Hope in Advent

This week we entered into the season of Advent: a perfect time to reflect on the past year, and prayerfully consider the year ahead. During Advent, I often find myself thinking about all the hopes I have for the year to come, maybe things I didn’t get to do this year, or things I’m missing spiritually. I would say these are good hopes, but I was reminded this week that I should place my greatest hope and trust in the Lord, no matter what’s in store for my life.

Perhaps our greatest obstacle to walking in the hope of Christ is that we often don’t understand the plan Christ has for us, so we fail to trust him. Our challenge, then, is much like Peter’s in Luke 5. Jesus tells Peter to let down his nets, even though the fishermen had been out all night with no catch. Jesus’ request doesn’t make sense to Peter, but he says, “Because you say so, I will let down the nets.” The fishermen catch so many fish, their nets begin to break.
Peter exemplifies what we should all do in this situation—trust the Lord, even when the plan doesn’t make sense. Probably the greatest example of walking in hope comes from Mary, who trusts the Lord when an angel comes to her with news of a miraculous conception. Elizabeth praises Mary in Luke 1, saying “Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!”

As we continue through this Advent season, meditate on these examples. What are you placing your hope in this holiday season? Is Jesus asking you to go out into the deep? At Christ’s word, don’t hesitate to let down the nets.

The Most Romantic Thing My Husband Ever Said to Me

We have funny ideas about romance. We think of it as candlelight, being showered in gifts, and a stolen kiss. That may be sort-of romantic, but at my age those things have worn kind of thin. And I think they have for a lot of people.

Take Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, for instance. He’s probably the most romantic figure in fiction. Women hold him up as the ideal that they’re looking for. But what is he like? For most of the story he’s cold, distant, and insulting. He certainly never does the candlelight and gift thing. He doesn’t even steal a kiss! But he’s a man of action. When it comes right down to it, he moves heaven and earth for the one he loves at great cost and inconvenience to himself.

And isn’t that what we all ultimately want? Someone who has our backs and will be there when we really need them?

The dictionary defines romance as: Ardent emotional attachment or involvement between people. I like that definition. One of the most romantic things my husband ever said to me was when I was puking my guts out after an airline flight. Feeling like the scum of the world, I apologized that I’d once again put a damper on our trip by getting airsick (for about the 3,000th time). His response? “You’re the bravest person I know.” In that moment, I felt an ardent emotional attachment that was much greater than if he’d bought me 10 dozen roses and suitcases full of candy.

So what’s the key to having an ardent emotional attachment and involvement? I can think of at least five things.

1. You have to set aside time together. Regularly make a date to get away from jobs, ministry, kids, and the phone. If you’re living in the same house and never interacting, that isn’t ardent emotional attachment.

2. Become each other’s warrior and defender. Stick up for each other in front of the kids, in front of extended family, and in front of your friends. That doesn’t mean that you don’t see the other’s faults and face them, but do that privately after much prayer and thought. On a daily basis, make a commitment to build that person up whenever possible.

3. Return blessings for arrows. Whenever possible, return kindness for unkindness. Not only will it improve your marriage, but it will make you more Christ-like.

4. Talk about everything. If you’re afraid to talk to your spouse about how you really feel about something, you won’t feel an ardent emotional attachment. You’ll feel that you’re placating him so that you don’t have a blow out. That will end up feeling like walking on eggshells after a while. I’d rather see a couple have a shouting match about something they disagree on than refuse to talk about it at all. Every once in a while, my husband and I have a good old yelling match, which lets us know how strongly we’re feeling about the subject, then we calm down and really talk about it.

5. Sincerely desire the other person’s best. Most times that I’m angry with my husband, it’s because I didn’t get my way. When I step back and think about how I can help him be everything he can be in Christ, I feel a lot more compassion for him—indeed I feel an ardent emotional attachment that I would call romance.

What about you? What do you think romance truly is?

How Great a Father’s Love

Lately, I can’t stop watching the Sesame Street video, “I Love My Hair.” The video, which debuted last month, features a cute little African-American Muppet who dances around the screen, singing about her hair:

“Don’t need a trip to the beauty shop/’cause I love what I got on top/It’s curly and it’s brown/ and it’s right up there/You know what I love?/That’s right! I love my hair.”

