Enough

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

                     In the Bleak Midwinter, by Christina Rosetti

The carol, In the Bleak Midwinter, is probably my favorite Christmas song. The verse above is not in our hymnal. I found it online at website for The Poetry Foundation. The word “Enough” spoke to me because Rosetti’s description tells me that Jesus did not need much when he was born—a place to sleep, food to eat, and parents to care for him. It was enough. I find it humorous that even though angels fall before him, it was enough that the animals adored him!

How satisfied am I with simple things—simple, nourishing food, an adoring pet, a place to sleep, and the companionship and support of others? Maybe the reason the word “enough” keeps coming back to me is that I recently read about Evagrius Ponticus, the early monastic teacher whose naming of the eight deadly passions laid the groundwork for the seven deadly sins. Evagrius also named eight virtues, one for each of the passions (the monastics always considered passions as negative—they were states of mind that were considered destructive of love). We don’t talk about the virtues as much as we should. Evagrius said that the only way to do away with a passion was to overcome it with a corresponding virtue.

Interestingly, the first passion he named was gluttony. Considering the word “enough” against the backdrop of gluttony makes the contrast between the two especially strong. Gluttony is not only about overeating. It is about overdoing anything that is destructive of love. So how much of what we do in this season becomes gluttonous? And when we identify our overeating, overbuying, overdecorating and overdoing as gluttony, how is that celebrating the birth of the One who was born into simple surroundings and was satisfied with the simple things that nourished his life?

The virtue that overcomes gluttony is temperance. What would it look like to practice temperance in this season? Would simple meals, simple gifts, and a simple celebration allow me to focus more on the birth of Jesus, to adore along with the animals that surrounded him? 

Jesus In Us

I cannot imagine how it must have felt for Mary to have been impregnated by God. Did she experience the wonder of knowing that within her womb, the promised Messiah was growing daily? Did that sustain her against the criticism of others, the shame of family, the potential loss of her betrothed?

Why did God choose this way of bringing himself into the world? A single young woman engaged to be married. Her reputation stained, even her life at risk because of this pregnancy, certain evidence, it would seem, of promiscuity and adultery.

Maybe this is why Jesus was compassionate to the woman caught in adultery. What had his own mother told him of her experience being pregnant with him? Of the rejection she endured? Of living with a ruined reputation?

And what does this say to me about how I should live? Can I be so certain of the evidence I see as to judge another without knowing how God is at work in that person—how Jesus is growing in them? Is Jesus in me so that I can see Jesus in another—even when that person has been labeled and judged by well-meaning “church folks” as someone unfit to be accepted?

What strength Mary had to be able to praise God as she did, even knowing that what God was doing in and through her would bring scorn and rejection from family and community! Can I see beyond the black and white to the Light of the world? Can I love others and give them grace, knowing that Jesus is growing within them, even if they do not acknowledge it themselves? Will I let Jesus live in me, even if it brings me criticism and rejection?

Zechariah's Silence

“But now, since you didn’t believe what I said, you will be silent and unable to speak until the child is born. For my words will certainly be fulfilled at the proper time.”

                                                                                                  Luke 1:20

I cannot imagine how Zechariah felt during the time he was silent. It would have been all of Elizabeth’s pregnancy and even before, so he was probably mute for ten months or more. Over the past week, my ability to talk has seemed essential, as I was traveling and needed to be able to ask for help with arrangements and directions. I’ve thought a lot how difficult it would have been to contact the hotel shuttle driver or to ask an airline agent how to adjust for a missed flight.

Zechariah couldn’t share in the joy of telling friends and family what he had seen in the Temple and that, after long years of disappointment, he was going to have a son. He could not relay the prophecy about his child. He could not share the good news.

How helpless he must have felt. When you have spent your life talking, what must it have felt like to go so long without being able to do so. Our ability to speak is one way we are judged by society to be relevant. Have you ever sat quietly when others are offering their opinions and not shared your own? Have you tried to say something and been ignored? We attach great value to our ability to say what we think, to speak our mind.

