Waiting For Clarity
"The LORD is the eternal God, creator of the ends of the earth… his knowledge is beyond scrutiny." – Is 40:28
Today is the feast day of St. Lucy, a 3rd Century young woman who was martyred for refusing to marry a man who tried to force her to recant her vow as a consecrated virgin and apostatize her faith. Her patronage includes many causes such as blindness, writers, and throat infections. As a singer-songwriter I chose this day to write a reflection because I had intended to release a new song today called “Clarity”. But due to juggling several part-time jobs, early holiday distribution deadlines with music platforms, and having ADHD, I didn’t get the release set up in time. So far this year I’ve released three singles off of my forthcoming album, along with hand-embroidering the cover art for each release: Suscipe, Paper Crane, and Psalm 139. When it comes to working towards each release, I oscillate between impatience to put the whole album out after working on it for over four years, and reluctance to even release another single for fear of not doing so perfectly. Despite feeling called to music, lately I am constantly “laboring and am burdened” and I long to take The Lord’s “yoke upon me and find rest” (Mt 11:28-30). I feel stuck in a constant hustle, and I long for clarity and direction from God.
I wrote “Clarity” about 6 years ago, during the “honeymoon phase” of a new relationship. In my initial excitement I felt so certain that I had met the “right” person. Years before meeting him, I’d prayed about my loneliness in being single and I had sensed God’s voice promising to give me clarity (not necessarily certainty). In my eagerness to get ahead of God’s slowly unfolding plans, I confused my infatuation with clarity. A few months later, my partner’s behavior became controlling and emotionally erratic, our dynamic became codependent and dysfunctional, and I felt so lost and depressed. I ended the relationship, and went through a painful season of grief and confusion. One of the most painful things was believing I couldn’t trust myself or my sense of God, and I beat myself up for not having “known better.”
Over time, as my desolation ultimately gave way to turning more toward God again, I began to feel the first sprigs of hope and consolation breaking through the frost. I revisited the song I’d written for my ex and changed some of the lyrics to depict the imagery of seeking God instead of a romantic partner. As I began to grow again in trust in God and in my own discernment, I came to recognize “clarity” as a sense of God’s still small voice and God’s nearness, rather than answers or specific instructions about the future.
I often lay heavier burdens and yokes on myself than God ever would: believing I have to predict the future, get every move correct, and discern everything perfectly. Despite the themes of hope and peace in this Advent season, in the midst of waiting, I often feel powerless and I “future trip” to cope with circumstances beyond my control. And I know I’m not alone. Some of us feel the ache of loneliness in singleness or are moving through a rough patch with a partner; some of us are grieving the absence of lost loved ones or feel powerless as we or our loved ones battle illness; some are struggling with infertility, pregnancy loss, or are wading through postpartum depression; some are exhausted with work as this year comes to a close or and some of us are anxiously looking for a new job; all while the heaviness of war and violence in many parts of the world weighs on our collective psyche and breaks our hearts if we pause to acknowledge it. The holiday season in adulthood can sometimes feel far removed from the playful lightness and joyful anticipation I remember in childhood.
Yet in today’s readings from the prophet Isaiah and the Gospel of Matthew, we’re invited to remember that God’s knowledge and strength is beyond ours, and can take comfort in knowing that we are not God - thank God for that! In addition to lighting the candles on my Advent wreath, I light the candles of my menorah, honoring my patrilineal Jewish heritage in celebration of Hanukkah, and I’m reminded that God brings light in the darkness, clarity through the fog, and that God fulfills promises. Though there may be a lot of uncertainty and “blindness” about what the future holds, in the liminal spaces I try to recall past promises God has fulfilled, for me personally, as well as for friends, communities, and people groups throughout the ages. I try to remember that God won’t expect me to know right now what I don’t know yet. And so I wait for clarity to gently emerge in God’s time. St. Lucy, pray for us.
While others will have to wait for “Clarity” to come out, you can listen to it early here. As you listen, do you notice any small hints of “clarity” in your waiting? Can you remember times when God has given you clarity before or come through in your past longings and waiting? Savor the graces of those memories. Listen for what God is whispering to you now.
Jessica Gerhardt