It will take her even longer.

But with time and loving support, they will move forward. They will look at life with different eyes. Their eyes will be eyes that carry the depth of painful experience, wounds. And because they look with wounded eyes, they will see the injustices around them more often, and possibly seek to reach out to extend the hand of grace to another.

And yet, in the beauty of perfect Spring days, I know that even in a troubled world, all is well. Every day this week as the news reports defy goodness in this world, I can look out to a creation that is full of wonder and perfection, new life, and a desire to bloom and grow. And in some way it is the same yearning in my own heart that knows that yes, God is making everything new( Revelation 21:5).

Breathless Expectations

The writer of the book said the one thing we can be certain of is uncertainty. But I delude myself with my  own confidence. I put myself on a schedule to perfection, an agenda of self-confidence. I discipline myself and practice skills until I "know for sure" that nothing will harm me. Not me. Not my family. If I study hard enough, make enough money, take my medicine, pray regularly, and be kind to my neighbors, my lot is secure.

Wrong. Right outside my window this the perfect example. Little lettuces, planted carefully and watched over faithfully are snipped in the wee hours of the night  by a fat rabbit. I knew it might happen. It happened before, but I will try again. I must never give up hope. I will try other varieties and put down some repellent. And I will trust.

The writer said that "certainty is the mark of a commonsense life— gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation. We are uncertain of the next step, but we are certain of God."http://utmost.org/

Who lives with breathless expectation? I will tell you who. The person who has walked through the valley of the shadow of death - yet certain of God. The person who has watched the life they loved be taken from them through illness or tragedy - yet certain of God. The person who has experienced rejection - yet certain of God. The person who has been treated unfairly, yet holds their head up with grace, certain of God. That is breathless expectation. My friend who lost her daughter eight years ago said recently on her birthday, " I will sing to her today. I will fling the joyful birthday anthem to the wind and let is soar over the clouds and into the halls of heaven."

That is breathless expectation.

Small Signs of Advent - Morning Stillness

     Why is the morning so still? Why is the time between darkness and dawn so very quiet? The night voices begin to quiet themselves and the morning voices , like me, are hesitant to start moving. Stillness.  I open my eyes and leave the warm space to listen and wait. As the first rays of light peek through the trees, the morning noises, one by one, come to life. Another day. Another new morning reminds me of the words from Isaiah, "Morning by morning He wakens - wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught."( Isaiah 50:4)

I have learned the quiet before dawn is what rescues me from the perils of the day. The stillness and quiet waiting are when I hear the voice of God, assuring me that the One who brings his first rays of light to creation is also bringing me a ray of light, a ray of hope, a ray of guidance.  It is the example Jesus gave to his disciples where, "In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went to a deserted place, and there he prayed. (Mark 1:35.) The Christ child teaches us.

I cannot help but wonder about those who miss the quiet before the dawn. Admittedly, sometimes I am one of those, but choosing to miss the lonely, quiet place of silence is dangerous. Henri Nouwen, in his book Out of Solitude says: "Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our lives are in danger. Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, without distance closeness cannot cure. Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become empty gestures."

Where is the place of "somewhere?" The answer lies in my Advent reading for today.

"God wants to open the heart before it opens itself to the world; before the ear hears the innumerable voices of the day, the early hours are the time to hear the voice of the Creator and Redeemer. God made the stillness of the early morning for himself." (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is In the Manger)

Open my heart, God, to your day and let me always show up as you wait for me in the stillness of the early morning.

Small Signs of Advent - Weeping for Newtown

The headlines tear to shreds my peaceful Advent journey.

 

Small, innocent children and teachers are senselessly murdered in our country. 

 

God, where were you at Sandy Hook Elementary School? God, you whose eyes are on the sparrow, who sees and knows everything, where were you when the tormented young man left his home where he killed is mother and then entered the school and opened fire on innocent victims?

