Christmas2012

My heart hangs heavy this Christmas season. The first I can remember that the joy is elusive and so many of the songs seem hollow. I think of children in orphanages who should be in homes. I think of families who continue to wait. I think of old friends who buried their son too soon and of all those children who won’t be there for Christmas this year in Connecticut. I think of officers slain and helicopters circling overhead.

And I wonder, did God’s heart hurt that first Christmas? Separated from His Son, did He ache just a bit, the way so many of us do? Did my Jesus, even as an infant, know He was not home and long to return there as He took His first breaths? Did the Spirit cry out, longing for the triune God to be one again?

I listen to hymns because I need to constantly be fed the rich truth they hold. I write Scripture on paper and chalkboards and screens to write it on my heart. And I ask for Jesus to be near. Not because I’m scared and want to escape, but because we need His presence until He returns and because the only way our hearts will ever truly be happy is when we are finally home.

And the conversation this week will be about gun control and mental health access but the conversation needs to be about the state of our souls. We were made by God and for God and denying His presence has left us with a nation of empty people, angry people, hurting people. We fill ourselves up with the world and find ourselves still wanting and we turn to hobbies or addictions or anything we can find to be filled but the emptiness is God-sized and nothing and no one else will do. But we don’t want to talk about God.

So, what are we to do? We are to shine like lights in the universe. We are to have peace in tribulation. We are to love those who hate. We are to give thanks when it seems there is nothing to say thank you for. Because living in God’s economy on the world’s time causes people to notice. And we have a God who identifies with us in our sufferings and sorrows and we have a God who is patient and wants everyone to know of His love for them.

Lord, you were born in the dark and you came to fill our dark places. And the world seems especially dark this Christmas. Won’t you come and fill us again? Make yourself known to those who desperately need you. Be near those who need your comfort and guidance. Give peace to those who are afraid and draw us all close.

For His Glory ~

~ Sara

The end of November, it drags like an eternity, and it’s hard to give thanks and laugh delighted when your heart pounds raw with every beat, and so I just stay quiet. A season that is normally my favorite comes and I wish with all my heart we could just skip it this year.

Christmas just doesn’t feel the same when part of our family is so keenly missed. And the glitter and lights and music just make her absence more obvious.

We Skype on Friday night and my heart, it just can’t take it, this saying good bye again. We promised the girls we would decorate the tree and nothing goes right – not enough lights and a broken tree stand and a DVD player for watching Elf that only works when it wants to. And late I sit in front of the tree, lit without ornaments, and I sob heavy over this pregnancy with no due date and I surrender my hopes – small and foolish as they may be – of her being home by Christmas.

Saturday dawns, head pounding and heart still aching, and I curl up on the couch with God’s word…

But this I call to mind,
and therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.

~ Lamentations 3:21-26

And as I work and run and pray my way through the day, my soul it finds rest. And I am reminded He is still God and He is still good. I write it on the kitchen chalkboard. And joy, it creeps back in, and peace, it floods my heart. And every ounce of me still aches to just have her home, but I still have so much to be thankful for because He is still so good to me.

2244. slow, quiet Monday