One of the first things we did when we bought our house, 17 years ago, was to plant a lot of creepers. Over our west-facing back verandah, my husband trailed ornamental vines that are vivid green in spring, shade-giving in summer, brilliant scarlet in the autumn and bare in winter, letting the gentle, welcome sunlight through to our big living area.
Those first creepers have long since died and been replaced, and they continue to create an outdoor room, where we are protected from the elements but almost part of the garden.
I love to sit out there, doing nothing much, not even praying, often with my hands clasped around a mug of steaming tea, watching the birds in the bird bath, the dog lazily stretched in the sun, the dappling of leaves and sunlight on the walls.
As a Christian, I don’t believe that being busy brings you closer to God. The relationship I build with God, by taking time, being silent, reading the Bible, paying attention, being present in the moment will often result in periods of action as I do my tiny bit to tackle the needs in our broken world. But it’s not the starting point.
All the great religions have mystics and contemplatives who gently remind us that chasing our tails in busyness, no matter how worthy the pursuit, will not bring us closer to the divine. Christians believe in grace – the fact that no amount of doing good will make God love us any more. God loves us endlessly and unstintingly, no matter what we do or don’t do, ‘good’ or ‘bad’. When we allow ourselves to stop running, we are confronted with our terror that if we stop ‘doing’, we will lose our worth in the eyes of other people, ourselves, God. It is extraordinarily difficult, in our society, to admit to not being busy. It’s especially challenging when a loving partner asks at the end of his busy day what I did in mine and I have to confess, ‘nothing much’!
Traditionally Advent - the weeks leading up to Christmas - are a time of reflection for Christians, as they contemplate God’s love so immense that God somehow, mysteriously, became a baby and lived here with us.
In our secular society, the lead up to Christmas is the opposite – a crazy time of spending, festivities and winding the year up. Maybe the best thing I can do as a follower of the Jesus whose birth we celebrate is deliberately not fill up my hours. To take time to sit on my verandah, nursing a mug of tea and watching the shifting patterns of the vine leaves against the sky. Reminding myself of the given of God’s love. Basking in grace.
This was published in the December issue of The Melbourne Anglican