New Year’s is the traditional annual reboot from lives bogged down by unused, open tabs–plans to exercise, eat healthy, journal, clean out the garage, read a book. We keep glancing at them, annoyed and guilty, but won’t close them down as we sit down to watch The Queen’s Gambit with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. But the heaping plate of happy indulgences at Christmas make us wince at the memory of our good intentions. And as we stare into the bleakest part of the year, we plan again to wrangle by willpower and shame a new routine of supposed goodness. It won’t be fun, but with discipline and determination we can make this happen. And while that initial energy lasts, the sheer accomplishment feels nice, like maybe we’re not the useless lumps we feared.
Sadly, willpower, like jumper cables, is not a fuel to keep things running. It must be motivated by something else–usually fear or shame or a sense of obligation, all of which are miserable motivators. No wonder it doesn’t last. We truly live when ignited by joy, hope, fulfillment, passion, awe–in short, what is life-enhancing rather than life-draining, what we are drawn into rather than what we force on ourselves.
Yesterday I went hiking with my two dogs on nearby trails that are also open to motorcyclists. With my dogs out in front, coming suddenly on a dirt-biker is a fright. I thought the rainy weather would be in my favor, and I picked a trail that was opened only a week or two before, hoping others were unaware. As I entered, I could see only one bike track, a good omen, but within 20 feet of the entrance, four bikers came careening around the bend ahead. I quickly dragged my dogs into the heavy undergrowth as the engines swept passed. I was quite agitated as I hiked for a mile up the trail, muddy from churning tires, though we met no one else. As I turned around to head back, I realized the unfortunate timing of the encounter. Had I hiked those two miles and only run into the bikes at the end, I would have had a great hike and thought myself lucky. It suddenly occurred to me that my outlook was shaping my unhappy experience and I could turn my mind towards enjoying the beautiful trail instead. This came not from a place of obligation “I should be happy,” or of shame, “I shouldn’t be angry,” but simply from a desire to enjoy the hike, to lean into the good that was already there for the taking. I really enjoyed the rest of the hike. What good might you embrace in the New Year?
For months we have been preparing for the big celebration, putting regular life on pause, pumping up our happy expectations. We cranked up cheery music, hung lights and ornaments, filled our stockings and fridges, piled presents under the tree. And now it’s over. Regular life comes flooding back with its anxieties and stresses, dullness and duties, and the only thing left to do is box up all our happiness for the long winter trudge. Some of us hold onto the decorations a little longer, maybe till New Year’s, clinging to the feelings that are quickly slipping away. Ordinary life feels so bereft in comparison, cold and heartless.
When I was a kid, the after-Christmas-slump was eased by the school holiday. As an adult, the after-party is a hangover of postponed tasks to catch up on. I want some fun to anticipate as an antidote for the disappointment of everyday life. But as I make the transition to reality, I sense the hollowness of my over-hyped Christmas. We tried to make it meaningful and rich with various spiritual practices, but for me, the oversold glitz from past decades sucked me in at last… or maybe sucked out the core of good we tried to foster, leaving it an empty make-believe.
Thankfully that good is not too far away for me to pull back in to reorient myself on solid ground, the rich goodness that lies in the gritty reality of a broken world. I feel myself stabilizing and getting my bearings. Life is rich in ways fantasy never is. It has weight and substance, meaning and direction, and a hope that does not disappoint because it is a grounded hope, not a Disneyland hope. Sobriety is so underrated!
Today marks the winter solstice when darkness reaches its full power, chasing daylight into retreat. This looming darkness and cold is SAD for many (an apt acronym for Seasonal Affective Disorder), especially after the holiday season blinks out, especially in the dreary Northwest, overcast from September to May. In the past I put my head down and trudged through the darkness, holding my breath until spring buds. I have seen winter darkness as a killjoy, sucking the life out of all the earth. Last week Kimberly told me hope highlights the misery of the present. We hope for the good that we now lack. I have often used hope to give me stamina in the dark, as though the goal is simply to hang on until something better comes. But what if the dark is full of its own unique blessing, like dark chocolate, then I miss it by wishing it gone and pushing it away.
Please don’t equate my new perspective with the toxic forced happiness which tries to shout down misery. That is just another way of rejecting the darkness rather than receiving it. Telling myself “this isn’t so bad” or “others have it worse” or “be grateful for what you do have” is just another way to stifle and reject the blessing of winter. Sadly I have been blind to the goodness that darkness brings. Darkness is a safe womb, a quiet rest after tough days, a calming from excess stimulation, an invitation to turn inward. Darkness is an invitation to self-care and inner growth.
