hope: day five

Why are you cast down, O my soul,    and why are you disquieted within me?Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,    my help and my God.   Psalm 43:5 (NRSV)

img_7666I wanted to end HOPE week with a story about why I have hope. Like I have shared previously, hope is not easy for me to come by. For decades I have equated hope to optimism and happiness. This is not truth. In the ancient Hebrew, the word used for ‘hope’ in this scripture is a verb that is literally translated to wait. This same word is used in Genesis and Job and throughout the book of Psalm as David wrestles with the Lord.

In addition to being primarily pessimistic, I am also wildly impatient. I am by nature a fixer, so patiently standing aside or allowing something to play itself out in the timing of the universe, rather than my best laid plan, is annoying. It is also stress inducing and so impossible for me. Therefore it is vital for me to deliberately choose to lean into hope and discover what God has for me in this practice of faith. When I identified hope as an action word rather than a feeling word (I know, I know) somehow it inspired me to work at it. In my results driven brain, doing something is easier and more productive, so I can PRACTICE hope.

I have had many seasons where tending hope and sitting in waiting has been vitally excruciating. Even as I have matured in marriage and as an adult child, this practice has been hard but important. I cannot say the same for the journey of parenthood. The single hardest place in my life for me to practice hope and waiting is in the times that my kids are hurting. I want to jump smack in the middle of all of the trouble and get to fixin’.

I have battled some very real hope demons in the last year. Both of my kids have been through major transitions and each of them have encountered significant pain in the process. Both my life experience and natural wiring have given the above average ability (if you are not reading the sarcasm here, please do) to know exactly how to intervene in these dilemmas of life. And yet as I have honed my hope skills, I have required myself to stay the heck out of meddling. Now, if you know me well, you know that this is a constant battle. And some days I don’t win the skirmish of stay-out-of-it. But I can honestly say that my ability to fight the war of hope is paying great dividends.

Hope has required me to allow them to learn to fight for themselves. Hope has required me to stop emailing teachers and coaches and counselors and instead has strengthened my prayer life as I wait for them to take care of the day’s crisis. It has freed me to believe that the motto my husband’s family embodies is true…most days… “Everything will be okay in the end. If it not okay, it is not the end.”

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We have had a full 24 hours. Yesterday was dedicated to a fundraiser to support my oldest daughter’s charity. As we worked all day to get ready, I had a moment that brought tears to my eyes. As she scurried around helping with snacks and errands and set up, I looked at my mom and said, “Who is that blond, beautiful, happy girl?” A year ago, we were in a very different place. She was not smiling. She was disengaged. Life was heavy. But we had hope. And we took steps of love and joy and peace. We have had an Advent year.

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But she was not the only one. Her strong, brave sister was walking though her own heavy road and because she is fiercely her Daddy, she was determined to work and fight on her own. But there reached a day that she could not do it. And we had to trust in a hopeful state of waiting. But today brought a scene that we all needed. With all of the excitement and love she embodies, she spent this morning at her new swim team’s intrasquad meet. She shepherded little swimmers to their first ever races. She competed with dear friends in her favorite events. And the cherry on the top was racing her coaches in a relay. The smile was enormous, as she too has experienced love and joy and most of all peace in this season.

In the many hard places of this year, my girls are living hope right in front of my eyes. They are my hope bearers. I’m so very thankful for the hard times (I know this sounds SOOOO dumb), and even the super painful ones, because this season is freakishly sweet. When you have had darkness surround you and someone strikes a match of hope, it is truly miraculous.

So I will wait. In great hope. With all of the gladness I can possibly muster.

HOPE HAS COME

hope: day four

I love learning about new practices of faith. One of my favorite of the last decade is the practice of Lectio Divina (Latin for “Divine Reading”). Lectio, as I affectionately call it, is a Benedictine practice of reading scripture, meditation and reflection designed to promote communion with God and engagement with the text. It does not treat scripture as something that should be studied, but as a living, dynamic and active interaction with the Divine. 

