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By Lynne M. Baab
Christine Sine’s blog, Godspace, November 30, 2009
In a poem called “Reflection,” Irish/English poet Evangeline Paterson describes life after death using the metaphor of a party. The party is happening “somewhere else,” and the light and music escape “in snatches/to make the pulse beat.” Those glimpses of energy and joy at the party come to us briefly, and they are muted and faint because they come from so far away.
With my natural melancholic outlook on life, I’m all too aware of the brokenness of the world around me and the brokenness that dwells inside me. I have moments of utter joy when God’s goodness explodes into my heart. I have moments when I feel the peace that passes all understanding. I have moments when I feel deep gratitude for God’s grace and care, and prayers of thankfulness come naturally. Frankly, I don’t know if I could live without those moments.
But they are only moments. Very rarely does that deep joy, peace or gratitude last for an hour, and even more rarely for a whole day or week. All I get is glimpses, snatches of music and energy coming from the party that is happening somewhere else. I’m waiting for the time when I arrive at that party, when all tears will be wiped away, and God’s presence will be a light that shines so brightly it can’t be missed (Rev. 21:4, 23). I’m waiting for the day when I can know God fully as I am fully known (I Cor. 13:12).
Advent has always been a time of remembering that we wait for the fulfillment of what we have already experienced in snatches. I’ve always enjoyed pondering the notion that the Holy Spirit is a deposit (or down payment, seal, or pledge) on the inheritance we will receive in Christ (Eph. 1:13, 14). It is the Holy Spirit who makes possible those glimpses of the party, those snatches of light and music. I’m so deeply grateful for the Spirit, this gift that God has given us.
One of my challenges as a naturally melancholy person is to do all I can to enjoy God’s gifts to me in the present. With the guidance and empowering of the Holy Spirit, I’ve trained myself to practice thankfulness, pay attention to the daily gifts in my life, and see the half-full glass as much as possible. Advent is a wonderful season for me, when waiting as a significant part of the Christian life is affirmed. In Advent, I can settle back into my natural posture of longing for the day when God’s promises will be fulfilled. The day that God’s presence—full of light and music—will surround me, and I won’t experience it only in snatches
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I have moments of utter joy when God’s goodness explodes into my heart. But they are only moments.
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