Light is the First Thing to Go: My Advent Stories

Last year I wrote a piece of flash fiction for Loren Eaton’s Shared Storytelling – Advent Ghosts project, and it was difficult. Writing exactly 100 words is not especially hard, but purposefully dredging up fear and loss at Christmas time feels ugly; I wondered last year and I wonder again this year — especially this year — how people will react to this kind of writing.

Then I reread Loren’s words:

Light is the first thing to go as we near the year’s nadir, the days dimming earlier and breaking later. The dark is truly rising. So as Advent approaches, flip every switch in the house, break out the blankets and steel yourself to outlast the gloom. But in all your preparations, pause for a moment, just long enough to peer up into a firmament black and cold as flint. See the frosty flecks of stars? See how the borealis coils its frigid fire around them, eldritch and writhing? What speech do they pour forth to us, and what unearthly knowledge do they show night after endless night?

I have 2 pieces for the Advent Ghost project this year. Following Loren’s example, I am writing one secular story and one sacred story.

Unwanted explores the terror we feel when an unexplained and damaged presence penetrates the safety of our families and our homes; I wrote it before Newtown, but I think like every parent I wrote it from a place of fear of the idea that this presence has designs on our children.

For Later is my take on what I’ve always seen as a poetic and disturbing element in the gifts of the three kings to the baby Jesus.

Advent is about waiting for the light of the world. It is about waiting for God with faith, even on the darkest days. I hope you will read these pieces of flash fiction with a heart and mind willing to look into the dark, so that the brilliance of Christmas day is truly a day of love, gratitude, and salvation for you and yours.

The stories will post later today.

Peace be with you.

God-Talk: Acknowledging the Individual and God

(P)rogressives have a God-talk problem. That is, progressives write lots of books and blog posts about social issues, the church, culture, and society. But we don’t write that much about God. That is, we don’t say substantive things about who God is, what God does, etc.

You might say the same thing about conservative Protestants (i.e., “evangelicals”). But the thing is, their people pretty much know what they think of God. It’s well-known and on the record.” — Tony Jones, A Challenge to Progressive Theo-Bloggers

“Well-known.”

“On the record.”

“PR problem.”

These are some of the phrases that jumped out at me when Tony Jones issued his challenge to write about what I believe about God.

I’m not supposed to tell you what I believe about Jesus, or social issues, the church, culture, or society. This is specifically a request to write about the nature of God. Frankly, this is what I prefer to do anyway, and I’m with Mr. Jones in that I think slipping away from strong and articulate conversations about the nature of God is not doing progressive believers any favors. Part of the problem is feeling revulsion at the twisted theologies of God as politician, angling for a particularly powerful nation-state rise to global domination. Defining God as uniquely interested in one society over another is definitely not part of my God-talk. This makes me neither atheist, nor agnostic, nor unloving toward my own country.

I believe the nature of God is individual, and I wonder sometimes if this may be a major divide with believers who identify as evangelical or conservative. There is the “two or more gathered in my name” teaching, but all indications are that those are two or more individuals with a common devotion and general intent born of an individual relationship with God.

I believe the spirit of God seeks to be alone with every person on Earth. I will go so far as to say I believe that only that still and exclusive connection can save a life. I shudder when I see large groups of people pursuing some “lost soul” who they believe is in need of their assistance to be saved. I have to assume that their intentions are good, but God doesn’t need a gang. In fact, God “needs” nothing but the listening and sincerity of the individual.

I believe that Christians must be vigilant in our desire to know the difference — or to at least try to know the difference — between our agendas and the nature of God. The only way to approach clarity in this complicated zone is to, again, find a way to be alone as an individual with God and be willing to practice discernment in our faith journeys.

I often go back to the film Dead Man Walking. Matthew Poncelet has a close and devoted human friend and counselor in Sister Helen. He would never have reached his redemption moment without her unrelenting message of confession and forgiveness. But only he could choose to encounter God’s grace. In the end, he was alone with God. I believe that is the nature of God. God’s love and saving grace wants to mend a shattered soul, but it happens only when we say, “Enough of everyone else. I choose to be alone with you.”

Choosing to be alone with God is serious business. It is not just sitting quietly and thinking nice thoughts. It is choosing to let down walls you may not have acknowledged yet. It is choosing to be willing to hear that you need to put down your nets. We like our nets, don’t we?

I think progressive believers need to work through these questions of how to honor beliefs about God’s connection to us as individuals without being co-opted by the right-wing politics that claim the individual is all that matters. This will require getting more comfortable with keeping our social justice leanings out of every conversation, and doing more to talk about how individual devotion to God can change the world.

You can read some of my other writing about:

Faith and Sciencehttps://essediemblog.com/category/faith-andor-science/

Spiritualityhttps://essediemblog.com/category/spirituality/

An excerpt from an essayhttp://blog.beliefnet.com/flunkingsainthood/2011/05/where-is-god-in-chronic-illness.html