Advent Patience

Well, Advent has begun.  The church universal is now collectively yearning for the coming on the Christ child to be born on Christmas day.  What a wonderful time of year....a time that offers each believer the opportunity to reflect and meditate on the joy, peace, hope and salvation that Christ brought with him through his birth.

A wonderful lady in our church gave me a small book of Advent Meditations from the works of Henri J.M. Nouwen entitled the Lord is Near.  In it, there is a devotion for each day of Advent.  I have been taking some time out of my day to read and ponder each devotion...through it I have gained a new respect for Nouwen and his writing (Although, I have always been a big fan). 

Monday's devotion was particularly interesting and moving.  In Out of Solitude and based on Isaiah 40:9, Nouwen writes:

"A few years ago I met an old professor at the University of Notre Dame.  Looking back on his long life of teaching, he said with a funny twinkle in his eyes; 'I have always been complaining that my work was constantly interrupted until I slowly discovered that my interruptions were my work.'

That is the great conversion in our life:  to recognize and believe that the many unexpected events are not just distracting interruptions of our projects, but the way in which God molds our hearts and prepares us for his return.  Our great temptations are boredom and bitterness.  When our good plans are interrupted by poor weather, our peace of mind by inner turmoil, our hope for peace by a new war, our desire for a stable government by a constant changing of the guards, and our desire for immortality by real death, we are tempted to give into to a paralyzing boredom or to strike back in destructive bitterness.  But when we believe that patience can make our expectations grow, then fate can be converted into a vocation, wounds into a deeper call for deeper understanding, and sadness into a birthplace of Joy."

I think part of the glorious truth of Advent is that it calls us to a deeper patience...it asks us to dig deep down in the inner recesses of our being and uncover a patience that we never knew was there.  I see so many well meaning believers sink into what Nouwen calls a "destructive bitterness" because things aren't going the way they think it should go in this world or in their own lives.  But, Advent whispers to us to search for the "deeper understanding" and to allow the sadness in our lives to be tilled and prepared for joy to sprout and grow.

This Advent season, will you let God give you the gift of patience as you expect the coming of the christchild?  Remember, God typically comes to us in unexpected ways...when our patience is almost up.  Perhaps you are at the end of your patience in various walks of life...perhaps you are tired of waiting for that new job, your prodigal child to come home, your marriage to get better, your spouse to open up and really communicate with you or your work environment to get better....this Advent season allow the God of perfect timing fill you with a divine patience and a quiet strength to wait just a little longer.

A Father's Prayer

Our daughter, Lucy, turned one year old on September 22.  Her birthday has caused me to reflect on how quickly time passes...and how much of life I have lived without even realizing how fast the days were passing.  However, after I reflected on her birth, I thought of her future...

A few months ago Mary read me a prayer for her daughter that Ann Voskamp published on her blog.  As she read this thoughtful prayer I quickly realized that was my prayer for Lucy.  Ann puts in words what I could only feel.

God, clothe this girl in a gown of Grace,
the only dress that makes beautiful the style of Your spirit.
Nourish her on the comfort food of the Word,
Word, that makes her crave more of Christ, have hunger pains for Him.

Enclose her in communion with You
You, Love who makes her love, who folds her heart
into a roof that absorbs storms,
that makes her tongue speak only the words that make souls stronger.

May her vocation in this world simply be translation
Translating every enemy into esteemed guest,
Translating every countenance into the face of Christ,
Translating every burden into blessing

When it's hard to be patient...make her willing to suffer,
When it's ridiculous to be thankful...make her see all is grace,
When it's radical to forgive...make her live the foundation of faith,
And when it's time to work...make her a holy wonder.

May she be bread and feed many with her life and laughter,
May she be thread and mend brokeness and knit hearts,
May she be dead to all ladders and never go higher, only lower,
to the lonely, the least, and the longing
Her led of the Spirit to lead many to the Cross -
that leads to the tomb, wildly empty.

And raise me, Lord, from the deadness of my own sins
to love this beautiful girl like You do...

In the name of Christ who rose
and appeared first
to one of His daughters...
Amen

What is your word?

Three weeks ago after Sunday evening church, I kissed Mary, Grant and Lucy and traveled to San Antonio to spend one full week of writing on my doctorate paper.  I had been behind in my work, and the church graciously gave me a few days to buckle down and get some writing done.  I went down to San Antonio and my mom came up to Waco to help take care of the kids.  At the end of the week Mary and the kids came down to San Antonio and we spent some great family time together.   We went to Sea World, ate some of mom's cooking, swam...and Mary and I even snuck away to see a movie!

