We Faithless

I was humming along with a familiar Christmas carol the other day and was struck by how it was addressed to the "Faithful."

That's not all of us. That's not any of us, if we take into account the sum of our days.

I love reflecting on Advent. If I'm honest, for some reason I connect with this season for more than any of the other Christian moments throughout the year. So, I try to spiritually capitalize on that.

I've never done this before, but I rewrote some of the lyrics to the hymn, just to remind myself that Advent--that baby--was not just for the "faithful" but for the "faithless" on their worst days too. He fears no man's doubt or straying.

O Come All We Faithless

O come, all we faithless, burdened and in mourning!

O come we, O come we, to Bethlehem
We come to behold Him

Born the King of Angels

O come, let us behold Him
O come, let us behold Him
O come, let us behold Him

Christ the Lord!



God of Creation, Savior of our World 

Lo, He abhors nor spurns no earnest doubt

Very God

Begotten, not created

O come, let us believe Him
O come, let us believe Him

O come, let us believe Him
Christ the Lord!



Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation

Sing with we sojourners of these earthly curves!

Glory to God
All glory in the highest

O come, let us adore Him
O come, let us adore Him

O come, let us adore Him

Christ the Lord!

Two Months

I've now been here two months. I rolled into town and started my job two months ago today.

I'm a little incredulous, simply because so much has happened in such a short time span. Most of it is really, really good. I'm just reeling a bit and haven't had time to truly process. I guess that's why I find myself here instead of doing something about the paragon of pandemonium that is my bedroom right now (it's driving me nuts). I guess I need to get some of this out.

At the risk of sounding dramatic (what, me?), I truly feel like this move has represented a bit of a bifurcation of my life. It took a lot to get me off the West Coast, but when I was finally ready--I was all in. And, I know I'm only two months in, but there's been nothing to change my mind. I'm still all in, and it's honestly a kind of odd sensation for an inveterate itinerant like me. I'm happier than I've been in a long time, and the deepest part of me knows that I have followed my Father straight into the place He had for me. There is no shadow of doubt in my mind that I am supposed to be here, and I'm almost just as sure that this is a whole new era of life for me. And I cannot adequately articulate my gratitude.

Even still, a lot of good things all at once are still...a lot. I don't know where to start. Like I said, I'm sort of reeling. First I landed for six weeks with some close friends until I found an amazing home to live in with some of the most amazing, God-fearing people I've ever met. Then, entirely not of my own doing, as collateral of living with these amazing women I am already started getting embedded in a remarkable community (and possibly church) that is reminding me that church doesn't have to be the struggle that it has been for me the last 15 years. I love my job and I still can't believe that I get paid to look at books, help people find things, and coax them along their legal research way. Oh, and I get to speak French with a coworker nearly every day and my focus is on Foreign & International law. Pinch me.

There's more too--but that's for another day. Suffice it to say that my current struggle is to keep up emotionally with all that's happening around me and process accordingly. And praying, several times a day, for wisdom from On High: "Dear God, there's so much to navigate right now, and I am failing in some of it. Let love cover every multitude of wrongs and give me the wisdom of Solomon as I walk ahead in this human box I live in."

Praise God, I've also found a Dr. to work with. This week I got some not so wonderful news about what is going on with me and I've had a difficult flare up health-wise in the last week and a half, but I have faith that this won't be forever and I do know that treatment will start soon. And I'm grateful that this place is being more thorough than anyone else has been so far.

In short, I acknowledge that I may still be in the honeymoon phase, but I finally feel as if I'm with my people. I miss my family, but I am supposed to be here. I don't know how to say it otherwise.

My Daily Prayer

I walk up to the brazen altar and in my mind I throw all my internal mess on it. Sometimes it takes a minute--there's a lot. My soul breathes a little deeper as I watch my mess burn. I walk to the water basin that's next in the outer court.

Worshippers are supposed to wash their hands in the basin, and as they do so, they see their own reflection in the bottom of it. I almost invariably find myself getting my hands wet, and then my face too. I then watch my dripping visage in the reflection and I'm reminded of the fleshly façade of my humanity. My wet, dripping face being made holy by living water.

I turn toward the Holy Place and draw the curtain back and step in. I look up at the ceiling, the tabernacle tapestries shimmering with gold and telling me a story of all the stars that would be Abraham's descendants and how by some undeserved, intentional sacrifice I get to be one of them.

I look to my left, and I see the golden lamp stand. I walk toward it and finger the almond blossom figurines all over its gilded base. I remember what's remarkable about the almond tree: it's one of the few that bud, blossom, and seed all at the same time. It's in a constant cycle. The small flowers remind me that, when one thing is brought to seed in my life another is budding and God is always, always at work. I gaze at the flickering light on all twelves of the wicks, and I catch the faint scent of the freshly pressed olive oil burning.

