Silence. It makes me think about a visit to Italy's Sistine Chapel where the uniformed guards bark in curt whisper, "Silenzio", often followed by "no photo."
I get it. Those guards dutifully beckon tourists to be silent, and perhaps do not even fully understand what a gift this silence is--the chance to lay aside the camera and to live in the moment...to experience fully the art and wonder of it all. The wonder evolves into reverence...and the reverence leads to anticipation...anticipation of an encounter with the one who came to save .
I lift my head up to see Michelangelo's paintings on the ceiling. I gasp with awe. I linger in the room. There is no photo that will do this moment justice.
I see God's finger reaching to touch Adam's and I have no words. Silence is a gift. This advent, I wonder in silence. I wonder at the idea of creation and at the idea of the One who has the power to save. I wonder why He desires broken and flawed humanity, ones who cause His heart great ache. I wonder at such love...at such a power, able to restore the broken-hearted. I wonder at His power to redeem and why He does this.
I linger in these thoughts this advent...and I reach with great anticipation, believing that His finger is reaching to touch mine.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
What are we waiting for. . .
Silence creates an angst in our life. There is a gap between how we want our life to be and how our life really is. We work to fix problems and change our circumstances. We ask God for help. We seek advice from friends. And we wait.
Jews in first century Palestine had waited a long time for their lives to improve. They were waiting for good crops, for lower taxes, for economic stability. Most of all, they were waiting for the Romans to leave and give them back their country. Jewish children were raised on the stories of King David and King Solomon who led a united and prosperous Israel. Those were the glory days when God's love was evident to the Jews. Every good Jewish child was taught that one day God would send a Messiah who would rescue the Jewish people. And so, Jews were waiting for the Great Rescue, for life to be good again.
The things I am waiting for seem much more benign. I wait in line at the grocery store. I wait for my kids to get in the car. I wait for a check to come in the mail. But, in a larger sense, I am just like the Jewish people on the eve of Christ's birth: waiting for a rescue that will make my life better. In the midst of waiting, it is easy to let my life become very small and focused. It is easy to embrace the belief that my life would be better if only -- 1) my kids took ownership of their schoolwork; 2) my husband was home more; 3) I had someone to clean my house; 4) we had a larger paycheck; 5) our house had a basement. . . . There is a revolving list of "needs" that on any given day that I am waiting to be met. I am waiting for my problems to be solved and my circumstances to be improved. I am not waiting for a Savior to enter into my world and bless me with His presence. If I had lived in 1 A.D., I think I quite possibly might have missed the significance of the Son of God being born in this world, because I am waiting for something else.
I think I dream smaller dreams for my life than God does. I want a manageable life; He offers me a significant life packaged as a wild adventure. I want to feel competent; He shows me my failings and weaknesses -- but He generously gives me exactly what I need. I want to prove I am lovable; He tells me there's nothing I can do to make Him love me more. I want to be in control; He tells me to jump into difficult circumstances and trust Him. I want easy answers; He tells me "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." (Psalm 27:14)
Today I'm pondering this. What does it mean to shift my waiting from "better circumstances" to knowing God? What does it mean to wait for Jesus to come to me in the midst of unanswered questions?
But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget you, I will not forget you.
See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands." Isaiah 49: 14-16
"The you will know that I am the LORD; those who hope in me will not be disappointed." Isaiah 49:23b
Jews in first century Palestine had waited a long time for their lives to improve. They were waiting for good crops, for lower taxes, for economic stability. Most of all, they were waiting for the Romans to leave and give them back their country. Jewish children were raised on the stories of King David and King Solomon who led a united and prosperous Israel. Those were the glory days when God's love was evident to the Jews. Every good Jewish child was taught that one day God would send a Messiah who would rescue the Jewish people. And so, Jews were waiting for the Great Rescue, for life to be good again.
The things I am waiting for seem much more benign. I wait in line at the grocery store. I wait for my kids to get in the car. I wait for a check to come in the mail. But, in a larger sense, I am just like the Jewish people on the eve of Christ's birth: waiting for a rescue that will make my life better. In the midst of waiting, it is easy to let my life become very small and focused. It is easy to embrace the belief that my life would be better if only -- 1) my kids took ownership of their schoolwork; 2) my husband was home more; 3) I had someone to clean my house; 4) we had a larger paycheck; 5) our house had a basement. . . . There is a revolving list of "needs" that on any given day that I am waiting to be met. I am waiting for my problems to be solved and my circumstances to be improved. I am not waiting for a Savior to enter into my world and bless me with His presence. If I had lived in 1 A.D., I think I quite possibly might have missed the significance of the Son of God being born in this world, because I am waiting for something else.