I love San Antonio, not just because I am from there, but because of the Mexican food.  Well, the Mexican food and the Alamo.  Strolling the streets of San Antonio, I was reminded of Elizabeth Gilbert’s now famous book Eat Pray Love.  In her book she says that every city has a word…just one word that perfectly describes the core soul of the city:   NYC:Achieve, Dallas:Status, San Antonio:Fiesta, LA: Succeed, Las Vegas:Indulge, Austin:Hip, Jerusalem:Holy, London:Elite, Paris:Love. Waco is…I don’t know…Wacky? Weird? Wonderful? Hot?

Gilbert’s assertion about cities having one word that perfectly defines them got me thinking...if every city has a word, then every person could probably be defined by one word...  

Strolling around the San Antonio I thought about what my word would be...it didn’t take me long, I knew it…the word that I wanted to define me.  The healthy word that I knew I was called to live out.  Generous -- that is my word.  I want to be generous.... I want to live a generous life….I want to be generous with my love, my time, my money, my gifts.  Even when I have only a little of all of those things, I still want to be generous.  I want my kids to look at their dad and say he was generous…I want my friends when they are in need to say, “lets call Brad, he is always helps”  I want my wife to always feel like I am generous in my love for her.  I want to be generous. 

I recognize there are many times when the small self takes over and that word does not define me at all.  But I believe the goal of an open- minded follower of Christ is to live more and more under the banner of his or her word.  So, what is your word?  What word were you created to live out?

 

Contemplative Prayer

These past few weeks I have been considering (and practicing) an ancient form of prayer aptly titled by most modern day spiritualists as "contemplative prayer."  Throughout the month of July, our church has been focusing on contemplative prayer and as a result it has really dominated my heart and mind.

I think it is pretty obvious to most people that our society maintains a very fast pace existence (it causes the Christian to wonder if Jesus would allow himself to be caught up in our fast pace world or if he would simply refuse to live at such a torrid speed).  The "information" age we live in demands that work gets done quickly and answers need to be presented in seconds.  Last night Grant (my son) wanted me to, "hurry up and go look that up online daddy."  Furthermore, the modern (or post-modern...how ever you want to define it) person lives engulfed by noise -- TV noise, cyber noise, cell phone noise...actual noise. There is so much noise that when he/she experiences a moment of silence it feels awkward and uncomfortable.

In stark contrast, contemplative prayer seeks silence and understands that there is something very sacred to the stillness.

Even the most casual student of the Bible quickly recognizes the frequent command to "be still" and "listen" peppered throughout both testaments.  At the transfiguration God tells noisy Peter to, "listen to his son."  On Mt. Horab Elijah hears God only in the stillness.   Contemplative prayer is an attempt to stay true to the call of God on our lives to stop our noise and our talking in favor of simply "being" with God.

Our family really enjoys spending time together outside.  Perhaps it is the "Celtic Christian in us"....but we have the best time being with each other in nature.  When our family spends time "outside" we all sense a deep connection with the world and with its creator (except when Waco has gone 45 days of over 100 degree heat).  Mary and I really try to take time to listen to God in nature.

The other day Grant and I were playing baseball outside.  I was trying to teach him how to hold the bat, how to stand and when to swing (granted, I don't really know how to do any of those things, but I figured I could wing it with a four year old).  I found myself getting frustrated because Grant wouldn't listen to me.  I slowly realized that he didn't want me to teach him anything, he just wanted to be with his Daddy.  He didn't want to waste time learning baseball skills, he wanted to spend time hitting a ball with his dad.

That night I thought about how our relationship with God is like Grant and I playing baseball.  We spend so much time talking to God, telling him what we want...even instructing him on what we think should happen.  Then, we get mad when we think he isn't listening to us.  All the while God just wants to be with us...he wants to spend time with us.  Too often we insist on aggressively being the sole activist and participant in the conversation.  The great novelist, Alexander Huxley wrote, "Uncontrolled, the hunger and thirst after God may become an obstacle, cutting off the soul from what it desires.  If a person would travel far along the mystic road, he/she must learn to desire God intensely but in stillness, passively, and yet with all his/her heart, mind and strength. "

I am more and more convinced that open minded believers who desire to follow Christ down a journey of love, grace and inclusion must become passively still in the presence of the divine God.  This allows us to center ourselves on our life path in and through Christ Jesus our Lord.  I have noticed that when I  "do all the talking" in my prayers, I am not contemplating the heart of God (love), nor am I listening to God speaking to me through creation, other people and above all the "Word that became flesh and dwelt among us".  Wayne Huxley said, "You will become what you think about all day long and those days eventually become your lifetime." 