It is unthinkable and my heart bleeds with the brokenhearted families who are reeling in pain and and whose lives will never be the same. I look for the "small sign" and can't seem to find it through my weeping.Maybe that is the small sign.

I return to the writing of Ann Weems who gives voice to anguish.

"Anger and alleluias careen around within me, sometimes colliding. 

Lamenting and laughter sit side by side in a heart that yearns for the peace that passes understanding. Those who believe in the midst of their weeping will know where I stand.

In the quiet times this image comes to me: Jesus weeping.

Jesus wept,

and in his weeping,

he joined himself forever

to those who mourn.

He stands now throughout all time,

this Jesus weeping

with his arms about the weeping ones:

'Blessed are those who mourn,

for they shall be comforted.'

He stands with the mourners,

for his name is God-with-us.

Jesus wept.

'Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted.' Someday. Someday God will wipe the tears from their eyes.

In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life,

there is a deafening alleluia

rising from the souls

of those who weep,

and of those who weep with those who weep.

If you watch, you will see

the hand of God

putting the stars back in their skies

one by one."(Psalms of Lament)

Holy Infant Jesus, your tears are joined to mine. I hear the alleluias.

Small Signs of Advent #12 - Staying Alert

 
     If Advent is a time of waiting, then shouldn't we always be alert to that for which we wait? The funny song we hear on the radio reminds me that I, too, need to focus on the one right thing. Alvin, the chipmunk, has the same trouble that so many of us have each Advent. The director is preparing his group to sing their Christmas song. Simon is ready. Theodore is ready. But then we hear, "Alvin....Alvin.....ALVIN!"  Alvin is looking off, busy with other things, maybe good things, maybe not. Time is spent getting him back on track to sing his Christmas song. (The Chipmunk Song (Christmas Don't Be Late,1958)

How much time do you spend getting yourself "back on track" to sing your own personal Christmas song?

Today I read:

"Be Alert, be alert, so that you will be able to recognize your Lord in your husband, your wife, your parents, your children , your friends, your teachers, but also in all that you read in the daily papers. The Lord is coming, always coming. Be alert to his coming. When you have ears to hear and eyes to see, you will recognize him at any moment of your life. Life is Advent: life is recognizing the coming of the Lord."(Henri J.M. Nouwen, Gracias! A Latin American Journal)

     But you say, "But I don't see the Lord in that person and I look and look, but can never find the Lord in the news."  We keep looking for love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And guess what, we find the Lord either in rejoicing because of the presence of those things or the lamenting the great need of them. We rejoice with finding the Lord or we search and wait for Him to be found. Either way, we recognize him and our great need for him.

Even the Chipmunks in Christmas Don't Be Late recognize their need for Christmas when they sing:

"We've been good, but we can't last.

Hurry Christmas, hurry fast!"

     Try as we might, we just can't be good in our own might. We can't last. We need the coming of Christmas to bring us the perfect Christmas gift - grace, wrapped in swaddling clothes.

Pay attention! We have a song to sing!

"Keep awake - for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else me may find you asleep when he comes suddenly."(Mark 13:35-36)

Baby of Grace who comes to us,

                    give me ears to hear and eyes to see without distraction.

                                                                I want to recognize you every moment.

Small Signs of God #11 - The Visitor

      My daughter called laughing, "There's a bird in our house. What do I do?" After instructions were given for shooing the feathered friend back to his habitat, I called back a few minutes later to check the status and had to ask, "What kind of bird was it?" She said, "It was a cardinal, Mom." Stunned, I hung up the phone. Stunned and pleased that the shy, quiet red bird came close enough to my door to enter, sit on the arm of my sofa, circle the room and exit gracefully.
For sixteen months I observed the movement of cardinals. I watched the rhythm of life outside my window move through the seasons while life inside stood still. Always, there would be a cardinal to cheer me, to offer solace and hope. Each time they would visit a tree branch or the feeder, some message would come forth and I would write my thoughts:

