Advent: Leading Me to Christ

I barely remember how it started, now so far into making Advent a tradition of my own. But for the past several years, before I decorated the tree or baked the cookies, first, I dug out the wreath and prayer book, purchased the candles, and began preparing my heart.

What is it about Advent that makes Christmas a more meaningful celebration? Is it the purposeful progression through December leading up to the holiday? Partly. I think of all the trips I have taken in which the expectation and planning are as meaningful as the trip itself. So too with Advent and Christmas.

But I think the truer meaning of Advent is not that it leads me to Christmas, but that it leads me to Christ. The month of December has become a calibration for my life. Each year, I read and reflect anew, reminding myself who I am, Who I live for. 

And taking the time to focus during the most distracting time of year is a discipline that helps me worship this way all year through.

This year, I am getting a late start in decorating; my house is still completely bare, and it's already December 2! But I am right on schedule in celebrating the true meaning of Christmas: seeking Jesus.

Join me each day for Advent Reflections on The Space Between.

Today, I am writing in community with Ann Voskamp and friends, sharing about Christmas as a Season of Seeking Christ. See what others have posted by clicking on the button below.

A New Season, a New Space

A new season, a new space. Please join me for Advent over on The Space Between. I will be posting daily Advent reflections on this new blog. Advent starts tomorrow, and to get a head start, I just posted tomorrow's reflection.

Don't forget to stop by Wide Open Spaces from time to time as well. I will continue to post new content here from time to time throughout the month as well.

Blessings!

Only Five Shopping Days Left

The past week and a half have been busy, busy, busy. While several of my regular weekly activities are closing down for the semester, holiday activity is picking up, not to mention, there's only five shopping days left.

Until Advent that is. Sunday, November 29, is the first Sunday of Advent this year, and though it has made the last few weeks a little busy, I am happy to report that my Christmas shopping is nearly complete.

It's a bit of a ridiculous proposition that I would create chaos in my life for one month so as to avoid chaos in my life another month. But you know how the holidays are. Even if you do everything you can to keep December low-key, it just doesn't turn out that way.

So this year, I am redoubling my efforts. Getting the Christmas shopping out of the way is just one tactic. I've also got about half of the wrapping done, and as long as I don't fritter away too much of the long Thanksgiving weekend, I'm hoping to have my Christmas cards addressed and ready to mail.

But still, the question. Why do it? What is is about December that's worth fighting for my time? It's not just maintaining the true meaning of Christmas. It's about more than that. It's more about the true menaing of Advent. Or, to put it another way, it's about longing for Jesus.

Though connecting with Jesus in this way shouldn't just happen in December, with all of the activity and distraction of the month, it's an important season to practice the quieter disciplines of quiet, simplicity, solitude, and reflection. To remind ourselves that this life, this world, isn't all we're made for. And to take courage in the promises of Jesus that He is coming again.

That's the mystery of Advent I find so compelling. Looking back at the expectation of Jesus from the past, before He came to earth, when every Jewish mother hoped the baby in her womb might be Messiah. And also looking ahead, when one day we'll see our Savior riding on the clouds returning for his bride.

And then the often overlooked aspect of Advent: longing for Jesus to come and meet with us each day.

Jesus has been with me in the workplace pitch-ins and the in the check-out lines of local retailers. He's been by my side as I finished up the fall semester Bible study and bounced around during my last water kickboxing class.

But now, I long to go with Him, into the inner room, next to the Great Throne, and renew that sense of longing again. 

Will you come with me?

--

For the past several years, I have been posting daily reflections during Advent season as a way for us all to long for Jesus together. In the past, I have posted directly to my web-site; this year, to create a more accessible format, I am posting to a new blog which is getting some last minute design changes. Check back here, at www.charitysingleton.blogspot.com for the first post on Sunday.

Writing Words on my Heart

A new believer in Jesus, a seasoned saint living by faith more than 20 years, and a 4-verse passage from Titus. A place to start.

I had read and remembered passages of the Bible before this time. Even before I knew Jesus, I had been instructed in bits of his Word and committed those to memory as part of a neighborhood children's program.

But now I was being led in a more meaningful discipline: writing these words on my heart.

