![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
My pastor asked a question in his sermon yesterday: what would your day be like if you spent it with Jesus? The idea is that we need to know that Jesus is with us every day...if we remember that, would it make a difference? Part of the "challenge" was to begin the day at 6 pm the day before (looking at the day as it was lived in Jesus' time). I decided that it would be interesting to make a conscious effort to think of myself as "hanging out with Jesus" for a week, and see if it made any difference in my day.
One thing was important to me, in this endeavor, was that it did not become some kind of cliche, like I was hanging out with the Buddy Christ from Dogma, or some namby-pamby version of Jesus who was afraid of the real nitty gritty parts of life. On the other hand, it was also important that I keep in mind the purpose of this experiment - not to go through my days as usual, but to take time to consider what it means to have the Christ with me, always. This is an experiment in the realization of the immanence of Spirit: the so-called Kingdom right here and right now. What does it mean, in a real, tangible way?
It began on Sunday evening at 6 pm. I couldn't really stop the usual activities and change my schedule. So....I made a conscious change in the way I thought about the evening. As 6 o'clock approached, I began to consider how to approach this new day. I said a little prayer that I might remember that it was different today. I cooked dinner, cleaned up afterward, reminded the young people that it was a school night, gathered school supplies and clothes together, and tucked the youngest into bed by his bedtime (granted, at age 12, tucking into bed isn't the same as it used to be - but it's still a time-honored ritual in our house). After all these tasks were finished, I reviewed the evening. I realized that this was good. My day had begun abustle with activity and now it was time to rest for awhile. After a hot cup of tea, a bit of journal writing and a prayer, I settled in for a nice, gentle sleep.
When the alarm went off, I reached over to hit snooze and rolled over for "just ten more minutes." Then I remembered that this was to be a different kind of day, and I was awake. I prayed a little prayer, something like "thank you God for this wonderful day!" For, I realized, the day was not a blank slate to be written upon, for I had already filled the first part before I ever laid my head to my pillow the night before! It was not a new day, for it had been this day for many hours. Oh, it was time to break my fast, for certain, but it was but a snack. Showered and dressed, I saw my middle daughter off to an early class, and awakened my son who is no more a "morning person" than I. While he got ready for school, I read my daily devotional from a book that was given to me by a friend at the turn of the year. What a joy to have these little stories in mind as I step out of my humble refuge into a busy, indifferent world!
I dropped my son off at school - his 4th day in junior high - and headed to the freeway to make my way to work. Driving in, I pondered my tall sons first days out of elementary school, not counting summer. He is transitioning very well, I think. He hasn't been afraid, really. He knows where he's going on that great, big campus and he is learning new things already. On the way to his school, we had discussed everything from teachers to homework to video games to his difficulties in math. He had gotten out of the car and gone to class with but one "I love you, Mom;" which is in stark contrast to the five or six times he compulsively repeated it for the last couple of years. He's tall for his age and must stand a full head above most of his classmates, it's become a challenge to prompt him to stand straight and settle into the body he was given. He so wants to slouch; he doesn't really like being taller than his mother. As I ruminate, I am filled with the comforting knowledge that my son is going to be ok. Junior high will be different than elementary school. Oh, there will be the usual challenges - the social difficulties of the adolescent boy compounded by those of the person with Asperger's; there will be his fear and loathing of math. I know, though, that these things will make him who he is to become. These things, and the help of Jesus, who walks along side my son through every encounter throughout the day.
Later in the day, as I sit behind the wheel heading away from work, I review my day. A busy day; a normal day; a day with a new opportunity peeking from around corners. I think of the drive to work and the close brushes with drivers who forgot they were sharing the road. I find myself whispering, "Thank God that I made it to work safely."
Home again, I cook rice and heat up fresh tamales, homemade by the loving parishioners of a friend of mine, whose church is in South Phoenix. I make sure the younger two have eaten. I assure them of my love, and make my way to the car with my oldest daughter to drive to the City to take in a poetry reading at a coffeehouse. Now, headed into the sunset, I discover something new.
Right then, right at that time; and right now I know that Christ is with me. As we drove, time passed quickly...6:30 pm has passed - we are in a new day! For the first time all day, I can feel a strong, abiding sense of Presence and I know that God is with me and has always been with me. Did I do anything differently today? Perhaps, but not the kinds of things you would think of when you first hear the challenge. I didn't change my language or my actions. What did change was my own attitude about the day's events and those with whom I have come in contact. I lived this day as if in expectation. I expected the Immanent Presence of Christ, and I found it.
As we drive toward the sunset, I am aware that we are headed into a group of people who love to play games with words. Words crafted into poetry as the poet struggles with internal calling; sense of being and the pains and joys of life. I realize that I am headed into a group of people who have gathered because they find in one another fellowship and love. I talk with my daughter about what we might experience, and when we arrive we become part of this small group who finds solace in the magic of words.
It is in this magic, then, filled with the Presence of God, found in the silent moments between the words that shows me where Jesus is hanging out with me. Here, and in the almost invisible space between two people as they embrace in friendship. I smile. I feel the Spirit! God is here!
