Author: Tara Owens

No matter how open-handed we were, no matter how still we became, no matter how we tempered our expectations into expectancy, a majority of us have been feeling (or will feel) a let down after December 25. Our longings have been whetted by Advent, our desires help openly before God, and whatever of those were met in Him on Christmas, there are some longings still there, some aches still present.

Before you begin (or for most of us, continue) berating yourself for how you should have experienced December 25, I encourage you to remember we all—you, me, our children and grandchildren—are soaked in an atmosphere contrary to the Kingdom. On December 26 the radio station our family has listened to since early December switched abruptly from constant Christmas tunes back to “regularly scheduled programming.” Christmas trees have already made their migration curbside in our neighborhood, and people arch a puzzled eyebrow at me when I wish them a “merry Christmastide”. No matter how well-prepared, how “holy” we feel our Christmas Day may have been, the world we live in still refuses to take the long journey to the manger, preferring instead the quick fixes of glitter and gifts, buying our way into what we hope is acceptance, what we want to be love.

The longing and letdown are part of the Christmas story, believe it or not.

Think about it.

The shepherds in the fields were told in a display of great glory so overwhelming that they were terrified. A host of angels sang the good news of Messiah over them, and they were told that they would find a baby in a manger as “a sign to you”. Although it’s wild speculation, some of those shepherds might not even be expecting this baby to be anything more than a sign—maybe Messiah was here in more glory and pomp than that, and they only had to see this sign-child to be let in on the secret. For them, Messiah meant physical and political liberation from their oppressors (exile in general, Rome in particular). Messiah meant real, immediate deliverance, unquestionable victory, all hopes fulfilled. Sounds a little like our expectations of a perfect family Christmas, in a way.

To those still hoping in the promises of the Old Testament, rescue was assumed to look a certain way. And this over-the-top explosion of angel-glory might just have reinforced that assumption.

It would be easy for them to be let down by a regular baby in a regular manger.

It’s easy enough for us, thousands of years later and much more in the know, to feel that same sort of spiritual disappointment.

We’re leaning toward the Second Coming, the fulfillment of all promises, all longings, all hopes of the kingdom to come. And, really, God? It’s a baby? In a manger? Again?

It’s why we miss it so easily, the stunning reality of the rescue in front of us. We’re waiting for the fireworks—or at least for Uncle John to not show up drunk to the family Christmas celebration, or even for your mother to remember that you really don’t like the cookies she makes every year. Into our imperfect celebrations, our broken hallelujahs, our fumbling attempts at adoration slips the infant Christ.

This is the upside down kingdom, the Messiah as a helpless child, redemption not as a single point in time but a journey. What would it take to believe that the Messiah is really here, in this small boy nursing at His mother’s breast? What would the shepherds have to let go of in order for their entire experience of the redemption of all mankind not to feel like a let down?

That’s part of what this journey to the manger—the one that lasts all of Christmastide—is and does for us. It helps us learn to see what we know we cannot see. Messiah as child. God as man. The cross as victory.

I would hazard a guess that we don’t live into the fullness of the Christmas season for lots of reasons, but chief among them would be the fact that there are not enough teachers who help us know what it is to live in the Promised Land, to truly enter into the journey of fulfillment of God’s Word to us.

Sure, we have a lot of teachers who tell us to hope in the future kingdom (a good and valuable discipline), and a lot of teachers who help us live into the holiness of the sacrifice and discipline of the With God life. We even have some leaders who insist that God’s promise for us is material prosperity in the here and now (something Scripture contradicts). We don’t have a lot of people who are willing to lead us courageously, whole-heartedly, into the Promised Land, even if it is full of giants.

Why bring up the Promised Land when there’s a child in a manger? We’re close enough to the Advent readings that you might have an inkling of why, John the Baptist’s exhortations still echoing behind us. Although it will be years before either John or Jesus arrive at that point in the story, John’s choice of the Jordan River wasn’t just that it was a convenient body of water. The Jordan was the exact river that the people of Israel had to cross over in order to enter into the Promised Land. And John stood baptizing there as a message to the people that another crossing over was about to happen—that the days of wilderness living were about to end, that One was coming who would lead not just Israel but us all into a place of milk and honey (provision and sweetness), where we can live out the words that God has spoken to us.

Which brings us all the way back to the book of Joshua, and a mixed multitude of people perplexedly entering into a space that they’d never been before—a space where manna didn’t appear every day, but provision came from a different source. Things were changing, and God wasn’t providing in the ways that they had come to expect. No more manna could possibly feel like abandonment, when in fact it was God moving into the neighborhood. A crying infant might feel like a cruel joke, when in fact it was God made flesh.

(As a small aside, it’s helpful to know that the Greek translation of Joshua is Yeshua which, yes, is the same word as Jesus. And do you know what Jesus—and Yeshua and Joshua—means? It means salvation. So the Book of Joshua could also be translated as the Book of Salvation.)

