Yesterday was the first day of Advent. Yesterday was my birthday. Over the last few weeks, there were times when I perceived a deep connection between these two things. Specifically, the desire to wake up from a life that has begun to run rough on the rails. As another year opens and another page is turned, and I find the story has not progressed as far as I would like, I take comfort in Advent’s provision of a deep, evolving hope in the approach of salvation. Oftentimes, as one gets older, birthdays lose their sense of wide-eyed, sugar-high celebration, and progress (or, perhaps, regress) to a sense of anxiety not over age exactly, but over the feeling that the years that came before have been wasted. I hope this is not the case. The doctrine of the Incarnation – that God has offered a way to make even the most mundane and earth-bound things holy –  is certainly a help on the inauguration of my twenty-ninth year.

Coming to Germany has put a strain on many things, most of which I unknowingly took for granted. The main one is friendship. Despite the fact that in my last few years in Houston I never felt deeply connected to one friend, let alone a group, I do recognize that I had some very close friends, both in that city and in places nearby. These were people that I could count on, who I knew to be genuinely interested in me (as I was in them), and who I trusted would seek to include me in the special moments of their lives. The tryptophan-laced vapor of the recent Thanksgiving holiday is waning, but I do wish to express, here on this blog, my appreciation for several good friends: Stevie, Jenny, Chris, Chad, Andy, Andrew, Audrey, Phil, Hazel, Austin, Bonnie, Kyle, Jenny, Daniel, Kristen, Seth, Josh, Grayson, Andrew, Sabrina, Paul, Taylor. Thank you, all, for caring.

It would seem things are not so easy here in Germany. While the prospect for strong friendships certainly exists, at times it is as if things have been dropped into a pressure-cooker. Too many people, to little time to sort it all out amidst the stresses of life in a different country, continent and culture. In truth, I do not feel close to anyone here in Germany, even though there are many gracious people here, and politeness is rampant. Yet, under the surface, I feel that things are already sectioning off, like blocks of Arctic ice breaking apart and drifting slowly and steadily away from each other, and if Leigh and I haven’t made the mad leap onto one of these floating chunks, we might be left alone on our own, and soon find ourselves far out to sea, by ourselves. Often, the most frustrating thing for us is that, while we know the responsibility is our own to take such a leap, we don’t see a lot of people offering a helping hand to pull us onto their flow, or even the consistency of a welcoming smile. And who wants to float the vast, frozen ocean alone?

We all have autobiographical songs. This is a truth my friend Grayson pronounced to me several years ago. Each person has at least one song in which the lyrics ring true, unique to his or her existence. However, there are also autobiographical songs that mean something to us if only for a season. Right now, I cannot stop listening to the Chris Thile version of The Strokes’ “Heart in a Cage.” With each passing day, the loneliness weighs heavier, and standing beneath the strain is not a position that affords much joy. In truth, I do feel as if my heart is in a cage. It beats out life, but whether through circumstances I have created by my own attitude, opinions, or social interaction, or because of the simple fickleness of others (I often assume the former), the life that is pumped in and out rattles alone in a cage. I believe the joy of community is found in the opportunity to spill our messes onto other people without grudges being held, simply because the very next day that person might very well splatter on me. However, right now, it seems Leigh and I have no one on whom we can spill.

Abraham Joshua Heschel writes of the “light in the cage,” a moment when we wake up to the reality that there is a much wider, much brighter horizon for us, and we choose to plunge into it and probe its depths. For me, a new twenty-nine year old, this is the magic of the Incarnation. I cling to this. I plunge into Advent … for dear life.

“Heart In A Cage”

Oh the heart beats in its cage

Well I don’t feel better when I’m fucking around

And I don’t write better when I’m stuck in the ground

So don’t teach me a lesson ’cause I’ve already learned

Yeah the sun will be shining and my children will burn

Oh the heart beats in its cage

I don’t want what you want and I don’t feel what you feel

See I’m stuck in a city but I belong in a field

Yeah we got left, left, left, left, left, left, left

Now it’s three in the morning and you’re eating alone

Oh the heart beats in its cage

All our friends, they’re laughing at us

All of those you loved you mistrust

Help me I’m just not quite myself

Look around there’s no one else left

I went to the concert and I fought through the crowd

Guess I got too excited when I thought you were around

Oh he gets left, left, left, left, left, left, left

I’m sorry you were thinking; I would steal your fire

The heart beats in its cage

Yes the heart beats in its cage