The Present

One present. Just one.

Of all the traditions my family had while I was growing up, there was one I always looked forward to. Each Christmas Eve we were allowed to open a single present from a family member. One present.

Of all the gifts under the tree I knew exactly which one I wanted to open. Wrapped neatly. About one an a half times the size of a deck of cards. From Great Aunt Katherine. She was so proper. Such a lady. Her gift must be really nice.

Other evening activities complete, it was time to open that alluring gift. As the wrapping came off, I read the contents as printed on the box: Male Grooming Kit. A male grooming kit?

Two sizes of nail trimmers. An emory board. A cuticle remover. A comb. And, a shoe horn. My new, male grooming kit. I was nine years old.

Life is like that, isn’t?

We’ve got our expectations. Our preconceived ideas. Our dreams. And then life… Life hands you a male grooming kit. Useful, perchance, but not what you hoped for. 

2020 has been a bit like that male grooming kit. Not the gift we’d have asked for or even welcomed, but it was the year we got. It was the present.

We might grieve the year we didn’t get. The cancelled plans. The disappointments. The special occasions missed. The inconvenience. The separation. The heartache.

But, what did we learn? What good came of all this bad? What hope from all this pain? What love amidst this mess? What has God been after within you through 2020?

God loves you. He works in you. Even if the present feels like a male grooming kit to a nine year old boy.

“For it is God who works within you to will and to act according to his good purpose.”

— Philippians 2:13

In The Waiting Room

You’ve been there. At the hospital. Awaiting a procedure. You know some of what is to come.

If it goes well, I’ll be here overnight. If it is as they expect, I’ll have therapy for a few weeks. If it’s worse than expected, then I may go to a rehabilitation hospital, but we don’t know which one. The bills, yes, those are inevitable, but I wish they came faster.

What you know. What you don’t know. What you hope. What you fear. Each of those guests are with you in the waiting room. 

It feels like our world is in such a waiting room right now, doesn’t it?

We know some about COVID-19. But we hear conflicting reports. We know we should wear masks and social distance. But not everyone feels the same way. We receive updated guidelines from the authorities. But we don’t know when things will get more normal.

Yes, it feels like we’re in the waiting room.

So, what do we do in the meantime? How do we pass our time in the waiting room?

We work, as our job allows. We think, as our minds focus. We hope, as our hearts arise. We pray, as freely as breathing. We talk, as willing with loved ones. We plan, as best we can with what we know today. We live life, as those with a future and a hope.

You can find joy. Doing what you can rather than fighting what you can’t.

Even in the waiting room.

The Familiarity Trap

There’s something about the familiar. The routine. The expected. The way it’s always been.

From the feel of your favorite jeans to the singing along with your go-to jam. From the taste of the dish just the way Mom made it to the view of the place you grew up that brings back memories.

There is nothing wrong with the familiar.

Jesus goes back home in Mark 6. His ministry and acclaim have grown. He’s performed previously unimagined miracles. He’s taught with confounding authority all the while confronting the religious powers that be. He’s a spectacle unlike the Ancient Near East has ever known. And now he’s home to teach in his local synagogue.

The folks were amazed at his teaching (Mark 6:2). But then they begin to wonder. Where’d he get this stuff? And this power? He’s Mary’s son; the carpenter. We know his family. His sisters are right here. He can’t be all that! Their amazement turns to offense (Mark 6:3). The familiar. A trap.

There is nothing wrong with the familiar. Unless we allow it to confine us from the possible. Familiarity can become a trap.

“He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. He was amazed at their lack of faith.”

— Mark 6:5-6a

It is not that Jesus did not have the power to do any miracles. He did heal some. It is that he chose to limit his power because they could not imagine him as powerful. Jesus doesn’t need to prove himself to anyone. Jesus exercises his power in response to faith. This to grow greater faith in those who experience his power.

But here. In his hometown. Jesus is amazed. He wondered. He marveled. He was astounded. At. Their. Lack. Of. Faith. Why? Because they already knew him.

As we in the church world look forward to returning to in person worship since our isolation due to COVID-19, I wonder if we are longing so much for the familiar that we will miss Jesus. Will me miss the opportunity to try new things? Will we miss the chance for new experiences of worship? Will we miss the power of Jesus because we are so ready for normal?

But what if that normal we left is gone never to return the same way? What if God intends to use this experience to bring a new day for His church? What if He intends to deepen our relationships and strengthen our faith like never before? What if God is giving us this time in isolation to draw use closer to Him in our homes, on our own, even now? And we miss it. All because we’ve fallen into the familiarity trap.