I was raised to believe work was the good, so rest curtailed the good–it was necessary, like pooping, but just as useless. Resting was unproductive and usually a sign of self-indulgence or weakness that should be overcome as much as possible. It was cousin to laziness. But what if rest, like the space between musical notes, was an equal partner in creating good? What if rest was just as blessed? “Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work.” The one day that was blessed and sanctified was the rest day!
Darkness was part of creation itself, part of what God called “very good,” and not only because it invited rejuvenating rest. I think of the many ways I might welcome the blessing of the cold, dark, wet, drab months ahead, possibilities start churning. I want to partner with the winter, not fight it. Instead of trying to create color out of greyish hues, I want to find the unique beauty in black-and-white. Instead of just sheltering against the cold, I want to lean into the delights of coziness–hot drinks, fuzzy pajamas and cuddling up are so pleasurable in winter. I want my indoor life in winter to be as rich as my outdoor life in summer and to enjoy the outdoors in ways that embrace the season. If you don’t have a ball you can’t play soccer, but you could play tag… or invent a new game entirely. In fact the absence of a ball stimulates greater creativity! Winter is not a season of deprivation, but of new possibilities.
Kimberly and I sat chatting this morning about Mary, the mother of Jesus. I said, “Imagine God coming to you and saying, ‘I want you to raise my son.'” It’s intimidating enough to be an adequate mother who doesn’t mess up a child: just the right balance of affection and discipline, limits and freedom, patience and prodding, while adjusting to each child’s uniqueness. Now imagine the Savior of the world is plopped in your lap as an infant and you are responsible to nurture, discipline, and give spiritual guidance to God’s child. It’s not just your kid you’re worried about, but the whole world is depending on you… and so is God! Talk about impossible expectations!
I know what it’s like to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, to feel that I have to make all the right decisions and give every ounce of my energy and attention. I know the fear of failing God and screwing up his plans. And even though I once thought I was responsible to save hundreds of thousands of people by my efforts, I’ve found that trying to simply get my own life straightened out is just as big an emotional burden, just as sure to scare me with potential failure and the shame that will flood in.
But what if Mary didn’t take on all that responsibility? What if instead of being responsible for God, she believed that God was responsible for her. Suppose instead of saying, “Yes, I will do it. I will perform this God-sized task,” Mary said to the angel, “I’m the Lord’s servant; let it be done to me according to your word.” From the very beginning God was announcing what he would do for Mary rather than what Mary must do for God. All the responsibility was on God’s shoulders and Mary was simply a recipient by grace. Which is exactly what the angel told Mary–calling her not “highly favored” but “highly graced” (the Greek word is rooted in charis, which is “grace”). It was not like a talented sports team that is “highly favored” to win, as though God were impressed with Mary (the harmful idea behind the “immaculate conception” of a sinless Mary). Rather Mary was one on whom great grace was poured, and grace by definition is undeserved. God said in essence, “I am catching you up in this awesome plan I am carrying out. Come watch me do this amazing thing… and I’m using you!”
What if that is true for me too? What if I am greatly graced? What if God is inviting me into watching him do for me and through me all the good that he has planned? It seems too good to be true, to let down that burden of responsibility and just “be” with God, to receive goodness rather than construct goodness, to be God’s showpiece of grace, God’s artwork of beauty and redemption. Joy to the world!
I can’t seem to catch my breath for all the running. We made a crazy sudden decision in August 2017 to move across country in one month so I could start school. I drove my truck from the Atlantic to the Pacific, then slept in it for two months as I started working part time and studying fulltime for a Master’s in counseling.
Mid-semester I flew back and drove Kimberly and all our belongings 15 hours a day as I banged out a research paper in the hotel rooms each night. The sprint did not slow as I pushed to get through my studies as quickly as possible and begin my internship, 3000 hours of counseling to earn my license so that I could get a real job before our savings were all gone. When our rent went up dramatically, we realized we needed to buy a house, a very involved process for someone with 4 income streams as I was working at Home Depot part time, working for two counseling organizations, and running my own counseling business. We could only afford a fixer-upper in this market, so immediately after buying the house this spring, all my free time has been consumed with fixer-upping.
I keep waiting for things to settle down so that I can get back to a normal routine, including blogging, but I have realized in the last couple of weeks that things may never slow down. Perhaps this is my final dash to the end of life and I must simply make time now for things I value. I hope to be more present here going forward.
Janathan Grace Reflections 