When It Doesn't Feel Like Christmas

The candles flicker in their mason jar holders. Fake candles they are, because heaven knows I'd burn the house down with real fire.

Christmas looks different this year. It feels different. It even smells different.

Our old dollar store decorations look tired and beg a well earned rest from their decade plus of duty. The kids and I scour the parking lot for some pine cones during Stella's viola lesson. Pines and palms flourish in Florida. Who knew?

No gloves on our fingers or necks wrapped in scarves. Jackets and heat are optional with these moderate temperatures. Not that we mind, but my mind is having a hard time remembering Christmas is just a few weeks away.

Traditions don't have the same traditional feel and maybe that's why the stories seem so fresh and new.

Oh, they're old all right. Old but alive, ancient but relevant, the same but not stale, familiar but uncommon. And this same Word I've heard become flesh before, opens my eyes and heart of flesh again to see the glory of God in his humble, newborn human face. Whoever said he didn't cry must never have been around a baby. Babies cry. And this One did too. But not selfishly or angrily. Even his cries were perfect. Just like every word he spoke. How I need this Word of God incarnate! I can barely read my advent devotional this year because I don't want to hear what other people say about him. I want to hear what he says. And how I need all that he speaks - every single word of it - making my simple mind wise, my weary soul revived, and my wandering heart to stay and rejoice.

He meets us always where we are, not where we used to be, or where we should be. He doesn't need a change of address card to keep track of his own. He always holds us in the palm of his hand and none have ever been lost. And where we are, he speaks words we need to hear. Words that change us, maybe not our circumstances, but us. Because he knows our need. He knows because he's omniscient, yes. But, thankfully, he knows too because he's incarnate. To our weakness he's no stranger. He feels it because he lived it.

So, Word of God, speak! Would you pour down like rain...or snow...or sunshine? Wherever we are, whatever we need, because you know.

 

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The Day After

So what happens the day after Mother's Day when another hurdle has been jumped but your brave heart has melted and the hurt is still there and your arms are still empty? And not only are your arms empty but maybe that finger on your left hand is too. And it has been for too long. And you can't get away from mothers and fathers and doctors killing babies when you just want yours. And husbands and wives fighting and belittling and divorcing when you just want someone to love you and love back.

Cry. Yes, go ahead and keep crying. Let the tears roll into His sovereign bottle. And as you cry, remember Jesus cried too. Stella asked me why Jesus wept at Lazarus' tomb when He knew He was going to raise him back to life. And with a quivering heart I told her that tears streamed down Jesus' face because He saw the effects of sin and the misery of the world He had created to be happy and holy. He saw the sorrow and loneliness of His infinitely loved friends burdened with the knowledge of good and evil when all He wanted them to know was good. And with the authority of God Himself who knew what it had been, and with the experience of humanity who saw what it is, every wet salty drop down His face was screaming, "This isn't the way it's supposed to be!"

Now let His tear-filled eyes meet yours. Now hear His life tell you it won't always be this way because He died to make it better. And let Him wipe away your tears with promises of a world to come where all you'll know is good again. None of this evil, hurt, and injustice. Then pack up those promises and load your arms and fingers full of hope. And carry those mercies around with you in this miserable world. And hold them close. And never forget them. Let His love surround you - underneath you, all around you. He loves you back because He loved you first. And most. And enough.

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