I think I dream smaller dreams for my life than God does. I want a manageable life; He offers me a significant life packaged as a wild adventure. I want to feel competent; He shows me my failings and weaknesses -- but He generously gives me exactly what I need. I want to prove I am lovable; He tells me there's nothing I can do to make Him love me more. I want to be in control; He tells me to jump into difficult circumstances and trust Him. I want easy answers; He tells me "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." (Psalm 27:14)
Today I'm pondering this. What does it mean to shift my waiting from "better circumstances" to knowing God? What does it mean to wait for Jesus to come to me in the midst of unanswered questions?
But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me."
"Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne?
Though she may forget you, I will not forget you.
See I have engraved you on the palms of my hands." Isaiah 49: 14-16
"The you will know that I am the LORD; those who hope in me will not be disappointed." Isaiah 49:23b
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Stewarding Silence
When Jesus' birth is announced, an entire nation of Jews display a wide range of responses. The long-awaited, promised Messiah finally arrives and while some rejoice, others display negative emotions that range from apathy to animosity. I wonder if people's response to God's Son was reflective of their response to God's silence. The thought is unsettling to me, because I have experienced long stretches of God's silence in my own life. Have I been a wise steward of these spaces of silence? Have I repeated God's promises and confidently rested on the fact that He can be trusted?
Years ago my husband and I journeyed through five years of infertility. When a much-longed-for adoption fell through, we dropped into an abyss of silence that threatened to swallow us (and our faith) whole. After several weeks, I read a devotional by Oswald Chambers entitled "After God's Silence --What?" He wrote, "Has God trusted you with a silence -- a silence that is big with meaning? God's silences are His answers. . . . If God has given you a silence, praise Him, He is bringing you into the great run of His purposes." I had never before thought of God's silence as active -- a means of bringing me into His purposes. At best, God's silence seemed indifferent; at its worst, cruel and rejecting. But though God is silent, He is never passive.
When God is silent, as He was for four hundred years for the Jews, He is always unfolding His redemptive plan. Am I willing to wait with expectancy? Am I willing to believe He is good even when circumstances suggest otherwise? Or will I busy myself, looking for ways to avoid the pain of His silence? Will I find ways to stay in control? Will I push God to the sidelines of my life, trying to ignore Him, because He seems to be ignoring me? It is in the darkness of God's silence that faith grows best. Will I believe that even in the silence, God is loving me and working for some unseen good?
We wait for God to show up in the daily challenges of modern life; we also wait for the second coming of Christ. We need God's promises just as much as the Jews did in the years prior to Christ's birth. We need to ask God to help us avoid the busyness and cynicism that seems to numb pain and disappointment, but which also diminishes our capacity for joy.
I love the words to this hymn written by Charles Wesley. Pray that God would give us the courage to stand still in the midst of silence and wait with the expectancy that Jesus always comes for His children.
"Come Thou long expected Jesus,
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us;
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart."
Years ago my husband and I journeyed through five years of infertility. When a much-longed-for adoption fell through, we dropped into an abyss of silence that threatened to swallow us (and our faith) whole. After several weeks, I read a devotional by Oswald Chambers entitled "After God's Silence --What?" He wrote, "Has God trusted you with a silence -- a silence that is big with meaning? God's silences are His answers. . . . If God has given you a silence, praise Him, He is bringing you into the great run of His purposes." I had never before thought of God's silence as active -- a means of bringing me into His purposes. At best, God's silence seemed indifferent; at its worst, cruel and rejecting. But though God is silent, He is never passive.
When God is silent, as He was for four hundred years for the Jews, He is always unfolding His redemptive plan. Am I willing to wait with expectancy? Am I willing to believe He is good even when circumstances suggest otherwise? Or will I busy myself, looking for ways to avoid the pain of His silence? Will I find ways to stay in control? Will I push God to the sidelines of my life, trying to ignore Him, because He seems to be ignoring me? It is in the darkness of God's silence that faith grows best. Will I believe that even in the silence, God is loving me and working for some unseen good?
