I’ve been reading through the book, Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter, as part of my Lenten discipline. It’s a fantastic read from some of the greatest theologians and authors you could ever find compiled in one book. But this reading from Soren Kierkegaard is probably one of the very best essays I’ve read in a long time on discipleship and what it means to be a follower of Jesus. I welcome you to share this post with folks in your church, prayer circles, and small groups. These are words all hopeful disciples of Jesus Christ should read and meditate on.
It is well known that Christ consistently used the expression “follower.” He never asks for admirers, worshippers, or adherents. No, he calls disciples. It is not adherents of a teaching but followers of a life Christ is looking for. Christ understood that being a “disciple” was in innermost and deepest harmony with what he said about himself. Christ claimed to be the way and the truth and the life (Jn. 14:6). For this reason, he could never be satisfied with adherents who accepted his teaching – especially with those who in their lives ignored it or let things take their usual course. His whole life on earth, from beginning to end, was destined solely to have followers and to make admirers impossible. Christ came into the world with the purpose of saving, not instructing it. At the same time – as is implied in his saving work – he came to be the pattern, to leave footprints for the person who would join him, who would become a follower. This is why Christ was born and lived and died in lowliness. It is absolutely impossible for anyone to sneak away from the Pattern with excuse and evasion on the basis that It, after all, possessed earthly and worldly advantages that he did not have. In that sense, to admire Christ is the false invention of a later age, aided by the presumption of “loftiness.” No, there is absolutely nothing to admire in Jesus, unless you want to admire poverty, misery, and contempt.
What then, is the difference between an admirer and a follower? A follower is or strives to be what he admires. An admirer, however, keeps himself personally detached. He fails to see that what is admired involves a claim upon him, and thus he fails to be or strive to be what he admires. To want to admire instead of to follow Christ is not necessarily an invention by bad people. No, it is more an invention by those who spinelessly keep themselves detached, who keep themselves at a safe distance. Admirers are related to the admired only through the excitement of the imagination. To them he is like an actor on the stage except that, this being real life, the effect he produces is somewhat stronger. But for their part, admirers make the same demands that are made in the theater: to sit safe and calm. Admirers are only all too willing to serve Christ as long as proper caution is exercised, lest one personally come in contact with danger. As such, they refuse to accept that Christ’s life is a demand. In actual fact, they are offended at him. His radical, bizarre character so offends them that when they honestly see Christ for who he is, they are no longer able to experience the tranquility they so much seek after. They know full well that to associate with him too closely amounts to being up for examination. Even though he “says nothing” against them personally, they know that his life tacitly judges theirs. And Christ’s life indeed makes it manifest, terrifyingly manifest, what dreadful untruth it is to admire the truth instead of following it. When there is no danger, when there is a dead calm, when everything is favorable to our Christianity, it is all too easy to confuse an admirer with a follower. And this can happen very quietly. The admirer can be in the delusion that the position he takes is the true one, when all he is doing is playing it safe. Give heed, therefore, to the call of discipleship!
If you have any knowledge at all of human nature, who can doubt that Judas was an admirer of Christ! And we know that Christ at the beginning of his work had many admirers. Judas was precisely an admirer and thus later became a traitor. It is just as easy to reckon as the stars that those who only admire the truth will, when danger appears, become traitors. The admirer is infatuated with the false security of greatness; but if there is any inconvenience or trouble, he pulls back. Admiring the truth, instead of following it, is just as dubious a fire as the fire of erotic love, which at the turn of the hand can be changed into exactly the opposite, to hate, jealousy, and revenge. There is a story of yet another admirer – it was Nicodemus (Jn. 3:1ff). Despite the risk to his reputation, despite the effort on his part, Nicodemus was only an admirer; he never became a follower. It is as if he might have said to Christ, “If we are able to reach a compromise, you and I, then I will accept your teaching in eternity. But here in this world, no, that I cannot bring myself to do. Could you not make an exception for me? Could it not be enough if once in a while, at great risk to myself, I come to you during the night, but during the day (yes, I confess it, I myself feel how humiliating this is for me and how disgraceful, indeed also how very insulting it is toward you) to say “I do not know you?” See in what a web of untruth an admirer can entangle himself.
