Today I was supposed to go to Weight Watchers. Instead I made Christmas cookies.
And by that I mean I made Jeans Bars, so named because they’re guaranteed to make your jeans tight. Yeah. I know, I know…
But, it got me to thinking about the food I need far more than Christmas cookies.
And the God who has given to all of us who are hungry and thirsty for that “more”…
The other day I was wrestling (and by that I mean full body Hulk Hogan throw-down wrestling) with the tangled Christmas lights outside by the prickly pokey evergreens in front of our house. My hands numb, my nose drippy.
And under my frosty breath I muttered “He never helps with this. If any decorating is going to get done it has to be me. Always me doing all the work to make us Christmas-ready.”
I know. My problems are so real!
As I write this it is the first Sunday morning of Advent. It’s foggy and ugly outside my Starbucks window, but I live in Minnesota so I know snow is right around the corner which makes me so happy.
I’m an early morning person, but I know many are just now lumbering, hustling, shivering, or springing out of bed. Some to get kids dressed and combed. Some, bumping around a dark empty house or apartment alone. Getting ready for worship.
Some will be driving to church with an attitude of habitual going-through-the-motions resignation.
But for me…and for most I think, there is always a glimmer of expectation. As small as a twinkle light, but it’s there for sure. A tiny bit of hope that we’ll meet God in that worship space and hear a whisper from Him.
I love making lists.
And I’ve been making a lot of them lately.
To-do lists, grocery lists, lists of goals, and especially Christmas lists of gifts, and party planning, and elf-like stuff.
I think one reason we make lists is because we like the illusion of control it gives us. It says “I have a plan!” We get to check things off, accomplish things (and yes, I’ve been known to do something and then add it to my list so I could check it off).
But sometimes those lists are the very thing that threaten to leave us clutching a bottle of Advil, wondering “How in the world did I get in this mess and how many days til January 2nd?”
And then I imagine Jesus saying, “Come to Me all who are weary with Christmas and give me your lists.”
It’s coming on christmas
They’re cutting down trees
They’re putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace.
Joni Mitchell’s been singing those lyrics in my brain today.
It’s coming on Christmas…
and we’re in “getting ready mode”.
John’s been gone at meetings in Houston so I’ve been using the time to get the house ready for Christmas.
And, as I wrote last week, our daughter Maggie got engaged and would like an early summer wedding, so we’re getting ready for that which means constant g-chats and texts with the girls in D.C., and phone calls to check dates with…well, everyone.
And then over the weekend the “to do’s” of Christmas hit me. You know, like when you’ve noticed that it started snowing but then you don’t look outside for awhile and when you look again you can’t believe how it’s piled up. There’s a lot that I’ve promised to do that has snuck up on me like a silent snow drift.
And I’m grateful for a full life, but I need to get ready for all of it.
This morning, in between doing all this getting ready stuff there were several distinct moments of silence and solitude when it felt like God said, “Hold it. Shhhh. I’m here.”
And in those moments I wondered what getting ready for Christmas really looks like.
I feel full. Stuffed, in fact.
As I write this it’s the day after Thanksgiving in the U.S. and I’m in a Starbucks in a suburb of Chicago where all my extended family live. Christmas music is on in the background and Katy and John are heading over to join me so all is right in my world.
I am full of of turkey and laughter, and hugs and stories retold again and again around the long dinner table. And prayers.
In our family we are blessed.
Thanksgiving is about fullness…reflecting on the fullness of the past year and filling up with more of God’s goodness echoing from the voices and reflected in the eyes of ones who love us and love Jesus.
But life seems to be a process of both filling and emptying.
We are emptied.
Depleted from discouragement, draining relationships, and days that seem to require the patience and strength of a super-hero. Fatigued with fear of failure or future or just busyness.
And we are filled.
With whispers of His Word, and glimpses of His beauty and love and faithfulness in the ordinary moments of life.
The “Jesusy answer” may seem pat and tired, and hard to understand…mysterious in a way that makes us resist it. And incomplete this side of heaven. Our cups get bumped and jostled and tipped over and the only One who can do a real filling is Jesus.
