Luke 1:39 - 45
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit. In a loud voice she exclaimed: “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear! But why am I so favored, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? As soon as the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the baby in my womb leaped for joy. Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”
Most of us get totally out of rhythm during the season leading up to Christmas. We live at a pace that is almost unmanageable, then talk as if we don't have a choice in the matter. "I have to go here . . ." and "I need to do this . . ." and "They'll be expecting me. . . ." Our language becomes full of obligation and expectation, the "shoulds" and "musts" of a life that is out of control.
So every year I hear people talk about the need to slow down, to be simpler, to savor the sights and sounds of Christmas throughout Advent. I hear a lot of talk, but see very little of it. We get caught by the pace of the season, almost as if in a river's current that we cannot resist.
We have some options. First, we can curse the busy-ness. We can talk about it as a blight upon the season. We can talk about "putting Christ back in Christmas" and all those sorts of things. But that doesn't necessarily change how we step through Advent toward Christmas. It is entirely possible -- and perhaps probable -- that even in our resistance of the busy-ness, we'll find ourselves scattered, frayed, and pulled apart in hundreds of different directions. We'll still lament how short the time is, how difficult it is to meet all the demands and obligations that we carry like heavy sacks of duty.
Second, we can try to create some rhythm through Advent that prepare us for Christmas. I find this option more fruitful than the first. It means that we intentionally create some space so that we live with more balance through Advent and Christmas. If we take this option, we may find ourselves still cursing the busyness; however, we counter the busy-ness with spaciousness.
We take a day for retreat.
We spend a few more minutes in the morning in prayer.
We spend a few moments at the end of the day reflecting on our experience of the day . . . what has given me life and what has drained life from me.
We settle into regular worship and enjoy the pauses as sacred interludes in which silence is savored.
The third option I'll mention is perhaps the most difficult of all, yet may be the most helpful for us in the end. It entails taking a different stance into the busy-ness. It invites us to have different eyes in the settings to which we scurry in haste. It involves seeing Christ embodied in the real-life settings in which I find myself.
In short, it doesn't lament the pace of the season, nor does it try to reform everyone else's pace. It does not try to withdraw from the artificial Christmas world in order to seek a more spotless and pure experience of Christmas. Rather, it attends to the pace at which I live, the places I go, and seeks to bring the light of Christ even into the often-frantic Advent season.
Actually, this is the major challenge of spirituality. How do I live a spiritual life in the world in which I live? How do I live a life that is energized and empowered by a core life-connection to God in the specific context of my life? . . . my family, relationships, work, leisure, church, and so on?
Yes, I probably need to stop lamenting the artificial expectations of the season. And yes, I need to live more fully into a rhythm that helps me stay focused. But most of all, I need to be fully present in those places in which I live, move and having my being. I need to be in those places in transforming ways . . . not grudgingly and grumbling.
Last year it became clear to me -- for reasons I won't go into now -- that part of the gift I have to offer people during Advent and Christmas is my time and energy. The time and energy I offer is poured into planning services for worship and prayer, leading classes for listening to God's stirring, providing quiet space in retreats, and more . . . counseling, speaking, listening, writing, meeting and delivering.
For me, I suppose it has been like this for 30 years, but I resisted for a long time, lamenting the busy-ness. It has become clear to me that I need to find a rhythm for Advent and let God use that rhythm to carry me through the season. Further, I need not lament the pace, but lean into it in a different way, with eyes to see what is really around me . . . the people, the voices, the sights. I need to do what I do, but to do so in a redeeming and transforming way, if that makes any sense.
So that's what I have on my mind for these last few days of Advent.
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