Remembering to Rest

I remembered to rest today. Over Thanksgiving break I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I really rested. There is a never ending list of things to do and my attention gets pulled in a myriad of directions. I just keep going and going, collapsing at night with the list of things I didn't accomplish before I ran out of steam running through my head, only to wake up and do it again the next day. The rhythms of work and rest I inhabited last year have been lost in the sea of green, the ordinary weeks that make up my summers of freedom. When the school year began this year, my rhythms of work resumed, but the rest did not, and this realization crashed down upon me as I crashed under the weight of the head cold my husband shared with me. I didn't have time to be sick over my break! But if not on my break, when? I don't ever have time to be sick, because I don't ever have time. My weeks have become chapters of marginless pages, filled to the edges with things, good things, but things; not space. I find myself living without margin and needing to remember to rest.

So today, I remembered to rest. I went home, pulled out a new book, and read and prayed and rested. And as I did, the memory of margin welled up inside with the following (first draft of a) poem:

I FIND PEACE

In the margins
I take note
I speak with the author 
About what He wrote 
The margin gives space
For breath and for pause
For questions to ponder
About the next clause
A margin’s blank face
Is a spot of release
Is a break from relentless 
Words that don’t cease
Some margins are empty
None, though, are unfilled 
None are unneeded
Though thoughts may be stilled
Some margins are full of
Dear thoughts that are mine
Dear words of others
That return me to Thine
All margins provide a
Place for reflection
Place for the quiet, 
For thoughtful collection
Even the smallest of margins
Evokes small moments of rest
Evokes deeper connection
At the Author’s behest
Average margins are oft overlooked 
And provide space for living
And frames for each story
Of taking and giving
Wide margins reveal
Choices well made
Choices that keep our hearts
Tuned and well played 
In the margin, I find peace
Even among the words I am reading
Even amidst the life I am leading
The margin provides space for my heart to keep beating. 

Christ the King Sunday and Anticipating Advent

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the day we celebrate that Christ is Lord of the whole year, of all time, of every thing, of all that is, was, and ever will be. Though we declare that Christ is Lord with each check that we write and each passing year* it is all too easy to forget Whom we serve and in Whose kingdom we live. Though a relatively recent addition to the church calendar, it is fitting that we celebrate Christ the King Sunday the week before we enter the season of Advent, which is nearly upon us. It is a season of waiting, as we wait with Mary for the birth of her Son, and as we wait with the Church for the return of the King.

What if Advent is the season in which we learn how to wait, practicing the discipline of waiting each year so that when we are in a season of waiting in our lives, we know what to do?

What if the liturgical calendar is less about structure and observance, and more about shaping and molding the church into the bride she should be?

What if liturgy is less about what we do in the church and more about what the church does in us?

The liturgical year provides the rhythms of ebb and flow in which we learn to live faithfully throughout the various seasons encountered over the course of life. As the liturgical year follows the life of Christ, we are immersed in the stories of Christ for each season. These stories bring who we are in that year, in that season, into the light of the ever faithful protagonist, Christ, who is the Son of God, fully God and yet fully man, whose model we follow as we seek to become fully human, whose Spirit intercedes for us and indwells us, and who has provided a restored relationship with the Father through His sacrifice. Advent is the time of waiting, for we have been saved, and are still being saved. He has come, and yet is coming. And so, we wait. We wait with Mary as she carries the Christ child in her womb, waiting for her, and our, Savior to be born. We look back to the season of Pentecost and remember God's Spirit, given as an assurance of things to come. We look forward to Christmas and anticipate the coming of Christ, even as we wait for Him to come again. We ponder the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in this time of already and not yet, as we ponder Mary, indwelt by the Christ child as she waited in the time when he had already come, and not yet been born.

Lord, teach us to be vigilant during this time of waiting. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts that do not grow dull and cold. Let your light shine in us, and shine your light in the darkness, as we light the candles this season, remembering that you are the Light of the World, the Light no darkness has overcome. Reveal in us the darkness that would try to obscure your light, and create in us clean hearts, humbled before you as our Lord and King. May we love with your love as we wait with your patience, praying that Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven, in this time that we anticipate the celebration of the One who rules in heaven, come to earth. Amen.

Things I'm Pondering:

• The Holy Spirit given at Pentecost and the work of the Spirit in the Church during Ordinary Time carried through Advent with the anticipation of the return of the King.  
• The red of Pentecost and the green of Ordinary Time after Pentecost carried through in the colors of the holly and berries, and other red / green Christmastide symbolism.
• The tongues of fire of Pentecost and the light of the Advent candles / Christ candle.
• The Spirit of Christ residing within the body of Christ, the church, between Pentecost and the second coming of Christ and Christ residing within the body of Mary during Advent.    

* The year 2018, in which we currently reside, is so numbered for being 2,018 years since the birth of Christ. Distinguishing between BC and AD makes this clearer, as BC abbreviates "before Christ" and AD abbreviates anno domini, which translates "in the year of our Lord" and draws a clear distinction between time keeping in reference to human kings and time keeping in reference to our eternal King.