Nicodemus, I am quite sure, was certainly well meaning. I’m also sure he was ready to assure and reassure in the strongest expressions, words, and phrases that he accepted the truth of Christ’s teaching. Yet, is it not true that the more strongly someone makes assurances, while his life still remains unchanged, the more he is only making a fool of himself? If Christ had permitted a cheaper edition of being a follower – an admirer who swears by all that is high and holy that he is convinced – then Nicodemus might very well have been accepted. But he was not! Now suppose that there is no longer any special danger, as it no doubt is in so many of our Christian countries, bound up with publicly confessing Christ. Suppose there is no longer need to journey in the night. The difference between following and admiring – between being, or at least striving to be – still remains. Forget about this danger connected with confessing Christ and think rather of the real danger which is inescapably bound up with being a Christian. Does not the Way – Christ’s requirement to die to the world, to forgo the worldly, and his requirement of self-denial – does this not contain enough danger? If Christ’s commandment were to be obeyed, would they not constitute a danger? Would they not be sufficient to manifest the difference between an admirer and a follower? The difference between an admirer and a follower still remains, no matter where you are. The admirer never makes any true sacrifices. He always plays it safe. Though in words, phrases, songs, he is inexhaustible about how highly he prizes Christ, he renounces nothing, gives up nothing, will not reconstruct his life, will not be what he admires, and will not let his life express what it is he supposedly admires. Not so for the follower. No, no. The follower aspires with all his strength, with all his will to be what he admires. And then, remarkably enough, even though he is living amongst a “Christian people,” the same danger results for him as was once the case when it was dangerous to openly confess Christ. And because of the follower’s life, it will become evident who the admirers are, for the admirers will become agitated with him. Even that these words are presented as they are here will disturb many – but then they must likewise belong to the admirers.
-Kierkegaard as found in “Bread and Wine: Readings for Lent and Easter,” p. 55-60 (bold print is my addition for emphasis)
Don’t conform. Stand out. Be an individual. How often have we heard these mantras promoting the virtue of individualism?
I remember hearing an analyst of the Olympics talk about the difference between the U.S. and Chinese teams in various sports. The two countries were neck-in-neck in medal count and the roundtable group was discussing the strengths and weaknesses, similarities and differences between the American and Chinese approaches to Olympic sports.
The analyst noted, “China performs better in team sports that require synchronization and shared effort. The Americans always shine in individual sports that allow for dynamic flare.” [paraphrased]
This should come as no surprise at all. Individualism is the spirit of American life. If you want to make it in this world, you have to forge your own way and chart your own course. We live in a society grounded in the sense of individual rights and liberties. We celebrate one’s ability to stand out from a crowd and be unique. We turn those who are innovators by breaking the assumed rules of our culture into pop culture heroes .
Individualism in the Church
The Church has succumbed to the same love for individualism. So much of our Christian lives are expressed in terms of “my faith” or whether something “feeds me.” I’ve even read a very well-known United Methodist pastor argue for contemporary praise songs over traditional hymns because it’s more experience driven to sing to songs “to God, rather than about God.” (Adam Hamilton, “Leading Beyond the Walls” p. 72)
Not long ago the Barna Group released a study that found while Christianity dominated America (81% self identified as Christian), only 21% of those polled believed that spiritual maturity required a vital connection to a faith community.
What do these two example hold in common? For starters, I think both of these examples show that much of what we call “Christian” is rooted in an individualistic approach to faith.
It’s a fine idea to sing songs to God. The Psalmists regularly wrote psalms addressing God directly. And I’m a big fan of the idea of giving people a more personal glimpse of worship–one that links head and heart and life in real ways. But we must remember that the psalms describe the character of God just as much (if not more) than they personally address God. A steady diet of songs to God will eventually create a world where worship is primarily about me and God and where God is little more than what I make God to be at any given moment.
Likewise, one’s personal relationship with God is very important. That same Barna study showed that 78% of those polled felt strongly that spirituality is very important to them. But if only 1 out of 5 see that spirituality as dependent on one’s connection to a faith community, then spirituality simply becomes a personal affair. Spiritual maturity is not served at a table set for one. And as I’ve argued previously, true discipleship must not be limited to one’s own personal experience.
Spiritual But Not Religious Christians
Much has been said recently about a group labeled, Spiritual But Not Religious. Many consider this to be a growing group (often younger) of folks who want the spirituality of faith without the rigidity of organized religion. But I believe the Church in America has long been creating members who prefered individual spirituality over being accountable to a community. The 20th Century presented a paradox where evangelicals made famous the idea of a “personal relationship with Jesus Christ,” while liberals spent a great deal of time and energy conflating biblical justice with individual rights and liberties. Either way you slice it, the 20th Century did a great deal to produce a Church marked by individualism. Even now, as we decline in membership we try to be one-stop shops tailored to everyone’s personal needs. So before we get too high on our high horses about the “secular world” and what it’s done over the last 50 years to contribute to the decline of the church, let’s remember that the individualism we bemoan now has been alive and well in our churches for some time.
