I never even started
that Advent devotional.
The one I researched
and found online but could not get to download over our shoddy internet. The
process discouraged me and I thought of it, spoke of it to God, every morning.
If only that
devotional had downloaded!
I really wanted all of
those wise words.
God knew.
In this particular
season, I did not need to read it.
I needed to walk it.
You see.
The water stopped
flowing and there was an announcement about it on the radio and it was because
a pipe had been damaged in a nearby road construction project.
We called, sent
someone to the water office and discussed. The official word returned to us
that ‘they couldn’t know’ when the pipe would be repaired. “The road must be
finished first.”
We were watching
those construction workers like hawks. Were they moving? Was the murram (gravel)
spread? How many days would they break for holiday celebrations? Could we bring
our wrenches and fix that pipe ourselves?!
Because you know what
is helpful in the days just before Christmas? Water.
Because you know what
is necessary for all of the dish washing? Water.
Because you know what
is required for the gazillion times a person washes their hands while
baking? Water.
Because you know what
is really advantageous when someone is ill with a stomach bug? Water.
Because you know what
is conducive to Cheryl remaining sane? Water.
Indeed.
You see, once upon a
time, we lived for six whole years without electricity. By God’s grace, we did
that. We adjusted to solar power and all that it provides, namely, freedom from
the corruption of our local electric company. So, I know that I can weather
that particular deprivation. I can live without my hair dryer, a washer and
dryer and a deep freeze. It hurt for a while, but I adjusted.
But you know what I
cannot seem to adjust to living without? Water.
I simply cannot. It
takes me right up to the edge of all that is rational and practical and tips me
over the fraying, ragged edge. I know this because I have also done it. I have
lived without running water. Our very first nine months in Fort Portal. Nine
months. It changed me forever. (I never drain an entire bathtub of water
without cringing.)
But the week before
Christmas? The loss of water felt like some sort of cruel joke. Because, for
the Cashes, this December of 2017 was one for the books.
Car tires. Blown out.
Car electrical
system. Shut down.
Solar power inverter.
Blown out.
Internet router.
Burned out.
Web domain and email.
Hacked and locked out.
Electricity. Browned
out. Surged. Off.
Water. Off for days,
tanks dry.
Jeff. Sick for two
weeks.
Bank accounts. Locked
out.
Phones. Frozen,
locked up, conked.
It really has been
remarkable. I awoke early each morning to sort the previous days burdening
issues to realize that I must solve two new problems first.
There was no way it
was coincidental. Not in the merciful hands of an incredibly persistent,
incredibly faithful Provider.
He wastes nothing.
In the midst of it all,
this one particular morning.
Sipping coffee.
Mapping out necessary
tasks for the day ahead.
Praying for water.
There it was:
A gift, wrapped in
discouragement and want, emerging sweeter than ever before.
His mysterious
reckoning blazoned.
All of the deficit had
me locked into waiting expectantly.
I didn’t have to tell
myself to pay attention.
I already was.
There was nothing
else to do.
Sitting in the want
and need and impossibilities and straining my ears toward…something. Some word
to guide the next step.
Some announcement
that would promise good ahead.
Some news that would
be abundant.
Some idea that would advance
our day and maybe even alleviate a burden.
Like the shepherds.
Like the old barren
couple, succumbed to the humility of no immediate heir.
Like the young girl waiting
on the very edge of a community-accepted, status-quo life change offered instead the opportunity to labor on behalf of the whole world.
Doing their jobs. In
step with the familiar. The next right things. The daily. The yearly. The expected
passage of one’s life.
Right in the middle
of the worship. The day. The dark field at night.
Each person wanting
for something.
Proclamation.
“Do not be afraid!”
“….your prayer has been heard!”
“Your wife, Elizabeth, will bear
you a son….
He will be a joy and delight to
you.”
Luke 1: 5-25
“Greetings, you who are HIGHLY
FAVORED!”
“The Lord is with you!”
“Do not be afraid!”
“You have found favor with God!”
“You will conceive and give birth
to a son...”
“…call Him Jesus…”
“He will be great!”
Luke 1:26-33
“DO NOT BE AFRAID!”
“I bring you GOOD news!”
“Today…a Savior has been born to you.”
Luke 2:8-12
My heart beats it.
Each of those
glorious, weird, out-of-the-box announcements so full of mercy and hope shining
light ahead, even then, into each of my current powered-out, bone dry places.
This is a gospel that
resounds.
A point of light
incisively radiating into the shadowy margin of every shortfall.
It is, in fact,
really loud there.
For this is the meaning
of advent.
We wait. He comes.
Over and over and
over again.
The waiting is not a
distraction.
It is, instead, the epiphany.
Deficit:
Creating an empty space expansive enough for
an echo to reverberate.
Deficit:
Locking focus, accentuating need, heightening
all the wanting and opening ears to every decree.
Deficit:
Perfectly priming
each moment for proclamation.
And, somehow, the intensified
longing transforms worship.
The discordant tone
of yearning creating the most gorgeous, soul-satisfying dissonance.
We are so happy, so
relieved, so satisfied,
when a long-awaited
answer finally comes.
“My soul glorifies the Lord…”
…my spirit rejoices in God my
Savior.
“…he has been mindful…
His mercy extends…
He has performed mighty deeds…
He has brought down rulers and
lifted up the humble!
He has filled the hungry…
He has helped…
He remembers to be merciful…”
Luke 1: 46-55
His Spirit falls on
us.
Fills us.
Births new.
“Praise be to the Lord, the God
of Israel,
because he has come to his people
and redeemed them!
.…to show mercy
to remember
to rescue
to enable us to serve…
to shine…
to guide our feet….”
Luke 1: 67-79
In my own weeks of
pummeling deficiency, I was granted a Christmas season ripe with enlightening
truth:
heavily expectant
lonely labor
saving arrivals
God’s Glory proclaimed.
From every humble state, a gift poured
out from surprising places through concession to God’s upside down, shocking,
ever-redemptive way:
“I am the Lord’s servant.
May your word to me be fulfilled.”
Luke 1:38
Wherever you are
today--
From the obvious want of want.
(Or, even, from the
constantly insatiable want of plenty.)
May your eyes be
allowed to see,
His blessed favor,
rest.
“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace
to those on whom his favor rests.”
Luke 2:14
(Our water returned late
in the evening on Christmas Eve. It was perfectly timed relief for all of us.
Thanks be to God for His faithful presence in the midst of it all and thanks to
each of you for every prayer.)
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