The church year begins again tomorrow. Yes, Advent has come around again, and it is time to start preparing space in our churches, homes and hearts for the Christ child again.

I thought about this last week, and I was surprised to find myself a little sad. Somehow I had thought I wouldn't have to worry about confronting Jesus again until Lent at the earliest. I thought I had a few more months to figure out some of my faith issues. Now I realize I need to start making room for someone I don't really feel like I know in my heart. Okay, maybe I don't "need" to do this, but I will admit to feeling a tug at my heart to do this, so it most certainly feels like a tug.

I started with what I know best - music. I downloaded the new Susan Boyle album, and I'll admit listening to her sing some of these songs is a little like listening to the angels sing. I also downloaded the Glee Christmas album. This time I rocked out to the music and felt the joy of the season wash over me. (I'm listening to it as I write this blog.) While the music stirs me, it only lasts a little while before I am confronted with my commute on the T or some other hazard with working for the general public during the holiday season.

So, I'm left with a bit of a panic. It's less than 4 hours to Advent, and I feel unprepared. Yes, I know Jesus doesn't really "arrive" until Christmas, but have you even needed to prepare a major meal for family? If you wait until the last minute you will not have everything ready to entertain much less enjoy the time with your family/friends. If I keep waiting for Christmas, I will be missing more than the mashed potatoes from my dinner table.

Mark and I decided to take a note from Lent and add something into our routine this Advent, and we started it a little early. We have started doing devotionals every night. We both have the same book, so even when we can't be together, we can still receive the same message. We're still doing the same work - just in different spaces. In this practice, we have not only grown closer together, we have begun to make room in our hearts. I have strangely started to look forward to those moments at night when it's time to bring out the Bible and open the devotional. I look forward to it even more with Mark because there is just something so much more alive when it is said out loud instead of just in my head.

While I still have doubts and struggles inside of me, I slowly feel the light of Advent warming me. It's the start of something new, and isn't that what Advent is about, new beginnings?

I wish you and yours a little warmth this Advent this season. I hope you take time to smile at kids playing in the snow (when it does come) and the way twinkling lights break apart the long darkness.

The Prayer Bear

It is a simple concept. A community of believers pray over a little teddy bear, and then they send it out into the world to care for another in their place. When they can't be there, this bear can. It's a little twist on the prayer shawl ministry that has caught on in just about every church.

When I first saw them last week, I thought they were a wonderful idea. Prayer shawls have their place, and I don't want anyone to think I'm downplaying the important outreach they provide; but I instantly saw the need for the bear. I could see, with my mind's eye, the look of a child's face in becoming a recipient of that bear. I could see the comfort it could bring in troubling times: hospitalization, divorce, environmental disaster, etc... In an instant, I could see the childlike joy this box of bears was about to bring to people who did not even know they needed a prayer bear yet.

Then I was asked if I wanted one. At first I declined. I only paused to read the card that accompanied this little bundle of joy. I wanted to say things in my life weren't bad enough to require one. I wanted to say that someone else would need it more than me. After a short pause, though, I ended up picking one out that seemed to look right through me.

As an adult, I know it's kind of silly to think that an inanimate object can take on human qualities. The hurting child inside of me, on the contrary, tenderly held that bear like it was the last possession I had left in this world.

My bear accompanies me wherever I go now. He's always in my bag when I go to work, travel around the city, or even when I shop for groceries. He doesn't have a name yet, but I do refer to him as Prayer Bear. What makes him so special to me is that he has a face. It's helpful to physically see a face to represent all the ones I'll never see as I know people pray for me. It's helpful to think there's a personification of God in something when I need to talk with God face-to-face but find it difficult to speak to the wind and hope that I was just heard.

Seeking something more

I've been silent on this blog for a long time. There's a pretty good reason for that. This blog was to chronicle my path through seminary on a spiritual journey to ordination. I thought that taking the ordinary and looking at it in extraordinary ways would not only help me find God everywhere, but it might help other people find God too.

I did not realize that I would end up in the place I am right now - full of "dis." Disenfranchised, disillusioned, dispair... which all led to being disaffiliated. It's pretty hard to start off this path willing to lay my life down for God and church and end up in a place where it's hard for me to walk in the doors. To proclaim to someone that I'm not even sure God cares about me anymore. So why do it? I'm not alone out there. This message is for anyone else who has been delayed or discontinued from ordination; this message is for anyone who has been hurt by the church and now wants nothing to do with it. I understand. You are not alone anymore.

I'm not going to try and change your mind. Nothing short of a Saul/Paul conversion by God could change your mind in the short span of this blog, and I do not have that spiritual gift. No, I will let you know that I, too, am desperately seeking God. I feel like Saul right now. I used to hear God's voice, but it seems to have gone silent... and all these Davids around me hear him now. I know I'm not the only one, and sometimes the Church is the last place we can find each other. Who wants to admit they are having struggles with God at church?!?

For those of you struggling with the ordination process, don't do it alone. I have been reminded many times in the past few weeks that "the Church is not the Kingdom." One clergyman even remarked that sometimes we desperately want them to be in sync, but we need to remember they are not one and the same. Christ may be the head of the church, but the church is not Christ.

For those who are hurting and cannot pray, would you ask someone to pray for you? I have some wonderful people in my life who have prayed for me (in silence and in front of me), and they have offered to do it until well after I can do it for myself again. This isn't a magic bullet, but there is something powerful in knowing that those who I believe God listens to are intervening on my behalf. If I don't think God is listening to me, I'm pretty sure God will listen to them. In this process, I am not alone in my grief. I start to feel love again. It's slow, and it is cautious, but it does come.

If you know someone who feels like this - don't stop asking questions. Don't stop being the light and love of God for them. You may be there for such a time as this. You may save someone spiritually or physically. The perceived loss of God's love and/or favor is a powerful this, and it can make a very dark time seem even darker. This is not to say you should do it all on your own - seek help when you get that "funny feeling" or if it seems over your head. But, do listen. Don't give answers. When you open your mouth to speak, be surprised at the profundity of your answers. There are angels among us, and this just might be your turn to wear wings.

If you need someone to talk to - I'm here. I don't have answers. I don't always have hope. I do know a little bit about what you're experiencing, and you should not feel like you're alone because you're not. Maybe together we can find God again. I'm sure it's not like finding Waldo, but it still might have the same sense of joy and wonder along the way.