Participant

An Invitation

This is quite a ride we are on. We spin on Earth’s axis at more than 830 miles per hour. At the same time, we orbit around the sun at over 66,000 miles per hour. This prompts the question, how do we spend our time during such an adventure? One full rotation gives us a day—one full revolution a year. But we want more than years and days; we want to know that we hang on for something that matters. We hang on because we want to know what happens next. We want to know where to go from here. People seem to be aware that something lies ahead, but we do not know what to expect. We don’t know whether to be excited or frightened by the prospects. We don’t know where to look. We do not even know what to look for.

It would be easy to settle with the herd, where the loudest voices can convince us they have things figured out and where we can find the road least difficult. Yet I long for an adventure that explores the beauties of creation and the mysteries of the Creator. Fortunately, it is Advent. Advent is a path that leads somewhere. It calls for us to prepare. It creates a sense of expectancy. Like the wise men that followed a star, we still need direction.

Advent reminds us that even when things are bleak (maybe especially when things are bleak), there is reason for hope. Gray skies, lack of life, “water like a stone,” and even exile may be reality. But something is coming. We do not understand everything. We may not understand much at all. So we try to find meaning in the same ways everyone else does. We live like others, try to look like others, in the hope that others know something. We hope someone else has cracked the code and has found what we are all looking for. Advent does not crack the code for us. Instead, it extends to us an invitation. It is like Tolkien’s wizard looking for someone to share in an adventure and having difficulty finding a volunteer. We may be inclined to respond like Tolkien’s hobbit and dismiss that invitation: “We … have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!” We want to know what happens next. Like the hobbit, we are uncomfortable with what we do not know.

Tis the season where nearly everyone acts as if something is coming, but not everyone is certain as to what it might be. Who will notice there is more happening than is evident at first glance? Advent reminds us to be attentive to what is really going on around us. In his book The Nature Principle, Richard Louv reports that “Most scientists who study human perception no longer assume that we have five senses … The current number ranges from a conservative ten senses to as many as thirty.” He puts these senses to work while hiking with his son in bear country. While on that hike he observes that “the pleasure of being alive is brought into sharper focus when you need to pay attention to staying alive.”

I would like to be hiking; instead, I am driving, and it appears the skill neglected by most travelers is attentiveness. It is the skill I desire most. I want to pay attention to everything—not only the visible and expected. I don’t want to miss a thing. I want to tune in to unseen realities and impossibilities. If Louv is correct that we have up to thirty senses, I want to put them all on alert.

Louv has introduced me to some interesting ideas. He is the originator of the phrase “nature deficit disorder.” I find the idea fascinating and agree with him that we miss way more than we need to because of our “diminished ability to find meaning in the life that surrounds us.”

Whether we agree or not, the fact is that we are not as attentive as we ought to be. Whether it surprises us or not, the fact is that a great deal of reality gets missed. It is easy to believe the unseen is less real than what is seen. Too often, I look past much of the evidence. I want to pay attention to not only the obvious, but also that which is heard, seen, and tasted by the soul. The stuff that demands a closer look and that requires a determined focus. I desire to observe as much as possible—to be aware of God at work. I want to rethink the way God works. God seems to be visible in some places more than others. In some places, His activity seems more possible than others. But, then the angel Gabriel reminds us that nothing is impossible.

Attentiveness is important in order to know what is going on around you and to learn the terrain. Attentiveness is important in order to know when to speak and what to say. Attentiveness becomes important In order to learn when to act—and how. Attentiveness is important in learning where God is involved and what He is involved in. Only then can we learn to recognize His will, His ways, and His words. Attentiveness is necessary to learn what might actually be going on during Advent in our own town and on our own street. Before we are able to recognize the work of God, we must first be attentive. Creation is the place where we practice our skills of paying attention. Every day we look out at it and walk around in it and listen to its voice, so it is no surprise that Genesis opens up with creation—a place that is both familiar and full of the not yet known.