Settling into Acceptance

When I first heard the idea, I couldn’t help but get excited.  A Spring Break adventure in Haiti with our fearless travel buddies!  The idea brewing was a trip to the beautiful South, backpacking through remote cloud forest known for rare orchids and wildlife, camping out on one of the loveliest beaches in the country.  What better way to spend a week off from work?
 

As we discussed details one Sunday night over sweet tea and peanuts, I was reminded of our Spring Break trip last year.  We hiked from outside Port-au-Prince over the mountains and to the southern coast of Haiti in a trek that was both grueling and cathartic.  There were two days of intense hiking through rugged mountains with packs.  The 16+ miles each day and a few thousand feet of elevation change left us exhausted and delighted when we finally made it to the coastal town of Marigot.  The few days that followed involved playing on the beach, swimming under a waterfall, and finding our way back to Port-au-Prince via public transport in lieu of hiking back over the mountains.

This year’s trip had the makings of an even more memorable and extreme adventure.  Nathaniel, the organizer, diligently made calls and gathered information, which can be a difficult task in Haiti.  He learned more about camping and hiking in the area from the overseer of the park, and even called the mayor of the beach town to make sure it was alright for us to camp there.  The pesky questions I asked were being answered and a solid plan was emerging.

And yet, as the days went by and the trip approached, I started feeling a sense of uneasiness instead of eager anticipation.  Even with a well-laid plan, concerns came into my mind.  Most of them pointed back to our little girl, expected to arrive in June.  What if I slipped on some loose rocks and took a hard fall like I had in Colorado in the summer?  Would she be okay?  What if I was injured and it took hours and hours to get to the hospital?  Would she be in danger?  What would hiking in tough terrain with a 30-pound pack be like while pregnant—it was usually fine, but would my body feel different now?  Would I hold the group up?  Was the open beach really a safe place to camp?  Would people assume that the “blan” had lots of cash and use the opportunity to rob us—or worse?  Questions spiraled around in my mind. 

In many ways, the risks involved in this trip were no greater than those of last year’s trip.  The only difference was me.  Gulp.  With that realization, guilt started to bubble in along with the questions.  Was I being too soft?  Have I allowed myself to view my healthy pregnancy as a disability or illness?  Was I being selfish and unreasonable to have these doubts about the trip?  Was I letting myself be controlled by my fears?  And, a little further under the surface, was motherhood going to be summed up in missing out on the fun stuff?

All of the questions kept churning in my mind.  They went around and around, like sand and water swirled together in a mason jar.  The view through the jar was murky at first, and there was little clarity.  But, as I quieted myself, thought and prayed, my anxiety let go of its undulating grip, and the jar was left to sit still for a little while.  Little by little, the questions settled to the bottom.  As they did, the water became clear.  In those moments of stillness, both the fear and the guilt seemed to subside.  The questions that had been stirring in me were not answered, but they somehow seemed less important.  

Out of the settling water, something new started to become clear.  A certain peace.  A kind of acceptance.  The frenetic movement of the noisy questions was replaced by a loving presence, whose voice I am grateful to know and recognize.  God’s words were not audible or distinct, but still seemed to say, “Be present in your life at this moment.  This daughter in your womb is a gift, not a burden or obstacle.  Honor her, who is growing within you.  Honor your husband, who is at your side.  Honor your own body, now the carrier of new life.  Allow yourself to accept this time of your life as beautiful and rich.”

From this place of listening, so much emerged.  Acceptance.  Compassion.  Renewal.  Joy.

Also, almost as an afterthought, a decision.  Our friends would travel without us this time.  Though it still stung to share the news with them, underneath, there was peace. 

Instead of the adventure to the South, Robbie and I put together our own plans, mostly at the last minute—a few days of rest in our apartment, then a few days alone together at a friend’s cabin in nearby mountains, with a finale of a couple of days at a local beach with friends.  The result was perfect—baking goodies, hiking for miles (I’m not dead, after all!), sunsets that made me gasp, quiet mornings of watching birds and leaves dance, playing cards by candlelight on cool evenings, laughter, walks on the beach, and falling asleep to the sound of the waves.

Yes, this is where we are right now.  And now more than ever, I can see, it’s beautiful.

