“Praise the Lord! Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty firmament! Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his surpassing greatness!… Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!” (Psalm 150:1,2,6)
I’ve had the phrase “sacrifice of praise” stuck in my head for the last few days. I’m not sure where I saw it, or how it got there, but it’s been there, rolling around, forcing me to think about it. What does it mean, to offer a sacrifice of praise? Those two words don’t really seem to go together easily.
Doesn’t offering a sacrifice usually imply some sort of hardship? Doesn’t the idea of making a sacrifice generally include the understanding of doing something that’s not comfortable or easy, but in fact, is inconvenient, difficult, or even painful? And isn’t offering praise, on the other hand, the sharing of something good and encouraging and uplifting, the offering of which usually comes easily and willingly, and even naturally?
So why are we invited to “continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise”? (cf. Hebrews 13:15; emphasis mine).
People are struggling right now. And not just “right now,” but for close to a year. A year. For almost twelve months we have been living with the restrictions imposed by COVID-19–which I do not need to elaborate on; we all know them all too well. Of course, people were struggling before that, too; life was not all rainbows and roses pre-coronavirus.
But the COVID-related restrictions have made everyone’s struggles even greater.
People are struggling. People around the world and across the street. Our neighbors and co-workers, our educators and political leaders, our relatives and friends. You who are reading this, and I who am writing this. We are all struggling. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide, nothing to try to deny. I dare say it’s a fact of life in this season through which we are living.
And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….
Suddenly, the idea of offering a sacrifice of praise makes sense. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, there may not be a lot that we want to say to God that is good and encouraging and uplifting. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, offering praise to God may not come easily or willingly or naturally. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, praising God is not necessarily easy or comfortable. Right now, in the midst of these struggles, I dare say that praising God may very well be difficult, or even painful.
And yet, we, as people of faith, now as always, are invited to praise God….
Perhaps it doesn’t come easily. Perhaps it doesn’t feel natural. Perhaps it’s even painful.
But maybe, just maybe, as people of faith, we can dig deep and offer a sacrifice of praise to God–praising God for God’s steadfast love and abiding presence if nothing else–right now, in the midst of these struggles.
“That evening, at sunset, they brought to [Jesus] all who were sick or possessed with demons….And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons….” (Mark 1:32, 34)
When I read passages like this in the Bible, I’m immediately grateful that I don’t have a demon. There are stories where someone has a demon who throws that person into the fire, or onto the ground; there are stories where someone with a demon is mute and another howls and cuts himself. In all of these stories, Jesus casts out the demons and restores their former “hosts” to wholeness; but still–I read them and feel very grateful that I don’t need that kind of healing from Jesus.
I’m especially thankful that I don’t have a demon that throws me into the fire–because this is where I’ve been spending a LOT of time in recent weeks:
But…as I think about it…I realize that there is something within me that can pull me away from wholeness, and forcefully.
There is no demon within me that pushes me to the ground…but there is, sometimes, something within me that does try to push me down–telling me things like I’m not good enough, I’m not capable enough, I don’t know enough….
Similarly, there is no unclean spirit within me that causes me to be mute…but there is, sometimes, something within me that influences me to be silent when I should speak up, that keeps me from speaking what I know to be true when that truth feels too uncomfortable or painful or risky….
As for cutting myself, there is no evil spirit within me that has led me to do that…but I have, at times, listened to something within me that has allowed me to chose to harm myself in other ways–by not addressing unhealthy relationships, for example, or by not listening to my own voice among all those I listen to for wisdom and guidance.
I am more comfortable calling the “something within me” that puts me down, my “inner critic” instead of the voice of a demon, but it is similarly destructive. And while I’m more likely to think of those thoughts that try to silence me as coming from a place of fear and insecurity rather than an “unclean spirit,” couldn’t fear and insecurity be considered something similar?? And the variation on self-harm? Well, the voice within me that persuades me to not value myself appropriately could perhaps be considered an “evil spirit.”
Maybe I do have demons that need to be cast out by Jesus–demons within me that cause me to doubt my goodness and my capabilities, to doubt the truth that I know, to doubt my own wisdom and authority.