We wait for God to show up in the daily challenges of modern life; we also wait for the second coming of Christ. We need God's promises just as much as the Jews did in the years prior to Christ's birth. We need to ask God to help us avoid the busyness and cynicism that seems to numb pain and disappointment, but which also diminishes our capacity for joy.
I love the words to this hymn written by Charles Wesley. Pray that God would give us the courage to stand still in the midst of silence and wait with the expectancy that Jesus always comes for His children.
"Come Thou long expected Jesus,
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us;
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel's strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart."
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The Paradox of Silence (by Joy)
Silence is one of those things we either love or we hate. After a noisy day at work, I long for silence and I resent any intrusion—a phone ringing, a door slamming, a cat banging his bowl demanding supper. Other times, though, silence can be lonely and maybe a little scary, so I cover it up—I play music while I cook, I have the TV on in the background while I fold laundry.
At the root of this love/hate relationship is our desire to control the silence. I want to be able to silence the phone or turn on the radio in the car depending on what mood I am in. I don’t want a snarky librarian shhh-ing me, or a performer from the stage urging me to “Get loud!”
And yet, in my relationship with the Lord, I have no control. If He speaks, when He speaks and what He says have nothing to do with me and my idea of perfect timing. How many of us have prayed deep, fervent prayers only to be met with silence? We’ve checked our motives, examined our hearts and sought godly counsel—we know we’re asking for good, God-honoring things from the Father’s hand and yet His answer is…stillness. Silence.
In the Old Testament, God spoke to His people through the prophets. If God wanted to get a message to the people, He would choose a prophet and send him with the words the people needed to hear. There were times, though, when God withdrew His word from the people, and when there were no prophets. If God didn’t have anything to say, He didn’t say anything and through this, God issued a kind of judgment. It wasn’t as if God was giving His beloved people the silent treatment, but rather, He was letting them follow the dark path they’d already chosen.
In Amos 8, God predicts such a time,
11"Behold, the days are coming," declares the Lord GOD,
"when I will send a famine on the land—
not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water,
but of hearing the words of the LORD.
12 They shall wander from sea to sea,
and from north to east;
they shall run to and fro, to seek the word of the LORD,
but they shall not find it.
"when I will send a famine on the land—
not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water,
but of hearing the words of the LORD.
12 They shall wander from sea to sea,
and from north to east;
they shall run to and fro, to seek the word of the LORD,
but they shall not find it.
For the people of Israel, the prophets’ words were as essential as bread and water. So how awful must it have been when Malachi’s prophecy ended and 400 years of silence began? Generations wandering in darkness, waiting for God to speak again, doing their very best to be righteous and obedient. A tradition of watching, waiting and wondering passed down for centuries.
Until, finally, the Word in flesh comes to Earth. No more prophets, no more silence, just the incarnate Word of God—the Word that spoke creation into existence—comes and makes His home with mankind.
14And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.—John 1:14
This is a cause for celebration, a reason to rejoice. Not only did God break His silence with Israel, but He sent His Word to all who would receive Him.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
SILENCE
In this first week of Advent, I am thinking of the four hundred years of SILENCE that preceded Jesus' birth. When the Old Testament "closes" with Malachi's prophecies, God's words cease. At this time, many Jewish people had returned to Israel after 70 years of exile in Babylon. Under Nehemiah's leadership, the Jews had rebuilt the wall around their holy city, Jerusalem, as well as their sacred temple. But, the Jews had also succumbed to intermarriage with pagans, neglect of God's law and moral compromise. Malachi is the prophet who speaks to the Jews during this period: "Ever since the time of your forefathers you have turned away from my decrees and have not kept them. Return to me, and I will return to you," says the Lord Almighty." (Malachi 3:7). With Malachi's words, a curtain drops between God and His chosen people. He will never leave them, but they will not hear another word from Him until it is time for Jesus to enter the world as the long-awaited Messiah.
Four hundred years. Our entire American history encompasses four hundred years. The changes that have been are staggering. From candlelight to electric light bulbs; from horse and wagons to jet planes; from Pony Express to FedEx. In four hundred years, our country has gone from being a loosely joined group of colonies to become the strongest, independent, democratic nation in the world.