First Sunday: Passionate Waiting

After I gave a devotion for our school’s staff earlier this week, one of our friends, Randall Chabot, invited me to speak to his church, St. James Episcopal.  It was a real honor to worship with his congregation, with congregants coming from every part of the world—Zimbabwe, Sweden, the Bahamas, India, South America, Kenya, Canada, and even our own home base of Northern Virginia!  What a blessing to start the Advent season with them, and share the following Advent reflection.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent, one of my very favorite seasons of the church year—the four weeks leading up to Christmas.  Advent is a season that reminds us that we are a part of a story of passionate waiting.  Passionate waiting for something very, very good.

During this season, we remember the first Advent—the time leading up to the birth of Jesus, all those years ago.  One of the first people who comes to mind is Mary.  We remember when the angel came to her.  We remember when she spoke the “yes” that welcomed Jesus into the world.  We remember that she, herself, was waiting, without a lot of answers or information, and that she “pondered and treasured these things in her heart.”  We remember when she visited Elizabeth and the baby leaped within her womb.  We remember those final days of pregnancy.  Uncomfortable.  Waddling.  Restless.  Crazy with anticipation.  But waiting, in that way that mothers do, for the time the baby chooses to be born.  And, in the meantime, getting up on a donkey to go to Bethlehem for the census with her husband.

We also remember the passionate waiting of the Jewish people at that time.  They were yearning for the coming of the Messiah.  They were longing for the fulfillment of God’s promises that had been proclaimed through prophets for generations, reassuring the people that God was, in fact, preparing a rescue plan for them.  Today, we heard the words of the prophet Jeremiah (33:14-16), spoken as a sweet reassurance to the people of Israel, who were passionately waiting for a savior:

The days are coming, says the LORD,
when I will fulfill the promise

I made to the house of Israel and Judah.
In those days, in that time,
I will raise up for David a just shoot;
he shall do what is right and just in the land.
In those days Judah shall be safe
and Jerusalem shall dwell secure;
this is what they shall call her:
“The LORD our justice."

In Advent, we also hear about John the Baptist, the prophet who most immediately preceded Jesus, and who proclaiming the coming of the Messiah just prior to the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry.  In the Gospel of Luke (3:3-6), we hear:

John went throughout the whole region of the Jordan,
proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,
as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah:

A voice of one crying out in the desert:
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make straight his paths.
Every valley shall be filled
and every mountain and hill shall be made low.
The winding roads shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth,
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.

At this time, the people of Israel were so hungry for this message that they streamed to him in droves, responding to his invitation to repentance and baptism.  They were a people who were passionately waiting for the Messiah—for God’s rescue plan.

In Advent, we are reminded that, just like Mary and the people of Israel, we are also part of this story of passionate waiting.  In our lives, we find ourselves waiting for some trivial things—for EDH [Haitian city power] to come back on, for the traffic to finally start moving on Delmas [or the Beltway, or whatever], and for Christmas to arrive.

There are also some more serious personal things that we wait for at one time or another.  As children, we wait until we’re old enough to go to school.  Then we wait for school to finally be over for the year.  Then we wait for the years to tick by to graduation.  We wait for that first job to come around.  We wait to meet our future spouse.  We wait to get married.  We wait for the right time to have a child.  We wait to conceive.  We wait for the baby to be born.  And then, once the baby’s born, we’re waiting for them to learn to walk, and talk, and get out of diapers.  We wait for them to go to school, to graduate, to get married, to give us grandchildren, and on and on and on.

In Advent, we’re reminded that we are a people who are also passionately waiting for some essential things—things that go way beyond the trivialities of our lives, or even these important personal matters of our lives.  We are a people passionately waiting for restoration.  We look around and see the suffering in the world, the suffering in Haiti, the suffering in our own church, and family, and among our friends.  We feel the suffering that we, ourselves, experience.  And we find ourselves longing—passionately waiting—for a Savior.  We passionately wait for the coming of the fullness of the Kingdom of God, which has already started to transform the world.  We find ourselves crying out in the words of Jesus, “your kingdom come.”  We passionately wait for the time when all things will be made new.  When God will wipe every tear from our eyes.  When there will be a New Heaven and a New Earth.  We passionately wait for the time when all of the brokenness of creation will be fully redeemed and restored.

