The Difficulty With Advent

Sometimes it feels like I have a mild form of split-personality disorder. There’s Past Brendan, who is usually blamed for all my problems; Present Brendan, who makes all the sacrifices; and finally Future Brendan, who is probably going to be perfectly complete and have his life together.

I tend to live for the future, making compromises now that will benefit me in the time to come (For example, years and years of grad school so that Future Brendan can put fun letters after his name or paying lots of money now to own a house that will hopefully be worth more money someday). Consequently, I have a hard time living in the present; rather, I spend a great deal of time focusing on whatever comes next, whether that’s tomorrow, next month or a year from now.

Because of my inability to live in the present, Advent is hard for me. The difficulty with Advent (Hey, that’s the title of this blog! What an odd coincidence…) is that it is a time of year when I am supposed to live primarily in the present. I’m intended to sit in the “now” as I await an impending “then.” I find this challenging in general as I usually live for the future but it gets even more complicated; the “then” is ALSO vitally important. The essence of living in the now of Advent is that it is a four week long season of anticipation. Rob Bell calls Advent “The moment before the Moment” and that’s the difficulty. How on earth do I celebrate and exist fully in the present when my present is celebrating a future event? Advent is supposed to be different than the rest of the year, but it seems to me that ends up being more of the same; I live for Christmas day.

But there is a lesson in Advent and I think it is actually more applicable to the other 11 months. The future event has value and may be my main focus; yet, there is growth in the anticipation of that coming. In regards to school, I’m learning and developing along the way, not just waiting for a piece of paper to put on the wall. That house I’m using as an investment has proven to be a place for me to host, provide a home for people without one and give my community somewhere to draw deeper in relationship with each other.

Perhaps the anticipation of a future event is what gives the immediate its value; knowing that the future has something coming creates opportunities for me in the present.

So Future Brendan, say thanks to Present Brendan; not only is he working hard now to make your life easier, he’s becoming a better person now so that you can creep closer to being perfected.

Managing Disappointment Part Two

If you haven’t read Managing Disappointment Part One, go back and read it, because really, this post is dependent upon that one.

Two weeks after I made that painful phone call, I received one eerily similar.

On short notice, I’d arranged for those students to spend the week serving on a Native American Reservation. We had spent time there before and I knew that this was a good option for us, and I was extremely fortunate to discover they were available to host us.

But, as life would have it, 48 hours before leaving for the trip, I was on the receiving end of disappointment. The Reservation had a staffing issue and was no longer able to host us.

The resemblance between these two phone calls was not lost on me; in one case, I had to disappoint people I cared about and in the other, I needed to be gracious with those disappointing me.

A month later, I suppose what I’ve learned is a sort of grace. I’ve seen a glimmer of the idea that when people fail me, they likely do it with heavy hearts. I’m discovering that it’s no easier to be on either end of that phone call…both sides stink. But that means we must maintain our focus on being in gracious relationship with one another; even when it feels like I’m getting the short end of the stick, I have a part to play in managing both my disappointment and theirs.

Worthy of Delight

Last week, I started training for a half marathon. I found running partners, created a workout schedule, I even created an account on mapmyrun.com.

I hate running. Of all forms of physical exercise, it’s probably the one I hate the most. I would even say I loathe it. I have to get up earlier to run, drink more water (and therefore less coffee), and plan parts of my life around making sure I have hours each week to devote to running. This is stupid.

So why am I running?

Three weeks ago I was sitting in a local park and a boy about five years old ran past me. He was going top speed, arms and legs pumping in that cute uncontrollable manner of a child putting his all into what he was doing. Of course, he wasn’t going very fast (he’s barely over three feet tall) but he poured his whole heart into sprinting past me. And you know what? He had a smile that covered his entire face. I watched him, and he wasn’t racing towards anything in particular. He was just overcome with joy at the running, with passion for testing the limits of his five-year-old body. He was happy because he was discovering what he is capable of, and that was worthy of delight.

I’m running because I want to capture the feeling I saw in that boy. I want to learn how to rejoice in having ability; I want to test my boundaries and find that worthy of delight.

Choose Someone

A week ago I took some of my students to an elderly care facility where most of the residents are wheelchair-bound. It’s a disheartening place to see; it’s a visible, physical manifestation of human frailty and it makes me anxious/resentful that such a life is what waits for me years from now.

But there was an unexpected learning for me last Wednesday.

When we arrived, many of the residents were about to do a group activity. We were told to make ourselves at home and find an open chair. I walked over to a 99-year-old woman named Dorothy. When I sat down, she smiled at me so I took her hand in mine. Then she said to me, “Out of the whole world, you chose me.”

The depth of this statement struck me. At first, I thought she was less than lucid, but after speaking with her for a few minutes I discovered that Dorothy was totally coherent; she meant what she had said to me. She really did believe that I chose to sit next to her, and she was touched by my decision.

So, today, choose someone. Whatever it means for you, be intentional and choose to be present with someone…and make sure they know that you picked them.