Maybe I do need Jesus to cast them out, so that there will be more space for a sense of my belovedness, and so that I can more fully trust God’s goodness and truth and wisdom within me.
Maybe I do need “that kind of healing” from Jesus….
As a pastor, I probably shouldn’t confess this, but I have a hard time with some of the stories the Bible tells about Jesus. His zapping a fig tree for not bearing fruit (when it wasn’t the season for figs) is one. (Mark 11:12-25) His chastising Martha for being busy in the kitchen is another. (Luke 10:38-42) How else was dinner going to get fixed?
These days—eleven months into the pandemic, economic upheaval, and virtual church—the story of Jesus calming the storm (Mark 4:35-41) is at the top of the list. According to Mark’s Gospel, one night Jesus decides he wants to get to the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Peter and the other fishermen-turned-disciples humor him and set sail. Before they reach shore, they get caught in a storm that threatens to swamp the boat and dump all of them into the drink.
But in the midst of the howling wind and crashing waves, Jesus calmly rebukes the storm. “Peace, be still,” he says, according to the King James Version. J.B. Phillips translates Jesus’ words as “hush now” and the Wycliffe Bible as “Wax dumb.” The Message translates Jesus’ command as “settle down,” as if Jesus were talking to an errant child, and not a raging storm that’s about to drown them all.
Given the myriad of storms that swirl around us—from the pandemic to economic upheaval to “alternate facts” to conspiracy plots—I need a Jesus who does more than say “hush now” or “settle down” to the howling winds. Speaking personally, on a day in which my computer was hacked, my dog figured out how to unlatch the back gate to get out, and a backlog of work swamps my desk, I need a Jesus who stands up to the chaos and pushes back at the waves of disruption, be they global or part of daily life.
Believe it or not, that’s the Jesus in this story. In the Gospel’s original Greek, he snarls at the screeching wind and crashing waves: “Put a muzzle on it!” That’s the literal translation of how this story was first told. It’s a far cry from the gentle, long-suffering Jesus of some later translations.
I find Jesus’ snarl to the wind and waves comforting. When the storms of life rage around us and within us, it’s good to remember that Jesus didn’t stay safe on the shore but was in the boat with Peter and the others that night—and is with us as well. When like those fishermen, we’re caught in storms we’re not sure we can weather, I’m glad for the One whose power can silence even the loudest clamor. When we can’t calm our own waves of doubt or quiet the inner howls of despair, I’m thankful for the One who can put a muzzle on it all.
Most of all, I’m thankful for the One whose voice we can still hear through such an ancient story that still offers new life. Perhaps you are, too.a
“Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’ Then the Lord said to Samuel, ‘See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle….I am about to punish [Eli’s] house forever…’
“Samuel lay there until morning…afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, ‘Samuel, my son….What was it that [the Lord] told you? Do not hide it from me….’ So Samuel told him everything…. Then [Eli] said, ‘It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.'”
(1 Samuel 3:10-18…ish…)
The above passage is a significantly abbreviated version of the familiar “Calling of Samuel” passage (cf. 1 Samuel 3), wherein “the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under [the priest] Eli” (1 Samuel 3:1). Prior to what we read above, God had already called three times: “Samuel! Samuel!” And all three times Samuel had gone to Eli, saying, “You called?” The first two times, Eli said, “I didn’t call you. Go back to bed.” The third time it hit him: “Ah! GOD is calling you! If it happens again, say, ‘Yes, God? I’m listening.’”
That’s where we pick up the story: “Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, ‘Samuel! Samuel!’ And Samuel said, ‘Speak, for your servant is listening.’” Often, it seems, the focus of this passage is on God calling, and on listening for God’s call. When I read it this week, however, there were a couple of other parts that stood out to me.
One is just Samuel’s response to hearing what was going to happen to Eli–he “lay there until morning” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:15). So, I’m not the first person (nor, I suspect, will I be the last) to lay awake until morning, my mind spinning over things (especially bad things!) that are out of my control. In fact, not only am I not the first person to spend a sleepless night, fearing what lies ahead, but I’m in good company!
