An excellent description of Christian mindfulness is found in Acts 17:28: “for in him we live and move and have our being.” Step by step, hour by hour, we walk with Jesus intentionally, paying single-minded attention to every moment.
An exercise suggested in the Life Without Lack course I’m taking helps us move into this way of being.
Visualize being crucified with Jesus. Sound weird? Yes, but it’s Biblical.
- Galatians 2:20: I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
- Colossians 3:3: For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.
- Romans 6:6-7: For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin — because anyone who has died has been freed from sin.
So let’s take a quiet moment to visualize ourselves crucified with Jesus. This is a good start to dying to self and waking to walk in Christian mindfulness.
As the stock market bungee-jumps and fears of the coronavirus intensify, we may find ourselves in a downward thinking spiral. Our thoughts and fears get away from us. Inner peace, joy and calm are gone.
One of the best and most effective ideas I’ve read to stop this comes from Rachael Kable of “The Mindful Kind” book and podcast: Take a deep breathe and name the colors of the things you see.
This distracts the mind and allows us to get back on track. A brief walk is an effective way to start naming colors. A good ending is to express gratitude for the things we have seen.
A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.Proverbs 17:22
My word for Lent is hope. Cheerfulness is both a strategy and an end result for that.
How we react when trouble comes is the greatest witness to those around us. Maintaining a genuinely cheerful heart shows that we truly believe what we profess. Filling our minds with gratitude and praise for everything God has done for us – from dying on the Cross to creating trees – opens our hearts to feel the graces of joy and peace, no matter what else is happening.
One of my favorite quotes is from the late, great comedian Gilda Radner, written as she was dying from cancer:
“There will always be downslides and uncertainty. The goal is to live a full, productive life even with all this ambiguity. No matter what happens, I can control whether I am going to live a day in fear and depression and panic, or whether I am going to attack the day and make it as good a day, as wonderful a day, as I can.”
My Advent has not been easy. My mother has severe dementia. I’m unexpectedly estranged from a beloved family member. Far too many of those I know dealing with a mental illness have had an episode. And my husband and I are ending an era as his retirement is just two workdays away.
My Advent has been deep. I’ve spent time in a silent retreat house and hours praying through Advent meditation programs. I have the time now to do what I wished: celebrating Advent as a time of waiting for the Lord.
I have had a common Christian experience: the wilderness experience. I didn’t recognize it for a while … so common is catastrophe in my life. But the Lord does allow wilderness experiences. And he even put Jesus through one. The wilderness, we are told, is the best place to help people learn faith and endurance. It is one way to move to the next level.
I see the next level approaching even as the Advent candles are burning down. It is to spend more time listening and following God. And less time charging ahead and begging for God’s help in the aftermath. God may keep me in the wilderness until this lesson is learned. But I know I will not be tested more than I can bear. Whatever happens, it is for the best for those who love the Lord. And I am one of them.
This holy season trumpets God’s extravagant love for us, a love beyond reckoning. Into our beautiful yet wounded world comes Emmanuel, God-with-us, carrying the promise of fresh hope to enliven our hearts. No matter how broken or seemingly hopeless our world may sometimes seem, the Advent messages are rich with joyous expectation and longing, insisting that God can and does bring forth life where none seems possible.
On the Fourth Sunday of Advent, we add the angel to the creche, watching for Joseph and Mary to arrive. Staying out of the stores, listening to meditations, and taking winter walks, it’s amazing how quiet the world becomes.
Today’s Christian mindfulness practice is to listen to your own words. An easy first step is to listen for verbal tics, like “ummm” or “you know.” You can also listen for the number of times that you routinely misuse God’s name. I know I still do. This is a great step toward true intentionality around the words we speak.
As Ruth Haley Barton says, “Growing self-awareness enables us to choose more truly the words we say. Rather than speech that issues from subconscious needs to impress, to put others in their places, to compete, to control and manipulate, we now notice our inner dynamics and choose to speak from a different place, a place of love, trust and true wisdom that God is cultivating within us.”
As we listen to ourselves, we may be able to slow down the auto-talk process to have enough time to ask before we speak:
- Is it kind?
- Is it true?
- Is it necessary?
Some wise counsel from Henri J.M. Nouwen in Here and Now:
One simple answer is to move from the mind to the heart by slowly saying a prayer with as much attentiveness as possible. A prayer, prayed from the heart, heals.
As you lie in bed, drive your car, wait for the bus, or walk your dog, you can slowly let the words of one of these prayers go through your mind simply trying to listen with your whole being to what they are saying.
You will be constantly distracted by your worries, but if you keep going back to the words of the prayer, you will gradually discover that your worries will become less obsessive and that you really start to enjoy praying.
By His own will, Christ was dependent on Mary during Advent. He was absolutely helpless. He could go nowhere but where she chose to take Him. He could not speak. Her breathing was His breath. His heart beat in the beating of her her.
Today Christ is dependent on us. This dependence of Christ lays a great trust upon us. During this tender time of Advent, we must carry Him in our hearts to wherever He wants to go, and there are many places to which He may never go unless we take Him.
Caryll Houselander, The Reed of God
At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea, where she entered Zechariah’s home and greeted Elizabeth.
Luke 1: 39-40
When Mary agreed to become the mother of Jesus, she learned that her elderly relative Elizabeth also was expecting a baby. Her first major action was to walk to Elizabeth’s home in a different town.
The IVP Bible Background Commentary says a walk from Nazareth to the hill country took three to five days, depending on where Zechariah and Elizabeth lived. Because bandits frequented the route, Mary may have joined others in a caravan for safety. It’s hard to imagine her parents allowing her to go otherwise.
Once she was there, something extraordinary happened. God responded to Mary’s act of kindness by letting Elizabeth know that Mary was pregnant with the Messiah. What conversations these two women must have had as they spent months together!
Meditating on this, I was struck with the energy of Mary’s act. Even when I was young, it’s hard to imagine that I would walk for three to five days to go help a relative. I wondered how Mary did it.
In meditation, I saw the Mary’s energy and kindness always came from an overflowing of the grace of God in her soul. Too often, my kind acts come from a near-empty well. No wonder doing good can feel so exhausting to me.
The Lord suggested that I change my process from creating a to-do list and dragging myself along it. Instead, I should spend more time with the Lord in prayer, worship and communication. This will build up my supply of grace so the good that I can do is an overflow rather than a series of drips. Sounds like a plan.