Wait For It

I often rise early and, when weather permits, find my place on the deck just out my back door. However, southern summer mornings can be stifling. "Muggy" is what we call it here in middle Georgia. But so often on those days, just as I would be about to give up and come inside, I would hear, "Wait for it." So I would settle down, and sure enough, there would come this moment when the "muggy" would lift and a change in atmosphere would occur in a matter of seconds. Morning after morning, I came to expect the same pattern: muggy, "Wait for it," cool. Until finally, it was not so much about waiting as it was anticipation.

This past Fall, I found myself sitting on the same deck, same chair, but this time it was dark on the other side of the clock. I had my head thrown back in my Adirondack with my eyes looking at the heavens. It was to be a stellar night for shooting stars. I was out there for what seemed like an eternity, but to no avail. No streaks across the sky. As I was giving up hope of glimpsing such a majestic occurrence and was about to come inside, I heard it again: "Wait for it." And so I sat. Quiet. Still. And just like the cool that replaced the humid summer mornings, I saw a streak across the night sky. And then another. "Wait for it." It became yet another a period of anticipation.

Waiting. It's not an easy task. Some do it better than others. Yet it's something to which God calls each of us. Not once, not twice, but daily -- and even then many times daily. Waiting makes us give into the illusion that we are not in control. God is. That He alone determines when suns rise and meteors fall. And a host of other things that cry, "Wait for it." 

The Hebrew word so often used in the Scriptures for wait is qavah, which means to bind together (like twisting strands when making a rope). It means "to look patiently," "tarry," "hope, expect, look eagerly." When we are told to "wait" on the Lord, we can be assured it's not some perfunctory or cruel hide-and-seek game we are playing with the King of the Universe to come find us. No, He is working behind the scene, in full control, binding things together so that in the fullness of time, He can bring forth that which He has planned for us and the whole of creation. 

The season of Advent is just that: a period of waiting. Of not rushing into the birth of Christ but of anticipating it in such a way that when Christmas morning does come, God has done a work not only in our circumstances but in us. Isn't that what waiting is all about anyway? Of being forced to be still long enough for God to do a work? Thinking back to those mornings and that evening on the deck, God was not going to be rushed in making the sun rise and the atmosphere to change. He was not going to tell the meteors to hurry on their path because I was tired of waiting. No, it was His timing. His work. Not mine. Both in creation and in me.

As I write, we have less than 12 hours left of Advent, this season of waiting. Yet, what really stretches before us is a lifetime of waiting. May we be encouraged to know that as we wait, God is working, binding ... even when we cannot see it nor Him. You can trust Him. So can I. 

BUT when the fullness of time had come, GOD sent His Son... (Galatians 4:4).

If He did not withhold His very own Son from us, will He not also give us all good things? You bet He will. Wait for it.

Just an ordinary moment...

Joseph: "Righteous" or Right?

I've been thinking of Joseph lately. And why not? It's Christmas. And whereas his name is mentioned many times over in the Gospel narratives, his voice is never heard. However, I'm sure he had his say when his betrothed came to him and told him she was pregnant -- and he knew beyond of a shadow of a doubt he was not the father. Yes, Joseph. The most underrated, under-celebrated cast member of the entire Christmas story. And yet one of the most powerful in my mind. If you were to ask me this morning which Biblical person I would like to meet when I get to heaven, my answer just might be Joseph, the earthly father of our Lord Jesus.

Honestly, I think I already have an example right now in my husband. I think he may be a lot like Joseph, He's honest. He's real. He's quiet ... doesn't say a lot. He is steady strength. And when God speaks to him, he listens and he does the right thing, even when it's hard. 

That's Joseph. His story tells us that sometimes what seems to be righteous may not always be right.

Hear that again. Sometimes what seems to be righteous may not always be right.

Yeah. That stings me, too.

Joseph had every right under the sun to divorce Mary. He could have publicly shamed her and it would have been within the law. He could have had her stoned, for crying out loud. That would have seemed righteous. But he chose the hard thing and did what was right. He took her as his wife and subjected himself to every kind of gossip and slander that could come from the "righteous" of his day and that would follow him the rest of his life.

Sometimes what seems to be righteous may not always be right. And Joseph chose what was right.

What about you? What about me? Do we choose to be seemingly "righteous" or do we choose to do right. I think of the woman who circled the liquor store with a bottle of wine every night praying the evils therein would be cast out. And I kid you not, the store burned down. But then there's the woman who blessed the owners of the new bar in town every time she drove by, praying that God would enter their hearts. "Righteous" or right.