Throughout the song, the muppet sings about the different ways she can wear her hair—in a clip, in a bow, in an Afro or cornrows.

The first time I saw the video, I teared up a little. I’m proud to say, this 31-year-old woman has always geeked out on Sesame Street and the Muppets. The song “Rainbow Connection” inevitably moves me to tears, and I recently bent my longstanding commitment to sleeping in on Saturdays in order to visit a Jim Henson exhibit at a local museum during its premier weekend. (Between you and me, I may have skipped from the museum door all the way to the exhibit.) There are very few people who appreciate the Muppets on a deeper level than I do. The blend of earnestness, humor, and creativity they represent is deeply moving to me.

But another reason I love this video is that I also love my hair. I was an 18-year-old college freshman before I took over my own hair care. That’s partly because of the gentle care many textures of African-American hair require, but it’s also because the ritual of hair care is such a bonding experience between black women—whether it’s at the beauty shop, or between mothers and daughters.

As a little girl, I treasured the time my mom and I spent together as she did my hair. Mom would sit on the sofa, and my sister and I would sit below her, heads between her knees as she oiled our scalps and brushed, parted, and braided our hair, finishing each braid with ribbons and a plastic barrette. We wore pony tails, thick Afro puffs, puffy French braids, and rows and rows of tiny braids with colorful beads at the ends that swished back and forth as we walked. Sometimes, we’d sit in the kitchen, reading aloud to Mom as she straightened our tight natural curls with a metal comb heated on the oven. I favored Grace Livingston Hill’s romance novels, largely because I could fool Mom by making up my own dialogue for Livingston’s stock characters as Mom focused on easing the hot comb through my thick, shoulder-length locks. Even now, my twice-a-month appointments with Cheryl, at her aptly-named Crown and Glory Salon, are a mix of tender care, humor, and heat.

Because our family was often the only black family in our neighborhood or at our school, we were sometimes viewed as a curiosity. People wanted to know about our hair, or to touch it and play with it. Even as a child, I resisted this. I didn’t like explaining my hair, or having it touched by strangers. I didn’t appreciate the fact that people saw their hair as the norm and our hair as “different.” And hair can also be a deeply contentious subject among African-Americans. It’s hard to summarize the reasons for this (though the book The Color Complex: The Politics of Skin Color Among African Americans is a good start), but here’s an attempt: Some people judge the beauty of hair by its straightness (thus, one can be blessed with “good” or straight hair, and despair of “bad” or tightly curled hair. Others, on the other hand, view the act of straightening one’s hair as a rejection of its natural beauty, and, by extension, one’s blackness. To straighten one’s hair is to give in to the idea that the way to be beautiful is to approximate whiteness.

So to see this sweet brown Muppet singing about her simple pride in her unprocessed curls makes a beautiful statement—and one that resonates deeply with many black women. Every way she wears it, she loves her hair, just as it is.

Yet there’s another part of this video that moves me—the story behind it. Joey Mazzarino, Sesame Street’s head writer, wrote the song for his daughter, Segi, whom he and his wife adopted from Ethiopia. Mazzarino and his wife, Kerry Butler, are white. When he observed Segi wanting hair like the blond dolls she played with, Mazzarino became concerned that Segi wouldn’t love her own hair. He didn’t know about the complicated issues connected to African-Americans and their hair, and—this is my conjecture—may not have known about the groundbreaking experiments performed by psychologists Kenneth and Mamie Clark, which used dolls as a way to investigate black children’s ideas about race.

But Mazzarino’s love for his daughter compelled him to write a song to help her love her hair—a song that has struck a positive, healing chord with many people.

I run the risk of drawing a forced, heavy-handed parallel here, and I’m tempted to resist. But since I’ve already confessed to being someone who cries when I hear the song “Rainbow Connection” (Seriously—have you ever read the lyrics?), I hope you’ll indulge my earnest heart.
As one who follows Christ and calls God Father, I’m struck to my core by this demonstration of fatherly love. Think of it: Here we have a story of a father who, not even fully understanding the implications of his adopted daughter’s problem, did something big to solve it. He created something that is out there for everyone to see, a love letter to the little girl he loves.
And as God’s daughter, adopted into his family through the work of Christ, I serve One who loves me—who took me in, who knows and understands my complicated problems and deep-rooted sin-sickness, and yet persists, relentless, in his love for me. And not merely a sentimental love—a fatherly love that moves in big ways, that solves those problems and heals that sin-sickness. A love that burst through space and time in the person of Christ; Love who lived a sinless life and sacrificed himself for me.

