He Came

The calendar was unapologetic. 

December 1

Here we are again. 

December. 

I  knew it was coming. My culture's love for this month begins to spill forth long before the month actually arrives. There are declarations of excitement about shopping to go along with a plenitude of sales, pictures of Christmas trees on social media as they are erected, Christmas music in every conceivable type of store, cars and vans dressed as reindeer, inflatable decorations in yards,  yards sparkling with lights, and on and on...

If one wanted to avoid this holiday, it would definitely be impossible. 

And I knew that wasn't possible. 

It's not that I actually wanted to avoid the month of December, though honestly if given the opportunity, it would slide from my calendar without a single regret. That wasn't possible, so there was only one thing for me to do.

Fix myself.

I do hate that I'm broken here. I hate that it takes me a monumentos effort to put on any sort of holiday spirit. I hate that I don't eagerly anticipate the holidays with the giddiness of a light soul.

As I exercised this morning, I noticed that my favorite tree had shed it's gorgeous wardrobe. It stood bare. I pretended for a moment that it too was mournful that the change of the calendar had brought it to this stark, ugly state. 

Silly, of course. 

In the frosty cold of the morning, I begged God to hear my heart concerning this season that boasts to be all about Him and his Gift. 

It's not fun to be here, the outsider looking in on a warm celebration which one feels no part of. 

And I'm not alone. Perhaps if I had to list the reasons that have led me to this place of discontent, near the top of the list would be the hardships that this holiday brings for so many that I love. Not that I'm trying to shoulder their burdens for them, taking them on as my own, but as I think of them, my heart aches for the brokenness they too feel.

The list reaches on for a bit - reasons that I dread this season. They range from the trite to the deeply buried and pushed aside issues of long ago.

I felt deeply in me, though, the beginnings of a tiny fire of the longing to worship during this season the God who not only understands the reasons I fear but also gave His Son to remedy the brokenness in me. 

"Heal me, Lord..." I pleaded as I looked up at the cloudless sky. "I don't want to stay here."

He is able. 

This phrase had found me in the last few weeks in a new way. I had repeated it constantly almost as a mantra. 

Today it took on a new ending.

He is able. Now let Him. 

It is so easy for me to stay in the hard sometimes. Staying where it's hard because it's easier than receiving His comfort or healing. 

I just want to stay here, because the hard is easier. 

Being healed means that I have to be honest about how I got here in the first place. I have to say honestly that when I get to this place, I got here because I am most concerned about me.

This is hard for me. 

The rational part of my brain said, Get over it.

It's not really that simple, but the Lord so graciously reminded me again that He is able. And though I wanted Him to repair me in one fell swoop, He instead reminded me that I only need to trust Him one step at a time. 

I don't know how exactly to have a carefree December, but I do know how to do the things that send me deep into His love.

I found my favorite Christmas sermon and played it loudly, diving into the text:

"And you know that He appeared to take away sins..."

And my hurt and my failures and my shortcomings and my longings and my disappointment and my fears and my sins.

He came.

Everything in me wants to celebrate that.  

My love for Him can push past everything in me that would rather be hurt and sad and angry and tired and fearful - that would rather stay here. 

My love for Him can allow Him to heal me, through His love for me.

It takes a willing spirit to be healed and comforted. And it didn't happen in me by the time lunch was prepared. 

But I feel His peace. And I feel His love and careful provision along with His compassion and His mercy. They flow from Him, inviting me to celebrate His greatest gift. 

I can do that. 

I can celebrate Him. 

Sweetly, quietly, humbly and secure in His loving arms, trusting Him with all that is hard about this season. 

"Glory, glory in the highest...

Just a child born in a manager, with the hope of the whole world on His shoulders..."