Advent-ageous Prayer (Malachi 3:1-4)

Today, Malachi 3:1-4 has me thinking about what it means to be cleansed and purified. First, it means that the Refiner can see the dirt that is embedded within my person. These are not necessarily defects, but rather impurities that have become a part of me because I was not careful or because I wrongly assumed that I could get close to them and be immune to their effects or worse yet, because I thought that I might play in a strange sandbox and later just wash away the sand but anyone who has ever tried to get sand out of a black girl's hair knows that it is an arduous process that requires expert cleaning and sometimes means a few grains of sand may stay lodged in the natural kinks and curls of the hair for a while. I was thinking about the refiner's fire and since the closest I've ever come to that kind of fire was in the kitchen when I've cooked with wine and waited for the heat to burn off the unnecessary alcohol, I had to take a minute to really think about that process.

This is not just an external cleansing of surface dirt. The refiner's fire melts the gold or silver, changing, but not harming, its physical state for the moment while impurities rise to the surface and are skimmed off by the refiner. This is not a microwave process. This process takes time and the gold and silver must yield fully to the process. This made me wonder if I have come to the refiner's fire repeatedly with newly washed, sand-free hair, clean ears and fingernails, a freshly scrubbed face and the nerve to give up my turn in line because I feel clean enough to make it just one more day. Have I come to the refiner's fire after taking a bath and merely left the refinery in the emperor's new clothes - still having internalized the real dirt and grime that only the fire can burn off? I wonder if I have yielded to the refiner's fire and the Refiner's touch or if I just yelled, "It's too hot! I'm melting! Please stop!!" Hmm...

Dear God,
Please melt me today and cleanse me of the impurities that have become so familiar that I no longer see them for the dirt that they are. Today, I offer myself to you in the hope that I will be made ready for your return. Today, I ask you to cleanse me so that I might go into the valleys and fill them with the hope of your return. As liquid takes the shape of its container, allow me to flow into low places, bringing hope and peace and joy. Today I am yielding my ears and my heart to hear your clear call to repentance. Today, I will wait while You pin my impurities to an old rugged cross and instead of leaving the refinery in the arrogant delusion of wearing the emperor's new clothes, I leave in a reversible robe of righteousness - white on the inside, camel hair on the outside. This is my Advent-ageous prayer for today.

Amen

Advent and World AIDS Day - thoughts

Advent is a season of waiting for what we think we know and still maintaining an element of surprise and relief when it arrives. Those of us who work out our faith in the shadow of the resurrection have it pretty easy. We have a written record of this beautiful story of a God who puts on flesh as an act of love and then lets soldiers rip the wrapping at the crucifixion. Our waiting is tempered by a kind of knowing that sometimes gets in the way. It's not hard to wait for the gift that you know is coming...especially when all of our Christian rituals remind us that the One shows up year after year - whether there is a live baby or a chubby cheeked plastic doll in the manger scene in the annual Christmas pageant. We do all of our shopping and prepping because we know that there is a deadline on our calendar that reminds us that what we have waited for is surely going to appear. I wonder how our lives would change if we lived as those who can only wait with the hope that someday, the Messiah will come and save them...from Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.

Today is World AIDS day. I don't know anyone whose life has not been touched by the ravages of this disease...if only tangentially. Today, I pray with those who are waiting for a Savior to make them well. Those who suffer with AIDS know what it is to wait for something (the cure) that seems possible yet proves impossible in it's failure to appear. It's hard to believe that there isn't enough brain power to find a cure. It's hard to believe that there isn't enough money being poured into research to find a cure. It is hard to believe that no one is angry enough to demand that our government agencies check their/our priorities and find ways to put the quality of human lives ahead of egocentric pissing games. (I'll stop here because I feel a rant coming on and that's not my intent today.) I'm simply saying that in a world of inventions, conventions and small God-made-but-man-attributed-miracles...it seems like there just has to be a cure for the disease or at least some cure for the apathy that some of us show towards those who suffer. This is not the more excellent way.

