Advent

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. I love Advent. The church I attended when I was young had several Advent traditions: songs, banners, candles and wreaths. Even though where I've attended since has had only abbreviated versions of this season of preparation and anticipation of the Christ, my heart is still warmed when we sing O Come Emmanuel.

This is a Christmas poem I wrote several years ago as a reminder of what this season is really all about.

You came to us, a vulnerable babe
Wrapped in cloth and in a manger laid
You came to us in human form
As one who is earth-born
You felt the sorrows of living by the land
In the end You felt the pain as a nail pierced Your hand

You came to us, Lord of Light
You spoke to us and cast out the night
You came to us, Prince of Peace
And invited us to the heavenly feast
You taught us how to live our lives
So that Peace on Earth may one day thrive

Oh blessed Lord, Creator of the Earth
You are the One who gave us new birth.
You, who placed the stars in the skies
Lived among us and heard our cries
This Christmas season let us remember You
The One who made all our lives new.

© Michelle Scott 2006

TV is Eating My Brain

When I moved into my new apartment at the beginning of September, I decided to cable TV along with my cable internet connection. I haven’t had cable for seven years, so this was an exciting prospect for me.

I’ve noticed over these last months that I’ve felt less and less productive. I don’t seem to get as much done at home and I feel like my creative energy is virtually gone—I don’t write or journal nearly as much as I used to. Sadly, it took me quite some time to realize what was different: Cable. Yup – TLC, Food Channel, Discovery, National Geographic, they are all sucking up my productivity and creativity under the guise of teaching me more. I need to develop more responsible TV habits or the cable has got to end. So, this week I’m going to try keeping my remote on top of my very tall bookshelf, so I have to think for a second before I transform myself into a full time couch potato.

Gotta Love This Place

So, I’ve had a few comic relief moments this weekend that make up some of the reasons why I like living in New York—it keeps me laughing.

Reason #1

R train on Saturday night. A gang of high school kids come on. One girl was so quotable. Just three lines I overheard with muffled giggles:

"If we could do that it would be the best liturgical dance ever!"

"Belgians? I love Belgians! I mean I really love Belgians!"

"This is like, deepest, darkest Brooklyn!"

Reason #2

I’m walking through the NYC pre-marathon crowds on my way to the train. It’s not even 10 in the morning but the steps of the local funeral home are full of marathon watchers drinking beer. Yep, funeral home, sports spectators, and morning beer—gotta love it.

To build or to go? That is the question.

Over the summer I listened to a sermon from Pastor Joe and the Vision Church www.visionchurch.org. I had heard a lot about his messages, so I decided to download one and see what the buzz was about.

I don’t remember the title of the message, or even the passage on which it was based. What I do remember is his statement that in our relationships with other people we have a choice to build their crosses for them or to go to the cross for them. He was making a point about how we welcome people into the church—especially those who are different from the rest. We can either stand back and judge them (build their cross) or take a risk and build a relationship with them, possibly risking our own reputation in the process (go to the cross). It was a powerful image for me: literally constructing the cross for others as I judge them, or being willing to go there myself out of love—the love that God gives me.

At the same time, I was being challenged by the actions and choices of some people around me. I had been quite comfortable in the saddle on my high horse where I sat in smug judgment: Can you believe her? What was he thinking? I would never do that! Pastor Joe’s words knocked me clean off. I realized that I was comfortably sitting on a hillside with my pile of nails and wood happily hammering crosses together without thought for that person as someone God loves too.

I'm Baaack!

So, I’m back after a long break from blogging. I inadvertently took all of spring and summer off. Kinda like my gym membership . . . .

I’m teaching a Bible class once again, which always gets my creative juices flowing; it’s just a matter of taking the time to write them down!

Since I last wrote I passed the second anniversary of moving to New York, and the first anniversary of that “freefall” my life took last year. I’m still working on becoming a “New Yorker.” I don’t think I’ll ever truly be one. But I can say that the city teaches me something new all the time.

I plan to be back soon to whip this neglected blog back into shape!

