Showing posts with label advent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label advent. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Root Cause

This is my update on the fast:

For three and a half weeks it was going really well.  I didn’t even feel tempted to go to that grumbly, angry, negative place.  Then, Christmas traffic happened.

I was in my car at the stop sign at the end of my road one night.  My street T’s into a very busy thoroughfare.  As I waited for an opening in traffic, the person behind me honked.  I was surprised because there really was no opening for me to merge into, but I dutifully sat up straighter and inched forward – so this person could see that I was paying attention even though she had just seen me dial a phone number on my cell.  Five seconds passes.  Still no opening.  Honk.  REALLY?  I gesture in exasperation, look in the rearview mirror, and tell her to hold on.  She honks again.  I put it in park and fold my arms over my chest, staring her down all the while.  I almost got out and told her what I thought: “Seriously?  Don’t you know it’s Christmas?  What in the world could have you in so much of a hurry?”  After several seconds of making her wait while I sat there in park, I shifted into drive and finally turned off my street.

“Hmmm,” I thought.  “I’m pretty sure I just broke my fast.”

Then yesterday, swimming happened.  I swim laps regularly at my 24 Hour Fitness.  I’ve complained to management twice about this (before I started the fast, of course), but it happened again yesterday: a non-lap swimmer was taking up a full lane doing exercise jogging.  Let me explain: there are only three lanes for swimming at the pool – lanes which are always full; the other half of the pool is occupied by open space for non-lap swimmers to exercise.  I asked the woman if I could use the lane for lap-swim.  She graciously said, “sure” and then proceeded to slide over.  In other words, she kept up her exercise routine, simply confining it to one-half of the lane rather than moving out of the lanes entirely.  I was steaming.  I couldn’t concentrate during my swim (a time that usually allows me to clear my head of junk like this).  I fixated on how annoying this woman was and how I was going straight to management as soon as I finished my swim.

“Hmmm,” I thought.  “That would be breaking my fast.”  My whininess rebelled: “but, someone has to tell; I mean, she’s breaking the rules and causing inefficiency.”  (There were many other, less coherent thoughts in there, but that about sums it up.)

I did not go tattle on her to management, though part of me still wants to.

So, where do I stand?  Much to my disappointment, I’m not yet purged of my go-to, fleshy place of bitchiness.  I definitely still have it in me to whine about all the things I see as unjust (anything I view as rule-breaking is tantamount among them) and make sure the people in charge know how I feel. 

Predictable, understandable order makes me feel safe.  Therein lies the rub.  If I know the rules, I know what to expect, how to make sure I’m not upsetting or disappointing others, and simultaneously how to not be rejected and to not have to submit myself to the whims of other people’s perspectives, judgment, understanding of right and wrong.  Your understanding of how to treat others doesn’t matter if the rules are followed.  There’s no wishy-washy understanding; there simply is.  I can live in a world with brick walls, but a world with tent flaps and rickety poles, where the wind can shift the boundaries around me at any moment, terrifying.

Where am I going with this?  I think I’m realizing the root of my urge to complain.  Ultimately, the root is fear.  I use structure, order, efficiency as a way to keep myself safe.  When people step outside of those boundaries I become impatient and angry because I feel out of control.  It’s similar to watching a two-year-old throw a temper tantrum.  I’m not mature enough to respond to the chaos in a way that gives me time to adjust; instead, I let my emotions dictate my response (see Simmering).

Unfortunately for my flesh, “mercy triumphs over judgment” (James 2:13).  Yes, I serve the God of Truth, who created a world in which every part adheres to a know-able order.  Yes, I serve the God of Wrath, who judges man and deserves our awe, where justice will prevail (note the distinction between justice and judgment).  But I also serve the God of Mercy, who sent His Son to live among us and take His wrath upon Himself. 

The woman in the swimming lane may have deserved to be told off and forced to move.  The woman behind me in the car may have deserved to be forced to wait because of her impatience.  But it would have been better to gift them with things they did not deserve in that moment: mercy in the form of graciousness for the swimmer and patience for the driver.  There lies the way of life-giving Truth.  I do not find life in rules; I find life in love.  I have experienced that truth over and over again during this fast.

That’s what this fast is about – about transforming my flesh into more of His likeness, about living abundant life in Him and not a shadow-life in rules.  I want to “love for the day is near” but I’m, ultimately, horrible at it (Romans 13: 8-14).  I need His grace daily.  I need His Spirit to be at work in me constantly.  In short, I need Immanuel, God with us. 

This Christmas season, may He come again and again.  And may I come before Him as the Wise Men did, bowing before Him in his own rule-breaking humility: a King in a manger born to make a way for redemption.  Amen, come Christ Jesus, come.

Linking up with Soli Deo Gloria today.  Be sure to stop by and read what these awesome women have to say!

