Noel: Our Past, Present, and Future (Part 2)

Noel: Our Past, Present, and Future

The crux of Noel, of Christmas, of the hope of eternity, was birthed among animals. Cattle and pigs were the only witnesses of His birth save for Mary and Joseph. I assume there was nothing special about the birthing process either. Christ the baby didn't glow or speak or do anything that would signify His presence as God of the universe. God self-reduced to tthe form of His creation. 

A chorus of angels heralded Christ's entrance to a few shepherds. The rest of Creation would examine the evidence of a star. I've no doubt that angels and demons were battling one of the fiercest wars in eternal history that day. Angels battled fearlessly, confident of their winning King. Demons fought in desperation, kamikazes of evil launching themselves every which way. Feeding Herod's jealousy, throwing obstacles in the earthly journeys of faithful servants. They must have battled for the very minds of Mary and Joseph, spurring doubts and fears. All the while growing more certain of their loss. 

And then He is born--Satan's frustrated schemes scream like nails on a chalkboard, ripping across a starry sky. This humble, unexpected, breathless victory of God compels shepherds to rejoice and Mary to sing and Joseph to tremble in awe and praise. 

Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:19). Looking back on the craziest 9 months of her life. That night, 9 months previous, as she lay dreaming of her soon-to-be marriage to Joseph, startled by an angel who tells her not to fear. How could fear slide back down her throat when she's just been told that the Holy Spirit has placed the Savior of the world inside her very body? Did she sleep at all that night? If so, only by the grace of God. A willing teenager. That's all Mary was. She was a soldier willing to do whatever her Servant King asked, and though she abandoned a peaceful marriage and a life unjudged, she trusted God was working all things out for her good. He was on her side. She trusted Him. Perhaps just enough. And isn't that what we all should do? 

We too are soldiers receiving instructions from our King. One command we have all been given is to go out into all the world and show others the beauty and joy of the Kingdom in which we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28.)

And Joseph--going ahead with the marriage to his dearest love--despite accusations that her pregnancy was illegitimate. The courage it must have took to stand against the uproar of friends and family. Uproar that could have led to his wife being stoned or abandoned and he rejected and scorned. Perhaps it made job prospects bleak, for who would respect a man who would take such a wife? Many tears must have been shed with the weight of this decision. This courage must have come from God alone: to be the earthly father of Emmanuel, God with us. No selfish man could have accepted that task in their own strength. 

And we too can summon courage to accept "impossible" tasks, not from within ourselves, but from the Holy Spirit who lives inside us. 

Christ, our past gift; the Holy Spirit, our present gift; God the Father in all glory and power, our future gift! Could there be a more generous God, who gives of Himself throughout history--Christ, once for all to save, the Holy Spirit to counsel and comfort, and the Father who will reign eternally. Three in one, given in most mysterious, compassionate, glorious ways. This--THIS is Christmas! 

Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel has come to us! So open presents with joy this Christmas, remembering the gifts God has blessed us with, and those that are still to come!

Noel: Our Past, Present, and Future (Part 1)

Noel: Our Past, Present, and Future

Christmas (Noel) is not a story, but a history. His. Story. The account of God humbling Himself to the weakest human form imaginable in order to captivate our hearts . . . this is our Christmas past, present, and future. There's a reason we still sing Christmas carols about wise men and shepherds coming to see Jesus, angels in chorus in the heavens, and a star that somehow lights the way towards a newborn child. The old carols can seem stale, unnatural, old-fashioned at times, but think about it.

It's more than just recalling what happened long ago with awe and gratitude, though that is a big part of Christmas. We are the wise men and shepherds. We are Mary and Joseph. Not literally, obviously. But we might as well have been. God didn't need to choose anyone special to witness His birth. So guess what? He didn't! Rejoice, for God favors the "least of these" in his life-giving Kingdom plans!

We three Kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain
Moor and mountain
Following yonder star

We still bring our gifts to Christ. Instead of laying them at a manger we get to lay them at the feet of a risen King. We are just as blessed as the wise men were in seeing Christ as a baby. We simply get to witness Him in a different way, present within us eternally. Profound is every small talent, gift, and even burden we surrender to our King. He does not let any of our tears go to waste. Joy to the world!  This child that spurred jealousy from earthly kings, such intense jealousy that Herod ordered all baby boys in the area to be killed . . . He lived and died and rose and offered to adopt us for an eternity. Us: billions of orphans wandering a hell-bent world of nails and wood.

The First Noel, the Angels did say

Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay

In fields where they lay keeping their sheep

On a cold winter's night that was so deep.

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel

Born is the King of Israel!

Shepherds, students, teachers, fast food workers. Minding our own business, tending to daily needs  . . . and surprised by Christmas, heralded from a chorus on high! He does not choose to surprise the proud, the people who do not acknowledge their own helplessness. For even the most blatant of miracles would be swept away by such people, considered delusion for the sake of keeping their own god, that is, themselves. No, God chooses the searching, the adventurers, the wonderers and wanderers of this world because they alone can grasp with fumbling faith that true glory cannot come from man alone.

