...complex and simple

Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our life’s wild restless sea:

day by day his sweet voice soundeth, saying “Christian, follow me!”

---Cecil F. Alexander, 1852

It had been one of those weeks. In one of those months. In one of those seasons. In one of those years. Never quite getting well. Never quite getting the ‘to do’ list ‘to done’. Never quite getting caught up. Never quite feeling ready for…whatever comes next. Never quite feeling worthy of the trust placed in me, or the tasks required of me.

And then I stop. I breathe out, and in. And I notice how myopic my vision has grown, how inward-focused my hearing. With my focus drawn to my inner chaos, my shortcomings, my insufficiency--my attention must by definition be focused on…me.

And so I stop. I breathe out, and in. And I lift my gaze. And I focus my hearing. Out, in. There it is. The gentle leading, the focusing guidance. Follow me. Just that. Out, in. Complex and simple. Follow me. Lift the gaze. Focus the hearing. Out, in.

Follow me.

...in various wrappings

In our joys and in our sorrows, days of toil and hours of ease,

still he calls in cares and pleasures, “Christian, love me more than these.”

Jesus calls us: by your mercies, Savior, may we hear your call,

Give our hearts to full obedience, serve and love you best of all.

---Cecil F. Alexander, 1852

“Christian, love me more than these.” It seems safe to say the thought of being called to love Jesus more than the temporal pleasures of this world is not uncommon. Here in this hymn we are called from the “worship of the vain world’s golden store,” from idols that keep us from God, from joys, from hours of ease, from pleasures. All the things that distract us from our true selves in Christ seem to fit into one of these categories. All the empty glittery good stuff with which the world entices us seems to be covered.

But then I notice: other distractions are mentioned, and they don’t seem as obvious as the pleasures. There is the “tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea” noted in the first verse, and sorrow, days of toil, and cares. Is Cecil Alexander implying that the cares, sorrows, worries, and busy-ness of daily life can also keep us from devotion to our Savior? I think so.

And now that I think about it, he may be right. The things that distract me from walking in Jesus’ way come wrapped in all sorts of packages. What hinders you from daily following Jesus?

Life, for our dead places

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace! Hail the Sun of Righteousness!

Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings.

Mild he lays his glory by, born that we no more may die,

Born to raise us from the earth, born to give us second birth.

Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the new-born King!”

There is a danger in the carols of Christmas, one that threatens to deaden us to the wisdom hidden within. This danger is familiarity, the same quality that makes them beloved. Anywhere you go, you are apt to hear some version of this carol, sung or played by a wide variety of ensembles. Many of us could sing this carol in our sleep --- all three verses!

Our familiarity with this carol should not, however, blind us to the message of comfort and hope contained within. Hear these words anew: “Light and life to all he brings, risen with healing in his wings….” We all know that in the midst of the great joy of the season lurk illness, injury, grief, and sorrow. These are part of life, and do not miraculously disappear during Advent and Christmastide. But there is good news, even in darkness! There is one who brings light for our darkness, life for our dead places, and healing for what hurts us. In the middle of this tumultuous existence, Christ comes to meet our deepest needs.