Today marks a new week, a new season, a new year, a new bracelet. Today is the first day of Advent, and I'm having a hard time being still. Even when my body is still, my mind is racing. My aim for this season of Advent is peace and calm. But already I know the season brings busyness, because I can already see what the calendar looks like. And so, I am working on ways to cultivate peace in this season. Here are some thoughts:
Curate an ADVENT playlist that brings my heart to a place of quiet longing.
Live in the rhythms of sunrise and sunset, taking cues from nature for when to be still.
Anticipate the needs of my family and plan meals, including shopping, prep, and cooking time.
Complete my work intentionally AT WORK, not bringing it home to complete in the evenings.
Play games with my family in the evenings.
Read by candlelight in the evenings.
This year we are going to try lighting only the advent wreath during the week, and only the advent wreath and other candles on Sundays. The Christmas lights are up with all the decorations, but we will not turn them on until Christmas Eve, thus leaning into the feeling of darkness and anticipation. And then... fiat lux! Christmas bursts forth with glorious splendor as we celebrate the Light of the World!
We are in the midst of an unwanted transition right now, not something I have any control over, but something I am caught up in. And it makes my heart heavy. As I came home from work today, feeling the weight of grief, I could only see the base of the mountains. It felt like the very clouds were pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. It was as if the skies outside and my heart inside stood eye to eye and made a place for my sorrow. Here is what came out of that:
All Saints Day has become one of my favorite holidays. We begin with an All Saints Feast at school, which helps get us into the right frame of mind for this particular holiday. Often, the feast is ON All Saints Day, though this year it was on October 31, in deference to our students and staff who are Catholic and Orthodox and would be celebrating with their churches on November 1. This year, instead of a homily, we had a group present Byzantine Chant for us at the feast. It was BEAUTIFUL! Here is John Michael Boyer chanting Psalm 23. This is not one of the pieces he performed at the feast, but is similar. Some were Greek, some English. All mesmerizing and beautiful.
For our own All Saints observance, we did what we have done the last few years... we light the Christ candle, and from that light individual candles for those whom God has used in our lives, living or dead, to shape our faith.
It is a beautiful time of remembrance for those who have passed on from this life. This year we remembered my grandmothers Helen Mowers and Kathryn Bitikofer, grandfathers Bill Mowers and Ralph Bitikofer, Eliana's great grandfather Rolan Albright, family friend Grandma Bennie, among others. Thank you, Lord, for those who have influenced the ways in which we have been raised to believe in and love you.
We remembered those saints who lived long before us, whose faithfulness paved the way for our own. Some of these included Martin Luther, Corrie Ten Boom, the apostle Paul, and Augustine.
We also remembered those saints who are still with us, who encourage us to walk faithfully day in and day out. Some of these are people we see and talk to regularly, like Craig Dunham, my parents Lauren and Kathy Bitikofer, Leif's parents Terry and Wenda Wickland, Craig and Bobbi Miller, Jason Bowker, and others. Some are people whose words have meant so much to us, bolstering us to shine His light forth in the darkness. Thank you, Lord, for the work and words of people like Andrew Peterson, Jenn Giles Kemper, and Malcom Guite.
I read two of Malcom Guite's sonnets from Sounding The Seasons to conclude our time, both written for All Saints Day.
Though Satan breaks our dark glass into shards,
Each shard still shines with Christ's reflected light,
It glances from the eyes, kindles the words
Of all his unknown saints. The dark is bright
With quiet lives and steady lights undimmed,
The witness of the ones we shunned and shamed.
Plain in our sight and far beyond our seeing,
He weaves their threads into the web of being.
They stand beside us even as we grieve,
The lone and left behind whom no one claimed,
Unnumbered multitudes, he lifts above
The shadow of the gibbet and the grave,
To triumph where all saints are known and named;
The gathered glories of his wounded love.
After that, we sat around the warmth and glow of the candles, meditating on God's goodness and our rich heritage of faith. As the candles burned down, we were reminded of the brevity of life on this earth, and our call to be salt and light in it, as we traverse the desert from captivity to promised land.
Lord, shine your light in us; make us faithful reflections of your light in this dark world. And as we walk through this last month of the liturgical year, let us be people of Thanks.
Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto, sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et semper, et in saecula saeclorum. Amen.