And Christ continues to surprise us. In daily blessings, in the stories of miraculous encounters, in the times of quiet and when we begin to move from stagnant religious talk into living an abundant, joyfully grateful life. Shepherds and magi. Humble and educated and all of it--all of us--welcome to accept a gift and a promise of greater things to come.

Welcome Home (Part 2)

Welcome Home (Part 2)

      Recited like poetry, sung like the most beautiful of melodies, the contents of this book was being stamped upon my soul. Every little blessing in my life was attributed correctly by the mouth of God Himself. 

      I remembered my moments of joy and triumph in a new light. Some of these triumphs had been so layered with lies that I didn't realize I wasn't honoring Truth. Other areas of my life I had attributed wrongly to weakness or lack of faith, but my King turned my perspective upside down in this regard as well. 

      I realized near the middle of the story that this was the equivalent of a journal. Here I sat, listening to God's thoughts and feelings about everything I had ever done. He had recorded all of this for my benefit. 

      Each sentence He read continued to fill the canyon of deepest longing in me. Jesus showed me the stains from His own tears that had spilled on many of the pages in this volume. My moments of distress, even the seemingly meaningless ones, had never been ignored. The Shepherd indeed wept with His sheep. I could see tears even now in His eyes as He spoke of a trying time in my life. Yet I could see an inescapable joy there too--like the promise of a coming spring after a relentless winter. And nothing--no, nothing that had ever occurred in my life had been a waste. The effects of the smallest of actions rippled through hundreds of people's lives. 

      Ultimate fulfillment tugs at the corners of my lips. Freedom in Christ is more rich than I could ever have imagined. Seemingly trivial moments are displayed in fervent detail, and we laugh together at all of my hyper-crazed moments. At all of the humor God graced me with in my lifetime. 

      Blessing heaped upon blessing in my most dire of circumstances. The question of evil--that question of "why" that had burned a sizzling hole in my heart my entire life . . . it is now being mended and sewn with answers I thought I would never attain, answers I thought I would never be able to accept. 

      Before I know it, the story ends. I realize that this is only the first volume of an infinite amount of God's account of what will be my eternal relationship with Him. My eyes are full of tears. I can't stop crying. Jesus helps me to my feet and embraces me as I whisper my gratitude in awe over and over again. Everything He has done for me . . . overwhelming is too small a word. 

      "I understand!" I cry, looking into the face of my Savior with a new sort of love--what one may call . . . perfect. 

      "Well done, my good and faithful servant. My sacrifice has covered your shame. There is no fear here, only life--life as I've always meant it to be." 

Welcome Home

[[ My inspiration for this little blurb is attempting to correct my own preconceived notions about what heaven is like.  Sometimes I fear what heaven will be like. Yeah, weird right? I fear that it will be some strange, mysterious place where all we do is worship and while that's absolutely wonderful, something tells me there is so much more. The mysterious part of heaven lies in the mystery of perfection and understanding that we will attain. But I believe there will be a deep-set familiarity, too. Familiarity that affirms, "So this is home."]]

Welcome Home Part 1

"Welcome home!" Immediate embrace. The face is strangely familiar, even though I am sure I haven't seen Him before. A warm, majestic glow emanates from His person.

      "Oh my God . . . " I whisper, falling to my knees.
      "Yes, I AM," He replies, lifting my chin with a sort of smirk on His face. "Welcome home, my child! Heaven rejoices that you have run the race and can now fully enjoy my presence and the extent of my love."
      I stare down at my hands and realize that I am glowing too. It's otherworldly, but not ghostlike. It is the feeling of completion, of perfection, all wrapped up in visual display.
      "Would you like some coffee?"
      "What?"
      "Pumpkin spice latte is your favorite, right?"
      "Yeah . . ."
      I begin to take in my surroundings as Jesus turns on the espresso machine. Did I really just say that? I suddenly burst out laughing. Jesus laughs too -- of course! He knows what I am thinking. At once trembling yet also feeling at perfect peace, I realize we are in a room full of books. I start to read some of the titles. Some are names like "Richard Smith." Others are books I would find in my own vast collection: The Hole in Our Gospel, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter . . . I laugh again.
      Jesus hands me a mug, full to the brim with the best-smelling coffee I have ever come across. The milk is frothy on top, just the way I like it. I take a sip and wonder if I ever had tasted real coffee before now. It is truly indescribable.
      "Thank you," I exclaim, still trying to come to grips with what is happening around me.
      "Just outside this room there are many friends and family awaiting your arrival."
      "Oh!"
      "But first, I need to tell you a story."
      Jesus offers me a seat in a comfy purple armchair and I snuggle into the cushions with my still-steaming mug. Jesus walks over to a shelf directly behind me. He pulls out a large volume. I don't even wonder how long this will take. In fact, the concept of time feels strangely irrelevant. Jesus lovingly opens the volume to page one and smiles at me.
      "This is My story through the lens of your precious life," He declares, then begins to read. He starts before I was born, to circumstances that, had they not occurred, would have not led to my birth. This stunning start was giving me such a thrill of wonder that I wanted to laugh and cry at once. Form the beginning, He refused to skip any of my bad moments-- my temper tantrums, selfish demands, and complaints. Though my heart felt sad as these wrongs were re-iterated, there was no guilt present. For the first time ever I knew without a doubt I had been absolved of all my wrongs--that God had never grown weary of loving and forgiving me.
   