A Shift in Culture
For all of the talk about reform and realignment in The United Methodist Church, very little has been said as to how we can integrate a culture of discipleship in our churches. Sure, we can all identify the need for more discipleship, commitment, and faithfulness. But we can’t seem to go into much detail as to how we do this and what it will look like. I would like to offer a few suggestions for changes in church culture that could address this need for more discipleship in our local churches. These are in no particular order:
1) Church attendance and giving do not equate discipleship
2) Discipleship MUST be a culture of accountability
3) Discipleship means nothing short than a transformed way of living
“To witness to Jesus Christ in the world, and to follow his teachings through acts of compassion, justice, worship, and devotion, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.”
Individualism has its place in our world. And personalized faith has its place in the life of the church and how we practice discipleship. But we cannot divorce personal belief from accountable living if we’re to have any hopes of creating a culture of discipleship in our churches. To emphasize conversion, and then to leave faith solely in the realm of personal experience would be to have an abortion of the new life God promises in Jesus Christ. Personalized grace is cheap if it doesn’t come with the cost of submitting ourselves to one another in love.
American individualism might be a praise worthy virtue but it’s not the way of the Church. So if we hope to have any substantive conversations on church renewal, let’s ponder that idea for a while, collectively confess our sins accordingly, and begin anew the complex and rich life of accountable discipleship together.
Next Post: Why Covenant Disciple Groups Are More Effective at Discipling Than Our Small Groups
It is my belief that the greatest failing of The United Methodist Church over the last 50 years does not lie in the number of people we’ve lost or the dollars that have disappeared from our coffers. The greatest failure of our church is a failure to disciple one another.
Somewhere along the way church membership has been confused with authentic, life-changing discipleship. Maybe the cultural norm of church led us to believe that society and the church went hand-in-hand. We grew comfortable as an American institution. I believe much of the panic we’re experiencing as a denomination is not rooted as much in decline of resources as it is in decline of influence and priority in community life. It’s tough not being the center of attention. But we simply cannot be satisfied using discipleship as a means of regaining some sense of power and comfort that went with those days gone by. Authentic discipleship requires so much more. And it means we have to look at church life in new ways–this doesn’t happen when we’re consumed with simply trying to recapture old realities. Mediocre discipleship should no longer be an acceptable norm in our churches.
Previously in Our Series…
As previously mentioned, discipleship is a life-long process of growth and maturity. For me, the best way to illustrate the complexity of discipleship is to compare it to the life of a human being. We begin young and helpless. It’s a powerful truth to realize what it means to be a “child of God.” However it can become easy to simply want to remain a child in the faith. Just as children grow up, so too must disciples grow up and “put childish things aside” (1 Cor. 13:11). This doesn’t mean we stop being beloved children of God at all–it simply means that there comes a time that our relationship with God must mature and lead us to deeper waters of love and service to God and other people.
Discipleship is About Relationship(s)
We live in a world that likes to create islands for individuals to live. One of the bedrocks of our society is the concept of individual rights and benefits. All of this is fine but if the Church is to say anything about discipleship, it must begin by saying that discipleship is dependent on relationship with others. This is non-negotiable. You don’t get to come and work on your own personal faith journey at church. You don’t get to “be fed” at a table set for 1. No, you leave the world of individualism and come to church for a corporate experience wrought with the messiness of being in relationship.
Relationship Status: Always Complicated
We begin by noting that relationship with God is messy. Any formulaic approach to relationship with God is liable to be a sales pitch for cheap grace. The God of the Old and New Testaments found in the person of Jesus of Christ simply will not fit into a neat box. If discipleship has been sold as some sort of simplistic portrayal of how “Jesus died for our sins and now we live for him” while leaving out the sheer vastness of what that means, then it will inevitably result not in a worship of God but rather a worship of ourselves and our own ideals. Relationship with God is rich and complex and takes a lifetime to even have the hope of somehow understanding it.
