I met Suzannah somewhere on the blogosphere on an otherwise typical day that changed my life and perspective forever. When she uses the phrase "practical theology" she isn't using some watered down version of Christianity that looks more like self-help. Suzannah digs in deep, to the painful, bare places and allows a communion there that most would shy away from- she can be raw in a way that does not cause her readers to cringe, she is generous with grace and encouragement, and she is constantly challenging herself and others to look into the deeper places that so many of us ignore on a daily basis. She has been a gift to me, and I know that your time visiting her at So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter will be a blessing to you.
I've been sick with a nasty cold-slash-head-fog for most of a week. Sunday I collapsed onto the couch after Lessons and Carols, fell asleep promptly and didn't wake for hours.
I've barely cooked, offering cheese and clementines for more meals than I'd prefer to admit. Baking isn't looking good for the foreseeable future. Merry Christmas! *coughhackcough* We made you these!
But hectic holidaze are overrated, aren't they? A forced slow-down can be good, especially during advent. I whisper library stories to cozy cuddlers, and my beloved brews tea. If Christmas cards arrive late, the world won't stop spinning.
I think about the stable: the silent night that surely wasn't and the mother pondering mystery in her Spirit-receptive heart. I remember that the first to greet Emmanuel were those who waited and watched. Those who rush do not see the sacred within a teenage womb or feeding trough. There is little space for rejoicing in a heart without room to receive. The prideful cannot recognize a glory which humbles itself among shepherds.
When a King makes his dwelling among us, there are no ordinary spaces. Ours is a visited planet.
I offer thanks for quiet pause and pray for eyes to see.
An Advent Prayer
Lo, in the silent nightA child to God is bornAnd all is brought againThat ere was lost or lorn.Could but thy soul, O man,Become a silent night!God would be born in theeAnd set all things aright.-15th century
Suzannah writes everyday poetry, practical theology and natural living at so much shouting, so much laughter and tweets @ShoutLaughLove.
No comments:
Post a Comment