One Thing at a Time

I was at the gym tonight, huffing and puffing at the elliptical machine when a woman walked in and asked if I minded if she changed the TV channel to the news. I told her “no problem.” So she changed the channel to CNN, opened the New York Post, took a bite of a Snickers bar, hooked up the ear piece to her cell phone and started walking on the treadmill. I couldn’t help but watch in amusement as I saw this woman try to exercise, eat junk food, catch up with a friend and be abreast of the latest news through two mediums all at the same time. Needless to say, she did not do any of these things very well. She had to keep stepping off the treadmill to hear her friend, the newspaper fell off and the TV was ignored for the most part.

This woman is in the advanced stages of multi-taskitis.

This is the disease of our age that locks us into mediocrity. We have put priority on the number of things one can accomplish over the quality of one’s work. Just look at our cell phones: they are now phones, cameras, MP3 players, and PDAs, but when bundled this way it’s hard to find one that does all of these things well. It’s a simple case of quantity over quality.

I admit, I have a case of multi-taskitis as well. Just today I thought I could read for a class while waiting for something to download and eat lunch all at the same time. Now, I can’t remember what I read, I got distracted before I installed the program, and dropped part of my lunch in my lap. This is what happens when I try to do too many things at once. Reading on the train is one thing, even washing dishes between commercials during my favorite TV show is reasonable, but somewhere me and many, many others have crossed the line between reasonable expectations for what we can do at once and what we cannot.

The frenzied woman in the gym reminded me of this. At first I laughed at her, but then I realized I’m not that different, and neither are many people I know.

So, tonight, I am trying to concentrate on one thing at a time. It’s harder than it sounds.

© Michelle Scott 2006

My Valentine

I walk past a florist shop on my way to the train each morning. This morning they were loading a van up with flowers and balloons to be delivered. I couldn’t help but think about all those people who are going to be reminded that they are loved. It put a smile on my face.

This Valentines Day was one in which I held out no hopes of getting flowers. And I am more than okay with that. I rode to work listening to worship music thinking about God’s awesome love for me, and that is more than enough.

In fact that is a better gift than I had ever received on a Valentines Day when I did have a love in my life. On those days, I placed the desire of my heart into the hands of someone who couldn’t fill them. On this day, I placed it in God’s hand. Instead of finishing the day crestfallen, I am closing the evening joyous. Happy for my friends who got flowers today and are having romantic evenings. Filled with joy because I know I am loved by One whose love is not fickle, does not fade, can weather any of my storms—even the strongest tempest, and will always seek the best for me.

What more could I ask for?

So, today when people asked in their most sympathetic voice, “How are you handling today?” I say “never better!” Not to make them feel good, but because it’s the truth.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Perfection

I went to sleep around 10:00 last night. Ten o’clock on a SATURDAY night. Actually, I crawled into bed at nine, watched TV then went to sleep for 10 whole hours. Those who know me well know that this is Extremely Rare. You’re probably wondering if I’m sick or something of the sort. Nope. I was just exhausted.

This morning I was thinking about why I was so tired after a relatively uneventful Saturday. Then I realized, I’ve been trying to be perfect all week, and being perfect takes a lot of energy. I don’t know if I can keep this up.

For some reason I got inspired to do all these things I’ve been putting off. Instead of being smart about it and doing one thing a week, or even month. I did them all last week. Yup . . . I brought lunch every day, joined a gym (and went 3 times!), got a totally new haircut (have to do double-takes in the mirror), got a new phone and service, AND took a step toward my future as a writer. All this while getting up an hour earlier for work to make time for all these extra activities. Whew! All these good habits might just kill me.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Subway Prophet

It’s a rainy Friday morning here in New York and I am bone tired. I really didn’t feel like coming in to work as there’s a lot to do, but none of it is very interesting. Nevertheless I dragged my self out of bed (after a few extra hits on the snooze alarm). And went and stood in the rain waiting for the bus. If it wasn’t for a meeting today I would have toyed with the idea of calling in sick.

