There are days (and this is one of them) when I wonder whether or not I have this in reverse. Days when my hands are perfectly warm, and my heart feels like an icicle. Not like the Ice Queen in "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe", but more like the ice on a slowly clogging, freezing river. I'm trying to get somewhere...and the ice in my heart keeps clogging up any movement. I want to be free. Instead, I feel I'm held firm in the clutches of my own sluggishness and lethargy. On days like this, I want, more than anything, to experience the breezes, the fresh wind, even the gales of the Holy Spirit, breaking loose the ice jams and setting free the river, the fresh running water, that Jesus promises me.
It's Advent, and I'm waiting. Waiting for the breeze - or the gale. Waiting for the return of warmth in both hands and heart. Most especially, waiting for the stirring of the Spirit of God within me, and within the world at large. For God is at large in the world, and I long to see signs of that presence. God is at large in my life and my heart (even on days like this, I know the truth of it) and I long to be like the beloved in the Song of Solomon, with entire body and heart and mind turned toward, yearning toward, One only.
But it's Advent, and I'm still waiting. I remind myself that waiting is appropriate posture for time of the church year - but that doesn't stop me from wanting more. I remind myself that far better followers of Jesus than I have experienced spells of frigid hearts and temperaments - but that doesn't keep me from yearning for the thaw. But for now, I wait. And I sing, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." Ransom me. Bring me to rejoicing!