And so the four hundred years between the close of Malachi and the arrival of the Messiah were full of change. In this time period, the Jews would experience their homeland being conquered by Alexander the Great, who brought Greek paganism to Israel. The books of Moses would be translated into Greek by seventy Jewish scholars and be circulated outside of Israel. After Alexander the Great's death, Israel would be ruled by a series of Greek rulers, most notorious of which was Antiochus. Antiochus opposed the Jewish religion, destroying copies of the Torah and requiring Jews to worship the Greek god, Zeus. He even went so far as to erect a statue of Zeus in the temple and sacrifice a pig on the altar. Eventually, Greek rulers would be swallowed up by the expanding Roman Empire, which would bring its own paganism and oppressive form of government.
Throughout these four hundred years, many Jews fought to preserve their worship of the one, true God. None were more zealous than the Pharisees, the religious leaders, who refused to compromise with Greek and Roman rulers. The Jews became accustomed to living under persecution and being misunderstood. And still, they read the scriptures and remembered the promises:
"Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on Him and He will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out, or raise His voice in the streets.
A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.
In faithfulness He will bring forth justice; He will not falter or be discouraged
till He establishes justice on earth.
In His law the islands will put their hope." Isaiah 42:1-4
Every devout Jew knew that God had promised a Savior. Despite hundreds of years of silence, every Jew knew that one day, the Messiah would rescue them. One day, all they had lost would be restored. The Jews lived under God's silence and men's oppression, but they believed the Messiah would come.
This is the backdrop to Gabriel appearing to Mary. This is the background to the birth of Jesus. Four hundred years of silence. Promises made long ago, echoing in the silence.
Meditate on the promises that comforted the Jewish people as they waited for God to speak to them:
Isaiah 11:1-5
Isaiah 25:6-9
Isaiah 35:3,4
Isaiah 40: 1-5
Isaiah 61:1-3
Four hundred years. Our entire American history encompasses four hundred years. The changes that have been are staggering. From candlelight to electric light bulbs; from horse and wagons to jet planes; from Pony Express to FedEx. In four hundred years, our country has gone from being a loosely joined group of colonies to become the strongest, independent, democratic nation in the world.
And so the four hundred years between the close of Malachi and the arrival of the Messiah were full of change. In this time period, the Jews would experience their homeland being conquered by Alexander the Great, who brought Greek paganism to Israel. The books of Moses would be translated into Greek by seventy Jewish scholars and be circulated outside of Israel. After Alexander the Great's death, Israel would be ruled by a series of Greek rulers, most notorious of which was Antiochus. Antiochus opposed the Jewish religion, destroying copies of the Torah and requiring Jews to worship the Greek god, Zeus. He even went so far as to erect a statue of Zeus in the temple and sacrifice a pig on the altar. Eventually, Greek rulers would be swallowed up by the expanding Roman Empire, which would bring its own paganism and oppressive form of government.
Throughout these four hundred years, many Jews fought to preserve their worship of the one, true God. None were more zealous than the Pharisees, the religious leaders, who refused to compromise with Greek and Roman rulers. The Jews became accustomed to living under persecution and being misunderstood. And still, they read the scriptures and remembered the promises:
"Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight;
I will put my Spirit on Him and He will bring justice to the nations.
He will not shout or cry out, or raise His voice in the streets.
A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out.
In faithfulness He will bring forth justice; He will not falter or be discouraged
till He establishes justice on earth.
In His law the islands will put their hope." Isaiah 42:1-4
Every devout Jew knew that God had promised a Savior. Despite hundreds of years of silence, every Jew knew that one day, the Messiah would rescue them. One day, all they had lost would be restored. The Jews lived under God's silence and men's oppression, but they believed the Messiah would come.
This is the backdrop to Gabriel appearing to Mary. This is the background to the birth of Jesus. Four hundred years of silence. Promises made long ago, echoing in the silence.
Meditate on the promises that comforted the Jewish people as they waited for God to speak to them:
Isaiah 11:1-5
Isaiah 25:6-9
Isaiah 35:3,4
Isaiah 40: 1-5
Isaiah 61:1-3
Monday, November 21, 2011
Reclaiming Christ in Christmas
I love Christmas. The smells, the songs, the festivities. The world seems right when "Chestnuts are Roasting on An Open Fire" or I'm "Walking In A Winter Wonderland". But, in recent years my Christmas has delight been increasingly consumed by anxiety. This year I felt the panic rising the day after Halloween, when I noticed Christmas banners hung at the local shopping center and the Halloween candy display at the grocery store, magically replaced overnight by Christmas decor and baking supplies. My family began asking for gift lists for my 5 kids and I realized that I likewise should be collecting gift lists from my nine nieces and nephews, as well as for my parents and siblings. Anxiety continued rising as my husband and I had one of those sobering "budget summits" in which I realized that I would have to be extra "creative" and frugal in shopping this year. And then as I looked at my chronically cluttered house, I could not imagine hauling out decorations and creating "the Christmas magic". Anxiety was beginning to give way to panic. . . and it was only mid-November!
