The Magi. I’ve been gravitating to their part in the Christmas story this season. Wise men are kind of a rare breed. To be known through history for the trait of wisdom is pretty impressive in this age of rampant information. We live in a time of unprecedented knowledge, but I see all around me the impact of foolishness. Christmas is usually a time of reflection for me. There is usually a break in my work routine and traveling to visit family. The time away from my own place and schedule somehow gives my heart and mind the space to evaluate. In what seems like life in constant motion, that brief respite to pause and think is a blessing. It helps me see with fresher eyes.

As I’ve been looking at this past year, I can’t help but notice change. And with all the hardship that surrounds change, I can’t help but recognize the opportunity that comes with it. But, opportunity requires wisdom, that rare commodity. Wisdom is often the difference between short-term and long-term, between past and future, between good and best. And so, these nameless figures from an age-old story come to mind. These humans whose actions seem almost implausible and even foolish at times. And yet, they are known simply as “wise men.” Men of prestige who were satisfied and even humbled in worship before a small child. These men who came and went on their way, having recognized God. I find their story fascinating. And I find their journey worth pursuing.

They were wisdom-seekers in a mystic tradition that was centuries old spanning many cultures and historical accounts. And because they were wisdom-seekers by trade, people seemed to assume they had it. World leaders and kingdom makers sought them to advise or divine or justify their decisions. The biblical account of the birth of Jesus doesn’t give us much information about these particular wise men. Over the centuries Christendom has imbued them with details that may not have really been true at that defining point in history. In my varied nativity scenes and storybook illustrations, there are only three of them. They rode on camels and visited the holy family in a stable. They were multi-racial and dressed in fine and brilliant colors, and always with crowns of some kind or another. Noone knows how and when they really arrived on the scene in Bethlehem, but in thinking about these unknown figures, I’m stilled by some important realities about a life characterized by wisdom. Some that surprised me.

Meaning mattered.
These men had positioned their whole lives in a mindset of meaning. It was the backdrop to all their days and to the singular experience with the Christ child. I heard a quote once that said you don’t find meaning. You give meaning. The magi spent their lives giving meaning and significance to events and natural phenomena and people.  It brought order and power to their world. It enabled them to see, to follow and ultimately to worship.

They were searching.
They noticed the course-altering star because they were looking. It’s not like a star shines in the sky for one man to see. The light radiates indiscriminantly. The difference is that these men had trained their gaze to find it. So often we are so entrenched in knowing the answers that we see no value in searching. And, admittedly, sometimes there is no place like Christianity for assuming a choke-hold on answers. Why do we diminish the process of seeking and searching as a lesser and distracted pursuit? The only way to find is to seek.

They recognized importance when they saw it.
They recognized significance. Something in their mystic training program or in their own experience told them the star they saw mattered. They had paid enough attention to see that it was different from what they’d known in their searching of the skies. They were able to discern that for them in that moment, the star was important.

They followed significance with unencumbered action.
This is so often the hard part. When we recognize that something matters, that it’s important, how do we respond? Significance involves determining what really matters to me, what qualifies my baseline of the life I feel I need to live. To grasp that significance and hold it often requires change. It often requires letting go, moving from where I am. The Magi followed the star. It was likely a long journey and an unexpected one. But, they loaded the camels (or whatever mode of transportation) and left. The significance they saw fueled their desire to know what this star was about. To find the meaning behind it. They were prepared enough to be unencumbered in moving. And they were prepared and expectant enough to load the gifts as well.

They didn’t lose sight of their vision.
The wise men had a picture of their destination. A hazy one, but a picture. They held firmly to what their heart recognized in seeing the star. They were looking for a king. And they met a legitimate king–Herod. Obviously, they were men of prestige and possibly renown. They probably were men of wealth and prominence. They were ushered into the king’s palace, after all. Apparently without much effort, they gained a direct audience with the ruler to ask their questions. But they recognized he wasn’t the one they were seeking. They didn’t break out the frankincense for Herod.

