The wonder today found in fun chats about some bonkers Christmas Day service ideas. Found in praying with lovely ladies around our firepit and having the feeling of being looked out for. Found in the very pastoral dog Dylan who also joined us around the fire. Found in the blue skies and birdsong and the joy of being outside for a while around a warm fire. Found in the slumping moments on the sofa, the moment when I got to crash out in bed and Husbandface brought me amazing non fat food. Found in discovering that in this no fat land eating cookies made out of just banana and oats is a Good Thing. Found in pj’s at 5pm. Found in the slow, the discovering I’ve totally crashed but I’m still here, still held, still loved.
What’s the point of writing good stuff about Advent each year if it just gets lost in the dusty archives of my blog? Here’s one of my favourite Advent posts from 6 years ago just after son2 had been born, it’s one that came from sleep deprivation and weariness and it feels pretty fitting for our world right now. As I read it again I know I would put things differently these days but I’m still pretty convinced of most things that I wrote back then. We have a God who stepped into our world, who fell down, who cried and was sad, we have an Emmanuel who is with us in these troubled times. We are not alone. We have a God unlike any other God. I think that’s pretty good news.
“And so we’ve made it, to the last Sunday in Advent, to the end of term and the start of the holidays. We’ve made it to this strange land of Christmas. To be honest I’m not feeling it this year. I’m too much in a haze, my brain exploding with thoughts of moving house (don’t get me started on how odd and surprising that feels right now) and the weirdness of not having slept for more than 2 hours in a row for 10 weeks.
Christmas feels a far away event, something to be gazed at through frosted panes of glass. However, the myriad of fairy lights outside houses around our city reminds me that something is happening. Son1 points out to me the characters in the nativity daily: kingandkingandshepherdandmaryjosephanddonkeyandcamelandpresentandpresent andbabyjesus. There is something going on, however remote it feels.
There is something going on which helps make sense of this strange walking through treacle land I find myself in, which helps me keep on plodding through the dark.
It’s that old word again, Emmanuel. God with us. God with man is now residing. The Maker of all has stepped into the darkness and the darkness doesn’t know what to do. In the midst of aching hearts, weary bodies and confusing times we have a God who knows what it’s like to be in our shoes.
John1:14 says it all: The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. And the Word (Christ) became flesh (human, incarnate) and tabernacled (fixed His tent of flesh, lived awhile) among us The Voice took on flesh and became human and chose to live alongside us.
Son1 has read his beginners bible book about the cross so many times (so much that I am sick of it…which feels wrong…) that every time he sees a cross shape he pronounces loudly that ‘Jesus died on the cross’. Interestingly he then recites his own little narrative of what happened next: ‘then fall down, then Jesus cry, then Jesus sad’. It’s the same narrative he recites when he has hurt himself. ‘E fall down, then E cry, then E sad.’ He’s teaching me something of what it means for Jesus to be human. Jesus knows everything my little weirdo toddler has been through and has been through it himself. He knows our pain and he came to ultimately do something about it and about our immediate problem which oddly is bigger than our pain.
The trouble is I don’t think there is a problem bigger than my pain. I just want sleep, I want my mates not to go through what they are going through, I want a clear and certain future for my brother and his family. I want world flipping peace whilst we are at it. I’m with the Jews- give me a messiah who is going to sort my immediate situation out. What’s the use if he doesn’t?
What could be more important?
And this is where the words get weak and frail and I can’t really believe them as I write. Apparently we do have a bigger problem. A rift between the Creator and Created that needs to be healed. A new creation that needs to be kick started. Life and death stuff that the birth, life and death of a baby 2000 years ago dealt with.
There are reasons for rejoicing in the mess and uncertainty of this world but I think it’s a minor key kind of rejoicing. There is a Saviour. There is hope. There is a final day when all the sad will be made untrue but there is a whole lot of confusion and pain right now that doesn’t get sorted out. It’s a wintery joy. A pale sun shining through winter trees showing the hope of summer in the chill of winter.
That’s all I’ve got right now, a whole load of confusion, mess and fear. Winter is around.
But the seasons change. I don’t understand many things but I cling to the hope of the tender mercy of our God. A God I do not understand and cannot feel right now, but a God who took on flesh, who fell down and cried and was sad. He’s here. Emmanuel. And so we rejoice in that minor key of weary hope.
Wonder at the sunset on my first trip out of the house today. I wonder in this wonder how long this ill feeling will last, when I’ll get back to my morning walks? I wonder and then I am grateful for this privilege of being able to walk out of the house and see the wonderful sky. This will pass. I am frustrated but also wanting to find the hope in the midst of this waiting slow. And here’s a verse from ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’ which seems appropriate for us all right now.
“O ye beneath life’s crushing load, Whose forms are bending low, Who toil along the climbing way With painful steps and slow; Look now, for glad and golden hours Come swiftly on the wing; Oh rest beside the weary road And hear the angels sing.“
Wonder hunting on a weary day of pain. It was found in the blue sky glimpsed through parting clouds, in the joys of a Christmas garden centre trip with the youngest, the stack of books exchanged for more books at our local library, the sweetness of reading Sarah Bessey’s book – ‘Miracles and Other Reasonable Things’.
I love her writing so much, I love that our personalities are pretty similar, I love that she is full on in love with Jesus through all the different stages of deconstruction and reorientation of her faith. I love that she blazes a trail that looks hopeful and familiar for me to follow. I love that she talks about her facing up to stopping, to listening to her body, to embracing wise self care and the deep tender mothering of our God. I love her passion and found myself in tears at many points of reading this book at the ways God meets us and surprises us and embraces us on this journey. It did my soul good to read her warm and encouraging words.
The Long Walk Home 