If we talk about the complexity of relationship with God, we have to include the fact that discipleship requires a distinct way of being in relationship with other people. We cannot (and I can’t emphasize this enough) be Christian or in an active relationship with God if we don’t see how that also affects our relationships with others. Virtues such a peace, inclusively, grace, and forgiveness must become hallmarks of a disciple’s life with others. You can’t be a disciple if you think you can expect such virtues from God without also extending those virtues to others. Any pursuit of Christian perfection will lead us along the winding road of learning to live with and radically love other people.
Still to Come…
Discipleship in community is not passive in nature. Just as intimate friendships and relationship require a certain amount of commitment and work, so too discipleship requires a community of people to gather together and invest in the living out of discipleship together. This requires a certain amount of time, effort, and most certainly accountability. If discipleship is the process of growing in and being shaped by God’s sanctifying grace, then Christian perfection, and nothing less, is always the goal of discipleship. And if Christian perfection is the goal of discipleship, then we have to submit ourselves to a standard of living and being in the world and trust that other sojourners on the road of discipleship will watch over us in the kind of love that doesn’t settle for mediocrity.
NEXT POST–Accountable Discipleship: Reviving our Methodist Heritage for a New Era
We’re now 5 weeks (give or take) away from the arrival of Baby Gosden. The nerves are starting to build and the anxiety levels will soon be reaching Defcon 1. We’re currently going through the rhythm of baby showers that shower you with gifts, questions and advice. “Are you ready yet?” seems to be a favorite question to ask. It seems to be second nature for people to ask that one. Frankly, I don’t quite know how to answer it. The truth is, you’re never actually ready for a baby to arrive, we only pretend to be. You can prepare a nursery, get bags packed, lay out clothes and even rehearse the trip to the hospital. But no one is truly ever ready for a baby to enter the world. I normally go for the honest answer–if for no other reason than because it’s the easiest to remember–and say, “well I don’t know what ready would look like but we’re excited.”
I admit that some days I struggle with the feelings of ineptitude at having a child. You can torture yourself with the internal questions of, “Will I screw things up?,” or, “Can I actually fail as a parent?” It’s a tough in-between place to be in.
Recently a friend reminded me that having a baby is truly an act of faith. You see, he astutely pointed out that the opposite of faith is not doubt but knowledge. Faith is an act of trust that happens in the face of insufficient knowledge. It’s believing that things will turn out a certain way even when you’re not quite sure how that will happen. The author of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us, “Faith is the belief in things hoped for; the evidence of things not seen.” In the church we talk so much about faith and what it means to have faith. But sometime I fear we talk about faith in such a way that we demonize doubt, questions, and insecurity. We act as though to have doubt means we don’t have a sufficient amount of faith to ground us.
In a world that seeks to proclaim knowledge of everything around us, it’s exciting to know there are things we’re yet to fully understand. There are still things we have to put our faith in. God cannot be boiled down to a particular understanding and we can’t explain all of the miracles of Creation with a formula. We know how babies are born but there’s a lot of mystery that comes along with their arrival. Who will they be? What kind of personality will they have? How will they interact with you? How will you measure up as a parent? All of these are legitimate questions that we can’t have answers for until we actually live into those answers. It’s the job of parents to search out soon-to-be parents and offer the support that on those uncertain days, faith can get you through to the next day. Lord knows I’m soon to need that more than I probably know.
Putting nurseries together, filling out registries, and reading all of the latest baby books are fine–you have to do that stuff–but they won’t solve those mysteries for us. Life will bring those answers in the fullness of time. And God, well God is with us–even in ways we can’t comprehend. Thanks be to God.
This is a video that’s been made viral over the past week or so. According to YouTube, it has well over 2 million hits now. Jefferson Bethke does a wonderfully creative job of articulating the differences between Jesus and following a religion. And I admit that the first time I watched this, I was inspired and wanted to respond with a resounding, “Amen!” But it was on a second look of the video, guided also by an early critique I found, that I realized just how much might be wrong with this.
A Good Conversation Piece–Not a Piece of Theology
Also, my second glance at this leads me to want to dissect it theologically and outline all of the “bad theology” used here. It’s important to remember that this is a poem and not a scholarly work of theology published and peer-reviewed. Is there bad theology present in this? Yes, lots. But it’s a poem so we have to be aware of the type of work we’re dealing with here before we criticize it. You could argue that what he calls, “religion,” could easily mean, “Sunday Christian,” or “Christian hypocrisy.” It’s because of this that I think this can serve as a good starting place for conversations on what it means to be a Christian.
