“Pilaf, do you want to go for a walk?” I posed the question to our dog recently right after I had pushed the button on my iphone to check the time. To my surprise I got two responses to my question. Pilaf got up and came toward me wagging her tail and at the same time Siri’s voice issued forth from the iphone with the answer: “I try to be satisfied with what I have.”

It was a rare, reflective moment for Siri. I’m not used to her commenting on such weighty matters as her philosophy of life. She is not a big one for working with existential questions. But here she was letting me know about a key part of her way of being. “I try to be satisfied with what I have.” In other words, “It’s up to you, Dave. You can take me on that walk or leave me here on the nightstand. If you take me, I can measure the number of steps you take on the walk, count the calories that you have burned, tell you how much travel time is involved in the various routes you might take to get back to your house and let you know that someone is trying to reach you by phone or text or email. But whatever you decide is fine, because I try to be satisfied with what I have.”

One could hear Siri’s response in a couple of ways. There is a bit of pathos and resignation in her answer and yet also a hint of contentment. In fact, when I heard her say it, my inner Bible concordance kicked in and several verses came to mind:

“I have learned to be content with whatever I have.” – St. Paul

“So do not worry about tomorrow for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.” – Jesus

I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmedand quieted my soul like a weaned child with its mother.” – David, (Ps 131)

“I try to be satisfied with what I have.” Is it slavery or light-heartedness? Of course in Siri’s case it is neither. It’s merely the result of some programmer’s decision. I imagine that she is programmed to respond to the question “Do you want…?” with an answer about being content. She doesn’t really have the capacity to want anything.

But we do; and trying to be satisfied with what we have, trying to live in the moment, trying to let the day’s own trouble be enough for the day, is no easy feat for us. Each day presents us with a huge list of wants. Some of them are simply about survival and the dailyness of our existence. Yet many of those wants spring from things that are too heavy for us to carry or too far away from us to grasp. Wanting to alleviate the suffering of a loved one being treated for cancer, or end the rancor in Washington DC, or solve the national crisis of opioid addiction, or mend the broken relationship that you helped to destroy, usually just delivers us into a state of heavy-heartedness and despair. The last thing we are in this state is satisfied, and trying to work harder at being satisfied just heightens our angst. The burdens of past regrets and future anxieties are just too heavy to bear.

In the midst of this kind of heavy-hearted dissatisfaction and emptiness, I know of only one source of comfort. When things are too heavy for me to hold, I need to know that I am being held. I need to know that I belong to a story that is bigger than the one I am currently writing. I need to know that I belong to God. It’s then that I can move into the present and learn about satisfaction and letting the day’s own trouble be enough for the day. Another word for this is hope, and the season of Advent is primarily about training us to live into hope.
This Advent we will be exploring the words of an Old Testament prophet who was about the work of inviting his people to live into hope.

The words of Isaiah 40 are addressed to folks who were bouncing back and forth between past regrets and future anxieties and they, like us, needed to know that they were being held. Isaiah’s message of comfort in this chapter is one that never grows old because we never stop needing to hear it. We never stop needing to be reminded that we are being held by the One who made us for no other purpose than relationship with himself.

Dave Rohrer, 12/3/2017

At the beginning of his first epistle, St. Peter celebrates the truth that God has mercifully acted to give us “a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead (1 Pt. 1:3).” I read this and I hear both an assurance and a challenge. The assurance is that God has made all things new and set before us an open future full of the opportunity for new life. The challenge is to claim and live into this hope, to somehow embody it right now.

When we hear the word hope, our tendency is to think about what is going to happen in some distant future. Maybe it’s the hope of heaven when we die, or the coming of a new heaven and new earth “in the last day.” However we configure it in our imagination, what we hope for is often something that we don’t expect to experience in this present life. It is something we long for, something we expect to receive. Yet it is something that may have little bearing on what orders our lives in the here and now.

Yet the “living hope” that Peter celebrates is not primarily about the fulfillment of some distant promise. It is rather the confidence we have that is based on something that has already happened. Namely, “the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” In other words, because we believe in the resurrection Jesus, we believe in a new life that is live-able RIGHT NOW. The resurrection of Jesus assures us that death does not have the last word and that emboldens us to claim a new life in Christ, RIGHT NOW! It empowers us to stand against the various ways our world invites us to live in fear of death and to choose life instead.

All of this abstract theology begs a very concrete, practical question: What does this new life look like and how do we go about living it? If this new life is live-able right now, how do we go about claiming God’s gift of transformation? The answer is embodied in the word love. We allow God to love us and then reflect that same love to our world. We trust God enough to allow his love to gradually transform us and flow through us. We keep our eyes on Jesus, “the pioneer and perfector” of the Way of Love; or as Peter writes, “we set all our hope on the grace that Jesus Christ will bring us (1 Pt. 1:13),” and empowered by his Spirit we learn to walk in the way of love.

It’s as simple and as hard as that. It’s as simple as letting Jesus lead us and as hard as letting Jesus lead us. And that’s why we go to church. That’s why we come together to worship God each week. That’s why we need each other. It is best not to walk this Way alone. There are many distractions along this journey of faith and all sorts of invitations to revert to living a life that is motivated by a fear of death instead of one focused on God’s promise of a resurrection to new life. So by coming together to encourage one another and “stir up one another to love and good works (Heb. 10:24),” we make ourselves available to this empowering, transforming work of God’s Spirit and learn how to love.

Distractions are a normal hazard we encounter in any journey. In fact, we can’t set out on any quest without expecting to have our head turned by things that delay us or put roadblocks in the way of reaching our destination. So we cannot expect that the journey of faith is any different in this respect. We’re going to engage things that slow us down or stand in our way of growing in love of God and love of neighbor. And as we recognize and name these distractions we can learn how to set them aside in order to get on with the business of following Jesus.

When Jesus issues the invitation “Follow me,” it doesn’t come with the threat that he’ll leave us behind if we trip and fall along the Way. Rather his invitation is accompanied by the gentle and persistent reminder to pay attention. In the wake of encountering a distraction that has diverted our attention away from our leader, or when we have fallen because of that pot hole that we failed to notice, Jesus’ invitation remains steadfast: “Follow me. Watch, stay awake and look for the signs of my presence among you. Let me guide you in the direction of love and empower you to avoid the snares and pit-falls that would turn your attention away from me.”

Dave Rohrer, 1/5/17