Then there's the woman who judges her neighbors because they are cohabitating and therefore won't have anything to do with them, while the neighbors on the other side form a relationship. "Righteous" or right?

And what about the woman who is at church every time the doors are open ... and comes home and serves roasted preacher to her family for Sunday dinner because he can't keep his son under control. While another young woman stays at home with her unchurched husband because he just wants a little time with her alone. "Righteous" or right?

And while we're thick into the "Merry Christmas" or "Happy holidays" quibble, do we get mad and hold to our guns that "Jesus is the reason for the season"? Or do we recover the reason and just DO the season?

"Righteous" or right?

Yep. Joseph might not have a voice in the story, but he sure isn't silent. He has a lot to say to each of us.

Just an ordinary moment...

NOT From a Distance

I stood at the kitchen sink stirring the caramel icing to its correct consistency while the under-the-counter radio next to me played the season's songs. Not giving much thought to what was coming through the speakers, I quietly hummed along to the words being sung.

From a distance the world looks blue and green,

and the snow-capped mountains white.

From a distance the ocean meets the stream,

and the eagle takes to flight.

From a distance, there is harmony,

and it echoes through the land.

It's the voice of hope, it's the voice of peace,

it's the voice of every man.

Yes, it was Bette Midler singing Julie Gold's, "From a Distance."Granted, much of the song's popularity coincided with Desert Storm. I get that. You can hear it in the 3rd verse.

And there are no guns, no bombs, and no disease,

no hungry mouths to feed.

And the 5th:

From a distance you look like my friend,

even though we are at war.

From a distance I just cannot comprehend

what all this fighting is for.

I've heard and even sung this popular song for years, but every time it strikes a dissonant chord with me. Whereas the music industry throws darts at its lyrical content, its stiff rhythms and drums, I always cringe when Ms. Midler gets to the chorus. 

God is watching us. God is watching us.

God is watching us from a distance.

I don't know, but that just seems to go against everything we are celebrating during this season of Advent and Christmas. After all, didn't the angel say to Joseph His name was to be Emmanuel? The With-Us God? Indeed, he did.

"Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us" (Matthew 1:23).

To say that God is watching us from a distance undermines the entire Christmas narrative of which this season shouts. The whole Gospel story for that matter. 

"And the Word became flesh and lived AMONG us...." (John 1:14). NOT from a distance.

"[He] emptied himself, ... being born in human likeness..." (Philippians 2:7). NOT from a distance.

And even as Jesus Himself says when praying to His Father just prior to His betrayal and arrest, "I IN them" (John 17:23). NOT from a distance.

In all fairness, Ms. Gold, the writer of the lyrics, says she believes in an immanent and beneficent God and that the song is about the difference between how things appear to be and how they really are.

So, yes, at times it appears that "God is watching us from a distance." But NOTHING, my friends, could be more untrue. Let's celebrate this season in truth: Emmanuel. God is with us!!!

Just an ordinary moment...

Come, Lord Jesus

When I returned from spending Thanksgiving with family in Birmingham, I knew my feet would hit the floor running.  And, boy, did they ever.  Professional, social and personal duties kept me burning midnight oil and found me spending more time at the piano and musical rehearsals than I have done in a very long time. I try to refrain from using the word "busy" because I often find it carries a weight of self-importance with it.  But I have to admit, my life has been very "active" lately.  While trying to live in the "now" of every moment, I couldn't help but also look to today's date and think, "If I can just make it to then..."  And, obviously, I did.  But smack dab in the middle of all the activity and demands came the season I treasure the most: Advent -- the 4 weeks leading up to Christmas.  A time for waiting.  A time for hope.  

So in the midst of my cell, how appropriate the mantra of Advent: "Come, Lord Jesus."  Maybe you've recognized it in a slightly different fashion: the wistful tune of O come, O come, Emmanuel, and ransom captive Israel...  Or you've sung, Come Thou long-expected Jesus, come to set Thy people free.  It's the cry of the season before we lullaby to Away in a Manger or ring the bells on Christmas day and sing Joy to the world!  The Lord is come! 

Come, Lord Jesus!  An Advent cry that speaks of deliberate emptiness ... a chosen non-fulfillment.  One that says, "I can't do this on my own.  I need help."  But it is just that thought that leads me to live life in expectancy -- in full hope of a future created by God.  To cry "Come, Lord Jesus!" is to live without closure, without demands, with resolutions ... but with arms wide open in absolute surrender and satisfaction.

Are you finding yourself in need this season of your life?  Then sound the cry of Advent -- not so much in desperation, though it may be ... but as a shout of cosmic hope.   Come, Lord Jesus!

Just an ordinary moment...