Inversion

Romans 13:11

But make sure that you don't get so absorbed and exhausted in taking care of all your day-by-day obligations that you lose track of the time and doze off, oblivious to God. The night is about over, dawn is about to break. Be up and awake to what God is doing! (The Message)

This year, the four-week season of Advent begins on November 28th.

It's two lines crossing, one line heading up, the other down. Our cultural religion is turning the lights up, up, up to full brightness. We're encouraged to be busy, surface-level Christmas consumers. In the bright light, but sleeping.

Meanwhile, the trajectory of our inner life during Advent is meant to be downwards. Deepwards. Our tradition invites us into darkness, reflection, mystery, and even fasting as we go deeper in hopes of seeing the faint light grow ever so slightly brighter.

One eye clear

This is one corner of a soul collage, or soul card, that I made last week.

One eye stays clear, in spite of trouble revealed from within and distortions layered on top.

(I'd like to find a generic term for this process: SoulCollage® is copyrighted, and "soul card" can refer to tarot, but this video is not either of those things. Any suggestions?)

Memory

This hippocampus lives inside building 46 at Google in Mountain View. I walk past her* often, and I always stop.

Hippocampus, by Mardi Storm

She is a dream trapped in a latex room. Most of the time she has nothing but electrical gadgets, event notices, and a couple of office plants to gaze at.

Surprised (every time!) to see her, I stand by her head and let her gaze at me … and I'm reminded that I have forgotten something important, but what? What is it? Has even she forgotten, dry-docked as she is?

For photos that do justice to the hippocampus, please visit the artist's website (http://www.mardistorm.com/).

* Is she a her? I don't know. To me she is.

"I think he's hiding," she said

Isaiah 45:15a

You are a God who hides yourself.

I boarded the shuttle to work last Monday with a cloud over my head. A lot's been going on.

The bus was almost full. I sat in the second row behind the driver, next to a young woman whose laptop was open on her knees, its screen touching the back of the seat in front of her. I crammed my work backpack next to hers, under my feet. I made room for her elbow so that she could type, then lost myself in my phone's browser.

About 45 minutes into the ride, she began to rummage on the floor, as if surprised.

Did she lose something?

I looked down. To my astonishment, a Golden Lab was resting his head on my left foot. He was very quiet. He moved nothing but his big brown eyes, looking from one to the other of us as if to say, "You're not going to kick me out, are you?" Dogs aren't allowed on the corporate shuttle, and he knew it.

"I think he's hiding," the woman said.

He must have started out behind his owner's feet, fully hidden beneath the seat in front of us. Then little by little he stretched out as the ride went on, finally daring to lean his head against my foot.

When we neared our destination, he moved his head, and my foot felt cold. I hadn't even noticed that someone was keeping it warm.

God's will

When someone is sick, people start talking about God's will.

Thy will be done. What does it mean? I've heard it used several ways:

1. "Thy will be done" as a magical prayer.
   
   It's easy to fall into the belief that if I say this special prayer before a frightening, uncertain event, then the outcome is God's will—even if the outcome is terrible.
   
   I knew a woman who broke her neck in an accident. Just before the accident she had prayed for God's will to be done, and so she believed that it was God's will for her to break her neck. She lost her faith over it. This interpretation of "Thy will be done" imagines us having a lot more power than we do. If I say the magic words, then everything will happen exactly according to God's will? No. My words and thoughts do not control the universe.
   
   
2. "Thy will be done" as an existential statement.
   
   To some people, "Thy will be done" isn't a request, but an observation about life's great events being beyond our control. It's like saying, "Que sera, sera." The dice will land how they will, and we must accept our mortality and our limits. I can see truth in this, certainly. But it's not really a prayer; it's more of a philosophy.
   
   
3. "Thy will be done" as an affirmation of my willingness to see God in all outcomes.
   
   This prayer takes courage, for sure. The outcome might be painful; it takes great faith to open up your hands and say, "Okay God, I believe you're with me in this, and I'm with you in this, no matter what."
   
   This is subtly different from saying that a terrible outcome would be the will of God. It's saying that no matter what happens, I will look, hope, and pray for God's will to come out of it. Which is related to....
   
   
4. "Thy will be done" as an ardent, passionate request for what is good.
   
   This prayer assumes that wholeness, peace, love, hope, life, and freedom are God's will, whoever or whatever God is. It's a request for God to bring those things about. "Please, God, may your kindom*, in which there is peace and perfect health and unity of spirit, come to pass here, now, on Earth, in this situation! May your greatest hope be fulfilled."

I gravitate most naturally to number 4 when I pray, though I'm thinking that incorporating more of number 3 would be a good thing too....

* not a typo