I turn around and approach the table behind me. The bread of the presence. Manna. Daily bread. Made daily and never good enough for the next day too. Mercifully, that's His presence.

Finally, I come to the center of the next curtain and I light the altar there. A small stream of smoke wafts upward and a sweet smell overcomes the small, traveling chamber. The altar of incense. Prayer, it means. Here I go: my favorite part.

I draw back the final curtain and walk almost unceremoniously into the Holy of Holies--but still fully cognizant most days of what a privilege it is to be so familiar with it. This is my Place, where I belong, and many days I end up on my face because it's oddly comfortable and...well, perfect.

In my mind's eye, I see Him on the Throne above, the Ark of the Covenant as his footstool. And then I remember that my own person is now the Ark--I am where his feet rest.

"My Father, who is in Heaven above--hallowed, holy, sacred is your omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent Name. The very utterance of it. Hallowed.

I ask that Your Kingdom, Your Economy, would come and Your Will be done here on Earth, in my home, in my life, and in my heart and mind as it is in Heaven. I pray I would live in Your Economy and not this world's.

Give me, Father, today what I need. Not what I want but what I need. And give me the wisdom to know it when I see it. You say if any of us lacks wisdom to ask You, for you give generously to all without reproach and so I'm asking: give me wisdom as you give me my Manna today.

Father, take my sins from me--as far as the East is from the West. Remove them from me and forgive me my transgressions. The ones I am aware of and the ones I am not. Make me holy and whole before you today. Give me the grace for others You have for me.

Holy Spirit, fill me. You are always present, but I ask that you would be unimpeded in me and fill me. Take me over until I am helpless to Your power in and through me. Take over my mind, my thoughts, my heart, and my actions. Fill me to the outer extremities of my limbs and take me over today. Go before me in all I do.

Father, let me not be led into temptation. Send it far from me, and give me the instinct to flee it. Deliver me from evil.

Father, Yours, and Yours alone, is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, for now and all Eternity.

Amen."

A Few Things

I've recently had some major upheaval in some significant relationships in my life. I pray that my words around the upheaval I speak of would be life-giving and sparing. In all my own humanity, this season has brought me some valuable lessons that I've already begun to put to work (and I'm delighted so say I've already seen some fruit). Here are a few things this weird newness is teaching me:

• Don't assume. It doesn't matter how many years you've poured into a relationship, no matter how much you might think that years of walking a road together may have put you on the same page and you finally "get" each other, you don't always. In fact, probably most of the time you don't. And that's okay. This is where it can actually get really beautiful if you choose to be healthy about it. If something isn't clear: ask. If it's only partially clear: clarify. Don't assume. It can lead to really ugly things.

• Clear up misunderstandings or hurts right away. It might seem small, and you might think you're being "forgiving" by not bringing an offense up--and sometimes it might be true--but when you don't speak up for too many times, the little things you think you forgave add up. You end up thinking yourself a gracious person to the other for all the times you "forgave" them when, in fact, you were missing a huge part of the picture many times over and you actually completely missed where their heart was when they said or did something(s). This can breed unnecessary and destructive bitterness. So, if it doesn't make sense or sit right: ask about it as soon as convenient. You might be surprised. Sometimes you actually learn a ton about how other people think and it stretches and grows you. Ask, clarify, and don't assume. It also deepens your relationship.

• If it's not the kind of relationship where you can do this, it's probably not healthy. Enough said.

• Don't give more than you're getting over long periods of time. We all have seasons where we need more than we can give. Sometimes those seasons last months--even years--but if you've gone too many years without seeing effort that you need from the other person, it's not healthy or sustainable. Don't be selfish about this, but also don't be an enabler. Enabling is actually selfish and sometimes stems from control issues. (So let that go!)

• This one might seem obvious, but it wasn't obvious to me for too long: it's not just okay to have needs in a friendship,  it's healthy.  It's not okay to need a human more than Jesus, but it is okay to lean on your friends in times of need. That's why He put them there. It's not selfish to articulate your genuine needs. Don't replace God with friends (or any other relationship), but don't think it's selfish to say what you need to those who love you and expect that they will respond in a loving way. It's a vulnerable thing to do, but it opens up space for depth that you couldn't know otherwise.

• If it's not the kind of relationship where you can do this, it's probably not healthy.

• There's a difference between loving someone and loving them well. Strive to not just love someone, but love them the way they need to be loved. This can be confusing sometimes. Ask, clarify, and don't assume.

• I've learned that it is unsafe to assume that someone's behavior always demonstrates their heart. That idea is an oversimplification. Humans are complex beings, embedded in even more complex context, and we can't begin to know what is going on in someone's heart or attendant circumstances. In a healthy relationship: ask, clarify, and don't assume. You might be surprised how much you learn and how much more compassion you have to gain.

