Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day -- Awake

Awake

I didn’t know what I was going to post today. As soon as I woke up this morning, I thought about the word. All day, I’ve been searching for song lyrics, and I’m currently reading the book “When Cranes Fly South.” I took two bad photos of Brigid and Tecumseh sleeping, hoping to incorporate some wordplay.

But I’ve got nothing.

Or so I thought, until I listened to a podcast about gratitude. I don’t listen to many podcasts – and as a millennial, I’m low-key embarrassed to admit that because it’s not really my vibe! But one of the three I do listen to is This Jungian Life. [If you click on the title, it’ll take you to the episode via the web.] The latest episode is about gratitude and reverence. Timely, right, since we recently celebrated Thanksgiving.

 Anyway, the thrust of the episode examines those moments in our life when the ‘thank you’ we offer to a mentor, parent, lover, or someone who showed up for us when we needed it the most carries weight. To explain what I mean, I’ll quote them:

Psychologically, gratitude begins when you realize that something you value like safety, opportunity, love, or time rests on someone else’s effort or sacrifice. Your attention shifts: instead of scanning only for problems, your mind also starts to appreciate the hands that hold you up. The emotional tone usually includes warmth, humility, and a sense of being remembered or kept in mind by another person.

What I appreciate about this view of gratitude and its respectful attitude is that it allows us to hold the tension between recognizing that hardships and loss are real while also acknowledging those who support us. There is an ethic to gratitude because it helps us see how people witness our lives – it enables us to honor the bridges that connect us in our relationships. Or as Deb and Lisa put it, “gratitude acts as a bridge between inner life and relationships: it shapes how you orient to family, friends, institutions, and even strangers who maintain the systems you depend on.”

Now, if you’ve made it this far, you’re probably wondering what any of this has to do with ‘awake.’

Good question.

What you’ll find here in these reflections will sometimes include definitions of words. So, a quick search of "awake" means... you ready for this... "stop sleeping; wake from sleep.” For those of you who are like my seventh-grade science teacher, who said, “Never use the word in a definition,” awake can also mean, “become aware of; come to a realization of; regain consciousness.”

So, what did I wake up to today? Gratitude.

 I’ll conclude with this reflection on how easy it is to succumb to despair and negativity, especially during difficult times—something many of us experience. Today, a new favorite poet of mine shared an honest message on Instagram: “God bless the ones who hiss at any hint of hope, bless the ones using whatever they can to cope with it all.” If that resonates with you, know that’s enough. This inspired my ‘awakening’ today—those words reminded me that I am part of something much larger and more beautiful—a Love that encompasses and energizes everything. It led me to gratitude, echoing Deb and Lisa’s insight: “Gratitude is a recognition that life has been shaped in dialogue with something larger than personal will.” 

Advent is preparing us for what we already know -- God's 'yes' to us -- and there's so much to revere in this life.

So here is a brief list of things that awaken me to the larger Conversation [logos] of which I am a part:

• The way Tecumseh lays his head on my chest first thing in the morning
• A friend confiding in others that this season feels heavy and that we be mindful of them [read: vulnerability & community]
• A parishioner asking how I’m doing
• Fresh snow on a trail only disrupted by Deer tracks
• Someone sharing a new idea for Kirk  Night, and both of us geeking out over it
• The Ministry of the Hands Meeting and C.M.’s extravagant hospitality
• A text from my mom
• The book “When Cranes Fly South”
• Did I mention snow?
• And you, even if it’s just my mom, who took time to read this post

Goodness. Awake. Turns out I had something more than nothing.

Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day -- Ready

 

When was the last event you had to get ready for? 

 It could be as ordinary as getting ready for the day. It could be getting ready for a formal of sorts or a first date. It could be getting ready for a game, a concert, or a test. 

 Getting ready is a process. Depending on what we're preparing for, we might approach getting ready differently. Yesterday, when it snowed six inches, I don’t think I got ready; in that, I stayed in my comfy clothes all day! During the snowstorm, I got my Advent wreath ready for the season, and I decorated my Christmas Tree. 

 Of course, to decorate it, I had to climb up into the attic to retrieve the totes of ornaments and lights. Then I had to check the lights to make sure they worked, inspect each ornament to ensure it had the little hook to dangle from the soft Fraser Fir limbs, and once everything was in working order, I could decorate. 

 The whole ordeal took time -- but once things were ready -- it was an afternoon filled with joy.

 But it’s all ready now – and I can sit in the glow of the Tree’s lights and feel a sense of peace while listening to holiday music on vinyl. Only once, I must confess, did I find myself complaining that in a month or so, I’ll be climbing back up into the attic to get the totes so I can put it all away until next year. The negative thought came and went, and now, I’m ready for Advent and Her darkness. 

 In my LINK article and my sermon, I did my best to express the tension that Advent invites us into: preparing for what will be while celebrating what already is. During Advent, we wait for the full arrival of God’s reign, and we ready our hearts and lives to welcome the Christ now. And at its core, Advent is a whole season of anticipation: four weeks of waiting and preparing, all so we’ll be ready to welcome and receive the Christ into our midst. Are you ready for Advent? If not, may this poem be a ritual to help you move gently into Advent’s darkness, trusting it to bring forth in you hope. 

 Getting ready takes time. However we choose to go about it. So whether you rush to prepare or are intentional with each step, remember you are here – and that God is with you … with us. 