What submission Zechariah must have learned over the long period of silence. He couldn’t easily convey his likes or dislikes. He couldn’t tell others if he felt good or bad. He could neither express joy over his son’s impending birth nor offer verbal comfort to Elizabeth as she experienced the growth of the baby within her. It must have been a humbling experience.

How might being silent change me? 

Loving Self and Neighbor

Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

                                                              Matthew 22:34-40 (NIV)

Is self-sacrifice necessary for a life of discipleship? I recently heard someone argue that Jesus’ quotation of Leviticus 19:18, “Love your neighbor as yourself” refutes the necessity of self-sacrifice. This person felt that self-sacrifice equated to not loving yourself.

While I know there are those with self-esteem problems, it seems to me that our culture encourages us to love self more than we love others, not less. We live in a self-focused, self-absorbed society. We want what we want and we want it now. We may like to talk about the needs of others, and we may even do something about them, but the idea of giving up something to help another is a different matter. Even in our giving, the motivation can be to make us feel better about ourselves, not to improve the life of another.

How many of my decisions are the fruit of loving myself more than I love others? Do I consider the impact that my purchasing decisions have on others? Do my dollars support child labor, sweatshop conditions, environmental destruction or planned obsolescence? Does my lifestyle revolve around overindulgence?

I wonder how much of our self-love has made us our own idols, replacing God as the focus of our attention and desire. If I really love God with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind, can I simultaneously overindulge myself? It seems to me that loving God with all my energy and focus will open my eyes to what God loves and to what breaks God’s heart. And when what breaks God’s heart breaks my heart as well, love of self and love of neighbor then get into right relationship with each other.

When I love God with every fiber of my being, I will desire what God desires. That will include taking care of myself, but it will not stop there. I will also focus on meeting the needs of others because God loves them and I should love what God loves and as God loves. My wants may not be fulfilled but I contend that if I am that focused on God, my wants are then what God wants, which is life and love for each person—no one excluded. When I want what God wants, what I do does not feel like self-sacrifice. Instead it feels like joy!

Nonretaliation as Faithfulness

Over the past week, I’ve been confronted with my lack of trust in God for all my life. One way this stood out to me was in my kneejerk reaction to defend myself in a discussion with another person. When my position was denigrated, I immediately and instinctively retaliated.

Later, as I was reading Psalm 23, the very first verse spoke to me. In the New Living Translation it says: The Lord is my Shepherd; I have all that I need. It dawned on me that if I would allow God to be my Shepherd, I would not need to defend myself or justify my position or explain my behavior, for God is all that I need. God will guide me if I will stop trying to take matters into my own hands and instead trust God for everything.

In a nation where attacking others verbally, if not physically, seems to be part and parcel of our culture, nonretaliation is certainly an anomaly. When much of our entertainment is found in shows where people insult others, yell at others or discredit others, how would it look if those efforts were met with a gentle response or silence? How long could one person verbally berate another if the recipient of the abuse simply did not respond? We see examples of it in our country, though they are few and far between. The Amish community whose children were gunned down while at school, the nonviolent protests during the Civil Rights Movement, Jesus’ silence before his accusers.

If God is my Shepherd, then I am God’s sheep. And that makes me think of another passage that speaks of nonretaliation and sheep.  Isaiah 53:6-7 says:

All of us, like sheep, have strayed away.
      We have left God’s paths to follow our own.
   Yet the Lord laid on him
      the sins of us all.

He was oppressed and treated harshly,
      yet he never said a word.
   He was led like a lamb to the slaughter.
      And as a sheep is silent before the shearers,
      he did not open his mouth.

It is not easy to remain silent when attacked. But what would it do to our communities, not just our Christian communities, but our cities and states and countries if we could embrace the example of Jesus and trust God for our lives instead of retaliating against others?