As a part of our Missional Community (aka small group), we practice a 5-fold approach. We eat together, the read scripture together, we pray together, we engage with each other in spiritual formation questions and we commission each other to do the work of Jesus until we meet again. Our practice of engaging with scripture shares its roots with Lectio. We listen. We listen, again. We don’t read commentaries. We don’t teach each other. We listen and let the text transform us. It’s beautiful.img_7666

Tonight we read together from the first chapter of Luke. There was a phrase that leapt off the page for me. It read, “that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies, might serve him without fear” Luke 1:74.

Today, that is what hope looks like for me. I have been asked to serve in many capacities in my life. Sometimes, I am excited to serve Jesus in my places of calling. But there are the places that I would rather do all the things and yet leave my faith at the door. These places may be filled with judgement. Or hate. Or even those that proudly wave the flag of Christianity and to be quite honest, I just flat don’t want to be associated with them. As I listened to the text teach me, I knew that the only way to be holistically true to Jesus is to serve him without fear – fear of mistrust, fear of hatred, fear of judgment, fear of condemnation. Even, fear of association.

May I walk into the new rooms of my service with a heart grounded in Christ and a willingness to listen and trust in the face of fear.

hope: day three

I have always loved a good personality test. From my high school days, I have enjoyed learning about my wiring and natural tendencies. This past year, I was introduced to the Enneagram. After completing the test, I confirmed (as there was little question in my mind) that I am an Enneagram 8. According to the Enneagram Institute, an 8 is:

THE CHALLENGER
The Powerful, Dominating Type:
Self-Confident, Decisive, Willful, and Confrontational

Eights are self-confident, strong, and assertive. 
Protective, resourceful, straight-talking, and decisive, 
but can also be ego-centric and domineering. 
Eights feel they must control their environment, 
especially people, sometimes becoming confrontational 
and intimidating. Eights typically have problems with
their tempers and with allowing themselves to be vulnerable.

I’m sure that I will unpack some of the joys of this wiring in the future, but for today, I need to say a word about my personality and hope. Let’s be really honest, hope is one of the last things on my list of natural tendencies. I tear apart all wishful positivity. I am the first to shoot holes in a new idea. Instead, I manage the faults and avoid failure…at all cost. To an 8, hope is often seen as fluffy and unnecessary, even extra.

So what does a person like me do with the hope of Advent?

First of all, I don’t run from it. I have gained a smidge of knowledge in my days on earth. These hard lessons often come because my strong, decisive self has injected my challenging ways into a situation or people group that enjoy calm and positivity and community. These things can often fly in the face of an 8. At my worst, I assume that other people are my downfall. I resent their consistent drain of my energy and prefer to instead press on with the clarity of self that has a plan and way and checklist of demands.

As with any personality, we can choose to live in the worst-of-times behaviors or we can strive to flourish in the gifts that we bring to the world. My family needs my organization. My high expectations for myself and others leads me to propel others and the organizations that I support to new heights. I don’t remember a time that I was unwilling to confront or ask a hard question. This is the annoying blessing of the 8. But left unchecked, it can also be the demise of a group. Many groups cannot function with multiple 8’s. And certainly, unhealthy 8’s in mixed company are an organizational nightmare. Case and point…our government.

Today was one of those days that my 8-ness was in full effect. Humorous side note, I am married to an Enneagram 1 and I am raising a 2 and 3. Sweet Baby Jesus, save us from ourselves. We are passionate and strong and always right. Each of us. Separately. In addition to the holiday crunch, impending finals, big swim meet preparations and a hectic work schedule, my recent health challenges and the needs of others have filled my days. Oh, and I have jury duty tomorrow.

 

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Nothing seemed to go as planned. Certainly not the way that I planned it, anyway. And when that happens to an 8, ‘pissed off’ the is Sunday school description of the wrath that is coming your way. Let’s just say that hope was out the window. Hope was the absolute last thing that I WANTED to see in this day. But thankfully, I have been looking for hope in the whispers. I have watched for hope in the distance. I have never been more thankful for deliberate and intentional hope searching, because left to my own willful and dominating self, hope would have been missed.