     "There is a canvas outside our living room window that Nature has painted. The river birch leaves are the color of mustard and closer to the window a holly loaded with red berries. As Megan and I view our “painting” it comes to life with a bright red cardinal, working among the berries in the holly tree. I wish I knew more about birds, but I do know that the cardinal spends the winters here in Atlanta. Yesterday, there must have been 1000 birds overhead, fleeing for the winter. Other birds, like robins, sort of stay around, but hide themselves. I always felt bad for the robin, remembering the child’s verse, “The North Wind will blow, and we shall have snow, and what will the Robin do then – poor thing? He’ll sit in the barn, to keep himself warm, and hide his head under his wing – poor thing!”

     Could the winter habits of birds be teaching me something about suffering? Warren Wiersbe says that in suffering we tend to fall into three categories of coping. We can escape – flee when the cold winds come. We can endure – hide ourselves under our wings – poor things! Or we can enlist – find an evergreen loaded with nourishment to shelter us from the storm. We, unlike birds, have a choice.
     I will choose the cardinal this winter. Escaping is out of the question, enduring is drudgery, but enlisting is taking the winter on, finding the bright, red berries in the cold, singing when the wind blows cold, and trusting that Spring will certainly come. I am not surprised at wonderful and amazing God – He not only gives the wintering cardinal the instinct to nest in the protected denseness of the holly, but also provides food right outside the door of his nest and places it all for us to view. How much more does he provide for us? As the song says, “His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me." (taken from When God Comes Near, Chapter 7)

      For a cardinal to actually come into my house was a visit out of the ordinary. Maybe you have had such a visit. Others had those visits. Isaiah was visited by God's counsel 700 years before the birth of Jesus. He must have been so profoundly moved by his vision he wrote in Isaiah 9:6, "For a child has been born for us." Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and wise men all had visits out of the ordinary. But the smallest visit to earth was Jesus himself - a tiny, out-of-the-ordinary child who came for us. And He still calls us today, saying, "Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking; if you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me." Revelation 3:20
                      I open my door today with hope - even in the cold - and invite Him in.

Small Signs of God #10 - On the Bridge Between The Sacred and The Secular

The Bridge of Angels, Rome

Millions of people celebrate the Christmas season, but not all of them are Christians. They shop and decorate. They attend the politically correct "Holiday" Party and participate in the music of the season. Some will say they are Christian, but just have trouble with a virgin birth and a resurrection - the two, really big mysteries. They say they believe in God and sometimes they go to church. They think there might be something after death - possibly a Heaven, but surely not a place called Hell. How could a loving God send someone to Hell? That's not very Christmas-y.

And then Advent comes and asks us to look again at the message proclaimed. The time is here when prophets warn, stars move in the sky  and angels proclaim. Those who are unsure in their faith find themselves in another Christmas quandary. They find themselves on the bridge between the sacred and the secular and the choice becomes one of confusion and distraction. Back and forth they go - we go. The immediate often reigns over the important. Sometimes it is the good over the best.

I heard a speaker who made a strong point about this division. She said there are two voices inside of us. Deep inside each of us there is God's Spirit calling. Outside, there is the world calling - usually pulling in the opposite direction. Somehow those voices gear up for our attention during the time of Advent. The world pulls us to material pleasures and God's Spirit pulls to one, holy silent night. It becomes a battle and Advent can leave us feeling sad and depressed.

The conversation between Charlie and Lucy in the movie A Charlie Brown Christmas explains our frustrations:

Charlie Brown: I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."

Lucy: "Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem."

Christmas is not the problem. Christmas is the solution. Christmas is the voice that calls to us throughout the year. Maybe it's because during this beautiful season for celebrating, we find ourselves still on that bridge of indecisiveness, still wondering, still watching for some small sign of God.

God whose infant cries call me to your holy night,

                                Guide my steps to your sacred manger,

                                                                     For You are the solution.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16