Christian Workaholics

It’s interesting what you observe if you pay attention to what you read, what you see and what you hear. That should be fairly obvious, but the pace at which many of us live makes observation of anything challenging.

I’m facilitating a small group study of Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster.Using a quote from Thomas Kelly, Foster observes that God never guides us into an intolerable scramble of panting feverishness. And Jesus, in Matthew 11:28-30, says, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (The Message).

“Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.” How often do we simply let ourselves rest in the arms of Jesus? Is there anything in our lives of faith that we just let happen unforced?

I read the above passage in The Message before heading out to be with a group of church friends. As the group shared life experiences, much of which revolved around church activity, I was struck by the contrast between what I was hearing and what I had been reading, both in the gospel of Matthew and in Foster’s book. I was almost tired simply from listening to all the stuff I was hearing.  All the activities were good and worthwhile, and some were even recounted with joy. But I was having a hard time finding any unforced rhythms of grace.

In a society where our value is measured by what we do, and in a church that often seems more obsessed with metrics rather than transformation, to have Jesus calling us to rest and recovery is hard to accept. Yet Jesus warns us of the danger of not resting in him and taking the time to build a relationship with him in Matthew 7:22-23: “On judgment day many will say to me, ‘Lord! Lord! We prophesied in your name and cast out demons in your name and performed many miracles in your name.’ But I will reply, ‘I never knew you.”

I’ve been a Christian workaholic but I am learning to live in the “unforced rhythms of grace.” I am trying to let what I do for God be at God’s initiative and at God’s pace, not what the world, or even the church, expects. Jesus didn’t build a megachurch or plan and organize elaborate ministry projects. He seldom preached to large crowds. He taught a small group of followers and ministered as he went, one on one, relationship by relationship. He embodied the unforced rhythms of grace in his life. Rest and recovery and the unforced rhythms of grace are healing and transformational. May we discover the promises of God’s care by living unforced lives in the arms of Christ.

.

Sabbath and Silence

 One of my New Year's resolutions was to slow down, so this video got my attention. I'm facilitating a study of Richard Foster's Freedom of Simplicity, and as I've been reading in preparation for each week's discussion, I am sensing a connection between simplicity, singleness of purpose and slowing down.


The deeper I dig into spirituality and simplicity, the more counter-cultural I find Christianity to be. In Freedom of Simplicity, Foster observes that if we practice Sabbath, it goes against our urges to get ahead, be productive and provide for our own futures. The discipline of Sabbath leads us, if faithfully practiced, to recognize that life does not consist in the abundance of possessions or promotions or productive actions. Life is only found in our obedience to God and in the recognition that our God who loves us provides all that we need. As we detach from our culture's ravenous pursuit of status and possessions and power, we can learn to be content with what we have, to enjoy all that God has already given us in creation (including relationships), and we become more aware of the needs of others and thus, more compassionate. We then finally begin to live what we pray in the Lord's Prayer: thy Kingdom come, thy will be done in earth as in heaven.


Silence is the complement to Sabbath, because silence causes us to learn to quiet our minds. It is the inner manifestation of Sabbath, for if all we do is cease actual activity, our minds are likely to work overtime to make up for the lack of external busyness. In my own experience, without the discipline of contemplative prayer, I shift into thinking about what I will do when I am no longer practicing Sabbath. Silence is Sabbath for my mind.


Ironically, these disciplines are likely the most difficult for us to practice in our American society. When I've suggested dependence on God's provision, I've received sometimes angry protests. I understand, because I struggle to be dependent on God and find it difficult to reconcile productivity and dependence. It seems to me that we are often unwilling to accept that who we are is not defined by what we do, that, in fact, anything we do, for it to actually glorify God, has to arise out of who we are. And we cannot know who we are at the pace we live our lives. We can only discover who we are through the faithful, regular practices of Sabbath and silence.