We have to be careful how much of this we regard as a theological statement and how much we use to begin an all-important conversation on what it means to be a Christians. Listen closely and you’ll hear Bethke say he “believes in the church.” So before we hear all of this and assume we should be inspired to simply throw out religion in favor of an individualized approach to following Jesus, just be clear that Bethke seems to be promoting a protest of bad religion–not all religion–whether he even wants to admit it or not.
Was Jesus Really Against Religion?
The simple answer to this is, no. Jesus was a good Jew raised by good Jews. Go back through the gospel accounts and you’ll find Jesus at the Temple, sometime blasting religious leaders, but always at specific times. Luke 2:39-52 tells the story of Jesus at the Temple at the age of 12. Note that it begins by saying that Mary and Joseph had followed the law following the birth of Jesus. It immediately shifts into a mention that it was their custom to go to the Temple of the Passover festival. Later passages locate some of Jesus’ best encounters at the Temple during specific festival times. Why is this important? Jesus was raised a good Jew whose parents followed religious law and observed religious rituals. No matter how much he blasted religious leaders, he did so out of devotion to the law and observances. Nowhere in the gospels does it say that Jesus wanted to end religion altogether–no matter how compelling Bethke’s poetic turn of the phrase, “It is finished,” might be. Jesus did not come to abolish the law or religion, he came to fulfill and fully embody it (Matthew 5:17). It may be cool to say that Jesus was anti-religion and anti-institution but we have to remember a couple of points about the biblical text (the only insight we have into who Jesus was): 1) Jesus came against the Pharisees often. Not because they were the symbol of religion, but because they were the symbol of bad religion–a religion consumed with works and self-righteousness and not grace, love and humility; and 2) The gospel accounts were written for religious, Christian communities who wrestled with this idea of what it meant to be a Christian and a follower of Jesus.
More About Being an American Christian than a Follower of Jesus
In the end I think this is an artistic portrayal of the tensions we face as American Christians. The culture as a whole has lost trust in institutions. No one trusts Congress, the government as a whole or the Church. I’d waste a ton of space going into the many good reasons for this mistrust so let’s just agree there are plenty of reasons. And yet somehow we have to reconcile the fact that we want to be Christian and not a part of the negative side of institutionalized religion. So we just resonate with the individualized approach to faith that says “I can be a follower of Jesus and I don’t need the Church to do that.” Sadly that’s more expressive of an American sense of vague spirituality than it is of Christianity.
This push for “following Jesus but not the church” wants to shake the shackles of religion in order to “truly follow Jesus.” But truly following Jesus requires we live a certain way and be held accountable to that. Has the church gotten this standard right over these past 2000 years–largely yes and largely no. It’s always a mixed bag of good when you look at it from that angle. But the spirit of this Americanized spiritual view of Jesus seems to desire more “freedom” and fewer “restrictions.” We just need to own the fact that this so-called “freedom without rules” is not Christian at all–it’s American.
I’m not entirely opposed to this wonderful work with words. Bethke turns some amazing phrases about church being an “ocean of grace.” I love his descriptions of an inclusive church. I just hope those who watch this video will see that the only way this is possible is for good people who see that grace as integral to their faith not to leave the Church in search of something they’ll never find. We need those people to live in, engage, and renew the Church as we know it.
Have you ever noticed how much of the Christmas season is defined by the feeling of being rushed? We’ve coined the term “christmas rush” to describe the pace of the season. It all seems to be a rush; a race to get somewhere as fast as we can. The sad part is, when we declare it to be Christmas before the actual day gets here, it makes December 25th sort of a let down. By the time it comes, we’re already celebrated out and ready for the songs, decorations and festivities to be over and done with. It’s a bit ironic, but that’s reality for most of us.
I want to admit that I’m traditionally more of a “Christmas rusher” during this season than I like. But this year it’s a bit different. Advent has taken on a new meaning for me–it’s been brought closer to home than I’ve ever experienced before and I now have a new appreciation for the season. You see, my wife and I are 7 months into the pregnancy of our very first child! This event, even in its lead-up, has begun to reshape me as a person. And it’s offered me a chance to celebrate Advent, the season of expectant waiting, in a way that I never thought was possible.
Advent Means Waiting and Mystery
Nine months can feel like an eternity sometimes. Sure, there are days when it seems like you blink and you’re 7 months in. But there are also days when you think that special day will never come. Advent is a season marked by waiting. It’s a season that calls for us to stop what we’re doing and wait for something new and life-changing. The beauty of it is, we can’t rush the day of birth here anymore than we can rush Christmas Day along. It will get here in due time–in God’s time.