The other thing that spoke to me was Eli’s response to what Samuel told him. Samuel had just delivered some pretty unwelcome(!) news–that God was “about to punish [Eli’s] house forever” (cf. 1 Sam. 3:13). I don’t know exactly what that would look like–to have your house and family punished by God forever–but surely it’s not a good thing. Surely, in fact, it’s a terrible thing.
And how did Eli respond? Did he say, “What?? That’s not fair!” No. Did he say, “What?? Why me??” No. Did he say, “Surely ‘forever’ doesn’t really mean forever…” No. Did he otherwise moan or whine or complain or rage? No.
He said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”
“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”
And I thought, “Wow…if only I could adopt that attitude….” That speaks to me of trusting in God, no matter what. Of claiming God’s goodness, no matter the circumstances.
“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”
That speaks to me of trusting in a bigger picture, even though it can’t be seen. Of claiming to be part of a bigger–and better–story, even though this part sucks.
“It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.”
That speaks to me of faith.
Does that mean in every situation that is “unwelcome,” we are to simply sit back and accept it, without complaining or raging? Or doing anything to change it? Of course not.
But perhaps there are times–particularly when the unwelcome situations are out of our control (not that any of us can relate to that concept…!)–when an attitude of “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him” could be helpful.
Sometimes God seems so invisible … trying to see God is like trying to see the white paint along the edge of the highway … while we drive white-knuckled through a white-out snowstorm. Sometimes God seems so silent … listening for God is like listening to the snow falling during the bleak midwinter… can you hear the snow falling?
Some of my earliest Christmas memories date back to when my brother and I were very young. We sat on the light blue shag carpet in the den by the crackling fire in the fireplace. Our great-grandmother Lulu sat in her chair by the fire, wrapped up in a crochet afghan that reminded me of a multi-colored, warm waffle. Our grandfather Emmett looked out the big picture window and asked me, “Can you hear the snow falling?” “No,” I replied, “but I can SEE it.” And then my grandfather taught my brother and me that we must use our imaginations and listen to the stories of our ancestors to “hear” God’s voice. My mother reinforced these stories as we grew in faith and now I have passed them along to my own children. Listen to the stories of our spiritual ancestors and then use your imagination (and what science and history have taught you) to fill in the blanks in the story.
After Christmas had passed and we were counting the days until Epiphany, my grandfather pulled out his well-worn old King James version of his Bible with a genuine leather cover. He turned to Matthew and read selections from chapter two. The story that he read to us sounded something like this:
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is this child who has been born king of the Jews? For we have observed his star at its rising, and we have come to pay him homage.’ Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was…they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.” (Matthew 2:1-2, 7-11, New Revised Standard Version)
Much of what follows has grown out of my (mostly) German family traditions which have evolved as our ancestors told stories near the fireplace. Some of this is fact, some is fiction, some is what might have happened or what could have happened… some of what follows can be proven and some cannot. But all of this is the story that my family has always told as we counted the twelves days from Christmas to the Epiphany. Giving credit to appropriate historical sources to back this up is impossible here… this is the story my family has always told as we roasted … “chestnuts on the open fire.”
Epiphany follows the Twelve Days of Christmas (which usually are counted from December 26 until January 6, which is the Twelfth Day). The four Advent candles in our Advent wreath have been replaced by the twelve white candles on our fireplace mantle, representing the supposed twelve-day journey of the wise kings to Bethlehem. Thus, in our home, the three kings with a camel or two and a few rocks painted gold start at the east end of our 8-foot dining table. Each night for twelve nights, we march the kings forward, inching more closely to the baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph who are set up on the west end of the table. Each night as the kings move from east to west, we light one more candle, indicating one more day on this long journey to Bethlehem.