Thankfully, God threw me a rescue line in the form of a church event. The women in our church gather every year to make Christmas wreaths and this year we had decided to add Christmas wreaths into the mix. I was asked to give a short talk on celebrating Christmas through Advent. In God's infinitely creative way, He used this talk to put a megaphone to my soul and remind me that what was causing me anxiety was not Christmas. It was consumerism; it was commercialism; it was people-pleasing. And all of this was a far cry from the intent of Christmas: the celebration of God's unmerited grace in sending Jesus to be born into our world and rescue us from our own darkness, rebellion and brokenness.
Christmas is an opportunity to deeply engage with one of the most pivotal realities of the Christmas faith: Jesus, Son of God, was really born into this world. To my shame, I often acknowledge this fact with an excitement equivalent to saying, "Old Navy is having 40% off their outwear today." What does it say about me that the reality of Jesus' human birth seems so "ho-hum"? Could it be because the enemy of our soul has enacted a deliberate campaign to keep me so busy and distracted that Jesus stays safely on the margins of my life? In one of life's great ironies, the time of year we are given to reflect deeply on Christ's birth, has become one of the busiest, preoccupying and stressful times of year.
This blogsite is an effort to take back Christmas and return Jesus to His rightful focus in my life. Christmas was originally conceived as a holiday that would supplant the pagan Winter Solstice. Advent was the four weeks of preparing one's heart to worship Jesus and revel in His birth. This year I am asking God for an Advent journey that would fill my heart with expectancy, awe and worship. I am asking God to take consumerism to the margins of my life and reclaim Christ as the center of my Christmas celebration.
Every Sunday you will find a devotion that focuses on one of the five candles of the Advent wreath:. I have asked other friends to add their own reflective words during the week. May God slow your pace this Christmas and bless you with the gift of His presence. May your heart be filled with wonder and gratitude at the mystery of Jesus becoming a child and coming into the world for the love of YOU.
Thankfully, God threw me a rescue line in the form of a church event. The women in our church gather every year to make Christmas wreaths and this year we had decided to add Christmas wreaths into the mix. I was asked to give a short talk on celebrating Christmas through Advent. In God's infinitely creative way, He used this talk to put a megaphone to my soul and remind me that what was causing me anxiety was not Christmas. It was consumerism; it was commercialism; it was people-pleasing. And all of this was a far cry from the intent of Christmas: the celebration of God's unmerited grace in sending Jesus to be born into our world and rescue us from our own darkness, rebellion and brokenness.
Christmas is an opportunity to deeply engage with one of the most pivotal realities of the Christmas faith: Jesus, Son of God, was really born into this world. To my shame, I often acknowledge this fact with an excitement equivalent to saying, "Old Navy is having 40% off their outwear today." What does it say about me that the reality of Jesus' human birth seems so "ho-hum"? Could it be because the enemy of our soul has enacted a deliberate campaign to keep me so busy and distracted that Jesus stays safely on the margins of my life? In one of life's great ironies, the time of year we are given to reflect deeply on Christ's birth, has become one of the busiest, preoccupying and stressful times of year.
This blogsite is an effort to take back Christmas and return Jesus to His rightful focus in my life. Christmas was originally conceived as a holiday that would supplant the pagan Winter Solstice. Advent was the four weeks of preparing one's heart to worship Jesus and revel in His birth. This year I am asking God for an Advent journey that would fill my heart with expectancy, awe and worship. I am asking God to take consumerism to the margins of my life and reclaim Christ as the center of my Christmas celebration.
Every Sunday you will find a devotion that focuses on one of the five candles of the Advent wreath:. I have asked other friends to add their own reflective words during the week. May God slow your pace this Christmas and bless you with the gift of His presence. May your heart be filled with wonder and gratitude at the mystery of Jesus becoming a child and coming into the world for the love of YOU.
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