That was more than 20 years ago, and still I can pull up those words and that truth from my heart.

For the grace of God has appeared, teaching us to say "no" to ungodliness and worldly desires, and to live sensibly, righteously, and godly in this present age, waiting for the blessed hope, the appearing of Jesus Christ our Savior, who redeemed us and purified us for himself, a people for his own possession, eager to do what is right. (Titus 2:11-14)

At this point, a few of the phrases have become a little fuzzy, and I can't remember which translation I am speaking. But these words have washed over me for many years, just when I needed the reminder to say "no" to sin, just when I wondered how I should be living, just when I had nearly lost my hope.

Since then, I have committed many passages of scripture to memory just long enough to be able to recite them to a partner or rehearse them in a class. And maybe a verse or a phrase is still floating through my subconscious mind, available for recall with a little prompting. 

But those words I write on my heart -- the ones I mull over, synthesize with my daily life, and use to fight sin -- those are the words that Jesus most often uses to change me.

  My son, do not forget my teaching, but let your heart keep my commands; for length of days and years of life and peace they will add to you. Do not let kindness and truth leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. So you will find favor and good repute in the sight of God and man. (Proverbs 3:1-4)

I am writing today by blogging invitation of A Holy Experience. Each Wednesday, Ann Voskamp and friends "Walk with Him," posting a spiritual practice that draws us nearer to His heart.

Today, we are writing about the habit of memorizing scripture. Visit Ann's website using the link above for many different resources to help you.

A Wheelbarrow Full of Leaves on a Windy Day

On Saturday, I decided to make one last push to get the fall yard work done . . . that meant finishing the enormous task of taking care of the leaves. I had already bagged 33 garbage bags full of leaves, and there seemed like at least 20 more on the ground (the final count ended up more like 60!).

At some point during the day, however, I realized that not all of these leaves should go in garbage bags. Some would serve me well by becoming winter mulch and eventually compost on my gardens. So I hauled out the wheelbarrow to begin making the move.

The problem was that it was a really windy day, and though the leaves had been rained on at some point, they were now completely dry and full of life in the breeze. Moving a wheelbarrow full of leaves on a windy day didn't feel like a very productive task.

As I hauled load after load to a couple of my vegetable garden beds, the futility of the moment felt frustrating, then comical. I imagined winning a couple thousand bucks on America's Home Videos as I started with a full load and ended up dumping out much less. Then, I began to imagine coining a new phrase for all the futile tasks we do in life. Now, when someone seemed like they were getting nowhere, instead of saying, "It's like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon," they would say, "It's like hauling a wheelbarrow full of leaves on a windy day." (I wonder if I can copyright that?)


But then, I realized that the job was really just like a lot of life. It wasn't neat and efficient -- there were as many leaves on the path as there was on either end. And it certainly wasn't exciting -- I can think of at least one hundred more exciting things to do than move leaves around the yard, like trying to empty the ocean with a teaspoon, for one. But the job was there for me to do, and in doing it, I will reap the benefits. 

Not just the benefit of having better soil in my garden next spring, but also the character that comes from doing mundane jobs and finishing the work, of using my resources rather than buying a new and improved tool for the job, and in seeing the silliness in life and laughing at it rather than complaining.


There are lots of tasks that Jesus puts in front of me that seem like a wheelbarrow full of leaves on a windy day. But even if I leave a lot of leaves on the path along the way, I know there will be at least a little something left for the garden when I get there, and that can only mean new growth in the Spring.

That Word of His

A word, a phrase, a thought, a truth. Day after day I come again to the ancient text that molds and shapes me - looking, searching.

In my closet are boxes of journals, outlining and unraveling the mysteries of Jesus in loopy teenage scrawl, and tight collegiate script, and hurried adult handwriting. Pages full of truth copied, paraphrased, understood, and wrestled with. The words sometimes reflecting transformation in this life, sometimes stagnation.

Over the years, I've come to God's word with a plan - reading those books in an annual progression. I've come to God's word with an idea - searching those pages for a theme. I've come with pain - seeking comfort. I've come with questions - looking for answers.