The colors of Epiphany are white, representing newness, and gold, representing kingship. The word, “epiphany” means “to show” or “to make known” or “to reveal.” We remember the wise ones who brought gifts to the Christ child and they “reveal” to all the known world that Jesus is King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Were there really three kings? We do not know how many kings (or magi or wise ones or astrologers) there were. But the scripture indicates that these wise ones brought three gifts. What is important is not the number of kings, but the gifts that they brought to Jesus. We were taught these were symbolic gifts, foreshadowing what Jesus would be for us and for all humankind. At our Epiphany feast each year, my mother would put out the gifts by our place-settings that the kings brought to the baby Jesus: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
1. The gold represents kingship. When were we young children, chocolate coins covered with gold foil represented the gold the kings brought to Jesus. The significance of this gift was the foreshadowing that the baby Jesus would grow to be our king.
2. The frankincense represents the priestly function of Jesus (as the “great high priest”). Burning a bit of frankincense in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of how holy, other-worldly, and “God-like” Jesus must be. Frankincense is highly fragrant when burned and was (and still is) used by some priests in worship.
3. The myrrh represents the humanness of Jesus. He had a real body and one day he would die and be buried. Myrrh is made from the sap of a tree and was used in biblical times for embalming the dead. A few drops of myrrh essential oil in a small dish at each place-setting reminded me of a damp, decaying, and musty forest.
2020 finally has ended. Seeing God and hearing God in 2020 was challenging for so many as we navigated a global pandemic. And now we begin our journey forward into 2021. As we move into the year ahead, listen, look, give your gifts to the new-born Christ child in the manger, and recall the lyrics to a familiar Christmas carol (written by Gloria Shayne Baker and Noel Regney):
Said the night wind to the little lamb: “Do you see what I see? Way up in the sky, little lamb Do you see what I see? A star, a star, dancing in the night With a tail as big as a kite With a tail as big as a kite”
Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy: “Do you hear what I hear? Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy Do you hear what I hear? A song, a song, high above the trees With a voice as big as the sea With a voice as big as the sea”
Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king: “Do you know what I know? In your palace warm, mighty king Do you know what I know? A Child, a Child shivers in the cold Let us bring Him silver and gold Let us bring Him silver and gold”
Said the king to the people everywhere: “Listen to what I say! Pray for peace, people everywhere! Listen to what I say! The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night He will bring us goodness and light He will bring us goodness and light”
“For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
Most of you do not know this about me (although it won’t surprise you!), but every year for the past, maybe, twenty- (?) years, I have written a Christmas letter. And this is no ordinary Christmas letter. For most of those years, it has been a rhyming Christmas letter. And sometimes, even set to a tune (one year, for example, I wrote our family’s version of “My Favorite Things” from the Sound of Music! Yes, really…). I strive to make it informative, yes, but more than that, I try to make it fun to read. I do not, typically–and this is the part that really won’t surprise you–try to make it brief!!
This year, as the Christmas season was approaching, a friend suggested, somewhat in jest (but not, I suspect, entirely!), that I try to write a Christmas haiku. You know–the Japanese form of poetry that consists of three lines, with five and seven and five syllables, respectively.
After I stopped laughing hysterically at the thought of summarizing this year in only seventeen syllables, I decided to try it! I came up with several options, but this was the winner:
As you might expect, it has been quite an exercise for me, using such a short form of poetry to express emotion and capture meaning. But it has been, in fact, quite a thought-provoking exercise…and I’ve expanded it beyond “just” my Christmas letter.
I also decided to try to compose one as a New Year’s “offering,” a haiku prayer of sorts. While I was standing in line at the post office today, I actually came up with two. And I share them with you here, for whatever they may be worth:
Breathe. You can trust me. I am doing a new thing… Come be part of it….
and
This year is ending. New life and change are coming. Breathe. Trust. Watch. Hope. Breathe…
There seems to be a bit of a theme, in all three of those last haikus. I suppose it’s something I, at least, need to hear and be reminded of. And that is to “Breathe.”
To breathe in God’s peace and breathe out anxiety. To breathe in God’s presence and breathe out isolation. To breathe in God’s hope and breathe out despair. To breathe in God’s love and breathe out fear.
As this crazy year comes to end, dear friends, breathe…As a new year begins, breathe… As we move from one day to the next, one month to the next, one year to the next, not knowing what is in store, good or bad, comfortable or uncomfortable, desired or not, breathe…and trust…and watch…and hope…and breathe.