Well, Grant has just walked into our room decked out in his medieval knight costume.  He has a sword in one hand, a football in another and a wide grin on his face.  He wants us to go outside and play football with him.  This time, I am not going to say a word about throwing mechanics...Today, I don't care if he grows up to be the next Troy Aikman, I just care about spending time with him.  I bet, if I am still and aware enough, God will show up while we are throwing the ball around.  I don't plan on saying a word...I think I will just let Grant's giggle and Lucy's babbling fill the air...I think I will just let God watch us while we all spend time together.  I will let you know how it goes.

Sometimes Life Just Isn't All That Good

I love this picture.  It was taken at the end of what our family calls “cousin camp.”  It is a time during the summer where all the cousins gather together at “the ranch” and Mary/Amy plan all sorts of fun events for the group.  The kids always have a great time, and this year was no exception – they painted, took a “magical safari” with their uncle/dad Brad, went to the Baylor pool, had a water balloon fight and ate homemade ice cream.  BUT...this picture was taken at the end of cousin camp.  You know what the “end” of anything good feels like – it is a mixture of sheer exhaustion, frayed nerves, and sadness that the fun is over.  Well, as so obviously illustrated in the photo, the kids were feeling every bit of tiredness and sadness that you could possibly feel. (I hope it doesn't say something about our kids that in the picture both of them look significantly more frustrated than the other three....)

One of most endearing traits of children is their unabashed willingness to wear their emotion on their sleeve - they simply aren’t afraid to tell you how they feel, for better or worse.  Sometimes, oftentimes, I wish Christians were more like that…I wish we were honest with other believers and even non-believers about how we really feel.  I wish we showed the world our brokenness and let them in on our struggles.  Celtic author Philip Newell said, “When we let the world inside our hearts and show them our struggles they will be even more amazed at the grace and love that flows much deeper and that is able to redeem us.” 

Instead, modern day evangelical conservative Christians have chosen to huddle up in their mega-churches with their smiling faces and angrily shout to the world that they need to come back to God and join the ranks of supposed eternally 'happy' believers.  And, they are shocked when “one of their own” leaders (too many to count?) is struck down by a moral failure? 

I submit that we try something different…let's try being authentic with each other and the world.  Let’s “become like little children” and be honest about how life can sometimes be down right unfair, and hard….and sometimes it just doesn’t go how we had planned it.  Let’s look straight into the camera of the world and unashamedly own whatever experience of life we are in and all of the emotions and feelings it causes.  Perhaps then, the world will see us for who we really are, sinners in desperate need of a loving God whose grace is more powerful than our brokenness and whose mercy transcends our hurt. Sometimes life is rough, sometimes it beats us up and we get tired and frustrated and sad...but that's okay.  We can show those emotions knowing that they aren't the end of the story, rather they point to a beautiful narrative that runs through the center of our hearts -- the love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord.

A Celtic View of Creation

I was going to post on the Celtic view of creation -- Mary and I have been very inspired by the tenets of Celtic spirituality as of late, but then I remembered that Mary posted on a Celtic view of creation in her blog about two years ago.  So, I decided to let her describe to you some of the basic tenets of creation according to the Celts.  Please understand that Mary is a wonderful writer, much much better than I could ever hope to be...which is why I am so happy that she has allowed me to "steal" some of her material for my latest post.  


While Mary and I don't ascribe to every facet of Celtic spirituality, we are very attracted to their focus on hope, love, the beauty of the earth and their wonderful fixed prayers (see Philip Newell)  In addition, we agree with their position against original sin.  Below, Mary will be discussing one of their ideas on creation.  Please please take the time to read the entire post -- it is my hope that Mary's words might guide you into an entire new way of understanding what the Celts call the "rhythm of life as a part of all creation."


It's been raining for 3 days now, almost without ceasing, and I am growing accustomed to waking and sleeping to the sound of rain falling on our roof. If I want, I can spiritualize this rainfall. It seems perfectly predictable and comforting that after such a tiresome summer that this rain would come in abundance. That it would more than generously bring relief, even when it almost seemed too late.

And, on such a night as this, listening to the rain, it puts me in the mood to reflect on some of my readings (J. Phillip Newell's 'Christ of the Celts' and 'The Book of Creation'). If you recall, I originally wrote this post as a warm-up: Creation: Part A. Turns out I am still pondering the same things I did those weeks ago.