For Your Listening Pleasure

Happy December 1st! Here is a Christmas-y audio project that I just finished for class on Wednesday. It is a radio drama and I am quite pleased with the result. :) God sustained me through this project for sure! I pulled an all-nighter finishing this thing.

Enjoy!

A Bipolar Relationship

[[[[ There are so many things I want to write about right now that I feel my heart wanting to burst open and spill out pages and pages of words on very different topics. In fact, even as I write this, what I was going to talk about I think I will save for a later date. I'm feeling a little ADD currently (can I use that as an excuse not to do homework? I think so.) 

I don't know what it is about God, but sometimes He just hits me with all these realities and instead of being spoon-fed I realize He is laying out a feast of ideas for me to delve into. I love thinking deeply about things. In fact, writing in this blog has become one of my favorite things to do--to discover what God wants to say to me and to record what I learn. ]]]]

"The problem with people is that we either let our emotions run our lives, or we cast them as villains and beat them into submission until they’re unrecognizable. We become over-emotional or anti-emotional, missing out on what God has for us through our feelings." - Fabienne Harford

So, let's hone into what I feel is one of hundreds of thoughts zipping around my head. . . you know, I'm pretty excited about God right now. I'm excited about what He is doing, the possibilities, the opportunities, the church I am attending here at school, etc. At other times I feel as if God is a universe away from me, that He may not even exist, that I'm following a lie, that I'll never make progress in areas I struggle with, that I might as well be dead for all the pain in the world that I'm helpless to amend. In fact, in the same day I can be wildly passionate and giddy about what God is doing and how awesome He is and then later on feel heavy discouragement snuggle into my thoughts, making a home in my doubts and fears. 

MY RELATIONSHIP WITH GOD IS BIPOLAR!

How's that for being obnoxious? Just thought I'd get that out there. Don't worry. I'm not clinically diagnosed with bipolar syndrome. However! I want to boast in this spiritual weakness of mine, this being prone to deep emotion and swings of mindset that I don't understand. 

Why??? 

Because God teaches me so much through these strange ebbs and flows. He teaches me His faithfulness constant through what my senses perceive (or don't perceive.) He shows me how to pursue Him in every minuscule or seasonal feeling of either content or discontent. Music and writing stem from this confusion, either nudging me on the path of Truth or leading me to a deeper understanding of why I feel a certain way.

God isn't afraid of my emotions. So why should I fear them?

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. ¹⁰ That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

The Weight of Waiting

Tonight I went to see a play called "Waiting for Godot" with my parents at Taylor. It was intensely frustrating. The main characters were waiting for this elusive savior who, even by the end of the play, didn't come. I left halfway through, but not because of the acting, which was tremendous. I left partly because the story was abstract and a little strange. But mostly I left because it resonated with me too deeply. I didn't want to see the end where who they waited for didn't come. In the end, so I hear, the main character still has hope that Godot will eventually appear. But the uncertainty reminded me of my doubts. My confusion of why God doesn't throw the pain of this world into the vacuum of nonexistence. My occasional fear that in the end, God will not show up.

Secret salvations. This must be the answer, cry the most desperate parts of me, the parts that remember the great sorrows of this world and are dismayed. There have been painful circumstances in my life, which ultimately produced something good within me or within others. I've talked about this before. Looking back, I would never choose to re-live these moments, despite the blessings I received through the struggle (aka, Ireland. Yeah, still wouldn't go back to the bad moments.) If I could take away all the pain in the history of this earth, I probably would do it. In consequence, I would doom us all to hell.

For if Jesus didn't die (this greatest act of injustice and pain) than life is worth nothing. If Jesus didn't rise from the dead, my life is, still, nothing. Would I seriously willingly choose to reverse all pain, thereby erasing Jesus' sacrifice and my eternal redemption? Death and life must occur, in that order. Pain is in the mix too. Pain isn't meaningless. Pain provides "secret salvations." In the most terrible disasters I can think of, God is slowly pouring His eternal love into heartache, like salt in a wound. It hurts, but it heals. The salt of His love renovates our hearts to holy places they would never have reached without the pain. Would I choose it for myself? Heck no.

The path to still waters is rougher than I thought.

Can I withstand the weight of waiting?