“And Mary said, ‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.’”
(Luke 1:46-55)
The Magnificat.
Mary’s Song of Praise.
The Canticle of Mary.
By whatever name you call it, it’s a hymn of praise, an overflowing offering of praise and gratitude to God, “the Mighty One,” offered by Mary following her joyous meeting with her cousin Elizabeth, during which the miraculous pregnancies of both women were recognized. It’s praise for what God has done for her, and praise for what God will do through her.
And it’s not just praise. Or at least not just a “rainbows and roses” kind of praise that makes everyone feel good. It’s also a claiming of the reality of God, a proclaiming of the Kingdom of God that has been promised “from generation to generation,” and that will be birthed in a new and previously unknown way, in Jesus.
In Mary’s hymn of joyous praise to God, there is, included, an overturning of the status quo–the powerful being brought down and the lowly being lifted up…. There’s a calling-out of the way things are and a “calling-toward” the ways things are meant to be–those who are hungry being filled to satisfaction and those who are satisfied being sent away empty….
The Magnificat is not simply a quiet song of praise whispered timidly by meek and humble Mary, as I admit I have tended to think of it.
It is a powerful song of praise–and gratitude and hope and revolution–sung boldly by faithful and courageous Mary!
…Would that I might praise God with similar power, and boldness, and courage, not just now in this season of Advent but in the living of all my days…
…Would that my praise might somehow claim, and then proclaim the reality of the Kingdom of God that has been birthed in Jesus…
…Would that my soul might magnify the Lord, today, tomorrow, and always…
Mighty One, may it be so. Peace be with us all. Deb
by Gordon Street, SWC Commissioned Minister for Reimagining and Connecting with the God of One’s Own Understanding
Faith and spiritual practices sustain me during this uncertain pandemic era and unprecedented election season. Because my ministry focuses on helping people connect with a God of their own understanding, I want to share a few thoughts about what has helped personally these last many months.
The solution always is faith. But what does faith really mean? A quirk of the English language is that faith can be only a noun when it really should be a verb because faith is not what I think, it is what I do. Paul, in Hebrews, says “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” That means faith is the result of hope, the evidence of the unknowable. How I choose to face each day and what I do during the course of each day produces faith. Faith does not guide my actions. Actions produce my faith.
Here is what I have done every day during the pandemic. Each day I begin with a prayer for wisdom, strength, willingness and courage to face the things I must face. I also pray for the world, my family, my First Church beloved community, and my friends, to help them in all their needs. Most important is my prayer that God’s will be done in their lives as well as mine. I don’t pray for outcomes. I pray for attitudes in circumstances.
I, like most people, am cooped up at home. I reach out the friends, family and even strangers every day to see how I can be of service to them and give words of hope and encouragement.
In other words, I pray for faith for myself, and the rest of my prayers are for everyone else. Take the focus off of me. I believe my prayers and actions embody Jesus’ suggestion that we love God with all of our being and love our neighbors as we love ourselves.
Faith doesn’t mean everything will be alright, and I’ll win the lottery too.
God doesn’t necessarily make everything all better. God grants me the willingness, strength, and courage to handle whatever I am facing. God is with me and embracing me through it all. Especially during difficult times. I am comforted by knowing I’m not alone in difficulty.
“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.” (Mark 13:24-25)
This was part of the scripture that was read at this past Sunday evening’s (Zoom) vespers service at White Rock Presbyterian Church.
It was the Gospel reading for Sunday, the first Sunday of Advent (yes, really! Already! Crazy…). As I listened to the passage being read, I was struck by the words at the very beginning, the words I quoted above: “in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.”
And I felt a heaviness as I thought, “Not just ‘in those days’…but in these days!”
In these days, when there has been and continues to be so much suffering and darkness.
In these days, when there has been and continues to be so much chaos, that we are left feeling like the stars are falling from the sky and the powers in the heavens have been shaken.
Not just “in those days”…but in these days….
But then I heard the words that came next: “Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory.” (Mark 13:26) And my heaviness turned to hope!