I've been pondering praying the hours lately, and talking with Eliana about the four loves. Tonight they converged as I sought a way to record the hours and how they might fit within the rhythm I currently live. This is what I came up with...
In the center, we have the Luther Rose, which reminds me to seek scripture over tradition, faith over works, and grace over merit. Praying the hours buys me nothing, earns me nothing, and means nothing if it does not keep me rooted in the Word. The golden rays remind me that all I do must be illuminated by the Word. The cross divides my day into quadrants, each containing two "hours." The hours themselves are in three hour intervals, from midnight to noon and back to midnight. The typical course of my day is seen in the hearts, each straddling two "hours" and filling one quadrant of the day, night, morning, afternoon, and evening. From midnight to six, I am generally sleeping. From six to eight, getting ready for the day, from eight to noon I am working, with my first class beginning at 8:50. From noon to three I spend visiting friends or reading. From three to six I am doing things around the house, picking Eliana up from school, getting dinner ready, etc. From six to nine we are eating dinner and doing household activities like homework, dishes, etc. From nine to midnight I am getting ready for bed and going to bed. As I looked at how my day was divided, I saw that the four loves nestle nicely into the quadrants, beginning with the time I spend solely with my spouse (eros), to the time I spend teaching children and interacting with coworkers (agape), to the time I spend with friends (philia), and the time I spend at home with my family (storge). While those quadrants do not impact praying the hours, they do remind me of the different ways I reflect God's love to others over the course of my day, and that is directly impacted by my time in scripture and prayer. The smaller circles before and after each hour provide space for putting aside my thoughts of the day and settling into prayer as well as stepping out of prayer and contemplating where God is leading me next in my day and activities. It is the time for easing into and out of formal prayer, while remaining in a state of watchfulness and wakefulness to the Spirit within and the world without.
I do not anticipate praying the Lauds, as I am usually asleep at 3am, but also leave room for restless, wakeful nights and remind myself to spend that time in prayer. If God sees fit to wake me, then I will praise Him for that time of prayer that would otherwise have been lost to me.
I’m in the midst of several books right now, in several formats, on several topics. Here are the books forming the larger conversations I’m currently participating in...
Audio Books:
Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan
Walden by Henry David Thorough
Kindle Books:
Scraps, Peels, and Stems: Recipes for Rethinking Food Waste at Home by Jill Lightner
Eve in Exile and the Restoration of Femininity by Rebekah Merkle
Paper Books
Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of your Child by Anthony Esolen
Newton’s Principia
Enlightening Symbols: A Short History if Mathematical Notation by Joseph Maxie
Gaia’s Garden: A Guide to Home-Scale Permaculture by Toby Hemenway
A Small Porch: Sabbath Poems 2014-2015 by Wendell Berry
Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth by Walter Bruggemann
Sounding the Seasons by Malcom Guite
Light Upon Light: A Literary Guide to Prayer for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany by Sarah Arthur
The last few on the list I’m working through systematically as the liturgical year progresses, so they are not ones I make significant, so much as steady, progress on.
The last week was a difficult one, with events commemorating Bill Terry’s life and passing occupying my time and thoughts. I didn’t read as much as I had been, but that’s okay. The habits and patterns of reading interrupted by grief will return, sooner for me than for the family, so for now I will mourn with those who mourn, leaving time and space for reflection and prayer when I find myself unable to focus on the words on the page.
The world needs Christian scientists.
The world needs Christian mathematicians.
The world needs Christian authors.
The world needs Christian musicians.
The world needs Christian doctors.
The world needs Christian engineers.
The world needs Christian philosophers.
The world needs Christian teachers.
The world needs Christian fathers.
The world needs Christian mothers.
The world needs Christians. Because...
The world needs Christ.
I just learned of his sudden death, the husband of my friend, the father of my students, whom we have known for years. And I am at a loss, for words, for her, for them. God, grant them peace.
My 12 year old daughter told me recently that I have a “very bad habit of reading more than one book at a time.” I told her it wasn’t a bad habit at all! When I read more than one book at a time, the books get to talk to each other!
I like listening in to the conversation my books are having with each other. More often than not, there are themes that arise across the books I am reading, in places I don’t expect. That is part of the joy of reading!
Currently, I’m listening in on conversations among these books:
Newton’s Principia - this begins with a beautiful poem by Edmond Halley and continues in discussing the precision of geometry, and the imprecision of mechanics and language. He is also talking about ratio and proportion and the discovery of large truths from small truths.
