Response Required

1833-1834 oil painting by American artist Thomas Cole

This past summer I added a new title: Father-in-law.

While 2020 lacked the typical amusement of social gatherings, we created our own excitement through the planning, re-planning, and re-planning of re-planned plans for two outdoor weddings. In short, the brides were beautiful, the grooms handsome, the food terrific, the company lovely, and the tears joy-filled. 

Significant events like a graduation or marriage typically cause parents to reflect on the lives of their children. All the laughable, notable, adorable, and memorable moments. For me, the two weddings of summer brought to mind not just the lives of my boys but the evolution of my parenting. I don’t parent now like I did 20 years ago. While I still tip toward being more rules than grace, I believe I’ve relaxed quite a bit. I’m not as quick to launch a “dad speech” or get miffed about minor misbehavior or inconvenience. Perhaps holes in drywall, wrecked cars, trips to the emergency room, and missed curfews have appropriately tempered my responses.

Beyond parenting, our days have many moments that require our response. It might start with the alarm clock. Then a dog that needs letting out. A diaper that needs changing and children that need feeding. A project summary for the boss, a bill that needs paying, and even a tired body that needs a nap. All theseand morerequire our attention. So I wonder: how attentive to God am I? What activates my engagement with Him throughout the day, and why?

While we might be distracted by the steady stream of issues needing our attention, Scripture assures us that God is here. That before we ever loved Him, He loved us with an everlasting love. He’s promised to never abandon us as He brings all things toward a perfect conclusion. And before we even realized our deepest need, God made sure there would be a way for us to enjoy Him forever. Such wonderful news demands our attention, does it not?

Paul David Tripp in his book, Awe, said: “I am convinced that rest in this chaotic world, submission to authority, and a willingness to give and share power all arise from a certain knowledge that every single detail of our lives is under the careful administration of One of awesome glory. We will rest in the middle of unrest not because we have it figured out but because of who he is. When you are in awe of God’s glory, you just don’t have to be in control of everything and everyone in your life.” (p.142) As I reflect on my propensity to be an anxious parent or fret over planning weddings during a pandemic, knowing that the God of Heaven is with me should be my first point of engagement. He is always in control and completely trustworthy. These truths should affect my response not only to the everyday issues of life, but also to God himself. 

This is the fourth week of Advent. In this season of waiting and contemplation, I’ve been challenged to reorient, to notice, and to spend time alone with God. To attune myself to the love of our Savior. In this week of Christmas, how should you and I respond to God? How do we engage with the One who came to chase death’s dark shadow? Whose law is love and gospel peace? Who can bid all sad division cease and truly be our King of Peace?

We can shout “Glory to God in the Highest!” and “Joy to the world!” We can whisper in our souls, “Thank you, Jesus” and “Lord, you are good.” And perhaps our simplest, most profound response comes from Christina Rossetti: “Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.” 

God has done a great thingChrist has come! In our celebrations this week, let’s respond to Him with grateful praise and reaffirm our whole-hearted commitment to love Him and love all people.

Merry Christmas!

A Prayer of Response to Jesus
Dayspring of Heaven and Bright Morning Star,
Laudable Babe and Ruler of Nations
You ransomed us from the darkness of death,
broken our chains and freed us to love.
Enthroned on our hearts in wondering love,
we worship you with anthems praise! 

“And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.”
(Ephesians 3:17b-19, NIV)

More Time Alone?

Even the most introverted introvert may eventually find pandemic constraints wearisome. Nine months of disrupted activities and minimized social gathering is difficult. Last night, just to get out of the house, my wife did a web search and crafted a Christmas light tour through nearby neighborhoods. At a minimum, our spontaneous adventure required us to pry ourselves from the couch and have something different to see and talk about (who knew you could cram 50 inflatable Christmas characters onto a small front lawn?). We even got a little romantic taking a selfie inside a tastefully decorated covered bridge.

Our customized light tour was the extent of our out-of-the-house engagements this week. Like many of you, we are currently working from home and have extra time as a result of cancelled or postponed school, church, sport, or other activities. So right now, no one needs more alone time, right? Well, I propose that in our present circumstance we need some solitude–maybe more now than when our lives were “normal.”

I admit that solitude gets a bad rap. Some label it stodgy and strange. A practice that can be tolerated by only the most pious among us. In my experience, solitude doesn’t need to be any of that. While solitude does require being alone, it’s an opportunity to actively engage God through prayerful reflection. And rather than boring, Henri Nouwen suggests, “Solitude is the furnace of transformation.” (The Way of the Heart, p.25) Nouwen goes on to say solitude is “the place of the great struggle and the great encounter. Solitude is not simply a means to an end. Solitude is its own end. It is the place where Christ remodels us in his own image and frees us from the victimizing compulsions of the world.” (p.31-32)

Indeed, our world provides more than enough distraction and worry to siphon the joy, peace, patience, and gentleness from our spirit. We’re only a click, tap, or scroll away from whatever we desire. Thus the need for intentional times of being alone with God where we can enter a space designed to help us reorient, recognize, and reflect on our lives and His involvement in them.