But, when the time was right, they were ready to give their gifts.
Trusting our own vision is so hard sometimes. Circumstances and the opinions of others push and pull and try to mold a vision we don’t recognize. But, my significance is mine. What’s valuable to me matters. It takes courage and resolve to stick with it.  The Magi trusted the sign post placed in the sky before them even though it probably seemed unlikely. Whatever small and seemingly insignificant situation they found Jesus in when the star rested its journey, they didn’t hesitate to open their treasures there. They weren’t enamored by wealth and prestige. They weren’t deterred by meager circumstances. They weren’t dictated by the assumptions of others. They recognized a situation and a person worthy of everything they had brought. And they gave it.

I’m on this same journey. Somewhere. I haven’t determined exactly where at the moment. But it’s my journey this season. A journey of significance. A journey of meaning. A journey of vision. A journey of giving. A journey of recognizing. A journey of choosing. A journey of moving. A journey of seeking. A journey of following. A journey of finding. A journey of worshiping. I’m on this journey. Aren’t we all?

On Saturday, through a series of perplexing and frustrating circumstances, someone very dear to me almost died. I apologize for neglecting a gentle preface, but I’m still in the state of emotionally catching up. For the last two days, I’ve been in the slow process of processing, switching out of the auto-pilot mode that allowed me to be calm, rational and supportive during a dicey 24-hour period. It was a 24 hours that held wondering, worrying, judging reactions, discerning causes, weighing options, and a few instances of minding somebody else’s business. Confusion is a dark and unknown place. It’s full of fear and concern and resignation.

In the warm light of two days later, our dear one is on the mend. I have been blessed with the opportunity to stand with my mother in support and strength, and I’ve had the chance to fill a gap in serving my father when needed–all the while watching the movie Cars a few times and conducting some of our own hot wheel races. Gentlemen, start your engines. In this warm light, I am also witness to the truth of one of my favorite verses in all of the Bible (psalm 139:12). Again.

“Even the darkness is not dark to You”

Through the weekend, we were blinded by the darkness of confusion, of not understanding what was happening, of not knowing what to do, of not even knowing whether something needed to be done. We found ourselves in the place of being forced to let go, to let it be what it is, to release a situation into more capable Hands. I saw with gratitude (and at the same time horror) that our dear one’s life was probably saved because we decided to hold our ground on one simple act. It could have easily gone the other way. It was the difference between joining the family for supper or going to bed early. As seemingly insignificant as that, life and death are intertwined, light and dark. On your mark, get set.

“and the night is as bright as the day.”

I tend to forget how undeniable and unquenchable the God who is Light really is. Where light is, dark cannot remain. Where God is, there is no dark. And, where isn’t God? There is no confusion that can circumvent His knowledge. There is no dark that can cloak His vision and understanding. Thank God.

“Darkness and light are alike to You.”

Now, there’s a radical concept. I’ve noticed how much time we tend to spend classifying people and things and situations into the light and dark categories– wrong, right, good, bad, yes, and no. In the warm light of this day, the shift of dark to light is refreshingly uneventful. My dad has a favorite memory he shares about his training in the National Guard. He talks about his whole unit being gathered into a pitch black room. He always marvels at how quickly their eyes adjusted, and how easily surroundings and people came into focus after just one small flame was lighted. Amazingly, light dispels dark rather quickly, efficiently and indiscriminantly. Light is generous, and despite the unfortunate efforts we sometimes impose on ourselves and others, it is uncontained.

Of the lessons I can boil down from the dark experience of July 4, the foremost is that people are an all-too-brief gift, treasured daily to glean their full worth. The second is that “God is light and in Him there is no darkness at all.” (1 john 1:5) The third is that the blackest dark loses its way in the presence of even the smallest light. Even a weak light reflecting its true Source spreads with uncommon power. The light I have to share, though small, can and will impact any sphere in which I choose to shine it.

“Even the darkness is not dark to You.” Go.

Shabbat. To cease.

In my Bible, it’s intoduced on page two. It has been observed by millions around the globe and through the centuries both religiously and half-heartedly. I think it’s the key to something that I’m only just now beginning to glimpse–something that can only be unlocked by truly observing it with intent and discipline. Yet, the benefits are powerful and rewarding enough for even the then solitary Being, the God of the universe to partake–no, initiate.

