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| Picture courtesy of www.jhm.org |
Preparing for Lughnasadh
Lughnasadh, also called Lammas, is a first fruits celebration. It celebrates the beginning of the harvest season, and is a time of thanksgiving for God's bountiful provision. First fruits are the first and best of one's harvest that is offered to God, traditionally through the priests. We no longer need the priests to mediate between us and the Lord God, Christ has bridged that gap for us, and we are welcomed into the throne room to give of our selves. Early Celtic Christians would take the first of their grain harvest and prepare a loaf of bread to bring to church on Sunday for communion. That was their first fruits offering.
In my own preparations for Lughnasadh, I felt a great sense of privilege to be making the communion loaves. Even though it wasn't literally my own first harvest of grain, it is still my first fruits offering in that this is the first festival that we are celebrating together as an actual worship service. The planning, the organising, the lovely ham dinner we will share afterward - in a way it is all part of our first fruits offering.
And then, at some point this evening, the irony hit me. Here I am celebrating God's bountiful provision when I don't currently see where that provision is coming from in my life. You see, I resigned as a teacher in June. It was clear to me that it was time to resign, as I was not willing to work full time as a teacher anymore, and that was all they had for me. That has left me job searching all summer, with no luck, and more than one disappointment. Deep, grieving disappointment, actually. Twice now I've thought God had brought me the perfect job, only to have that door closed in my face after I had felt sure it was going to pan out. New light on the situation brought on fear, a fear I haven't experienced before. The deep, heart-wrenching knowledge that I didn't know where our fall mortgage payments would be coming from.
That fear nearly derailed me.
After a long conversation with a dear friend, I realised it was a faith issue. Yes, I knew with my head that the Lord is our Provider. Of course I trust Him. But I needed to cry out with that boy's father, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (That story is in Mark 9, if you're wondering.) My faith is small, friend, and while it only takes faith the size of a mustard seed to move a mountain, my fear was keeping even my small faith from being exercised. Once identified as a faith issue, once I cried out to the Lord God, the fear was gone. Left in it's place was a quiet waiting.
After a long conversation with a dear friend, I realised it was a faith issue. Yes, I knew with my head that the Lord is our Provider. Of course I trust Him. But I needed to cry out with that boy's father, "Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!" (That story is in Mark 9, if you're wondering.) My faith is small, friend, and while it only takes faith the size of a mustard seed to move a mountain, my fear was keeping even my small faith from being exercised. Once identified as a faith issue, once I cried out to the Lord God, the fear was gone. Left in it's place was a quiet waiting.
I pray that I can keep that quiet, patient spirit until the Lord sends us His manna and quails.