There’s no prescription for solitude. Simply settle your spirit. Listen. Pray. Rest. Maybe laugh a little. Cry a little. Journal a thought or write a note. Listen to music or sing. Invite God into your physical and mental space with anticipation and gratitude for Him seeing, knowing, and loving you just as you are, right where you are.

In my home, this third week of Advent often coincides with a sharp increase in Christmas preparations. I can be harried with planning, purchasing, cooking, and cleaning. And while time for such things is more available this year than in previous, I still need some solitude. It’s important that I intentionally reflect on God’s kindness, asking Him for unclouded eyes and an open heart to His grace. To confess, repent, and praise. To wonder and enjoy His presence.

Join me this week by setting aside an uninterrupted hour (or more!) to be alone with Jesus. No agenda, no requirements, and no pressure. Just you and Emmanuel. Let Him quiet you with His love as you listen for the song He sings over your every moment.

A Prayer for Solitude
Voice of hope and Word of redemption,
Jesus, lover of my soul;
Shield me from the world’s compulsions
and open my soul to reflection with You.

““The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.”
(Lamentations 3:24–25, ESV)

I Hadn’t Noticed

My “behind the garage” office space

In March of this year, I became a work-from-home nomad.

For a while I claimed the living room chair. It was comfortable, with a terrific view of the front and back yard. But the chair was located near the main thoroughfare of our home, and therefore subject to many loud conversations, meal prep, and the general busyness of homelife.

So I gathered my laptop, notebook, and manilla folders and journeyed to the basement. There I discovered less noise but no outside view. I found that I could concentrate better on my work but proximity to a bathroom brought sensory challenges.

As the weather warmed, I summoned my inner nomad and trekked to a small room behind our garage. It’s a workshop of sorts, which proved convenient as I carved-out a space and assembled a workstation. In that room I regained an outdoor view, enhanced solitude, and limited distraction. It was there that I labored during the summer months of pandemic restrictions.

I can’t deny that I rather liked working in that space. It was a bit rugged, but it was mine. While there was room for an officemate, no one (not even my wife) accepted my invitation. I suspect the regular appearance of spiders, flies, a few mosquitoes and of course summertime bees was a deterrent. And early on, I had to fend-off a tenacious Red Squirrel who thought he had squatters’ rights.

In the midst of my working out there, something unexpected happened. Between Zoom meetings, phone calls, and the ever-fresh stream of email I heard something. I saw something. I was enthralled by…them.

Birds.

Lots of birds. Goldfinches, Blue Jays, House Sparrows, and Cedar Waxwings. Chickadees popping from branch to branch. Robins wrestling worms from the lawn. And on occasion, in the quiet of early morning, I’d hear the call and response from a pair of owls. It was wonderful! There were birds everywhere, all the time. I know they’ve been there all along, but I simply hadn’t noticed. Not until my nomadic wandering led me to construct a makeshift office did I see what I’d been missing. Which got me wondering: What else am I not noticing?

How are my worries and distractions obscuring my vision? Are my passions and desires consuming my imagination? Have I oriented my life around too much of me? Am I thinking too often about my disappointments, my comfort, what’s next, or what I’m missing? And if any or all of this is true, could I be missing moments to recognize and experience God?

In her book, Signs of Life, Stephanie Lobdell suggests, “However it comes to us, the knowledge that we are seen by God—and invited by God to see God as well, to know God deeply—changes us. It breaks us open, creating space for the resurrecting Spirit of God to infiltrate our minds, enlivening our dead imaginations and allowing us to see a new future.” (p.54) Might a call to notice God’s presence be instilled in a work-from-home nomad through something as normal and everyday as birds? Absolutely!

Advent is a season when we alter our routine and seek to quiet ourselves to reflect and reorient. It’s an invitation to center ourselves and recognize the presence of God. To listen for Him. To remember His care and provision. To submit ourselves to His love and embrace the truth that He is always near and will never abandon us. To thank Him for his love and mercy, acknowledging that He is our only comfort in life and death.

During this second week of Advent, join me in crafting intentional times to be still. To notice. To be prayerful, inviting the Spirit to help you recognize God in ways you may not have before—or perhaps have not in quite some time. Like the birds in my yard, God has been here all along. And while we might know that in our heads, may our hearts receive and experience afresh the beauty and wonder and love of our God who is with us!

A Prayer for Noticing
Our Heavenly King, robed in a garment of light,
Your presence pervades like the light of the sun;
Tune my ears and open my eyes
to Your everyday touches of grace.

“You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
(Psalm 16:11, ESV)