There is a quote on the AIDS quilt that reads, "We're both dying, you and me. The difference is that I know it, and you don't." As I wait for the Savior to be born in a manger yet again, I also wait for a well-equipped world to find a cure for AIDS. I pray for my own heart to be mindful that no one dies from AIDS. People who have AIDS die from the same things that people who don't have AIDS die from...they just die sooner. I pray that I would put the need for human healing in a position to eradicate my need to judge, pre-suppose and feel superior because this physical suffering is not my particular physical suffering. I pray that as we enter this season of anticipation and waiting for the One who was, and is, and is to come that we would remember those who wait...for a cure and perhaps this year, we might offer them our space in line as we wait...

Shalom

Crying Out in the Wilderness

     With the regularity and disruption of an unwelcomed guest, depression is making her rounds once again this winter. I wanted to write about the beauty of the Advent season and the promise of hope, but there is also the problem of running for our lives through the darkness. There is an intentional hustle and bustle that many enjoy during the season of lights, yet there are many of us who are still wandering, fighting and crying in the darkness. I am asking you, dear reader, to remember those who cannot see or enjoy the season of lights this year.

     When most people get a winter cold, they don’t despair because they know that it will run its course and eventually the inconvenience of sniffing and sneezing will end.  Depression also comes back with the regularity of summer allergies or a winter cold. The trouble is that allergies and colds are more common and family and friends are better able to sympathize with you if you sneeze. Uncontrolled fits of crying and mood swings and other bizarre behaviors are harder to handle – no matter how much you may love someone.

     I compare it to hugging a wounded porcupine. The animal has a built in defense system that can damage you as you attempt to give comfort or aid. So it is with the depressed. We will lie and tell you that we are fine. Those of us who are fortunate enough to be single, hide our unwitnessed tearful days and sleepless nights with ease. Those of us who are married or otherwise partnered will find creative ways to disguise our symptoms. We want and need you to hold us close but at the same time we will push you away because of the depth of our pain. We cannot bear to accept and receive what we need most desperately.

     This year, I was caught off guard and although all of the clues were there, I was unable to interpret the clues until the depression had reached a critical point.  I had been irritable, but what frustrated job seeker isn’t? I began to prefer seclusion…which went unnoticed because I have always preferred my solitude. I became painfully aware of an unmet need to be loved and an almost inappropriate joy for any display of affection. At the same time, I experienced a devastatingly inappropriate perception of any and all rejection – exacerbated by my fruitless job search. My epicurean tendencies are no secret but instead of an appreciation for good food and drink, these became my form of self medication and I was fully compliant with my own prescription for repeated doses of comfort food and anesthetizing beverages. The trouble with these behaviors is that they were simply an exaggerated form of what I did on a daily basis and so they went undetected and untreated until they also became ineffective.

     In his memoir, Darkness Visible, William Styron refers to the fellowship that occurs among those who know the ravages of the disease. Fortunately, I have women in my life who know me and know how to read the signs. I am grateful for the daily calls and text messages from my two “sisters” but it was the persistence of one very new and wonderful sister-friend that provided a beacon of light into my personal abyss. She reminded me that she was acquainted with my demon and was praying with and for me. The desperation in her voice reminded me that I was in over my head and needed to confess, concede and conquer – but I did not have to fight the battle all by myself. That was the lifeline that I needed but do not be misled into thinking that the lifeline hoisted me out of the abyss and onto safe ground. All I could do was hold on to the knot at the bottom of the lifeline because I was battle scarred and weary from fighting alone for so long. (This is probably why Jesus sent the disciples out in pairs. There are some things that we cannot do by ourselves. We all need community, no matter how small, rag-tag, unarmed or ill-equipped). Some would say that all you need to do is pray and let God be your community but my pastor used to say that sometimes we need to BE God with skin on. That is what this sister had become for me – God with skin on. I was “ready to see God” on my own terms and instead, God showed up with skin on in the form of this sister.

