A Charlie Brown Christmas?

I can’t seem to “do” Christmas this year. As I sit here less than two weeks away from December 25, and time as well as the light of day grows short, I know that I have purchased 4 stocking stuffers. Period. No Christmas tree. No presents. No cards. Only the twinkling lights on my Ficus tree (a year round tribute to the dark Seattle nights) show any sign of festive spirit.

The odd thing is that I am excited about the holiday season and what it truly represents. I am not, however, excited about the commercial pressures and expectations of what the season “should” look like. Each year I have felt myself pull away a bit more from the hubbub and must do’s of the season. I find myself more enlivened by purchasing a simple unexpected gift rather than one given out of obligation, or taking a walk in the winter rain and seeing God’s splendor all around, and best of all, spending time with a friend I have not visited in awhile.

Maybe the change in focus has something to do with my children getting older. The 17 year old seems quite indifferent about the season and the younger one is caught between a mixture of “I don’t care” and wondering with anticipation when we are getting a Christmas tree and what we’re doing for the holiday. Gone are the school holiday pageants of days past. Our annual trip to see Santa faded out a couple of years ago and our celebratory relatives and friends seem to have gone their own ways. I have more time to think about what Christmas means to me.

I have made several attempts to get into the "normal" holiday spirit. I have perused Christmas cards for purchase and listened to a few carols. I considered shopping yesterday, but opted for a holiday movie instead. Today, I saw a little Charlie Brown tree and actually turned the car around to go see about bringing it home, but alas my cell phone rang and one of my teenagers was in need of immediate attention.

Maybe these interruptions are telling me something. Slow down. Take in the season. Enjoy the music. Smile at the neighbors’ lights. Do your own thing.
Or just maybe, I am already “doing” Christmas exactly as I want to do it—savoring the darkness and anticipating the “coming”.

For now I think I’ll just call things good, sip my tea from a holiday mug, put on a Christmas CD and enjoy waiting here in the dark. Waiting with anticipation for what may come next.

Desert & Darkness

photo by bill hughlett

Desert & Darkness. Is there a difference between being in the desert and living in the darkness? Both seem to include waiting. Waiting is something that is welcomed and revered during this season of Advent. Are desert and darkness the same states of being? Is the difference between darkness and light defined simply by the attitude with which they are received? Where is light found during desert times? And, for what were the desert fathers searching? Were they barren and bereft of God’s holy presence? Or were they closer to God because of the barrenness?

Two books come to mind: Alan Jones’ Soul Making and the devotional book, Streams in the Desert. Both of these are reminiscent of a moving toward something. It may be painful in the midst of the experience, but the message is hope for something less painful—something more solid on which to stand. Does having hope mean we want to leave the desert or need to leave in order to find solace?

What has prompted this line of questioning? It must go back to old fundamental roots that clash with my present aversion to a theology that insists if we are not “happy” then we are not walking “properly” with the Lord. This was kicked off by the question “Are you in a ‘desert place’ in your spiritual life right now? If so, what are some things you could do to re-kindle your excitement with the Lord?” I think the words “if so” and “re-kindle” tell me being in the desert or the darkness is not o.k. And thus I come back to the question, are darkness and desert the same space? I believe, the overriding question is: how will we choose to receive God in those places of difficulty in our lives?

This advent season has brought many reminders that darkness is seasonal. (Seasonal in an ebb and flow sort of way in our lives, not just the physical moving toward darkness as we approach the winter solstice.) Darkness provides us with a time of rest and a time of waiting. Thomas Moore in Dark Nights of the Soul says darkness is often associated with or labeled as depression. It is something we want to get out of or away from. I, however, have found periodic solace this year in the darkness. Therefore, I was bothered when it was suggested to “re-kindle” my time with the Lord because that indicates I am not meeting God in the darkness (or desert). The opposite, however, has been true because in many ways I have been met more distinctly in the darkest places than I have in the shining light of day or good times.

So once again I return to the question: Are desert and darkness the same place? And, is it all about the attitude with which we view them? I do not believe either place to be void of God even though at times we may not feel His presence. Maybe it all is about the attitude. Maybe it is about our personal relationship with God. Maybe it’s about unearthing our own rhythm in the darkness and finding our oasis in the desert. Maybe, it’s something I will ponder awhile longer. What do you think?

Remembrance & Surprise

"offering" photo by bill hughlett

I don’t recall ever being so focused on or interested in the season or spirit of Advent as I have been this year. The word advent means “coming” or “arrival.” For me, it also feels like a time of remembrance. A remembering of story—the story of my personal life as well as remembrance of the greatest story ever told—the coming of Christ, the birth of a King in a manger and the resurrection of a man from the dead.

The advent season is also one filled with surprise. I cannot help but imagine the surprise (more likely shock) of a young Mary when the angel told her she would give birth to a Savior. Fast forward thirty or so years and witness the surprise of the women who found the tomb empty; their friend and king gone.

We live with a God of surprise. Advent is filled with both surprise and anticipation. These are the themes for me this year as I sit in the darkness and wait. Part of me knows exactly for what I am waiting. I am waiting expectantly for the coming of the Lord and the celebration of his birth. More present in my mind, however, is the anticipation for the coming surprise. What will happen next in my life? From where will the next surprise come? How and when will I leave this darkness?

It is important for me to remember I have been here before—in the darkness—in this time of waiting and in this season of Advent. I will do my best to wait patiently but I am also filled with an excited anticipation—like a child waiting to open the first gift on Christmas morning. While I know the greatest gift was given with the birth of a small child centuries ago, I am still called to remember that each day is a new gift waiting to be unwrapped. Sometimes it feels like a cruel joke because the layers of wrapping paper are so many that I feel it will take forever to get to the present. Still, I will wait and I will pray to see each layer as a gift in itself with something to offer.

Remembrance and the willingness to be surprised are two of the greatest gifts we can offer ourselves each day. Advent is a time of waiting in the dark—waiting for the next surprise. My goal is to appreciate the darkness and remember it allows the light of surprise to shine even brighter.