The subway seemed to move as slowly as I did this morning. It lurched and halted along. At some point I decided to just close my eyes and try to sleep just a little bit longer as the train ambled uptown. Somewhere between West 4th and 59th street what I call a “subway prophet” entered my car. Subway prophets are those who have a John the Baptist complex and feel the need to call all people in the transit system to repent. To be honest, I have no problems with evangelism in general. I do have problems when it is combative and theologically incorrect. So many times I have heard terrible things said in the name of Christ while riding public transportation. As a Christian, I am embarrassed and often angered because it is experiences like this that turns so many people off to even hearing who Jesus is. They think they know, but really they’ve been fed half-truths.

Well, back to today’s subway prophet . . . At first he is selling newspapers. I close my eyes and feign sleep because I know he will eventually come by me and ask me for money and that always makes me uncomfortable. So, to escape the discomfort I try to go somewhere else in my mind. But then he stops hocking newspapers and starts saying “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming back!” I really close my eyes tight, then. Somewhere in my mind is this fear that in a fit of uncontrolled rage I will stand up and rebuke him for heresy. So I shut my eyes and hoped he would just go away and not say anything too terrible.

This man stands in front of a White passenger in a business suit (I know because I peeked) and says, “Jesus is coming! Jesus is coming back! And he’s gonna come back as a White man.” He laughs to himself and then almost mockingly says, “He’s coming back as a White man with blonde hair and blue eyes. That’s right, Jesus will come back as an executive in a suit—because no one would know him if he came back as a Black man. If he came back looking the way he really did with dark skin and wearing ragged clothes.”

Then the subway prophet went back to selling newspapers as if nothing had been said. I kept my eyes closed, willing my mind to sleep the rest of the way in to work. A minute later, he stopped near me and said, “You’d better wake up because Jesus is coming back. Open your eyes because he is coming.” My physical eyes did not open, but the ones in my heart did.

I got to thinking: How often do I shut my eyes to Jesus hoping he’ll come knocking at a more convenient time with easier things for me to do?

© Michelle Scott 2006

Desperate

(Forgive me if this sounds preachy.)

I got to thinking about Desperate Housewives and realized they’re not that different from me. In fact I think the show is so popular because it zones in on one big truth: We are all desperate people and will go to great lengths to get what we want.

I would go even further to say that we are all looking for the same thing; we’re just going about it differently. That thing is love.

Sometimes we think we’ve found it, but eventually it shows its imperfections and we walk away disappointed. We go through a lot to get this one thing to fill the void in all our hearts. We seek it in bottles and in pills. We look for it in other people. We try to find it in hobbies – hiking, cooking. We try to attract it through wonderfully complicated rituals: of looking right, acting right, owning all the right gizmos and gadgets.

We think if we drive the right car, earn the correct degrees, balance the scales and speak three languages – love will come our way. Satisfaction will come in a marriage, a house, 2.5 children and possibly a family dog and picket fence. Happiness will be here when the bills are paid and that vacation can be had. All these things may come to pass, yet the longing continues.

Yet our heart groans for more—tugging us toward something else. Something we cannot name nor grasp so we try to fill our lives with more and more of what we think will make us happy. We are like hamsters running on an eternal exercise wheel. We get nowhere in our quest because we have looked everywhere for the perfect love except for up.

It is only in God that we find the love that will not disappoint. It is only God’s love that will quench our thirst. This is the only “thing” that will satisfy the longings of our hearts. We feel the constant nagging of hunger because we have tried to fill our lives with the things that the world tells us will make us complete. We walk away with hunger pangs. It is only by feasting at God’s table are we truly satisfied.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Fog Horn Dreams

This morning I awoke to the sound of fog horns releasing their low, slow bellow out in the bay. I know they really are the sound of warning. But I love the sound. They seem to speak to me as I lay in bed: sleep, sleeeep. It’s hard for me to stir out of my slumber when I’m under the influence of their drone. I know it’s going to be a dreary morning before I even look outside. I am not inclined to get out of my warm cozy bed, but I do, I have to work.