“Then God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it, because in it He rested from all His work which God had created and made.” (genesis 2:3)

The fact that the Sabbath Day is a worthwhile, relevant and necessary habit is evidenced most powerfully by God’s own action–or inaction, by definition. Shabbat is translated throughout the Bible as “rest.” However, since God has never, nor will ever require rest, the more inspiring translation I found in my google/wikipedia-supplemented pondering is this:  “to cease.” I can’t help but believe that this stopping holds key principles for maintaining a life in true harmony of spirit, harmony within and with God. In fact, there’s a deep breath rising up in my spirit while I’m only thinking and writing about Shabbat. The simple thought of a designated ceasing brings an inexplicable sense of “this is as it should be.” The Jewish tradition of Shabbat observance may have gotten somewhat legalistic and removed from purpose over the centuries since Moses’ day, but I can’t help but think they got something right in their utterly thorough preparation and observance of this holy convocation.

“For six days work may be done, but on the seventh day there is a sabbath of complete rest, a holy convocation. You shall not do any work; it is a sabbath to the LORD in all your dwellings.” (leviticus 23:3)

Shabbat is God’s own divine and perfect project management system, His omniscient, omnipotent scheduling method. It is a command he demonstrated in His own “work” of creating all that exists. The sentiment, and yes, the words are clear. Shabbat, the holy convocation, should be complete. It summons all my spirit, all my desires, all my actions, all my loves, all my hates, all the places where I truly dwell into the same assembled stop. The same assembled deep inhale and slow exhale that was God’s choice. To cease on the Sabbath was God’s choice to release Himself from the constraints of doing. The joy of Shabbat is to bring my spirit into harmony with His example by choosing to stop, to put down the schedule, to put down the constant pull to do something on my ever-increasing list. Even things that I love to do. Even things that I’m excited about or things that bring me joy. Shabbat is not just about stopping the mundane things or the things that tire me out or the things that distract me. It calls me to put down the need to do something, to put down the need to move along to the next. It forces me to bring everything into focus for this moment–not what needs to happen in the next one or what should have happened in the last one. What freedom!

“You shall remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the LORD your God brought you out of there by a mighty hand and by an outstretched arm; therefore the LORD your God commanded you to observe the Sabbath day.” (deuteronomy 5:15)

At it’s core, Shabbat boils down to freedom. God commanded the people to use Shabbat to remember how He brought them out of slavery in Egypt. Their liberation brought the freedom to stop, to rest. They were no longer beholden to task-masters to toil at the whim of another. Thus, the freedom of Shabbat is demonstrated, the freedom to allow the moment to take me where it wants, or the Spirit to take me where He wants. The freedom from ought tos, from should haves, from need tos. The freedom to fully, without reservation or guilt or sacrifice or multitasking, make a conscious choice about what I will do (or cease doing) in this moment.

“For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day; therefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day and made it holy.” (exodus 20:11)

Shabbat is a ceasing God, Himself, infused with meaning.  Although it is most often used for “church” in modern Christianity, Shabbat was not set aside for worship in its origin. It was set apart for ceasing. A fast from working, from doing. Shabbat is a God-given holy day in every week where time set apart for stopping is elevated to celebration status. A time to cease. It was the first holy day mentioned in the Bible, and God, Himself, was the first to observe it by example. If God can set aside His work, can’t I? If God saw value in incorporating the holy into the daily grind, shouldn’t I?

Yet, what is the inevitable outcome of this holy convocation? Yes, it is worship. It is delight. In the Lord. It is freedom, riding on heights. It is satisfaction, fed with God’s heritage.

“If because of the sabbath, you turn your foot From doing your pleasure on My holy day, And call the sabbath a delight, the holy day of the LORD honorable, and honor it, desisting from your ways, from seeking your own pleasure and speaking your own word,then you will take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; and I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.” (isaiah 58:13-14)

May you feed on the heritage of ceasing this Shabbat.