The Celtic view of creation has stretched me in ways that I didn't anticipate. Mainly, it has challenged me to be a thoughtful observer of nature and it has caused me to ponder what the gift of creation implies about God's generosity in regards to grace. I am writing again about the first, and will write about the latter in my next post.

Drawing from the Genesis story, Celts conclude that "not only is creation viewed as good, as coming out of the goodness of God, but it is viewed as well as theophany or a disclosing of the heart of God's being." As such, creation is like another form of scripture. "The cosmos is like a living sacred text that we can learn to read and interpret. We are invited to listen to the life of creation as an on-going, living utterance of God." In the West, we have largely been educated out of listening to nature. And, whether we could name it or not, our mechanistic world-view and the doctrine of creation ex nihilo (creation out of nothing) has shaped our society with lamentable ramifications for the earth's life and resources.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I have always had a high view of creation. When we lived at the ranch, my regular form of exercise was to walk down to the river. Once there, I would sit on the bank and rest for several minutes before heading home. Those walks were much more spiritually refreshing than physically beneficial. I remember coming across a group of deer once and being able to watch as a fawn literally frolicked in the pasture - it was like watching a young child laughing and chasing an older sibling. I could have watched as long as I wanted and never tired of it.  It was like watching the true expression of joy and freedom. When I would come to the break in my walk, I would sit by the river.  As I would listen to its sounds and gaze at its stillness, a deep, filling sense of peace would often wash over me. I would let myself soak in that peace until every corner of my being was satisfied.

When I first read 'Christ of the Celts' is was as if the knowledge of creation that I'd always had was finally articulated. It not only put words to my experiences, but infused it with an even richer truth. "It is not as if creation somehow exists independently of God and that God only periodically chooses to express himself through it. That would be to say that God is like an artist who has made a violin that he only occasionally plays. The rising of the sun each morning is the expression of God, as is the beauty of the moon at night." The challenge comes with the agreement. If I agree with this view, then I must be open to observing my surroundings with a different lense.

These past few days, listening to the rain, watching it create a million little pools around the front yard, listening to Grant giggle as raindrops hit and bounce off his nose and face - I think about this Celtic view of creation. I think about the past couple of weeks and Psalm 42:1-2
"As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul longs for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God." And I think about God's uncanny faithfulness to show up when we need Him the most and to fill us up to overflowing. And it doesn't seem like I'm overspiritualizing at all.

Ordinary Time -- A Father's Thoughts

Like most people, my day is usually packed with "to dos" from early morning until late at night. Yesterday was no exception -- I had a full day to say the least. I was rushing from task to task with no time to spare and not a moment to lose -- and Friday is supposed to be my day off! Nonetheless at 4:30, I flew into Grant's school and rushed in to pick him up (most parents of young children know the day really begins when the kids come home). Before I went to get him on the playground I stopped at his "cubbyhole" to pick up his lunch and his daily art (which usually consists of dinosaur colorings or pirate paraphernalia), I was throwing things into his bag when I picked up a yellow sheet of paper with his hand prints on it. I noticed it because it was for "Daddy."

I don't know why "handprints" of our kids tug at our heartstrings, but as a parent, it always gets me. So I stopped and read the paragraph above the hands...it said, "I miss you when we are not together. I am growing up so fast. See how big I have gotten since you saw me last? As I grow I will change a lot, The years will fly right by. You will wonder how I grew up so quick...when and where and why. So look upon this handprint and know this is what I looked like when I was so so small."

I read that semi profound common poem and I was overcome with emotion. I thought about my day..how I had rushed around and rushed into Grant's school and how I would rush home and rush to dinner and rush to bed...I thought about how this was an ordinary day...how we have had thousands of these days and we will have a thousand more. And I realized that most of life is lived in "ordinary time."

Did you know that there is a stretch of days in the early church calendar that was developed in the fourth century called "Ordinary Time." The church year begins with Advent, then moves to Christmas, the twelve days of Christmas, Epiphany, Ash Wednesday, Holy Week, Maunday Thursday, Good Friday, Easter, Pentecost (early summer), and ends with Ordinary Time (which just so happens to be the biggest chunk of the year).

I realized today that most of life is lived in "ordinary time." Charles Poole says that, "Life is punctuated by a few special moments and grandiose events -- a festival here, an anniversary there, a birthday here...a wedding there, but most of life is lived in ordinary time."

One of the signs of a believer who is attempting to follow Christ on a serious spiritual journey of open-eyed, sensitive, loving faith is when he/she begins to see more frequently and clearly the sacred presence of God in the most ordinary moments of life. Celtics understood that, they realized (far earlier than most of Christendom) that the gap between the sacred and the ordinary is mostly imaginary...and it is a gap not of God's making but of ours.