• Shame is not a friend. EVER. Nor is a friend whose input in your life brings shame. If someone's input brings shame instead of life-giving awareness, something's wrong. It might be your own narratives through which you're hearing the input (examine this carefully!), and it might be your friend's perspective or even delivery--regardless, something is wrong. Get to the bottom of it and address it. Jesus leaves no room for shame.

• However: I will fail. I will fail. I will fail. It's human. Healthy friendship loves through failure and is not a source of shame over your failure. I must also remember that others will fail me too, just as I fail them. I must have grace for myself and others as well all move forward trying to do better. But above all, it's not about the behavior, it's about the heart it comes from. 

• Have the courage to look in the mirror first. HONESTLY. Before you speak into someone else's life, or even before you think you've run across a fault of theirs, look in the mirror first. For a good, long, hard, time. Take someone else's shortcoming as an opportunity to be honest before God about your own. It's funny how that changes how you see things after that. A mirror is a powerful thing. But the key is to be self-honest about it. That takes courage.

I guess it's worth noting that the "upheaval" has been more freeing than I could have imagined. It's been heart and eye-opening and I'm truly grateful for it.

Spirit of/and the Law

Someone asked me the other day what it was I loved about the law. That’s a funny question to ask someone who struggled in law school as much as I did. But, the fact is now that I am two years out of law school I can now say that I love the law, and I can actually answer that question:

What I love about the law is how it gives you a deeper, and sometimes wider, understanding of how the world works. Almost everything we do is legally transactional in a way I had never considered or seen before I studied the law. I love that perspective. Furthermore, the “law” in the colloquial sense of the word also lends reflection upon other “law.” For instance, scientific laws are descriptions of the way things are—we can’t change them. How different from human derived “law,” where it is a local, national, or international construct that we choose to live by—or, pay lip service to. There’s agency involved (admittedly in some places more than others). I’m only scratching the surface of these thoughts.

Anyway, in pondering all this, the 5 years of my legal immersion have convinced me: I think that one thing we all long for in the law is clear guidelines that bring justice, to every situation, no exceptions. Unfortunately, it’s neither of those things, or can it ever be. We can participate in the creation and execution of a system that can attempt and even remain on a constant trajectory toward meeting those goals, but we will only ever be able to deliver a shadow of what true justice is in any situation. To be clear: this does not make its pursuit any less important. We are called as humans to never stop pursuing justice. But, honestly in today’s society I keep seeing people blame the system, trying to fix the system, and even perpetuating the (broken) system without ever looking inward. Really, it’s always been this way. This is why the system fails. It’s as frustrating for the observer as it is for those inside the cycle. And we all flip between those roles at any given moment. The law, while I love it, is necessary but…dissatisfying. Something’s missing.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about this in the context of faith. In faith, just like with the law, human nature wants clear guidelines that bring us to the right result. Basically we hate but want rules. This paradox is the underpinnings of all organized religion, and the reason it continues to rise and fall. Just like in the law, though, there’s something missing. It fails to hit the mark. It’s dissatisfying.

I’ve had a few situations come up recently where I’ve been asked for advice. One sticks out in my mind. I was recently asked how to look for a church. “So…what do I look for?” It gave me pause.

The question didn’t sit well with me but I had to think for a second on why. We use this language all the time. “Church shopping” is what we usually call it. We are unabashedly consumer-minded about church, and it unsurprisingly shows up in our language.

I finally responded by musing whether it was the right question to ask. I was only halfway being Socratic, because I don’t fully know myself, but…I don’t think it is. I think the right question to ask is rather “where does God want me?” It’s a completely different approach and one that potentially opens us up to pain, hurt, uncertainty at best. But that’s the point, I think. Church isn’t about the needs we think we have, it’s about the needs God knows we have and He takes us exactly where we need to go, right? He is, quite literally, the Master of the counterintuitive.

That answer then begged the next question, which it was I think ties this all together with the law. My friend of course asked (the Golden question): “how do I know where God wants me?” The longer I live, the more I’m convinced that the answer to that question is the answer to all that dissatisfies.

It’s listening to Him. It’s the Holy Spirit. It’s that part of the Trinity that (most of) the Evangelical church puts on a back burner and replaces with a bunch of formulaic, damaging pseudo-answers. The law is missing love. It’s missing the element that sees all the nuances and knows how to individualize in order to arrive at true justice. In the same way, I often see modern day “faith” walks missing the “Holy Grey” that is the Spirit who knows ALL the nuance, ALL the motives, ALL the dynamics…ALL of everything so that He can lead you right where you need to be. Make no mistake. Listening to God is as difficult as Love, as painful, as trial-and-error, and as humiliating. But that’s the thing that satisfies. There’s no formula for it, there’s no right way to pray, there’s no one way to know you’ve heard God because there’s no one way that He speaks. It’s hard, it’s a relationship, and it takes time to figure out how it works for you. And you’ll fail meanwhile. But that’s not the point.

So yeah, that’s what I love about the law—and I also love what it’s teaching me about how faith works.