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Dancing on the edge

"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for...." (Hebrews 11:1)

My faith is being tested.  I could dwell on all the ways I'm FREAKING OUT, on all the things that are going wrong, on all the fears I have about how it's not going to work out.  However, I'm fasting (in case you missed it, check out this post: http://inthebecoming.blogspot.com/2010/11/advent.html).  Part of my fast is refraining from complaining; the other part is choosing to dwell on the good gifts God has given me.

So, I choose to dwell on the promise.  I choose to focus on what I have to look forward to, what I am hoping for.  For He has given me specific things to hope for in this season...promises I know He is working out.  But...

"Hope is fragile.  It has been said that hope 'dances on the edge of wishing.'"  This from last Sunday's Advent sermon at St. Michael's.  It struck me.  I have been carrying it around inside ever since.

If hope is fragile, then what am I clinging to?  God has given me hope, yes, but He has called me to something greater.

I've been carrying something else around inside of me for a little over a week now.  It is this excerpt from my friend Michael Warden's blog series about addressing a need for change in your life: "Faith is not hope. Hope says, 'It’s possible.' Faith says, 'It’s inevitable. No maybe about it. It will happen.'"

"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for...."  Or, in the New Living Translation: "Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see."  (Hebrews 11:1)  Faith is hope taken to the next level.

God has spoken to me and my family very specifically during this season.  He has led us into new places and asked us to have faith that He will provide.  The crux?  The place He has led us to is a place we have hoped to be all our lives.  Now, we are living in hope through faith.

Our priest said something else during Sunday's sermon that stuck to my insides.  (I'm paraphrasing here...) "It's okay to need evidence."  She was talking about how the early Christians looked back at their Jewish heritage - at things God had already done - to remind themselves that He will act.  Another example from Scripture: God's rainbow (Genesis 9). 

"I am giving you a sign of my covenant with you and with all living creatures for all generations to come.  I have placed my rainbow in the clouds.  It is the sign...." (Genesis 9: 12-13, NLT)

God knows us so well.  He knows our faith will falter.  He knows that sometimes we will slip back into hope alone or even simple wishing.  During those times He's there to remind us, to give us a sign, to help us remember (re-member...to bring together, to make whole...in this instance, to draw me back to Him, to Truth). 

By His grace and with His help, I believe that what He has spoken to me, to my family will come to pass.  Not just believe but act as though it is already so.  Even on the days when I'm totally, completely, hopelessly freaking out.

Amen, Christ Jesus, let it be.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Advent

As many of you are no doubt aware, the season of Advent began on Sunday.  According to dictionary.com, Advent is defined as "the period beginning four Sundays before Christmas, observed in commemoration of the coming of Christ into the world." 

For me, Advent signifies two things: expectation and preparation.  It is always an exciting time, but this year I'm especially excited about it because my two-year-old can (sort of) understand that something is afoot in the Forgey household.  There is something different - special - about this time of year.  It's not just the presents or the decorations; it's also the attitude and focus.  We spend a lot of time talking about the "reason for the season" at my house and focusing on ways to teach the true nature of gift-giving.  We give because we have received. 

This year I've decided to give God a gift directly.  After an incredibly challenging fall, during which my fleshy nature seemed to win more often than not, I've been struck by how much I like to bitch.  Excuse the word, but there's really no other way to say it.  "Grumble" and "complain" don't quite do what I do justice.  I love to tell everyone how I feel about everything, and, more often than not, that equals bitching about stuff.  During the last few months, when I had legitimate reasons to complain, I noticed how not fruitful complaining is.  I only felt worse after spewing my negativity all over the place, even when I was justified in my opinion.  And I certainly didn't spread love or joy but rather anger, frustration, and anxiety.  Thanks to the Holy Spirit (for I know this idea came from Him), I decided a few weeks ago that it's time to change this behavior.  So, I'm fasting.

During Advent, I'm giving God my complaints.  Quite literally.  I'm trusting that He knows them before I speak them, that He's defending me when I need it, that He's at work for justice in the world everywhere injustice exists.  I don't need to single-handedly change the world by addressing every situation I confront.  I can leave them to Him.  I can simply be...silent.

My fast from complaining will involve choosing not to speak (something that is incredibly difficult for me).  But it will also involve choosing to speak.  "But as I stood there in silence--not even speaking of good things--the turmoil within me grew worse" (Psalm 39:2).  I will turn from anger, dissatisfaction, fear even, and turn toward joy, hope, goodness.  I will choose to spread love and not anger.

I'm really excited about this.  Feel free to ask me how it's going or to tell me if you hear me complaining.  This will be a learning process, so I'm open to feedback.

In the meantime, may you have a blessed Advent season, and may you see Him coming into your life in many ways this Christmas.

[The Advent daily readings in the Episcopal church, of which I'm a member, are: Psalms 5 & 6 (in the morning); Psalms 10 & 11 (in the evening); Isaiah 1:21-31; 1 Thessalonians 2:1-12; Luke 20:9-18.]