And I've come to this book looking for Jesus, and most of the time, I find him. Though sometimes, when I come to those pages so proud and demanding, "show me Jesus!" I leave alone, isolated by my own sinfulness. But the holy book reveals that to me as well.

I've been a student of this book, a teacher of this book, an observer, a critic, an analyst, and an audience.

During the dark days of chemotherapy and the few months just after, I had a hard time focusing, so I spent very little time reading in general, even this Word. But that Living Book wouldn't let me go. A verse would emerge from the depths of my foggy memory; the pages would open to the right Psalm at the right time . . . efficiently for a brain that couldn't linger; and these words came from the mouths of friends, saints who knew my struggles and my need for truth.

I would like a more nuanced spirituality, if you'd really like to know. One in which I connect with Jesus most fully through silence or simplicity. But the one spiritual practice that has most deeply affected my relationship with Jesus is engaging with that Word of His. Day after day, year after year.

I am writing today by blogging invitation of A Holy Experience. Each Wednesday, Ann Voskamp and friends "Walk with Him," posting a spiritual practice that draws us nearer to His heart.

Today, we are writing about the one spiritual practice that has most deeply effected our relationship with Jesus.

You Can't Have One Without the Other

You can't have this . . . 

Without a lot of these . . .

 

to rake up off of here.

 

 

 

Twenty bags of leaves and counting! I LOVE FALL!

 

Repay No One Evil for Evil

I'm not usually one for revenge.

Oh sure, I do the usual mumbling under my breath when someone cuts me off in traffic or takes the parking spot I was signaling for. But true offenses, like being lied to or stolen from, haven't typically evoked a deep need for vengeance in me.

Until recently, that is.

It started sometime in September when I planted a pot full of fall lettuce. After taking into consideration the predicted weather, the decreasing daylight, and the hardiness of my seed, I determined that I had just enough time for another crop. After an easy planting and the perfect germination weather, my crop was off to a good start. Until one day, I noticed that most of the seedlings had been dug up and strewn across the patio. 

A quick investigation revealed the several of my other planters had evidence of digging, as well, and the only culprit could be one of the many squirrels that have been loping around my yard. I was mad; I'll admit it. But I didn't wish harm to the squirrels. At least not at that point.

So, I rearranged pots, added some twirling yard art and flowing streamers where I could to try to create the illusion of unpredictability. As skiddish as squirrels are, I figured they would be deterred. 

And they were for a while, until I showed up with a fresh pot of mums and a home grown pumpkin from my dad's garden.  Within a day or two, there was evidence of more digging, and a hole in my pumpkin with the slightest hint of squirrel-sized teeth marks. 

But the real offense came a few days later when I brought home another pumpkin, this one with beautifully carved bats in the front. In just a day or two, the squirrel had eaten enough of the bats that they were now just sagging orange strips. And the original pumpkin, the one my dad had grown with his own hands, was beginning to look like it was carved from swiss cheese. Now I was ready for revenge.

The next day, I sprinkled cayenne pepper all over the pumpkin, especially in the chewed up pock marks where I knew the squirrel would start again the next time he came. I wasn't sure what might happen to the furry little guy if he got a mouthful of fire, but by this time I didn't care.

The plan worked for a few days until the rain washed away all the pepper, and once again it was eating season for my pumpkin. Eventually, I gave up. The squirrels won. I carried the pumpkin out next to the tree as a final act of surrender. "Enough, already. You can HAVE the pumpkin," I thought, with vengeance still in my heart.

--

A few days later, as I was raking my front yard, I found the remains of a dead little squirrel nestled among the fallen leaves. At first I was horrified, then disgusted, then shameful. Was this my enemy, mortally wounded by my peppery weapon?

Whoever said, "Vengeance is sweet," has never had to remove the remains of their enemy with a shovel and garbage bag. In vengeance, nobody wins. When God says, "Vengeance is mine," he's not just protecting our enemy. He's protecting us from the shame and defeat that follows.

I don't know for sure that my cayenne killed the squirrel, but I do know that my vengeful words and actions bring a slow death to both me and my human enemies when I seek to repay evil with evil. From now on, God can have the vengeance. It should have been His, anyway.