Dear Grace,
By now, many of you have heard what happened to me last weekend. Something I ate caused my body to go into a convulsing shock. My stomach was cramping and I spent most of Saturday night into the twilight of Sunday morning shivering and waking up every two hours. Finally, at 7am, I knew I needed to make the call as to whether I would be able to preach or not.
I called our Weekend Director, and with a faint voice let him know that I wouldn’t be able to preach and that we needed to look into a previous Advent sermon to show on video. After we got off the phone, I drank a little tonic concoction which caused me to vomit out everything in my body – that was actually the relief that I needed all night. I felt remarkably better, so I informed the team I would able to come in after all.
As I drove to the church building, however, my legs started to feel numb and body started to ache – I think it was the imbalance of electrolytes and just the sheer trauma of convulsions and shock that I experienced. I realized that I wouldn’t be able to finish the morning.
As I sat in the front row bullpen, I didn’t have the energy to stand during the singing, and I desperately prayed that God would give me the energy to preach Rev 1 with the passion and energy it deserved. I didn’t want to be half-hearted and faint of energy. Just as Christine finished her song, I felt the strengthening of the Holy Spirit flowing out of a reverence for Jesus and a love for His people. So I preached, knowing that I wouldn’t have enough for the 11:00 gathering, but that it could be recorded (I’m so thankful for the men and women who leverage technology and media so God’s Word can reach more and more.) The rest is oral history I suppose!
What a way to start Advent. Desperate. Convulsing. Numbing sensations in my legs. Aching for comfort and healing. Yet experiencing the power of the Holy Spirit in a tangible and powerful way. Then hibernating. While I wouldn’t choose to do that again, it’s a very fitting experience for this season of waiting for Jesus.
By God’s mercy, I didn’t miss the week. I’ve been on a retreat with our pastors praying, reflecting, sharing, laughing, and eating. It’s been such a rich time of beholding one another’s stories and beholding the marvelous work of God at Grace since our last pastors’ retreat – more than 6 years ago!
Our devotions were around the Advent theme of waiting, and as I reflected and journaled, I realized that I’m waiting for a lot more resolutions, answers, and next steps than I realized. Some of those are personal, but many have to do with our life as a church.
Our discussion times revolved around the tension of leading and managing ministry in our church while staying true to the pastoral calling to care for souls. We also recognized the tension of practicing a slowed-down spirituality and yet the call to be fruitful. It was a stimulating and encouraging conversation. I am blessed to have such whole-hearted co-laborers. We are blessed to have such pastors in our church, each of whom bring a unique charism that contributes to the poema-work God is doing in our midst.
What a way start to Advent. Waiting. Inhabiting. Beholding. Remembering God’s faithfulness. Acknowledging the surprising works of God that happened right under our noses, yet in plain sight for all to see. Isn’t that how the very first Advent came to pass?
This Sunday, we will have the joy of stepping into Rev 4-5, continuing our Advent series as we await the second coming. We will have the added joy of beholding our beloved middle school director, Derek Hawkins, as he continues to grow as a preacher and theologian. It’s going to be a fine sermon!
Whether your Advent has started in unexpected crisis (like mine) or rich and unhurried ways (also like mine), or maybe something in between, remember the Advent refrain: Christ has come, Christ comes, and Christ will come again.
May the Lord give you the grace to watch as you wait, to long as you linger, and above all your circumstances, to experience the surprising ways He is coming to you even as the week unfolds.