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Advent, busy, Christ, Christmas, God, Jesus, life, love, productive, quiet, sacred, schedule, spiritual, stillness
As a pastor, I am constantly preaching about savoring the quiet anticipation of Advent. We even offer Advent Lessons and Carols, which has a more contemplative note than its celebratory sibling, Christmas Lessons and Carols. But in everyday life, I am just as vulnerable as anyone else to the secular chaos in which Advent lives. I find myself running kids around to obligations and performances, juggling calendar conflicts with all the special holiday offerings, and even add commitments myself because I want to maintain annual traditions. Nothing about life outside of church feels quiet and centered.
I think is why I was so grateful for the gift of a minimally scheduled Saturday this past weekend. Both professionally and personally the calendar was mostly clear – I even reserved the TV for watching a basketball game which I rarely can do. As my daughter and I settled in, she proposed doing a puzzle together – an activity we always say we’ll do but somehow never get around to doing. And so evolved an afternoon of sports watching, puzzle assembling, and the kind of conversation that can only happen when you make unstructured space for it. When I got to close of the day, I realized that while a part of me felt guilty for not being particularly “productive” (no catching up on work, no doing household chores, no addressing Christmas cards), I marveled at how spiritually and emotionally productive the day felt with my daughter.
I know finding even moments of quiet anticipation in Advent can feel impossible these days. There are so many things vying for our attention – many of them quite good and important. But I wonder if you might be able to carve out some unscheduled time in these weeks left of Advent. They may have to be in the car on your way to something, or while walking on the treadmill, or saying goodnight to the children. Maybe it means making your way to church even if you have other invitations. Whenever you can find that sacred space, I promise the life and love of Christ is waiting for you in the stillness. God is already there. You are invited to say hello.
You may not know this about me, but I am not a natural when it comes to silence. As an extrovert, silence feels like it should be filled. When I lead worship that needs a silent moment, I often make myself take a couple of additional breaths before I break the silence, knowing that my own tolerance for silence is much lower than most people’s tolerance. A couple of summers ago, I was a part of parish that covenanted to pray with scripture for twenty minutes a day for ninety days. The idea was that a bulk of that twenty minutes was not meant to be spent talking or analyzing biblical scripture, but to be silent in the presence of God’s word, making room for God’s living Word to speak. As you might imagine, the practice for me was brutally painful. But I learned a lot about myself and my prayer life that summer, and changed many of my practices as a result of the experience.
Seeking and Serving 