 

You know where I found it? I found it in Costco. Right between the frozen section and the paper goods. At a moment when I didn’t think I had anything else to give, someone I love needed me – in all my assertive, protective wonder – to BE hope. And the only reason I was invited into that holy space was because I did what I thought I couldn’t possibly have time for – I answered the phone. I used the way Creator has wired me to be present. If that’s not living in hope, I don’t know what it. Because the greatest hope for someone like me is to know that just as I am, with all of my bumps and bruises, I am perfectly enough.

 

hope: day two

img_7666 Throughout literature, hopelessness is depicted as a dark night. I have personally experienced a few nights that seemed to be never-ending:

  • the night I sat next to my grandmother as she died.
  • the two nights I spent in labor with my girls
  • the night of my last drink
  • the Saturday night of rain during Hurricane Harvey

Each of these nights seemed to last far longer than the minutes the clock recorded. In the darkness of each room, there seemed a heavy hopelessness. There was physical pain. There was weighty grief. There was a sense that all was lost and that ominous gloom could effortlessly overwhelm any light that dared to pierce the darkness.

Hopelessness is all-consuming. We live in a world filled with lives and stories that reflect the brokenness of human frailty. It is with regular occurrence that we hear stories of loss so great, and oppression so profound, that we struggle to see a glimmer of restoration hope. It is from these places of suffering that we are compelled to tell a different story. A story that demands hope. A story that recounts the gracious light that changes our darkness to light.

I must confess, 2018 has seemed to be unusually dark in many spaces and places. There have been global revelations and personal pain that have caused my heart to grow fearfully dark. In each of these times, I can bear witness to the power of a tiny spark. In moments when illness seemed to dominate, the care of a compassionate physician lit a match. In places of hate, a small but dominant voice of justice was the ember of love. In the darkness of change, a new voice or neighbor or friend reached out with a flame of welcome. This year has taught me that hope is not a bonfire. Hope is rarely even a living room fire. Instead, Restorer’s hope is most often a tiny spark. That’s all it takes to pierce complete darkness. A teeny, tiny spark can transform our darkest spaces.

I have so many amazing hope bearers in my world. But one of the greatest gifts in this season of life is my friend John. He is sarcastic and witty and talented. We share a wild love for liturgy and the ancient practices of faith. He is my living, breathing Advent. If

people were classified into liturgical seasons, he would be the Bishop of Advent. For real. He is also a masterful musician and (**SHAMELESS FRIEND PLUG**) has released a new Advent EP today.  Much like his last one, this one is gold. There is a line in the title track, “Hope – Like a prayer to get through the night.”

Freaking, Hatfield. You nailed it.

That’s hope. Its that thing that you can’t even articulate and yet you lift it to the Divine in the darkest hour of the longest night. There are no faith conditions. There are no rules or expectation. Hope is the glorious mystery that reminds us again and again and again that darkness does not win. Not in the night. Not in the name of hate. Not in self-will. Not in disease. Not even when all seems lost. Not even in death. Hope illuminates the scary and punches fear in the face.

This Advent, this very day, may we look for the hope that is hiding in plain sight.

Hope IS here.

 

the first day of hope

Advent embodies 4 themes. Hope, Love, Joy and Peace will guide my writing each day in this season. This week, we will tune our hearts to hope.

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img_7666There are very few things in life that I am not opinionated about. Hockey and lawn care are the only two subjects that immediately come to mind. On all other matters, I am sure to interject a strong word. Politics happen to be one of my greatest interests. At the mature and wise age of 17, I worked on my first political campaign. This was an assignment of my government class and I credit Mr. Miles for much of my continued passion in this area.

