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Figuring Out Advent

I recently entered into a very thought-provoking and respectful conversation on social media (yes, it can and does happen) about a strange topic. ‘God Never Hurries.’ That is all it said and before I knew it, I had responded with, “Are you sure?”  You know those moments when you are contemplating the topic and you don’t realize your fingers are actually responding to it? Yeah, that was this.

This is actually something I have been pondering for quite sometime though, not this particular topic, but it does relate. Now bear with me, I will try to bring it all back around. I believe that we have made a standard out of Christ. Which is good!!! Well, to a certain degree this is good! If you have attended a Christian church of ANY denomination, you will have heard it spoken over and over again that we need to make it our goal to be more like Christ. AND I AGREE WHOLE HEARTEDLY! But I believe, or at least I have noticed a pattern in my own life, that we have strayed from ‘being like” and have now made it our goal to ‘be’ Christ without ever saying as much in actual words.

This became very real to me in the aforementioned conversation. It isn’t that we are striving to be God, but by placing so much focus on being like Christ– which is actually an unattainable goal, we might as well be as we are setting ourselves up for certain failure. And I don’t think that was Christ’s purpose in coming to this earth. We can never be as loving as God or as gentle, patient, kind, authoritative, honorable, altruistic or selfless, put the adjective in and we will never match up; but I think that is because God and humankind are playing two very different games.

Where God came to bring wholeness in the midst of division, we tend to believe he came to bring perfection to imperfection– to make the imperfect… perfect. But I think, if we look at the whole of Scripture, we find that it is the reverse of that. Finding perfection in the midst of imperfection, finding peace inside of chaos, finding hope in the middle of complete despair, and even Christ exhibited this in being completely God and completely human, being in time and outside of time, being the Creator and the created. I think I have lived Christianity as ‘either or,’ but now I understand it as ‘both.’ Because I will never be exactly like Christ, but I can be exactly who he created me to be. And that is one of the things, I think, we have lost sight of in the Christian faith: that we have been created uniquely and have been called to be like Christ as much as we can be while embracing what makes us individuals and human.

I experienced this in a very beautiful way about two weeks ago. I was home alone with the two kids, we had appointments we needed to be at very quickly, they wanted to play, I wanted to duck tape them into their winter clothes, and right as frustration was beginning to mount, in my spirit I felt a quiet realization. I am Bethlehem. I am not Jesus, I am not Mary or Joseph, the shepherds, wise men, angels or any of the imagined animals we so often picture. I am Bethlehem in all the mayhem and rush, tumble, filth (I am potty training my second born, need I say more?) and in this moment, I choose to make space and welcome in the Holy. I can’t avoid all of the busy-ness or hurried-ness, some of it is good and I don’t want to miss out on it– kids, hello!, so I don’t think that is a realistic goal. There will always be a sense of chaos, despair, fear, hatred, and whatever, but I can be present, mindful, and make room for Christ in the middle of it. Like Jesus would for us.

The Silence

the silence is not empty
   just foreign
      for someone practiced in performing…
         in a  frantic self where
the words,
   a flood held back.

the dam breaks
   so grateful for an ear
      they tumble out
         and strike a Rock,
to settle in the pond
   to wait.

 

Grandfather Oak

Another poem from my daughter-in-law, Kelly Herbert

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Grandfather Oak
by Kelly Herbert

An oak tree in autumn,
Has the nostalgic power
Not unlike the timeless smell of grandpa’s aftershave.
Its reassuring stance fills the eye,
Warm and familiar.
They will linger through the winter,
Those golden leaves,
Holding on to the memory of a life well lived.
Curling slightly,
Leathery,
Crisp.
Unlike a maple leaf,
They do not call out to grab your eye;
Their color,
Consistent and friendly,
Is indifferent to the flamboyance of fall.

 

the birthing stool

what was it like
i wonder as i wait…
for the people to pass
through the tunnel…
that passage in the night.
   a birth to the other side.
pushed by the labor, then
   pushed by the army…
out of the womb of Egypt
   out of the familiar past…
      through that passage in the night
to the other side of the sea.

the veil is thin
when we sit upon the birthing stool.

   what must i do
   i wonder as i wait…
      to pass through this tunnel…
      this passage in the night.
in the moonlight
in the starlight i struggle.
   so i might see
      out of the familiar
         through a passage in the night
            to the other side
of me.

 

One Man

Jesus why did you cross the sea
and only one man set free?
From the chaos in his life,
and the rags of his mind,
from the fragments of family,
and the shackles of time?

You saw that man
with eternity’s care,
You took his rags
and claimed them as yours,
and clothed him instead
with a mind that was clear

Jesus, you crossed eternity,
You spoke peace to a man,
peace to the world,
you silenced with your word…
and gathered fragments
and rags…
to replace what was…
for eternity’s chair.

 

I spent 4 months meditating on Luke 8:22-39 in the early months of 2015. Four months of thinking about what it was like for that man, for the observers, and for the family in the story.  One man whose mind was filled with so much chaos created by demons past and present. A man rejected and separated from family, friendship, society… from love.  Then Jesus came.