What am I doing

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Feast of St. Thomas

I lift up my eyes to the hills;

  from where is my help to come?

My help comes from the Lord,

  the maker of heaven and earth.

Psalm 121: 1-2

“What am I doing,” I whisper to myself in the pre-dawn. Having opened my laptop to complete a task, I immediately became distracted by the number of open files on my desktop and after taking care of a couple of them I can no longer remember what it was that I wanted to do.

What am I doing? This is probably an apt refrain as I head into the final week of Advent, which, in reality, is not a week but a few days. As the morning light increases, the angel on top of our family creche is revealed along with a backdrop of snow-covered trees that I had not expected. I didn’t know that yesterday’s sleet had become more substantial overnight.

What am I doing? What is God doing, is perhaps the better question. However else I spend these last few days of this season of expectation, I am reminded that I need to keep my attention focused on the Holy One. Who is ever active, always present, continuously redeeming heaven and earth.

Mastering getting ready

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

Offer to God a sacrifice of thanksgiving

and make good your vows to the Most High.

Psalm 50:14

I sit in the quiet room in the late evening, the space lighted only by the Christmas tree. I allow the peace of the moment to sink in, comforting me like a well-loved blanket. 

It has been a good day, a day of preparation. Some presents wrapped. A package ready to be mailed to family far away. The kitchen cleaned, email dealt with, work projects wrangled.

The day has been wrapped in prayer as well, beginning with a morning healing prayer group and ending with bible study, a discussion of angels, and the courage to ask God to come among us with great might.

Now I pray again, thanking God for the fullness, the holy solace, the solitude and the community. I realize that, at this point in Advent, preparation has become my spiritual practice. I may never be ready; yet I have come close to mastering getting ready. And for this I am grateful.

Radiance

 Wednesday of the Third Week of Advent

O God, you are my God; eagerly I seek you;

my soul thirsts for you, my flesh faints for you,

as in a barren and dry land where there is no water.

Therefore I have gazed upon you in your holy place,

that I might behold your power and your glory.

Psalm 63:1-2

I must consciously breathe my way through the store, focusing on my list and not allowing my senses, and my soul, to be captured by all that is on offer. I can so easily become overwhelmed by commercial appeals, brightly colored items arranged attractively on shelves, and aisles that lead me to more stuff. I had thought this was going to be a one-stop trip. But I am now at my fourth store. And I’m getting cranky.

The enemy is always close at hand at the holy times, a friend tells me. Well of course. What better way to disrupt the peace brought by the one with healing in his wings than to lead us astray on our way to the manger.

I remind myself that the one who wants our joy to be complete can have nothing against stars and glitter and holiday cheer. After all, think of the magnificence that accompanied Jesus’ birth. An entire host of angels appeared to the shepherds! Just how many are in a host?

As I leave the store and step into the cold night, I see the radiance of the moon, just past full. Are angels hiding somewhere beyond that brightness, getting ready? I imagine a heavenly choir practice going on, a host preparing to light upon us in a week’s time, guiding all who seek to the glory of the incarnation. Again.

Slowly and silently

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

This God is our God for ever and ever,

and shall be our guide for evermore.

Psalm 48:13

I hear the hum of the washer and I see the fallen leaves from a house plant that need to be swept up and my list of things on today’s calendar runs through my head. Where is the sacred in all of this?

We have hurtled past the third Sunday of Advent and suddenly I am afraid I have missed the opportunity to envelope myself fully in this season. I want to surround my heart with expectant hope. I yearn for long stretches of contemplation on the miracle to come. I wish to slow down and savor the unfolding mystery of the incarnation that was and is and is about to be.

Just out of my sight, I know one of the houseplants is about to bloom. As it leans towards the window, its tiny buds stretch toward the winter sun, eager to soak up its energy. And there, I realize, is expectancy and hope. Slowly and silently this creation of God’s has been steadily divulging the ongoing mystery of new life.

God is here, always. And God guides me, scatters my daily path with direction and encouragement. The holy invitation to enter deeply into this Advent never expires.

Tasks

Monday of the Third Week of Advent

For I do not rely on my bow,

and my sword does not give me the victory.

Psalm 44:6

My brain is slow to kick into gear as I try to take care of important end-of-the-year administrative tasks. The problem with some of these is that I only do them once a year, and so I don’t remember the process. Which website? Which login? Do I still have that password?

I know that these tasks are worth my time, and that good administration supports fruitful ministry. And now, as I struggle to stay focused, I remind myself that even in this mundane work I can rely on God; in fact, I need to rely on God rather than solely on my own prowess.

Ultimately, my skills and knowledge come from God. I may have honed them, but God created me and gifted me and guided me.

I lean my head back so my face lifts heavenward and I offer thanks. The breath of God washes over me and I return to my tasks refreshed.

Dreamer

Saturday of the Second Week of Advent

Weeping may spend the night,
but joy comes in the morning.
Psalm 30:6

My morning coffee arrives in a large mug, steaming and beautiful. The café is warm, full of people and good smells and Saturday morning bustle. I sit solitary in the midst of this community, happy for the company that others probably don’t realize they are providing.

My coffee also comes with a message; “Idealist” is scrawled across the mug. Of course I see this as a sign. In the midst of this Advent, in the midst of this cold December, in the midst of God’s people, I am invited to see myself as a dreamer.

My breakfast companions have no idea whether my road has been smooth or troubled, and I know nothing of their sorrows and struggles and triumphs. Yet for this moment we share the way, and I will dream of a baby being born in our midst, crying out with new life, as this unknowing crowd witnesses salvation. 

A No Fret Zone

Thursday of the Second Week of Advent

Refrain from anger, leave rage alone;

do not fret yourself; it leads only to evil. 

Psalm 37:9

The fierce rains of yesterday have been replaced by fierce winds, causing the chimes in my backyard to sound almost riotous as if clamoring for my attention.

There is much competing for my attention right now so that I even overlook appointments that I placed on my calendar. The temptation is to fret about this, to try and cram everything in, as if Advent were a suitcase and I an overly ambitious packer.

I’m pretty sure fretting does not lead to the manger, and I know that worrying leads me astray. I have learned that the best approach to such clamoring is actually to be still. To do nothing. To listen. To wait. Only then will I be able to focus my attention on what is worthy.