This year, there was a change in our Thanksgiving traditions. We needed a time of filling. For the first time ever, there were no games on “the” day. Instead of Charades or Pictionary or Nertz, there was a time of anointing and prayer and scripture shower for our dear friend Lee who is fighting for her life with Pancreatic cancer.
I heard someone this week use the phrase
“the place where our theology intersects with our biography.”
And I thought, “That’s it! That’s what we’re experiencing.”
And it is really hard.
As this disease depletes her body, God provides His Body to refill.
The church is Christ’s body, in which he speaks and acts, by which he fills everything with his presence. Eph. 1:23
We don’t understand, and we’d much rather “do” something that feels more problem-solving, but God says anoint. God says pray. Wait. Trust. Bow.
He emptied Himself to that we might be filled. Again and again.
I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Eph. 3:16-21
What about you? Are you full or empty today?
What relationships, experiences, or practices does God use to fill you?
Happy day-after-Thanksgiving in the U.S.! Whether you’re braving the crowds to shop today, or watching football games still in an after-turkey stupor, or in another part of the world where it’s not the “day-after-Thanksgiving” I hope you enjoy this video my friend Devon shared with me.
Our daughter Maggie got engaged last weekend.
We exclaim, “Oh, yes!” We can clearly see God’s faithfulness, His provision, His plan. And we sing, like it’s New Year’s Eve, with confetti and streamers and hugs
“Great is Thy faithfulness O God our Father.”
Two new babies were born to friends this week. And we sing
“Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not.”
A delightful surprise package of gifts appeared on our back step.
“Blessings all mine and ten thousand besides.”
A dear friend was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer. And it’s hard to see, but we try to sing
“Strength for today…”
The homeless guys still show up on our corner every day, and we have loved ones who are still prodigals, and others who are single, or childless and don’t want to be. We want to sing a lovely future into their lives.
“and bright hope for tomorrow.”
Israelis and Palestinians are killing each other. Our voices waver a bit…
“Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth.”
Years ago we took the girls on a family vacation to Colorado. They were little and excited. It was the first time they would see the mountains.
But Maggie couldn’t. She kept saying, “I. Do. Not. See. Them!”
There’s a prerequisite for heaven. It’s called death.
You remember that line from the movie, Princess Bride? “There’s dead and then there’s mostly dead.”
The other day I realized I was only mostly dead. Or even less than that. Maybe just a smidge dead.
But I wanted to be SEEN as totally dead. Dead to self. To selfishness. To self-centeredness.
Several times in the course of two days I gave time and effort and gave up comfort to go out of my way and serve someone.
And you know what? It didn’t seem to matter at all. No one said “thanks”, much less threw a parade.
The kid I tutor was rude and uncooperative. The meal I made for someone didn’t fit their dietary restrictions. And, and, and…
And my bratty 13-year-old self, wanted a high five or at least a little “Woohoo!” from Jesus. And by that I mean from everyone around me.
The main person I really wanted to serve was myself.
I wanted the image of serving others, and the perk of being noticed and admired.
I wanted it to look like I had a shiny outside but my inside was pretty gross…maggoty in fact.
Have you ever recognized this in yourself? Maybe once?
Do you have a job title?
Eight years ago I was serving on a church staff and we were having fun trying to come up with creative job titles for each of us. This was prompted by a series of articles in Fast Company on “Job titles of the Future”.
Some of my favorites were…
Head Monster,
Crayon Evangelist,
Master of Disaster,
Project Meanie,
Princess of Persuasion,
Keeper of the Magic.
And this one really made me smile:
Raging Inexorable Thunder-Lizard Evangelist for Change
(I may actually have met this guy in Puerto Rico this morning where we’re staying for a meeting)
Anyway, I myself was lobbying for the title, Chief Kingdom Mischief-Maker.
And I know a guy who is both a pastor and a dance instructor. Pastor Twinkle Toes?
Our most important “title” is Beloved Child of God, but I’ve been thinking…what other titles might God want us to live into?
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