Advent-ageous

Today is Advent Sunday. If you don't know what that means, relax. As an unfortunate consequence of the Evangelical shucking of all things ritual, you are not alone. Many of us lament the commercialized, mass media-ized version of Christmas that gets thrown in our faces every year right after Halloween. Meanwhile, a perfect antidote lies dormant in a 2000-year old tradition, just waiting for us to dust it off and rediscover its potent properties.

I write about this tradition as an attempt to do just that. As it is, even for those of us who see the tragic irony of commercialized Holy Days, it seems like the most we ever do about it is remind people to "Keep the Christ in Christmas." It's a catchy slogan, but Advent has the potential to be so much more powerful than simply trying to remember to wish Jesus a "happy birthday" while we stuff ourselves with gifts and feasts. (Not that I am at ALL opposed to Christmas meals and presents.)

The word "Advent" comes from Latin and means "coming." It's a translation of the Greek word "parousia," which is the word used in the New Testament to refer to the second coming of Christ. So rather than being a single Holy Day, Advent is a season of preparation, leading up to Christmas. Thus, during Advent we prepare to celebrate and commemorate the birth of the Savior and the wondrous miracle of our Lord's Incarnation. But far from being strictly an object of remembrance, this Savior lives and has promised to return. So while we remember the first coming, we prepare for the second.

The practical side of it is fairly simple. During the season of Advent, we center our devotional life around these two "comings" of Christ. In our reading, in our prayer, in our giving, in our volunteering, in our church-going, and in anything else we do as an act of faith, we keep our focus on Jesus as Incarnate God and Coming Lord.

Advent is a time for both solemnity and joy, hushed reverence and eager expectation. As though standing in front of a campfire, we feel the cold of winter at our backs, while the holy flame heats our hands and faces. So I invite you, come stand by the fire. This hopefully served as a good primer, but I encourage you to do further research about the meaning of Advent, join in the tradition, and maybe even start some traditions of your own. I intend to write more about this in the weeks to come.

Thoughts on Quiet Time

I'm sitting at my desk. It's early, barely light outside. The only sounds I hear are the hum of my computer and the music of Bach's Cello Suites (my favorite "quiet time" music) gently gliding from the speakers.

I love this time. I value it. So much so, that I am often torn about exactly how to use it. I race through the possibilities. If I don't make a decision soon, I'll start to become anxious as I feel the time slipping away.

I could just sit in contemplation and prayer; I could read from the Bible; I could read something from my Kindle; I could read some articles from some of my favorite websites; I could watch a free documentary or lecture online; I could do some research on a recent topic of interest; I could blog; all of these are potential candidates to receive a sizable donation from a bank account called My Quiet Time.

Of course, there are some things that are off limits. I won't do anything work-related, and I won't play games or watch TV.

I could solve the dilemma of having to decide what to do by simply planning in advance, which I do from time to time. If I really want to be diligent about finishing a particular book, or writing about something I've been thinking about, or something of that nature, then I might set aside the time for that. However, I have found over the years that it just doesn't work if I try to plan out each and every morning.

I've often wondered why this is so, and for a long time my best theory was that it was just a lack of discipline on my part. While that certainly is a factor, I've also come to realize recently that it just sucks all the fun out of it. I get joy from the simple act of sitting down, knowing the free time I have, and thinking, "Alright, what can I do now?" "What do I get to do now?" rather than "What should I do?" or "What must I do.?"

My theory is that, as long as certain things are off limits, then I'm not just wasting time or lacking discipline. I'm simply doing things in such a way that I know I will best enjoy them. It's the principle of Sabbath, applied to the first hour or two of my weekdays.

I've begun to apply this same logic to my relationship with God. Granted, there are aspects of my relationship with God that are, rightfully so, based in concepts of duty, obligation, discipline, etc. I'm not devaluing those things. But some important questions to ask are: Do I ever have times with God that I just simply enjoy? Can I tame God to the point of relegating him to a few blocks on a weekly schedule sheet?

I love discipline and formality, but personally, I find that if those are the only ways I live out my relationship with God, then my picture of him becomes, at best, some kind of austere taskmaster. At worst, he becomes an impersonal object, just something I do on a semi-regular basis.

Discipline, properly practiced, makes room for spontaneous joy and genuine affection. We are allowed to experience God as a person, and to delight in him as a Friend and Father.