My wife and I are opting to be surprised on the gender of our baby. So this only amplifies the season of waiting because this “thing” she’s carrying around is wrapped in a deep mystery. God only knows the “innermost parts” of what’s being “knit together” in the womb of my wife (Psalm 139:13 CEB). The journey of faith, like the journey of Advent and the journey of childbirth, is wrapped in a deep mystery. We have to resist the temptation of buying all of the commodified ways of gaining certainty in our journeys. Faith is rooted in a trust that grows in the rich soil of mystery.
[Note: I know there are those who will advocate very passionately that finding out the gender of the baby in advance never spoiled a surprise and was a great experience. But just go with me on this for the sake of the analogy]
Advent Means Expectation and Journey
Advent is a season marked by journey and expectation. In a similar way, childbirth is a season marked by journey and expectation. As each doctor’s visit comes and goes we complete legs of the journey. We can go online and see progress of our pregnancy through pictures of what our baby should look like in size and shape. All of this is part of a journey that will culminate in a miracle.
But let’s not get too ahead of ourselves: childbirth (like the Advent journey to Bethlehem) comes with many risks and dangers. I always thought life was precious but I have a new appreciation for that idea. Anything could go wrong at any moment. That’s why the journey of childbirth is a risky one. And when a child is born, it is nothing short of a gift of grace–a miracle that words cannot contain. We no more control this gift than we do the mystery of life itself. As Stanley Hauerwas reminds us, “we have to recover our ability to pray to God, and to imagine what it might mean to be Christian in a world we do not control” (Hannah’s Child p. 237) Advent and childbirth are journeys that help us do just that.
Advent Means Complexity in Life
The great complexity about our faith is that it’s often a lot bigger than we acknowledge it to be. Too often we treat faith as a simplistic rendering of the world. The church becomes a club of persons gathered who believe like me and subscribe to the same brand of spirituality that I do. In this climate, Advent becomes a quaint observance of lighting candles in between declaring the Christ child to already be here through the carols we sing and the sermons we offer about peace and love in the hustle and bustle of the shopping season.
If Advent is to truly be characteristic of who we are called to be as Christians, then it has to become a season that celebrates the complexities of the unknown. We mark this season by acknowledging that we don’t have all of the answers for the journey ahead. We celebrate the season by naming the darkness that is present in life, those seasons where answers aren’t available, and we look to the light of God that comes as a gift to our darkness. And in doing so, we truly celebrate and appreciate the gift of the newborn baby found in the manger.
Part of the excitement of being expecting parents is learning to embrace the complexity of anticipating life’s inevitable tectonic shift that comes with a new baby. It means learning to live in the “in-between” time–the promise has been made and the journey has begun but it’s not yet fulfilled. And it also means being okay with not knowing all of the ways you’ll parent a new baby, prepare for organization, or even which brand of diapers you’ll use. There’s time for all of that and it’s okay to not know every detail before God’s time has arrived.
Waiting Beyond Advent
I’m especially reminded that there are those in my life and in this world who wait for light amid their darkness beyond Christmas Day. Life doesn’t get fixed in neat little package wrapped in a nice bow. Waiting can seem like an eternity and darkness can seem to snuff out any life that’s left. We will still be waiting for our baby to arrive once Christmas has passed. And I’m keenly aware that the season of waiting and watching doesn’t end for everyone.
This is why we should take time out of our celebrations this weekend to pray for someone who is hurting this season. It’s easy to become consumed with our own celebrations and journeys that end, but there are those who continue to journey, often silently, through hard times. Call someone who’s hurting this weekend and tell them you’re thinking about them. Write someone a note or send them an e-mail telling them that they’re on your heart this weekend. Don’t let the end of your journey consume every bit of your time and energy.
The waiting and watching of Advent makes for a very complex season. The doctors visits, childcare books, instructions for putting a crib together, gift registries, etc. all make for childbirth to be a season of complexities as well. But the joy of both comes in the fact that because when God is found in the person of Jesus Christ, born as an innocent baby and laid in a dirty manger, we can learn how to recognize how extraordinary the ordinary is. Being Christian means being baptized into citizenship in a new age. This means the everyday events of our life–celebrating the Advent liturgy at church or welcoming a new baby into the world– are not only possible, but they’re pretty extraordinary!