 At this time, find a candle and light it. For five seconds, watch the flame. Then, focus on your breathing, placing your hand on your heart. Take a deep breath, aware of the aromas around you, and then read this poem aloud. 

 You Reading This, Be Ready by William Stafford 

 Starting here, what do you want to remember? 

How sunlight creeps along a shining floor? 

What scent of old wood hovers, 

what softened sound from outside fills the air? 

 Will you ever bring a better gift for the world 

than the breathing respect that you carry 

wherever you go right now? Are you waiting 

for time to show you some better thoughts? 

 When you turn around, starting here, lift this 

new glimpse that you found; carry into evening 

all that you want from this day. This interval you spent 

reading or hearing this, keep it for life -- 

 

What can anyone give you greater than now, 

starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

Through Stained Glass: Week 1 Lent Kirk Night Practice

 “To listen intentionally to our lives and the lives of others.” 

Our Kirk Night group promised to engage in this practice during the coming days. 

 Lent is a season of awakenings. 

 Awakening to the still, small voice within. 

Awakening to the Risen Christ in everyone we meet. Friend and foe. Family and stranger. Neighbor and enemy. 

 Why listening? 

The answer is simple: what did Jesus do in the wilderness? 

He listened. He engaged. He danced with the devil. What do we notice about the temptations in the wilderness? 

Turning stones into bread seems like a good idea right now, as many fear where food will come from in the days following cuts to resources that provide sustenance. 

 Authority over the nations seems like a sure way to bring justice to the world. 

Being invulnerable – making a swan dive off the pinnacle of the temple would epitomize demonstrating faith in God. 

 But don’t those responses shift power away from God—the source of generative energy—and concentrate it all on one individual? To adopt a stance with that level of authority seems reminiscent of, well, Caesar. 

 So, why listen this week? 

 Jesus listened to his accuser with humility and awareness. In those moments of vulnerability, when they tried to bait Jesus into abandoning the vocation God called him, he leaned into the Spirit, recalling God's love that seeks to liberate all life, not just his own. 

 Why listen? Why be intentional with our presence to self and others?

 Listening is a spiritual practice that strengthens our ability to connect with God and others on a deeper, more intimate level. 

As I listen to the text, I hear Jesus responding in ways that uplift the essence of community. I don’t see faith as a transactional relationship with the Divine when I hear this story. I hear an invitation to loosen my grip on faith and embrace the wild spaces as places to explore and encounter what is beyond and within me. 

 When I listen to this story, I remember faith is not a means to an end. 

Reflecting on my life through this story, I question how I can avoid the urge to seek control and measure success by profit margins and the accompanying prestige. 

 Of course, I think of Merton in times like these and lean into his wisdom: 

“…there is only one problem on which all my existence, my peace, and my happiness depend: to discover myself in discovering God. If I find [God], I will find myself, and if I find my true self, I will find [God].” 

Lent signifies the awakening to the presence of the Risen Christ in our lives. An authentic encounter with the Risen Christ cannot occur if it is merely an evasion of self. Instead, it should not serve as a means of escape. I cannot perceive God within myself, nor recognize myself within God, unless I dare to confront my true self, including all my limitations, and to embrace others as they are, acknowledging their limitations. 

 You’re right. Practicing listening to awaken to the sacred before us involves more than just putting our cell phones away during supper with our loved ones. Indeed, it demands more than just tuning out the TV and the relentless notifications from our devices. The listening we discussed last night is about being fully present—to ourselves and one another. It means listening without considering how to respond or sharing the latest catchphrase picked up from Morning Joe. This style of listening avoids the phrase “Yeah, but.” 

 Active listening also requires space for silence. I have found that silence can be frightening and have observed my clients’ fear of it. From my experience with this kind of listening, learned from contemplatives, silence is important because it allows us to be present to God so that we can “hear with the ear of the heart.” 

 Let’s be honest: silence is a rare commodity. Don’t believe me? Search online for the places in the world that are free of noise, and you’ll discover that there aren’t many left. 

 Silence comes from being attentive to God’s presence in our lives and allows us to be open to the words spoken to our hearts. Silence encompasses not just the quiet of the tongue, but also the stillness of the mind and emotions. 

 Why listen? To ourselves and to others? Because the story of temptation, if we pay attention to the silence of the wilderness, encourages us to reflect on our vocations. The very human depiction of Jesus in the wilderness invites us to identify with him and emulate how he overcomes each temptation. Is this story not about the power of the Spirit within us and engaging in our sacred text to speak faithfully about God? 

In many places I’ve visited recently, I’ve heard people express their uncertainty about what to do. I’ve heard individuals share their frustration, feeling that everything seems hopeless. I’ve also met people who are quick to say ‘Yeah, but’ instead of listening to the pains, hurts, and fears of those they sit with at the table. We listen actively and intentionally because that's how we ‘walk each other home.’ 

 Ours is a story about a God who hears Their people's cries and responds, liberating the people from enslavement toward a place of promise. God listens, God weeps, and God acts. 

 Is this not the call of Lent? To listen, to mourn, to celebrate, and to take action? Through listening, we can reconnect with God and ourselves, recognizing our neighbor as cherished. Only then will we truly become what we are: BELOVED. 

 Yeah, it might not be the most glamorous spiritual practice. It may have seemed like a waste of our time. Yet, in a moment of our shared existence where voices are hushed, people talk over each other, and the demand for our attention is overwhelming, I can’t help but consider a more radical way to resist than simply by listening.