Sounding the Seasons by Malcom Guite - this is book of poetry that begins with the mathematical proportionality of a sonnet and the aesthetic appeal of a black square of text on a white page, as well as the appropriateness of of the sonnet form developing out of an oral tradition of poetry.
Beauty for Truth’s Sake by Stratford Caldecott - more math discussion here, coupled with wonder and enchantment, which happened to be the central ideas of a book I recently finished: Recapturing the Wonder by Mike Cosper. Neither of these books I chose for myself; one was a Christmas gift and the other is reading for school. And yet... they’re happily chatting away with each other and I am fortunate enough to be listening in. Beauty for Truth’s Sake is also conversing with the Principia.
Anthony Esolen’s Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child - this is another read for school, and its introduction is having a brief discussion with Sounding the Seasons on the importance of memory and the value of poetry.
Gaia’s Garden by Toby Hemenway - this book on permaculture has a surprising amount to discuss with the other books I’m reading, especially the books by Esolen, Caldecott, and Guite. While the book is focused on permaculture in gardening, the introduction discusses the wide range of application for permaculture, which seems to be an overarching theme, albeit in different terminology, among several of the other books I’m reading. This interlocution has been a delightful discovery.
A Small Porch by Wendell Berry - part poet, part farmer, Wendell Berry has much to say in this collection of poems and essay on the Sabbath that intertwines with Gaia’s Garden and Sounding the Seasons and Beauty for Truth’s Sake.
Enlightening Symbols by Joseph Mazur - this short history of mathematical notation begins with a contrast of the symbolism inherent in language, specifically poetry, and math. It is an etymology, of sorts, of mathematical notation, and as such it finds itself seated at the table, in conversation with Newton and Caldecott, and with Berry and Guite, and with Latin, with which my days are filled.
So... these are the central contributors to the current colloquium. As I finish some books and begin new ones, the conversation will change in new and interesting ways, but the conversation will continue. That is what it means to read. I read, not to be immersed in some other world and escape this one, but to allow the conversation of other times and other places to draw me in that I may be fully immersed in THIS world. And that seems like a very good habit indeed.
If, of course, you mean the new year of 2019, not the liturgical new year, which began with Advent a month ago.
I did stay awake last night to see the new year in, but I wasn't awake for much longer than that. This morning the house is quiet, and it is a welcome reprieve in a busy season. The week will pick back up with activity tomorrow, but today is a pause, a rest, as I ponder the new year and how I will be shaped in it.
One of the things I am shaped by is what I read. Books. Words. Verba.
There are some books I am currently reading, that I will finish this week. These are books like...
Waiting on the Word by Malcom Guite, which is written around a poem a day for Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. Malcome Guite is coming to Bozeman this spring, and I am excited to hear him speak. I ordered his book Sounding the Seasons, which is a book of seventy sonnets for the Christian year and I plan to read that over the course of this year.
I am really enjoying reading The Christmas Plains by Joseph Bottum. On loan from a friend, I had to order myself a copy to read next Christmas as well. It is beautifully written and I love how he plays with memories and words and truth that meanders its way through all. That I will have finished by Friday, when I return it to my friend. I am in the last chapter and, honestly, hope that I will have time today to enjoy that last bit of the book.
I am reading Light upon Light compiled by Sarah Arthur again this year. It is full of literary compilations for each week of Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany. That should last into March. For Christmas, my brother-in-law got me a copy of her Ordinary Time compilation, which I am looking forward to reading this summer and fall.
There are some other books I've started reading that may take longer than this week or this season to finish. Then again, they may not. I suppose that all depends on the rhythms I re-inhabit in this new year. Some of those include...
Recapturing the Wonder by Mike Cosper. This was a gift from another friend and I am two chapters in. It is full of deep thoughts, beautifully written, about the disenchantment of ourselves and our world and how to regain a transcendent faith in a disenchanted world. This book, I think, will play into a lot of my thoughts this year.
Newton's Principia. This is taking me a while to work through, but is rich and deep and beautiful on a mathematical level I have never understood. Newton lived in an enchanted world, and I think that makes all the difference in the beauty of his thoughts.
Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle which is an apology for the restoration of femininity. I'm about a quarter of the way through.
Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth by Walter Brueggemann. This is a book of prayers - poignant, beautiful prayers. Some are arranged according to the liturgical year, and many are written for the day in day out lives we live. I love his prayer for calendars and am praying this today:
Occupy our calendars
Our times are in your hands:
But we count our times for us;
we count our days and fill them with us;
we count our weeks and fill them with our busyness;
we count our years and fill them with our fears.
And then caught up short with your claim,
Our times are in your hands!
Take our times, times of love and times of weariness,
Take them all, bless them and break them,
give them to us again,
slow paced and eager,
fixed in your readiness for neighbor.
Occupy our calendars,
Flood us with itsy-bitsy, daily kairoi,
in the name of your fleshed kairos. Amen.
And then there are books I haven't begun yet, but intend to read this year. There are some themes I want to explore and some books I have had on the shelf and not read, and they make up the remainder of the pile I have sitting next to me...
Sabbath by Dan Allender. This and the next are part of my exploration and fleshing out of Sabbath practices. This is an area in which I'd like to grow this year.
A Small Porch by Wendell Berry. This was a gift from a friend who spent some time fleshing out her own family's Sabbath practices. This is one she found helpful in her own Sabbath journey and gave to help me along mine.
The Year of Small Things by Sarah Arthur and Erin Wasinger. Along the lines of Sabbath practices, this chronicles a year of small practices two families implemented to shape the liturgies and habits of their lives in the midst of the busy season of child rearing.
Quiet by Susan Cain. I've had this book on my shelf for a couple years and have decided it is time to read it.
Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child by Anthony Esolen. This goes along with the idea of inhabiting an enchanted world. I'm looking forward to reading it.
Beauty for Truth's Sake by Stratford Caldecott. This is a book on the Quadrivium, which sort of falls in line with Newton's Principia and the next book. I seem to have a bit of a math theme going on this year.
Norms and Nobility by David Hicks. This is another I have had on my shelf and not yet read. There are a few of us who are hoping to read through it this summer, when school is taking up less of our brain space.
Enlightening Symbols by Joseph Mazur. This is a short history of mathematical notation, more or less from the beginning up to Newton. It is in essence an etymology of mathematical symbolism and the stories surrounding their development and use. This is the book Leif got me for Jolabokaflod this year.
Gaia's Garden by Toby Hemenway. This is a book on permaculture and one I am reading with a friend during the month of January in anticipation of this summer's garden. I am looking forward to both the book and the time spent in discussion with my friend.
So there you have it... Some of the things I hope to read over the course of this year. I am sure there are others that will make their way onto my list as well, like The Wingfeather Saga and other works of fiction. I will finish reading The Last Unicorn with Eliana. It is such a beautiful story. Sometimes it is these works of fiction that capture the imagination most, with stories that are truer than fact. That is their beauty, after all. That is what draws us in.
If the One we celebrate this season is the Word of God, and we are made in the image of the Word, then our words, no matter who we are, in some way reflect the Word in us. Often, our words are a distortion of the the Word, twisted by sin, but where there is a glimmer of truth, goodness, or beauty, it is because He is the Word. We are rooted in Him in a way that we can not escape, no matter how far we run or how deep we hide. And so, words resonate with us. We read because we are drawn to the truth, beauty, and goodness we find in the words, that the words find in us. We read, because deep down, what we long for is the Word, and what the Word longs for is us.
In principio erat Verbum, et Verbum erat apud Deum, et Deus erat Verbum. ~ Secundum Ioannem 1:1
ADDENDUM: With the exception of Sabbath by Dan Allender, I read all of these books this year. Sabbath is on my list for 2020.
Here it is, on New Year's Eve, and I am home, in pajamas, not quite alone, but functionally so as I tidy up the aftermath of Saturday's Christmas celebration with my in-laws and my husband does whatever he's doing upstairs. Our 12 year old daughter is the only one with plans tonight, and I imagine she is having a grand time with friends, watching movies, eating, and staying up well past her typical bedtime. My aim is to start the new year with a calm, peaceful living room that will look very much like it did before Saturday's festivities. My aim is also to go to bed shortly after midnight, if I make it another hour. The mess tells me I still have an hour to go, so I will probably still be up to see the new year in. Whether I am or not, the 2019 will arrive. It doesn't need pomp and circumstance, it just needs time. With it, though, is a new year in which to declare Christ as Lord. Having just celebrated his birth a week ago, it is time to remember His lordship as we ring in the 2019th year of the reign of our Lord, Jesus Christ. I do not think it coincidental that we mark the passing of time with reference to the birth of Christ, though I think we often forget why we number our years as we do. It is easy to forget, on nights like this that are quiet and dark and cold - it's -7* outside currently - that we are in the midst of Christmastide, of celebrating the hope that has come and is coming again! As we wait in anticipation of the new year, may we remember that we serve a King who already sits on the throne, whose image is stamped on our souls, whose light shines in the darkness, who is our hope and our peace. Tonight, we celebrate, as people around the world declare that Jesus Christ is Lord with the ringing in of a new year. Tomorrow, we continue looking forward to the day when every tongue confesses that He is Lord. Happy New Year!