Precisely in the presence of great suffering, when the darkness is so great that it feels like the sun has stopped shining and the moon ‘will not give its light,’ then Jesus will come! Then God will make God’s presence known!
In the wake of tremendous pain, when the resulting chaos has led to feelings of the world being turned completely upside down, when uncertainty seems to reign, then the Son of Man will come! Then God’s power and glory will be made manifest and will be seen!
“But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light, and the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken….”
And I know, not just “in those days,” but certainly, in these days….
But “then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory….”
And I pray, not just in those days…but also in these days. If not now, when??
Come, Lord Jesus! We are waiting… We are watching… We are hoping… We are praying.
Peace be with us all, in this sorely needed season of Advent.
“Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; [God] is the one who will keep you on track.” (Proverbs 3:5-6, The Message)
While she was away, Sarah learned to crochet…and has become a bit of a blanket-making machine! “Everyone’s getting a blanket for Christmas this year!” So as not to be left out of the fun, I asked her if she would teach me. What you see in the picture above was my first attempt! Not bad, right? She’s a good teacher.
But what you don’t see is the fact that it was becoming narrower and narrower–I couldn’t seem to figure out how to keep the edges straight. What a mess! If I kept going, it was clearly going to end up in the shape of a triangle, rather than the more “traditional” rectangular shape of most blankets! So I pulled it all out so that I might start again. Yes, really….
I quickly got the first part of the yarn rolled up without too much trouble…but then the process came to a screeching halt. Talk about a mess! I had a neat-looking ball of yarn on one side and a big, tangled mess on the other….
Knots, knots, and more knots. If I pulled too hard, the knots only got harder to untangle. If I tried to go too fast, the mess only got worse…. I had to go slowly, be patient, and take my time…not to mention lots of deep breaths! Slowly but surely, the knots got undone and the mess grew smaller….
And finally, after several hours and many deep breaths (and only a few curses muttered under my breath!), voila! Done! Untangled! No more mess! Ahhh… Ready to start over with a new project.
Perhaps with help?…Did you notice the little foot, and whiskers, at the very top??… Meet Winston, one of our cats. Always ready to “help”!
It struck me, in the midst of that process, that there were some similarities between it and what we’re all living through in this season. A year ago at this time, things were moving along, not perfectly for sure but in a way that seemed at least recognizable, sort of like me crocheting my blanket. And then, somewhere between January and March, things began to unravel. We weren’t doing the unraveling on purpose, certainly, but it happened just the same. And we were all left with a big, tangled mess.
A big, tangled mess that we are still in the middle of and that we all want desperately to untangle, so that we can start moving forward again, with a “new project,” if you will. Or even just get back to what we were doing before. And like with my mess of yarn, sometimes it seems that the more we pull, the more knotted it all becomes. And the faster we try to go, the worse it seems to get….
Perhaps some of the same strategies I used in untangling my mess of yarn can be helpful as we try to–or at least want to–untangle the mess we continue to find ourselves in. This is nothing new, of course, but I for one benefit from an occasional reminder! Perhaps, in this ninth month of COVID restrictions, we can benefit from some renewed patience…some regular deep breaths…and maybe even a few curses muttered under the breath (or shouted out loud?!)….
And additionally, as people of faith, perhaps we can also benefit from remembering, as the wise author of Proverbs reminds us, to trust God from the bottom of our hearts, knowing that we don’t have to–in fact, we can’t–figure out everything on our own. Perhaps, as people of faith, we can remember to listen for God’s voice, trusting that God is the one who will keep us on track. Easier said than done, for sure. But worth a continued effort.
Being patient will help, yes. Breathing deeply will help, absolutely. And in my experience, there’s a definite place for the occasional, appropriately expressed outburst(!). But I would suggest that the most critical piece in getting to the other side of this big, tangled mess in which we continue to find ourselves–and it’s perhaps also the most difficult piece for us high-achieving, do-it-yourself-ers–is trusting God.
Be patient–and trust God. Breathe deeply–and trust God. Shake your fist, shout at the heavens, curse a blue streak–and keep trusting God.
And we will get to the other side of this big, tangled mess, with God at our side, ready for whatever new project awaits us….