What does it take to enter into the Promised Land in fullness, when all that you’ve experienced is the wilderness? What does it take to begin to see the smallness of the Kingdom of God as rescue and beauty, when the world around us screams for bigger, newer, better, more?

If we look at Joshua 5, what happens right before the manna stops and they begin to eat off of the provision of the land that they have been given (inhabiting the Promise) is sacrifice. The people celebrate the Passover, but not only in remembrance of God’s liberation of them from Egypt. This time, the Passover represents a celebration of God’s faithful work of bringing them out of the wilderness and into the promise that had been given to Abraham.

The sacrifice the people make here is not just a lamb, but a sacrifice of the ways of the wilderness. It’s a letting go of all that has been, in order to make space for what will be.

It’s something that we all have to do, at some point, in order to begin to actually inhabit the Promised Land, to inhabit the Kingdom of God here and now. We have to let go of those things (often good things) that have sustained us in the wilderness. We have to let them go, because if we don’t, we’ll go straight back into those places of deprivation and longing, and not realize that we’re actually standing on the very ground of fulfillment that we’ve been longing for (sadly, this is Judas’s very story, and why Christ aches so much over him).

So, beloveds, here are my Christmastide questions for you:

What is the way of the wilderness that you need to lay down (and let burn, to use the imagery of Monday’s video) in order to be ready to enter the Promise?

What has your manna been, the gift from God that sustained you, that needs to be let go of in order to see the abundance of the land you’re standing on?

What does it mean to let go of the let down of Christmas and instead see and learn something altogether new?

What does the child in the manger really mean to you—can you see Him as fulfillment, even when there’s more journey ahead?

Can you begin to believe that you’ve crossed over into God’s Kingdom, even when the world still seems so broken?

Sometimes, dear ones, let down is a good thing. Sometimes it’s a release of all that was so that a new, more glorious future can unfold.

Merry Christmastide. Christ is born!

Grace & peace,
Tara

Exile
 On reading 1 & 2 Kings

Like the ancients, we know about ashes,
and smoldering ruins,
and collapse of dreams,
and loss of treasure,
and failed faith,
and dislocation,
and anxiety, and anger, and self-pity.
For we have watched the certitudes and
entitlements
of our world evaporate.

Like the ancients, we are a
mix of perpetrators,
knowing that we have brought this on
ourselves, and a
mix of victims,
assaulted by others who rage against us.

Like the ancients, we weep in honesty
at a world lost
and the dread silence of your absence.
We know and keep busy in denial,
but we know.

Like the ancients, we refuse the ashes,
and watch for newness.
Like them, we ask,
“Can these bones live?”

Like the ancients, we ask,
“Is the hand of the Lord shortened,
that the Lord cannot save?”

Like the ancients, we ask,
“Will you at this time restore what was?”

And then we wait:
We wait through the crackling of fire,
and the smash of buildings,
and the mounting body count,
and the failed fabrice of
medicine and justice and education.
We wait in a land of strangeness,
but there we sing, songs of sadness,
songs of absence,
belatedly songs of praise,
acts of hope,
gestures of Easter,
gifts you have yet to give.

by Walter Brueggemann
from Prayers for a Privileged People, Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2008.

Note: This blog on soul care was originally written by Tara in post election 2016. We all could surely use a reminder of how to care for ourselves in a deep and true way, once again. In difficult times, remember – be be gentle with you and with those around you. Error on the side of kindness. And if you need someone to walk with you – reach out to us. Any one of us would be honored to sit with you and hear your story.
– The Anam Cara Spiritual Directors

This morning, whether you are sitting in front of your computer waiting for that next Zoom meeting, trying wrangle three kiddos while making breakfast, or just simply lonely and alone, there are some practices, reminders, and gentle exhortations that are important to soul health after what I have sometimes termed as the “collective trauma” of this past year.

Get Outside

We have, in general, indoor minds. We lives inside of boxes, eat inside of boxes, and find our entertainment inside of boxes. Much of this past year was dominated by screens. Getting outside in God’s creation not only reminds us of cycles and seasons, but it removes the walls and ceilings around our souls, leading to a more expansive experience of the world, our God, and the Good News. It helps us gain God’s perspective and bring rest.

Getting outside brings our noisy, busy selves to a place of silence. Spend time in that silence and see how nature continues to sing to God. If you can, leave your technology and social media behind. Having an unmediated experience of the book of creation brings us back to God’s heart. It helps us to develop outdoor minds.

Lament (or Celebrate)

Lament is a legitimate response to world events, national events, local events, or personal events. Weeping and mourning, ashes and sackcloth, are Scriptural ways to react. Lament doesn’t begin with pointing the finger or denigration of the other, however, it starts with personal responsibility and sorrow. It starts with repentance, and it moves toward an understanding of larger themes and needs. Lament moves toward an understanding of God’s movement, care, and goodness in the world, most often through our own actions of care.