New Year's Eve
Of old and new
Of gold and blue
The clock ticks on
To midnight.
It feels darker, starker,
But the countdown
Leads to day.
This eve is like Advent:
A time of waiting
For the hope of something new
To arrive.
But advent has gone
And Hope has come
And we are but awaiting
His name on this eve of
the 8th day of Christmas.
2019 years it has been
Since He was named
Lord
of the ages
of Lords
And of Kings
Anno Domini
His sovereignty declared
With each exploding star
In the midnight sky
With each cheer of goodwill
Each twelve stroked kiss
They celebrate
The past and future
Coronation of the King
With the ringing in of this
New Year of our Lord.
On New Year's Eve, Anno Domini, Advent, and Christmastide.
I wrote this poem on the afternoon of December 22nd, while pondering the busyness of the Advent season, even while trying to keep the holiday frenzy at bay. I have yet to figure out how to flip the paradigm from busy Advent and "restful" (i.e. tuckered-out) Christmas, to restful Advent and celebratory Christmas.
I feel like it is a battle to hold the clamor of commercialism at bay, to actually Advent well. A friend and I visited recently and discussed what it would be like to Advent well, to actually sit in the watchful, waiting dark. We bounced around ideas like not decorating until Christmas, or not lighting any lights until Christmas Eve. But the battle rages within me; on the one hand, I love having my decorations up throughout the season and the idea of putting up my decorations on Christmas Eve sounds daunting. On the other hand, it is hard to imagine that the Light has come when we've been enjoying the lights for a month.
And then I think thoughts like... but what if we didn't turn on the Christmas lights or light the candles until Christmas Eve? How would that change the anticipatory feel of Advent? For one, it might magnify the light of the Advent wreath. Instead of it being the only bank of candles we don't light, it would be the only ones we do light, and incrementally at that. The Advent wreath could take center stage on our table, and we can burn the candles during dinner, lighting one more each week. The brightness of the Christ candle would shine forth, then, in a new way on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning. It's a thought, with more to follow, I'm sure.
Fast forward a few hours after this poem. We came home from dinner out. I had left a bag by the front door with a bowl to return to my friend, in case she stopped by to pick it up while we were out. Sure enough, the bowl was gone, and in its place was a movie she had borrowed, a wrapped gift, and a book titled The Christmas Plains by Joseph Bottum. She suggested I read chapter 3, especially as it pertained to our discussion about the disappearance of Advent. In the essay, Bottum talks about the consequences of ever-elongated Christmas seasons, beginning now before Thanksgiving. The exponential anticipation of holiday hype leading up to Christmas can't possibly be fulfilled with gifts from the store and a turkey dinner; as the "Advent" season gets brighter and louder and sparklier and busier, Christmas Day becomes anticlimactic. All the magic we'd hoped for is spent on electricity and batteries to power toys that barely distract us in a few days' time. "This is what Advent, rightly kept, would halt --" Bottum says, "the thing, in fact, Advent is designed to prevent. Through all the preparatory readings, through all the genealogical Jesse trees, the somber candles on the wreaths, the vigils, and the hymns, Advent keeps Christmas on Christmas Day: a fulfillment, a perfection and completion, of what had gone before."
It's worth fighting for Advent. It's worth waiting in the dark for the sun to rise, instead of flipping on the lights and pretending it isn't dark outside. If we want to march triumphantly, to journey with the wise men, from Christmas to Epiphany, we must make sure we haven't been led astray during Advent. It's a battle, but I think it's one worth fighting.
Advent is the Battleground
Advent is the battleground
in which we fight to rest.