I think that was one of the elements Thorton Wilder was trying to portray in his famous three act play, Our Town. I remember the play well -- we performed it my senior year in high school. Emily, the main character had died at the age of 26 and she is allowed to chose one day of her life to relive. She chooses her twelfth birthday. As Emily watches her day unfold she sees everyone scurry about, consumed with this issue or that matter and she says from her new perspective of death, "I never realized before how in the dark live people are, from morning until night, that is all they are - troubled." Finally she says, "I can't look at everything hard enough...I didn't realize...so much that I never noticed...Do any living humans realize life while they live it, minute by minute?"

All of these thoughts came rushing through my weary mind as I was in the middle of my "ordinary day" doing the "ordinary task" of picking up my son. And I realized that I had slipped into the sin of thinking that I was going through an ordinary day in an ordinary season of my ordinary life. And suddenly, like Moses and the burning bush, my mindset changed and, in the middle of the ordinary school hallway, I began to see the divine and sacred in everything...especially the yellow piece of paper that had my son's handprints on it...in that moment, that paper became a sacred divinely inspired document. I rushed out on the playground (like I have done a thousand times before) and hugged my son (like I had done a million times before), but this was no ordinary hug...not today.

As believers our challenge, our calling is to find the sacred in every day during every "season of our life." To look harder and see better...if we do that then the ordinary will quickly become holy and extraordinary.

Thin Places

Tucked away three miles off of Wortham Bend road in Bosque County Texas is a small “tank” surrounded by an open field of grass that backs up to a boarder of cedar and oak trees. It is, in my estimation, one of the most gorgeous square acres in Texas. Right by the Tank there is a big oak tree whose branches shoot out over the water shading the birds and squirrels as they gingerly nestle up to the water’s bank and drink.

I first found this little slice of heaven when I was ridding my horse through the area. Mary and I had just gotten married and moved to her grandparents ranch and I was exploring a little. Mary always talked about this spot…about how much she loved it. …if memory serves, she had showed it to me once or twice before… But I didn’t really experience it until I was wondering through the pasture riding Gus (my horse). I just happened upon it in the Spring time….I came through the path out of the trees and there it was….this acre from heaven….covered in bluebonnets and Indian paint brush flowers. Gus and I stopped…and we both stared at the startling scenery for a moment….it was like we were about to pass some invisible barrier….like we were about to enter some other place….that was in this world but not of this world.

Thin places….that is what the Irish would call that square acre. They believed that there are places in this world where the veil between this world and the next is so sheer…so thin… that it is easy to step through. Old Cowboys picked up on that idea and changed the description to “a little piece of heaven.” But I like the Irish term – thin places.

For some it is a noisy roof top, for others a small creek…for others it is a front porch…but make no mistake about it, thin places….little slices of heaven dot the landscape world over.

For Jesus, the thin place was mountains. He loved mountains. Scripture tells us that often Jesus would sneak away from his disciples and the crowds….and he would wonder up into the mountains alone to pray and be with God. For Jesus, the air up there reminded him of home. Funny isn’t it….he snuck away into the mountains during his ministry….he died on a mountain….and he ascended into heaven on a mountain. He was in “a thin place” when he did those things. I suppose he wanted to feel close to his father, he wanted to remember his heavenly home.

Remember what Emily Browning wrote, “Earth is crammed with Heaven, and every bush ablaze with the fire of God….but only those who see, take off their shoes….the rest just stand around and pick blackberries.”

I love that quote (and so would the Irish) -- The whole earth is one big piece of heaven! “Thin places” are everywhere….Where is your "thin place?" And, my goodness, why don't you go there more often?!

An Introduction

I am beginning the blog with a bit of trepidation.  I have fought the "blog revolution" for a number of years believing that nobody would want to read my thoughts.  However, over the years, many church members and friends have urged me to begin a blog with the purpose of allowing others to journey with me through the Christian faith. 


To that end, this blog will consist of book reviews, thoughts on theology, church, the ministry, life and culture. It is my prayer that you will join me as we try our best to follow Christ on the journey of life, and as we search for the divine wherever we go. 

There is a Celtic Prayer (written by Phillip Newell) that I think would be appropriate as we begin our journey together:

"You are above us, O God.
you are within.
You are in all things
yet contained by no thing.
Teach us to seek you in all that has life
that we may see you as the Light of life.
Teach us to search for you in our own depths
that we may find you in every living soul."