Before I broke free from the heavy tones holding me in my bed I pondered my dream from last night. I had heart surgery in my sleep. It’s strange, I don’t often remember my dreams, but this is the second night in a row I’ve recalled them. The night before I dreamed I was pregnant again while I already had a newborn. I just kept having babies after babies after babies and I didn’t know what to do with them all.

I don’t know much about dream interpretation. For all I know these could be the result of indigestion. But, they make sense for where I am in life. I have had a new creative energy. Some of which is coming out in my more frequent blogging. I have been producing more creative works. It is something I haven’t done in a long while. I am enjoying it, but sometimes I feel like I have fire shut up in my bones and if I don’t make time to release some of it I will explode.

I am birthing many kinds of children these days in the form of words and thoughts and new ideas. I am also undergoing a kind of soul surgery. Things are being removed from my life and other things are being added to it. Just like any recovery process, sometimes it hurts to laugh. Others, it hurts to cry. But each day the healing continues and I am amazed at the new work God is making in my life.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Isaac's on the Altar

I just finished reading a great book called Ruthless Trust by Brennan Manning. My soul was just ripe for its message. At the conclusion of the book he writes that trusting God comes down to laying the Isaac in your life on God’s altar.

I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve had to do that recently and I got mad when there was no “ram in the bush” to take the place of my offering. I thought if I was obedient in my offering, God would relent at the last minute and reward my obedience by replacing what I had laid on the altar with something else. God didn’t. And what was so dear to me is gone.

I tried to explain to God that this isn’t how it’s supposed to work. There’s supposed to be a replacement. I really shouldn’t have to give this up. But here’s what I learned, God will do what will make you trust him more. If it’s supplying a ram in the bush, he will do it. If it’s allowing you to go through with the original sacrifice, he will allow it. That’s how God works. He always has the big picture in mind. He looks beyond our immediate pain to the good things that are down the road. The things we can’t see just yet.

That’s where trust comes in. We have to trust that God is good. There’s a lot of proof of that. Just look at God’s creation, or the miracles he’s worked, the good things he’s already done in our lives. Most importantly, look to the cross where Jesus endured incredible pain and loss so that we could have the good things God has in store for us.

In this process I’ve spent a lot of time shaking my fist at the sky asking God “Why?” And God replied to me much the same way he replied to Job. God reminded me of his great glory (see 12/28/05 entry) and his incomprehensible nature. Even if God were to answer my question, I do not have the capacity to understand it. My mind cannot begin to grasp the ways of God. And as one of my favorite preachers, Tim Keller, said – Is God someone you should treat as your assistant? In other words, I cannot ask God to be accountable to me. I am accountable to him and as such I have no grounds to ask the Creator of the Universe why part of my life didn’t work the way I wanted it to.

So, what is left is trust. Trust that God did the right thing and will continue to do so. Trust that God has better things in store for me. Because this is what he promised, to lead us, to be our Good Shepherd and supply all our needs.

© Michelle Scott 2006

Shout Out

I wanna give a shout out to Stacy at Rite Aid. My asthma is acting up and I ran out of medicine so I called my doctor to get a new prescription. She said, “No problem, I’ll call it in.” So, I go to Rite Aid the next day to pick it up. They dug and dug and finally found the order. The cashier told me there was a problem with my insurance company and they were going to call again about it. I thought it was no big deal since it’s early in the New Year and this happens a lot at the beginning of a new calendar year. Then Stacy called me over. She explained that there was a typo in the prescription and the insurance company declined it. They’ve been trying to straighten it out, but the insurance company is not answering their phones because they are overwhelmed with the Medicare changes.

So, Stacy let me take the inhaler home without paying. She just asked me to come back in on Monday to settle the bill. I couldn’t believe it! Actual compassion! Her kindness carried me through several other interchanges with less-than-kind people. I just thought to myself . . . remember Stacy. There ARE nice people after all.

© Michelle Scott 2006