Well here we are at the 4th installment of these Advent thoughts. As I write this today we are exactly one week away from the big day. We are 7 days from the day we celebrate the arrival of the King of Kings…but yet I am ashamed to admit that today my main anxiety is regarding the few presents I want to buy for the people that I love the most. As much as I try to leave behind the baggage of this westernized version of materialistic, consumer driven Christmas where the only entity that seems to come out on top is Walmart, I can’t seem to shake it off.
So these four blogs have hopefully demonstrated my own personal struggles in Christmas. I wait for Christ’s final return in desperate anticipation of the day when He’ll make all of creation right, but yet get sucked into my own selfishness which then contributes to the destruction of the same creation I long to see made whole. I struggle with all of the brokenness that I see all around me which often brings me down, but yet I’m overcome with joy when I see something wonderful happen in someone’s life. I hope beyond hope for all of the pain in the world to end, but yet I love my life, my wife and daughter, my friends, my job and my church so much that I want it to last just a little bit longer despite the billions of people all over the world who are desperate to leave behind the destruction that they face every day.
So I’ve concluded within myself that these musings are quite a bit about me. And so I’ve chosen to end these stories of hope and struggle with my own.
Many of you will know that I have lived with Multiple Sclerosis for almost 13 years now. It has been full of ups and downs but for the most part has been quite manageable and I have come to grips with it. But this Advent season of waiting has brought with it a very personal anticipation in light of the amazing new possibilities in MS research that have come to light these past few weeks. Most of you will have heard about this already, but for those who haven’t, a doctor in Italy has hypothesized that MS is a vascular disease as opposed to an auto-immune one and that it could quite possibly be cured with a simple angioplasty surgery to open the veins wider and allow for better blood flow.
I must admit that despite my doctor’s urgings to not get too excited about something that hasn’t been tested enough yet, it has been massively difficult to keep it together since that news hit the airwaves. While I have come to grips with the disease, I have also needed to acknowledge some losses along the way. Lately I have real difficulty in walking and it seems to be here to stay. I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes without it zapping all of my energy. Walking for more than a few blocks is a real challenge for me. I’ve even needed to admit to myself that I now need a scooter in order to get around on longer journeys. So for example, if I want to spend the day at the zoo with my 7-year old daughter Cate, I will need a mobility scooter in order for that to be possible. (One of the Advent miracles within the story is that this week a very generous family has offered to buy me the exact scooter that I need. I’m truly overwhelmed by how supported I feel at times like this.)
I watched a half-hour TV special on this new MS discovery that showed interviews with people who had lived with MS, who had the exact same struggles as I do, who had the surgery and now can no longer remember what it was like to have MS. I watched one man with tears in his eyes speak of how he can now play tennis with his son when he couldn’t do that before he had the surgery. And I found myself longing for it more than I can remember longing for anything in my life. I want to be able to run around in the park with my daughter. I want to go for long walks with my wife. I’m embarrassed to have to need a scooter and be looked at with sympathy and even scorn. I would trade everything I own for this as not one material thing in this world could ever come close to what this would mean to me.
The most brutal thing of all in this is that it’s so painfully humbling to need to be cared for when I’m the guy who cares for others. I hate it. Yet it is a gift to me that I needed even though I haven’t asked for it and I’d gladly give back if I could. It is here that I will turn it over to Henri Nouwen who speaks to me and can speak on my behalf.
Keep your eyes on the prince of peace, the one who doesn't cling to his divine power; the one who refuses to turn stones into bread, jump from great heights and rule with great power; the one who says, "Blessed are the poor, the gentle, those who mourn, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness; blessed are the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and those who are persecuted in the cause of uprightness" (see Matt. 5:3-11); the one who touches the lame, the crippled, and the blind; the one who speaks words of forgiveness and encouragement; the one who dies alone, rejected and despised. Keep your eyes on him who becomes poor with the poor, weak with the weak, and who is rejected with the rejected. He is the source of all peace.
Where is this peace to be found? The answer is clear. In weakness. First of all, in our own weakness, in those places of our hearts where we feel most broken, most insecure, most in agony, most afraid. Why there? Because there our familiar ways of controlling our world are being stripped away; there we are called to let go from doing much, thinking much, and relying on our self-sufficiency. Right there where we are weakest the peace which is not of this world is hidden.
While I haven’t found complete peace in my weakness, I know exactly what he is getting at here and I long for more of it. So I find myself yet again stuck in the paradox of Advent. I long to be whole in body but my brokenness is bringing me closer to my God. I want to be in unity with the Creator of the universe but I want to be able to run around with my daughter too. I want to be dependant on the Prince of Peace but I also want to be independent in this body of mine. I want this peace that comes from only being weak but I desire to be strong while I experience it.
Come Lord Jesus. Come quickly and rescue me from my confusion and make me, along with all of creation, whole.
Shalom,
Dion