Celebration is a legitimate response to world events, national events, local events, or personal events. Singing and dancing, waving the flag of victory, and generally finding gladness in a hoped for result is a Scriptural way to react. Christian celebration, however, doesn’t involved denigration of those who are not celebrating, or stating superiority because of your glad news. Christian celebration invites all into the party—and acknowledges the pain, fear, and sadness of those who don’t want to respond.

Find Yourself In The Word

God’s story is always our story. If you feel disoriented, afraid, or unsure of what is to come, turn to the Word. In it,  you will find hope, guidance, and a sense of the future. In it, you will find conviction, questions, and an understanding of what your particular role and call is in bringing God’s light into the world. Read the story with fresh eyes. Ask questions of the text you never dared ask before—the Word is asking questions of you.

Spend Time With A Child

Spending time with a child is spending time with the future. Laugh and play. Cry when things are disappointing. Don’t hold grudges. Remember we are taken care of in the same way that children are (or should be) and that our God is a kind and responsible parent. We can ask for what we want without fear, just as a child is unashamedly needy. We can be afraid. We can be happy. We can be sad. Spending time with children isn’t about forgetting everything, but remembering that we, too, are dependent, needy, and loved.

Read Poetry

Poetry doesn’t lecture. It helps us to see, to question, and to awaken to beauty. As predictions are made, as dire things are said, as rhetoric is simplified into marketing, choose to read poetry (or listen to great music or view beautiful art). Let yourself be awakened to perspectives that aren’t your own, to see things you never saw before, and to be comforted by the reality that there are poets and prophets in the world who help us to see more clearly, to see as God sees, and to respond accordingly.

Do Something Creative

Create something—a cake, a painting, an essay, a lesson plan. Bring beauty into the world. This season has been divisive and, at times, downright nasty. Bring redemption into the world by creating something that wasn’t there before. It doesn’t have to be happy or sad or anything you feel it “should” be. Just create. Your soul will necessarily be turned toward the One who created you.

Speak The Psalms Aloud

The psalms are an important prayer book, not just something to be studied. Whether your soul needs reassurance, wrath, repentance, solace, or celebration, the psalms can be your prayers. The psalms give permission for a wide range of emotion and experience, and reading them aloud helps you to hear them twice—inside yourself and outside yourself as they are spoken into the world as living, active words. Not only that, but reading the psalms aloud changes and forms us, bringing us more fully into the heart of God and moving us toward the suffering and saving Christ. The psalms were His prayer book, too, and your voice and His will be in concert as you read them out loud.

Love Your Neighbor

There are people who are scared, angry, and upset. There are people who are hopeful, celebratory, and content. There are people with every emotion in between. Choose humility and engage in acts of love with your neighbor—literally first, with those who live on your street, on the same hall in your apartment building, in your dorms. If there are those who are hurting, bandage their wounds. If there are those who feel you inflicted the pain, listen to their hurt without defending yourself. Serve one another in ways larger and small. Bake cakes, rake lawns, start fundraising campaigns, help teach ESL classes, plant community gardens, play with children in the street, let other people go first in line, drive the speed limit, look at your servers (grocery stores, coffee shops, etc.) in the eyes. Give people dignity. The person looking at you—whoever they are—bears the image of God.

Remember That Good Takes a Long Time To Appear

In Genesis, the word for “good” is the Hebrew word tov. A dear rabbi friend of mine defines tov as the actualization of the potential for life embedded in the creation by God, when the creation brings it forth with the seeds of future life already in it. Good is when the fruit of a tree produces seeds that are planted in the ground and brings forth another tree with fruit and seeds in that fruit.

This means “good” in the Hebrew sense takes a long time to appear. Good may come of apparently bad circumstances. Bad can come of apparently good circumstances. We are the living tov of our grandparents. Our responsibility is to bring forth what God has placed inside of us, and to wait with God for that potential to produce the life that God has intended. This may take a very long time.

Run To Meet The Father Who Is Running To Meet You (Or Join The Party)

In the parable of the Prodigal Son, the Father runs across the field to embrace his son. This is our God. He is running to meet you, He is running to meet me. He loves us wildly and scandalously. This is deeply true. Meditate on this parable. Spend time with our God. We may be the prodigal son or we may be the older brother, refusing to join the party. In Luke 15:31, the Father says something surprising, something that I pray reassures and brings life to all of our souls today: “You are always with me, and everything I have is yours.” We are always with God. Always.

I pray today for you, and for me, and for us all:

For this reason, since the day we heard about you, we have not stopped praying for you. We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God, being strengthened with all power according to his glorious might so that you may have great endurance and patience, and giving joyful thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of his holy people in the kingdom of light. For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins. (Col. 1:9-13, NIV)

And, if you want to talk, if spiritual direction would be helpful, please feel free to reach out to Tara, here.