A guest most welcome

A man once said to me, “Do not let your intellect interfere with your intelligence.” This missive has never left me alone. Imagine if Chicken Little had heard this and adopted it as his mantra. The sky would not have fallen, and Chicken Little would not have wasted all that worry. Sometimes I think our approach to the Christian life is the same, too much intellect and not enough intelligence. Perhaps too much has been written about the meaning of this or that verse and chapter. The effort seems to hint that our faith needs to be proven to us or the possibility we’re seeking approval when really all we need is trust. Doesn’t faith, if thoughtfully considered, come down to a simple trust?

Trust is so much the essence of things, that which is in the present and that which is to come. This is Advent, a trust in what God is doing and will do, a time of rest, because after all trust delivers peace. In what do we rest but faith, the assurance of God’s promises for today. Where does our faith find life but in hope, the assurance of things to come. But what binds them, makes them tangible to us in the minutiae and vagaries of life is love. Love enables faith and hope to take root, and in turn, faith and hope enable us to love. Yes, love is the greatest of these three, even sees where faith and hope cannot, but in a real sense, they are all the same, for one cannot exist without the other.

What then, are we to remember from Advent? What are we to see outside of our intellect, to find in intelligence? Ah, but to lay down the worries, the minutiae, the vagaries and take up this trust, to live by the season while abiding the hour, to claim those truths God provides through living this life and in seeking Him.

Trust is much like sitting in a room by a warm fire, enjoying the moment while every now and then peering out the window waiting for a guest to arrive. You know he is coming, but you are content tending the fire, remaining ever so vigilant to the duties the fire requires until the guest comes.

While the fire burns and the embers tether your gaze, before trust ever arrives, the first guest to come is peace. Peace comes and tells you things you did not know before, mysteries unfathomable but at once edify you. Peace prepares you for trust, companions intent on staying with you while you sojourn. When they arrive, you welcome them and grant them the hospitality of your heart, your home.

Our Lord came that silent night, while the embers burned, to come alongside this sojourn and bring a peace beyond understanding, a peace informing us the sky is not falling, all is passing but what shall remain—His love.

“Those who have ears to hear, let them hear” (Matthew 11:15, NKJV).