It was the fall of 1992. We were not told a certain campaign to invest in, but I surveyed the prospects and quickly gave my time to the calling bank for a saxophone playing Arkansan named Bill Clinton. This means that I actively worked against the reelection of our 41st President, George H. W. Bush. Politically, little about his party and agenda was inline with my worldview. That was the basis of my bias. Fast forward 26 years and I found myself in a very bizarre space today.

I spent most of the day watching my cable news of choice and crying. The same can be said for a day last April. The funerals for Barbara and George H. W. Bush have captivated my heart. Not because I grew to embrace their politics. Not because I agree with their party. There is something deeper and more precious that I cannot articulate. Today I heard countless phrases like ‘beacon of civility’, ‘defined by service’, ‘highest character’ and ‘devoted to family.’ These are the things that I needed.

“In crucial things, unity. In important things, diversity. In all things, generosity.” – George H.W. Bush

There are many days that I wake to an overwhelming since of doom. I find myself facing the day’s news with a deep since of loss. Today, I needed to be reminded that in the midst of a world that seems to have lost its compass of compassion there are those, past and present, that call us to something more. Today, I was reminded that hope is real. And it is not a hope of political reconciliation or even of a peaceful tone by the talking heads. It is a hope that is lived out by a family that has, is and will be leaders as they choose to be generous servants.

Our policy and paths are very different. Our laws and even our leaders will fail us. But the legacy of generosity that is embodied by a man, his 5 children, his 14 grandchildren and his 8 great grandchildren reminds me that we can have hope. Thank you, President Bush, for providing a moment of healing to this liberal’s heart today.

Advent 2018

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Happy New Year!

That’s right, I did not confuse my holidays. Today is the first day of the Church calendar. It is a new year. The liturgical year begins 4 Sundays prior to December 25th and this is the season of Advent. We begin with waiting.

Advent, as a season, is the balance of celebratory anticipation. As we celebrate the season, we are reminded of the desperation for and revelation of a Savior in Jesus. At the same time, we long for the return of Christ in the age to come. It is both reflection and longing. Advent is a period of preparation. A time of tempered longing, but not of penance. Advent, at its core is a season of joy.

So what do we do about the context of our modern world and the insanity that ensues this time of year? Let me go out on a limb and say that there is NOTHING about the worldly context of holiday celebration that is expectant and tempered and anticipatory. 

I LOVE the Christmas season. I love the build up and thoughtful gifts and generous outpouring of festive cheer. I come from a family that has woven the love of glittery celebration deep in my bones and heart and internal clock. But as an adult, the soul tending season of Advent as taken root and defined my context of celebration. I have no patience for those that sing “Joy to the World” on December 2nd, because we NEED to learn to wait. We can celebrate, but to fully embrace the significance of the Christ Child, we need to place our heart (if not our decor) in a posture of preparation and longing.

So, we enter this year with waiting. If you have ever had a season where the road was not clear or the outcome was not quickly revealed or the answer you longed for was not immediately given, you know about waiting. In the midst of it, it can be heartbreaking and hard. But for those that have waited and walked to the other side, you know that waiting is often a time of great spiritual growth. For me, the advents of life are the times when my character is formed and my spirit matures.

This year, I am intentionally committing to a short daily Advent writing. I am purposely adding to my seasonally busy plate because I have to force myself to slow down. There is no better way for me to do that than to take intentional time to write and reflect…on my bathroom floor, of course. I join with all of those that need discipline, as by nature we race past the HOPE, LOVE, JOY and PEACE of Advent in favor of the sales and wrapping, and decorating and parties. If these things bring you life, do all the things, my friends. They are good and fun and right AND chose to find the things that slow your soul. I will read and write and mediate on scripture. I will be still in the longing. 

It is my prayer that you will join me on this journey. Send me your Advent thoughts and reflections and stories of growth. Tell me of your longing and hope. Remind me again that not all waiting is easy, as some of us will feel great pain in this season. We are never alone as we journey toward the manger. For thousands of years, this pilgrimage of faith reminds those that wait that there is a way. 

Jeremiah 33:14-16
The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.  In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The LORD is our righteousness.”

O Come, O Come Emmanuel