We hurry to wait
so we can rush fast
the feast of the Nativity
all the while feasting
on cakes and cookies
and candies and choirs,
because the artificial twinkle
lights have swallowed up
the very real dark,
and we have marched
in the triumph
before the battle's begun.
And that is how we lost,
not marching,
but being marched
through the fields in which
we should be fighting,
led without resistance
by those who declare it
a time for rejoicing.
Repent, for the kingdom of heaven
has come near.
On the loss of Advent in our culture and the triumphal march of commercialism
Today is Saint Lucia Day. In general, we don't celebrate saint days, but this one... this one feels... different. Maybe it's the Scandinavian heritage passed from my husband to my daughter. Maybe it is the darkest of the dark setting in as we approach the solstice. Maybe it is the beauty of taking what we have and carrying it forth in the light of Christ to share his love with others. Whatever it is, over the past few years this has become a day that we love.
As I revisited the stories about Saint Lucia, I was pondering her name, derived from lux, lucis, meaning "light". It is fitting for her day to be filled with light, not because she is the light, but because she bears the Light before others.
One whose name is also derived from lux means "light bearer" and yet in stark contrast does not bear the light, but seeks to destroy the light. Lucifer was intended to bear the light, but rejected the role he was supposed to play.
Lucia also rejected the role she was supposed to play, dedicating her life to Christ instead of to the dictates of contemporary culture. One is a rejection of Christ for culture in order to gain glory, the other is a rejection of culture for Christ, for His glory. I think there is more to ponder here.
Both Lucia and Lucifer share a common linguistic root, and with that playing through my head this Advent season, a time of dark and light, anticipating life and death, these are my thoughts (in draft)... Luci(fer)
Whose name means light
but bears the light
Is not the light
But steps with light, quick feet
to bring light
and hope
and abundance
to those whose is waning
like the afternoon sun
like the lifeless walls
of the tombs they indwell
dead inside
and outside
dark outside
and inside
but light
and life!
survive.
Whose name bears light
But means the light
To not be light
And uses light and heavy hands
To twist light
Into darkness
And lack
To steal rest from the weary
With sleepless nights
And busy days
That trade life for death
Empty inside
And outside
Sepulchral outside
And inside
To overcome life
And light
But can’t.
The Light... comes
and with it, Hope
and Abundance
Grace and Peace
and Joy and Love
and death
and life.
And light
Shines.
The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.
On Saint Lucia and Lucifer and Christ, who is the Light of the world.
Tomorrow begins Advent. This morning I lit incense instead of the Christ candle in the front hall. I pulled out the advent devotional we are reading as a church and read this:
It was fitting, because just last night, after an afternoon making liturgical bracelets and discussing Sabbath with a dear friend, I was pondering what it is to imagine the kingdom, even as we wait for the king. As thoughts swirled around in my head, I was drawn to Penelope waiting for Odysseus to return as the Church waits for Christ’s return as a bride waits for her bridegroom. Though not yet polished, these are my thoughts from last night...
Ladies in Waiting
Which of these ladies is waiting for me?
Asks the Bridegroom on his long journey home.
Only the Bride keeps her lamp well lit.
Only the Bride holds her suitors at bay.
The rest say they're waiting,
but they're eating and drinking.
They sing and they dance and they sleep
while she waits.
They stay in my kingdom
but it's not their home.
I built it for her, for my Bride, for my Love,
A refuge for her,
a shadow and promise of what is to come,
of a future secured,
a life that is shared.
So she waits
and hopes
and dreams
about what it will be like to share the fullness of this kingdom
with me, when I return,
when I remove the suitors
who are squandering the gifts
I left for her to enjoy.
Her ladies in waiting tell her I am long gone,
that I never really loved her,
or that I died, and there's no returning from the dead.
But they are not waiting,
they're just biding their time.
No hope for the future,
they hunger for now.
They eat the seeds instead of waiting for fruit,
settling for winter instead of longing for spring.
They use the oil instead of lighting the lamp.
"Look how my skin glows!"
They say in the dark.
"Can we use your oil, too?" They ask.
"What do you have for us?"
"Join us," they say, "make yourself pretty, too!
The Bridegroom will like you better that way!
(if he comes)"
But she does not listen
for she knows I am coming
and beauty is faithfulness
not skin that might glisten.