But the thing is, we are not very good at waiting.  We want to skip ahead and get to the finish line.  We are impatient.  We want EDH, and Christmas, and the next step in life, and the Second Coming to happen now.  As soon as possible.  We want God to just cut to the chase.  But, if we do that, we’re missing the point altogether.  God, the creator of time, has given us this world, stuck in predictable 24 hour days, exactly in order to invite us into waiting.  And, in that time of waiting, to do something in us.  This is not just passing the time.  It’s an active, intentional, passionate waiting.

This season of Advent is a reminder of this invitation into passionate waiting.  Advent invites us to make today’s psalm, Psalm 25 (v. 4-5), into our prayer:

Your ways, O LORD, make known to me;
teach me your paths,
Guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my savior, and for you I wait all the day.

We are also reminded of the fact that we are a people waiting for the restoration of the world and for the second coming of the Messiah.  Many of the readings we’ll hear together offer us encouragement and counsel for this period of passionate waiting.  Today, we heard from the First Letter to the Thessalonians (3:12-13):

Brothers and sisters:
May the Lord make you increase and abound in love
for one another and for all,
just as we have for you,
so as to strengthen your hearts,
to be blameless in holiness before our God and Father
at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his holy ones.

This waiting for Jesus to come again is not a passive affair—we are asked to abound in love, to strengthen our hearts, and to be blameless in holiness, so that we are prepared for that day that is to come.

Later in Advent, we’ll hear a reading from the Letter to the Philippians (1:3-11), also reassuring us and directing us during this time of waiting: 

Brothers and sisters:
I am confident of this,
that the one who began a good work in you
will continue to complete it
until the day of Christ Jesus...
And this is my prayer:
that your love may increase ever more and more
in knowledge and every kind of perception,
to discern what is of value,
so that you may be pure and blameless for the day of Christ,
filled with the fruit of righteousness
that comes through Jesus Christ
for the glory and praise of God.

Again, we hear that same message—the day of completion in Christ Jesus is coming.  As you passionately wait, increase in love and knowledge.  Allow the fruits of righteousness to grow within you.  Prepare yourself to be presented pure and blameless for the day of Christ.

Today, we also heard the words of Jesus in the Gospel of Luke (21:34-36), when he was giving his disciples instructions for the time of passionate waiting that is before them:

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy
from carousing and drunkenness
and the anxieties of daily life,
and that day catch you by surprise like a trap.
For that day will assault everyone
who lives on the face of the earth.
Be vigilant at all times
and pray that you have the strength
to escape the tribulations that are imminent
and to stand before the Son of Man."

Jesus is telling us, “Be alert.  Be attentive.  Do not let your hearts be sleepy and distracted.  Because that day is coming.  Stay awake.”

In Advent, we’re also given a vision of what exactly we are waiting for—which is really important if we’re going to be doing all this waiting.  We’re given a glimpse into the fullness of love and joy and beauty that is to come.  The Prophet Zephaniah (3:16-17) speaks to us in these words:

Fear not, O Zion, be not discouraged!
The LORD, your God, is in your midst,
a mighty savior;
he will rejoice over you with gladness,
and renew you in his love,
he will sing joyfully because of you,
as one sings at festivals.

Isn’t that beautiful?  This is a vision that is so captivating, so good, so beautiful, so overflowing with the riches of God that it is absolutely worth passionately waiting for.

I’d like to conclude our time together with a poem written by Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who was a Jesuit priest, a theologian, and a scientist. (From Hearts on Fire: Praying with the Jesuits, edited by Michael Harter, SJ).

Above all, trust in the slow work of God.

We are quite naturally impatient in everything

            to reach the end without delay.

We should like to skip the intermediate stages.

We are impatient of being on the way to something

            unknown, something new.

And yet it is the law of all progress

            that it is made by passing through

            some stages of instability—

            and that it may take a very long time.

And so I think it is with you.

            your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,

            let them shape themselves, without undue haste.

Don’t try to force them on,

            as though you could be today what time

            (that is to say, grace and circumstances

            acting on your own good will)

            will make of you tomorrow.

Only God could say what this new spirit

            gradually forming within you will be.

Give Our Lord the benefit of believing

            that his hand is leading you,

and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself

            in suspense and incomplete.

And so, this Advent, may we hear God’s invitation to be part of this story of passionate waiting.  May we stay awake, and grow in love, in knowledge, and in holiness, so that we will be ready for the day of Jesus Christ.  May we be so captivated by the vision of the restoration that is to come, that our waiting is filled with joy and anticipation.  May we come to have hearts that passionately wait on the Lord.