I know that’s a lot to get from a simple video. But it’s reminded me of a love I often forget about, or fail to consider in its greatest depth. God’s love, like the love I’ve been blessed to experience from my own problem-solving father, is one that intervenes. And I’m reminded to see the goodness in this world—and the efforts we make to solve the problems in it—as an outpouring of that creative love.

Who Am I Becoming?

A friend of mine recently encouraged me to get writing. She stated in one of those short, pithy statements that stays with you for life: “You become a writer by writing.” I can wish to be a good writer and talk about it, but if I don't do it, nothing will happen. I have to admit that I’m always frustrated with people who talk about what they want to do or become but don't set about the practical steps of making it happen. My friend's encouragement may be just the thing that keeps me from becoming one of those frustrating people.

Her statement got me thinking about what else I was becoming on a more profound level. I heard a sermon on character, in which the pastor put it simply: “We become the choices and decisions we make.” This is true about external behavior (if I run every day, I become a runner), but it's also true of our internal workings. The choices I make in how I think about circumstances or people or God make me into the person I am. My decision in how I treat someone who irritates me is part of the process of my becoming a kind person or a dismissive, self-focused person.

A friend, who is in the middle of a battle with cancer, provides a striking example. She recently shared a story that highlighted how she has a choice in how she’ll respond to the physical pain and uncertainty she must deal with every day. She can choose to feel angry or sorry for herself. Or she can choose to be thankful for being blessed with another day. By her choices every day, she is becoming a woman filled with joy and peace.

So how do I become the person I want to be, and more importantly the person God wants me to be? First, I need to want it. And wanting to be more like Jesus isn’t something I can manufacture on my own. Like all things in this life of faith it begins with dependence on God. I run to him to ask for the desire to be kind, humble, joyful, and faithful. I need God’s help to be able to say, “Give me an eagerness for your decrees,” like the psalmist (Psalm 119:36, NLT).

Second, I need an accurate assessment of who I really am. Not who I perceive myself to be or how I present myself to others, but who I truly am. And again, it takes running to God and his Word for insight and clarity. J. I. Packer puts it really well: “I read the Bible as God's Word, teaching me what I should think and do about this puzzling complex reality that I know myself to be.” God made me and he gave us the Scriptures so that we would know him and know ourselves. Asking the input of trusted friends and family is also very important. However, I know my tendency is to run to people first rather than going to God’s Word. And no one can do a better job of giving you an accurate picture of who you are than God’s Word.

Third, I actually need to adopt the behaviors and thinking patterns that bring about change. I’ve found that relying on the Holy Spirit to guide me throughout my day is probably the most important aspect of change. He is the One who transforms us by the renewing of our mind (Romans 12:2). And giving up our independence and agenda to rely on God and his Word for the renewing of our mind and actions is the first and most important thing. However, asking for help and accountability is a key component as well. Whereas I often err on talking with others about change before talking to God, I also err by taking on change on my own without asking for help from the people in my life. Once I’ve committed to something, it takes humility and courage to let a close friend know about my efforts and ask for their prayers and practical input. A close friend becomes a workout buddy in a way. She can help me train, one step at a time, to be who I want to be.

The last step (and I was going to say the hardest step, but really, what part of this is easy?) is to continue on, to remain faithful, to stay disciplined. Asking God daily for the consistent desire to love him and live a life worthy of the gospel (Philippians 1:27) is the only way to keep from reverting to my natural ways. It means preaching the gospel to myself every day by reading the Bible. It means telling my training buddy when I’m struggling to remain faithful, and receiving her encouragement. It means taking my life of faith seriously because everything around me is serious about pulling me away from the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It means violently resisting the tides of the world, as Fenelon puts it.

How about you? Have you ever tried to change by depending on your own will power? How did it go? Have you tried to change depending on God’s guidance and power? How did that go?