Although I don’t make New Year’s resolutions, it’s turned out that I have started 2020 with a few new disciplines. I thought I’d tell you about one of them.
James’s Blog: Being Fruitfully Unproductive.
discipline
James’s Blog: Do I Want to Preach?
Now that’s a tricky question.
The thing is, I’m not sure that I do. Sometimes, over the years, people have asked me if I enjoy preaching. ‘Enjoy’ is not the word I would use. Read more
James’s Blog: Halfway There.
We’re about halfway through Lent – the length of time where we prepare for the good news that Jesus would not stay dead.
I think I like the idea of Lent more than I like Lent itself. Don’t get me wrong, I think Lent is a good thing – a timely and excellent reminder – and I’m sure that many people benefit from it’s place in the calendar. However, because things like reflection, discipline and ritual all have an important home in my spirituality, I don’t think that they’re tools that should just be dragged out of storage for a forty-day chunk of the year. I try to make them a regular habit and so that aspect of Lent seems – dare I say it – a tad redundant to me.
Furthermore, Easter is not a time where things slow down and opportunities for reflection increase – quite the opposite. I imagine many of you face the same situation. For me, Easter sees an increase in workload regarding children, family, school and church. Making time for solitude and space for reflection feels like even more of a luxury at this time of year, so I’m grateful that it’s already a part of my life. Instead my greatest need during the March/April madness is to make sure that I’m constantly inviting God into the middle of whatever smoke and thunder makes up my life each day.
Although it’s important and totally right to celebrate Easter each year, I know that I need Jesus and his resurrection every day of my life. I suppose that my hope is that I carry the attitudes of Lent with me 365 days a year, instead of for just forty.
James’s Blog: The Discipline of Smiling
I don’t want them. My spirits are not lifted to see them; my heart is hard and cold. The visitor at the door is an intruder, wanting to take from me.
So what do I do? What I want to do is communicate to them, in a non-verbal way, that they are not welcome. A scowl. Closed body posture. An irritated tone. All these say “Go Away!” without me actually having to speak the words out loud. It’s not a sin that way, right?
And why not? I am busy. I am in the middle of something, and there’s a fifty percent chance it could be something quite important. I don’t have much time in the day. I don’t have much of myself to spread around. Besides, I’m an introvert. All the blessings that being an introvert bring come at a price to somebody else, and really, I think that they should consider themselves honoured to pay that price.
Weary and unbending, I want them to go away.
But that is not an option. I can’t do that. I know this. I have a Bible. I know all the things that Paul says about loving one another and bearing each other’s burdens and all that, but those aren’t the words that break me. What does it is that wonderful, horrible story in Matthew 14 where Jesus withdraws to grieve over the death of John the Baptist. He just wants a moment to himself. A moment to be with his Father and his thoughts. You understand that, surely. I understand it. I live it.
But the stupid, selfish crowd can’t see beyond their ugly sense of entitlement and their greed and they follow him. They won’t leave him alone, not even for a second. Like everyone, they want a piece of him. They want to be made whole, but their stupid, selfish vision won’t allow them to see what it costs Jesus. They can’t see beyond themselves. Self-centred. Self-focused. Stupid, selfish crowd.
But then…Jesus gets off the boat and sees them. What happens to the God-man? What stirs in his soul? Anger? Pain? Bitterness? No. I’ll tell you what it says.
“…he had compassion on them, and healed their sick.”
Give me a pair of scissors and I will cut that verse from my Bible and yours. I would expunge all record of that moment of compassion from history. Do you not see? Do you not understand? Those words will not leave me alone. I cannot sleep. I cannot get peace. He had compassion while I was angry. He breaks the power of darkness while I send away. So, now you understand why I cannot allow the same thing that drove the crowd to drive me. Now you know why I cannot send them away.
So I submit myself to the discipline of smiling. When they come, I will smile. I may not feel compassion, but I can smile. I may not heal their sickness, but I can smile. I can deny the anger, the resentment and the bile that stirs in my soul and I can smile. I know enough to know that this is how it begins. The smile is the start. I know that one day, if I live this discipline enough, I will look up and see the face at my door and the smile will already be there before I even have to think about it. And I know that another day will come, a day when I will see the face at my door and I will feel like smiling, no matter what urgent task consumes me. I will become my smile.
I can hear the voice now. Liar! No Integrity! No Authenticity! By smiling when you resent you are denying the truth.
And I know where that voice comes from. I know well, and I rebuke it. He is the liar. His is the call to no authenticity and no integrity.
Listen. John says it best – “How marvelous is the love that the Father extends to us. Just look at it – we are called children of God. And that is what we really are.”
And that is what we really are! So, if that is who I really am, then which action is the one that lacks integrity? The smile or the frown? If who I really am is a child of God, then it’s the anger and the resentment that doesn’t belong. It’s that which is at odds with who I really am. The feelings are the lie. The smile is the truth breaking through. The smile is just me being who God has made me. The rest of me just hasn’t quite caught up yet.
So, If you appear at my door and I do not seem pleased to see you, do tell me. I am trying to follow the discipline of smiling.