So she keeps her lamp lit
and her eyes on the horizon,
weaving and waiting,
waiting, and weaving,
not a funeral shroud, or a garment for mourning
but wedding clothes she will wear in the morning,
when the lamp is not needed to get through the night,
when the day breaks forth in glorious light
and we are home, together.
Penelope, the Church, the Wise Virgins, and Advent
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.
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.
Today is Holy Name Day, celebrated in the church as the day Jesus was circumcised and given his name, 8 days after birth, according to Jewish law. It is also New Years Day in the western calendar and, as such, is always a time of reflection for me. This year the two celebration days have me pondering Revelation 2, Dan Allender, and the story God is writing for my life.
Revelation 2:17
Whoever has ears, let them hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it.
In "To Be Told," Dan Allender talks about our time right now being between names. We are given a name as infants, and we will be given a new name at the end of our lives. What are we in-between?
When I was born, my parents named me Elizabeth, a Hebrew name that means "consecrated to God." This is part of who I am. My parents, in the choice of my name, declared me sacred and set apart for God.
God knows what He is doing with my life. It is I who am discovering His leading and purpose along the way. So where is He taking me this year? What chapter will He write for 2018?
As I ponder my identity, my existence between two names, I am drawn to this description of who I am. I am...
1. God worshipping
2. Idolatry discerning
3. Earth keeping
4. Beauty creating
5. Justice seeking
6. Creation enjoying
7. Servant working
8. Community building
9. Image reflecting
10. Order discovering
I look forward to seeing how these descriptions are fleshed out over the course of the year and beyond.
I remember as a teenager being asked to
share my testimony and thinking that I wished my testimony were more
“interesting.”
I grew up in a Christian home where my
parents not only read the Bible, but believed and lived it daily. I
came to know Christ at a very young age. I attended Christian schools
from kindergarten all the way through college. People talk about
their rebellious teenage years and college party days; mine were
filled with mission trips, studying God's word, and preparing for a
lifetime of serving Him.
I didn't realize what a blessing my
testimony was. I didn't think my story was very “interesting.”
Then again, I thought my story was about me.
You see, God didn't save me from a life
of drugs and alcohol, or a broken home, or the circumstances that
surrounded me. When God saved me, He saved me from what was rooted
deep within – and that was sin. And it didn't matter what my story
was before, because from the moment I was saved, God gave me a new
story with a different ending. My story isn't about me. My LIFE isn't
about me.
So what I want to share with you today
is that this, the Bible, is my story. It tells everything about me,
from who I was, to who I am, to where my eternity lies. It outlines
the struggles I will face on earth and how I am to respond to them.
This is what scripture says,
“Consider it pure joy, my brothers,
whenever you face trials of many kinds, because
you know that the testing of your
faith develops perseverance.” - James 1:2-3
As some of you know, this last year was
one of the most difficult I have been through. We had a lot of
change, some personal decisions that were made, and I spent the
better part of the year working toward a goal that, in the end,
didn't yield the results I expected. It was a hard year. But
something happened in the midst of it all – God used the trials of
this year to reveal some of the sin that had hold of my heart. And
through the trials, He chiseled away at that sin until it no longer
had hold of me. As a result, I look more like Him today than I did a
year ago, and THAT I consider pure joy and worth every one of those
trials!
Mine is a story of faithfulness, not
because I have been faithful, but because He has taken my story and
replaced it with one of HIS faithfulness. I have seen His
faithfulness in my life, I have seen it this year, and I have seen it
in the story He gave me (the Bible).
I used to wish my story were more
“interesting.” But last night my grandmother passed away and as I
reflected on her life, I praise God for the faithfulness He has
provided my family for generations – Grandparents who loved and
served Him, who taught their children to love and serve Him, who
taught me to love and serve Him. I pray that I am faithful to teach
my daughter to love and serve God as well. God, who is faithful to
transform me from the inside out, to chisel away at the sin,
revealing a heart that looks like His.
I read The Hunger Games Trilogy on my Kindle this weekend and tore through all 3 books in less than 48 hours. They were amazing! The story line is captivating and Suzanne Collins manages to hold my attention throughout the books, even as the plot and storyline change with each new book. While the books are definitely violent and even gory, they are surprisingly clean and free of vulgar language, which I appreciate.
I don't know exactly which genre to put these books into, but I'd put them somewhere between sci-fi and war/action, with quite a bit of coming of age thrown in. Whatever the genre, I definitely recommend them.
