Advent 2015 reflection

Waiting for the Light: Mastery Inactivity

Advent 2015 reflection

In clinical medicine, there is a very powerful treatment called mastery inactivity. An experienced clinician knows that there are times in the management of a patient with a serious medical condition that the best treatment is not to do anything but allow time for nature to take its course. This is the hardest treatment to prescribe because it involves the physician not doing anything. The default mode is to do something. Order some form of treatment. Perform some form of surgery. Our hearts are restless and we associate activity with progress. Not to act is a sign that we are negligent or indifferent.

This is also what happens when we are hit with some catastrophes in our lives. In such situation, we are full of an urgency to act. An urgency to do something to get us out of the situation. Anything at all, even though the action may not be beneficial or at times may cause harm. An alternative option is to sit idly by and ride out the storm. Judy Brown creates a scenario in which we are caught in a stormy sea and where inaction may be more beneficial than reactive action.

Trough

There is a trough in waves,

A low spot

Where horizon disappears

And only sky

And water

Are our company.

And there we lose our way

Unless

We rest, knowing the wave will bring us

To its crest again.

There we may drown

If we let fear

Hold us within its grip and shake us

Side to side,

And leave us flailing, torn, disoriented.

But if we rest there

In the trough,

Are silent,

Being with

The low part of the wave,

Keeping

Our energy and

Noticing the shape of things,

The flow,

Then time alone

Will bring us to another

Place

Where we can see

Horizon, see the land again,

Regain our sense

Of where

We are,

And where we need to swim.

The Sea Accepts All Rivers, Judy Brown

This is what I called mastery inactivity. It takes knowledge and wisdom to discern when to act and when not to act. It requires mastery over our emotions as the default mode is to do something. It also requires faith. The sailor in the storm has faith based on her knowledge of the waves. We need to have faith that our catastrophes will blow over, that we need to remain calm in the eye of the storm. And we need to have faith in Him who is able to calm the storm and walk on water.

There are an ebb and flow in the rhythm of our lives; a time to act and a time to cease from action; a time to do and a time to rest; and a time to stress and a time to distress.  That is the only way to ride a storm. This is what Advent is all about. It is a time of inaction, rest and reflection. It is a flashback to more than two thousand years ago when the whole of creation kept still and held its collective breath, and waited for the Light. We live in a broken world, at the bottom of the cesspool, in the trough of pain and suffering. Let us wait together. Wait for a glimpse of the sky. Wait for the Light and then lean into it.

Soli Deo Gloria

12 November 2015

Stations of the Cross (14)

Jesus is placed in the tomb (Luke 23:50-54)

Luke 23:50–54 (NIV84)

50 Now there was a man named Joseph, a member of the Council, a good and upright man, 51 who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea and he was waiting for the kingdom of God. 52 Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body. 53 Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and placed it in a tomb cut in the rock, one in which no one had yet been laid. 54 It was Preparation Day, and the Sabbath was about to begin.

Laid in a borrowed tomb,

awaiting the sign of Jonah -

the only sign that would be given to His generation -

that after three days and nights in the womb of the earth,

the belly of the fish, the grave and hell,

He would come forth to do His Father’s will -

Jesus the humble Son of God,

the exultant Son of Man,

the eternal contradiction,

the Blessed One.

The end is not yet.

Weeping endures for a night,

but joy comes in the morning.

The good news – ‘He is risen’ –

will burst on the Son-rise.

Therefore with joy shall we draw water

out of the wells of salvation.

When all is dark,

and Hope is buried,

it is hard to trust His words that promised,

before the pain:

He died that I might live.

He died that I might live.

In His death is my birth.

He died that I might live.

He died that I might live.

In His life is my life.

He died that I might live.

He died that I might live.

My Jesus! He died that I might live.

He died that I might live.

Stations of the Cross (13)

Jesus dies on the cross (Luke 23:44-46)

Luke 23:44–46 (NIV84)

44 It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, 45 for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. 46 Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.

As Jesus slowly sagged down

with more weight on the nails in the wrists,

excruciating, fiery pain shot along the fingers

and up the arms to explode in the brain.

As He pushed Himself upwards

to avoid this stretching torment,

He placed His full weight on the nail through His feet.

Again there was searing agony

as the nail tore through the nerves.

As the arms fatigued,

great waves of cramps swept through the muscles,

knotting them in deep relentless, throbbing pain.

In the words of the psalm foretelling the death of Messiah,

He cried: ‘My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?’

Father God, You waited through the long hours of agony,

when He was robbed even of the sense of Your love,

Your presence,

when the sin and disease and hatred and darkness

overwhelmed Him so greatly.

Lord, He was wounded for my transgressions.

Lord, He was wounded for my transgressions.

Father, what love is this of His?

What love is this of Yours that His dying love reflects?

Your forgiveness for me,

as we gaze upon His sacrificial death,

 is as  truly an undeserved gift as the pardon,

It is mine if I will only receive:

Lord, He was wounded for my transgressions.

Lord, He was wounded for my transgressions.

.

Stations of the Cross (12)

Jesus on the cross, his mother and his disciple (John 19:25-27)

John 19:25–27 (NIV84)

25 Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. 26 When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Dear woman, here is your son,” 27 and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

Jesus saw His mother and his disciple,

love filled His heart,

in spite of His pain,

He felt for their pain,

and  was concerned for His mother.

Look after My mother, Jesus told His beloved disciple,

look after one another,

love one another,

as Jesus loves them.

In spite of Your pain and suffering,

You still find the place for us in Your Heart,

care for one another,

love one another,

as You have loved us.

Lord, teach us to love as You do.

Lord, teach us to love as You do.

Yours is a practical love,

not just words and empty promises,

not full of romantic notions.

Love that involves getting Your hands dirty,

suffering and sacrificial giving,

even laying down Your life for us.

Lord, teach us to love as You do.

Lord, teach us to love as You do.

.