vigil

My daughter Danielle keeps recommending books that wreck me.  The latest soul-smasher was: 7: an experimental mutiny against excess by Jen Hatmaker.

The book is about a seven month fast that the author undertakes with her family.  Each month highlights a different area of excess; clothes, spending, food, possessions, media, etc.  During the food fast, Jen and her husband only ate seven food items the entire month.  Chicken, spinach, avocado, wheat bread, apples, eggs and sweet potatoes–for 30 days straight.  For the clothes fast, Jen wore the same seven articles of clothing for an entire month; for the possessions fast, the family gave away seven things every day .

Jen’s stated goal of this exercise was to  ” . . .  journey into less . . . to create space for God’s kingdom to break through.”

7 is written with lots of self-deprecating  humor, which helped me not mind so much that my conscience was pricked on almost every page.  There’s not a hint of condemnation in the book,  but it kind of pushed my buttons.

Her book highlights many wonderful non-profit organizations and ministries;  started by amazing people to help God’s kingdom break through.  I am not amazing, I have no organizational or practical skills, I mostly wring my hands in despair and blog about chickens and injustice now and then.

Why, I asked God again, while reading 7, do you break my heart over injustice, but don’t give me the ability to do anything about it?  My puny attempts to make a difference seem so futile in the face of human suffering . . .

But I had an epiphany during the final chapter, which addresses fasting from stress.   In exploring the biblical practice of rest, Jen incorporated 7 sacred pauses (for reflection and prayer) into each day.  Each pause had a specific time and purpose–and it was the Midnight pause–the Night Watch–that resonated with me.

“The Night Watch advocates for others in a dark night of the soul; the suffering, abandoned, oppressed, lonely.  This is a deep prayer of waiting and interceding, keeping vigil with Christ who never sleeps . . .”

One thing I’m really good at is not sleeping.  The wee hours and I are intimate friends.  I use my bouts of insomnia for really useful things like worrying, playing solitaire or redecorating the family room (in my head).  As I read about the Night Watch vigil, my soul leapt for joy at the thought of redeeming those dark hours for such a glorious purpose.  Through prayer, I can keep vigil with Jesus.  I can intercede for the orphaned, the trafficked, the beaten-down ones.  I can call down the mercy of heaven to touch those whose lives are hell.

Bring it on, insomnia!  Jesus and I are waiting . . .