     It is in this moment that I am reacquainted with the hope of this Advent season. The story of Advent includes the voice of one crying in the wilderness. The story includes dark realities set against a promise of brighter days, and renewed hope in the promises of God. The story includes the star that guides the way to the manger where “unto us a child is born” and as the child is delivered, so are we. The story is one most poignantly understood this year as I realize that my sister-friend was the star leading me through the darkness as I stumbled around desperately seeking the company of that child who is indeed Emmanuel – God with us.

I will close this blog post with an acceptance of two duties.  First, I implore those of you who are able to enjoy the season of lights to be mindful that yours is not a universal reality. If you know or love someone who suffers from depression or has ever shown any symptoms of the illness, please remember that we may be difficult to handle at times but we just need a little extra care and concern for the moment. The wounded porcupine is dangerous but still needs a healing hand. You need not become the therapist or the therapy for that matter but you can be a beacon of light and a source of hope. You have probably heard the reports that suicide rates soar during the holidays and I have no data to support or negate that theory but I can offer this – a little love goes a long way in preventing it. Styron writes,

Most people in the grip of depression at its ghastliest are, for whatever reason, in a state of unrealistic hopelessness, torn by exaggerated ills and fatal threats that bear no resemblance to actuality. It may require on the part of friends, lovers, family, admirers, an almost religious devotion to persuade the sufferers of life’s worth, which is so often in conflict with a sense of their own worthlessness, but such devotion has prevented countless suicides. (Darkness Visible)

Devotion does not translate into becoming a 24/7 prison guard, but it may simply mean that you make yourself available to your loved one in ways that he or she can appreciate. For me, it was morning text messages or phone calls that served as a means of accountability. One sister’s messages give me the leeway to call or text when I am ready. Another sister made it plain that if she did not hear from me within a particular time frame she would drive the hour to my house and break the door down if she had to. (You know I live in the suburbs and don’t want to be kicked out of the condo association, so I return her texts and calls most expeditiously!) Another sister always greets me with “Hey Boo!” which is more than just an affectionate greeting but it also reminds me of a hilarious private joke that we share and just that simple greeting on my voicemail cuts through the fog and helps me to see the light. Be a fog cutter for someone you love in this season of light.

My second duty is to those who suffer. Know that I pray for you from a place of deep knowing and shared pain. Many of you have reached out to me via email and Facebook and I want to encourage you to keep doing so. I am here (by the grace of God) and so I am here for you. LET YOUR FRIENDS HELP YOU. Recognize that help and love will come to you and though they may not come in the form you want, they will come in the form you need. I have a brother who holds my confessions and listens as I spill my innermost pain. He offers no solutions and no judgment. He offers a safe haven for my thoughts and a reassurance that my life is worth living. I have been unemployed and uninsured for months and so I hesitated to see my doctor for fear of racking up more bills that I could not pay. My sisters saw through my veiled attempt to pretend that I was doing well enough on my own prescription of comfort food and wine. I needed to see the doctor and they made it possible. One delivered cash to my doorstep for the cost of the visit and any other unexpected costs. Another sister came to see me and confirm that I was indeed “okay.”  Another sister offered a respite in her home, which she describes as a place of prayer and a place of peace. 

     You are not alone in this journey and I know that there are days when you don’t think that you can make it. I have come out of this particular episode and will loan you a quarter cup of hope from my heart if that’s what it will take to help you hold on for one more day. I don’t know why depression strikes us as it does. I only know that the best way to beat it is to survive it. In this final week of Advent, as we run for our lives and protect that which has been placed inside of us, we are not alone. There is a star to guide us out of the darkness but we will still find ourselves in a cold stable surrounded by animals with whom we keep company but cannot communicate anything but adoration for the baby who will be called Wonderful, Counselor, and Prince of Peace. Weeks ago, I thought I would die as I cried in the wilderness. I cried out, O Come, O Come Emmanuel with a certainty that He would indeed answer. This week, I am still without a job and without medical insurance but I am not without hope. It is my deepest hope that you will fight the fog, follow the star and by all means, meet me at the manger.

Shalom