Photo by Greyson Joralemon for Unsplash

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life (John 3:16).

Love among us.

Christmas conjures up a myriad of thoughts, feelings, and responses.

Some people twirl through the season like the Nutcracker’s Sugarplum Princess, while others trudge along from November first to December twenty-fifth like Ebenezer Scrooge. There are, of course, those in between—fighting to grasp the joy of the season while simultaneously working through a never-ending and unrealistic to-do list.

Christmas holds pain and loss for some, miracles for others, and an earnest joy for those determined to hold on to the fundamental good that is Christmas.

But Christmas is more than a holiday of goodwill toward men. It is more than traditions and presents, cookies and pie. It is even more than the candles we light for Advent.

Christmas is the moment Love entered into humanity and determined to dwell among us.

Not only this, but it is also the instant where freedom to love and be loved by Love was born.

Isaiah prophesied that a day would come when a Savior would be born, who would sit on David’s throne and whose kingdom would have no end.[1]

The angels declared to the shepherds on the night of Jesus’ birth that a Messiah, the Savior, had been born.[2]

Long-awaited and anticipated, Immanuel—God with us—was here. Here on planet Earth. Here to live. Here to stay (through the Holy Spirit). Here to walk with us, abide with us, sit with us, lead and guide us. Here to love. And for those who determined to accept this Truth, His love has become a part of us.

And this Love did more than simply be with us.

This Love died for us.

All week long, I’ve been thinking about what I would write for today’s Advent post. To be honest, I was hoping that God would endue me with an extra measure of creativity and insight when I started writing. But nothing came.

In a conversation I was having with our older kids this morning at brunch, we started to share what love looks like to each of us. Sitting there, listening, it hit me how often I shift into autopilot when I recall the stories of Christmas and Easter.

Maybe you can relate?

We’ve heard them and told them so many times and in so many different ways that the depth and profundity of what God did gets lost in all of the clutter of the holidays.

God gave us His Son, Jesus—the most perfect and unblemished gift—on Christmas Day. Jesus was God incarnate, living among us, walking the streets, and rubbing shoulders with mankind. And then, Jesus died a horrendous death so that the wretchedness of humanity could have personal access to God. The payment of sin that we owed was reconciled through Christ’s sacrifice.

The resurrection that we celebrate on Easter is the exclamation point at the end of a long and dark sentence.

The waiting was finished.

That is the truest and most powerful love. No embellishment needed.

William Barclay described it this way: “God the judge has become God the lover of the souls of men.”[3]

Imagine that!

God is the lover of our souls. And this love spilled over the rim of heaven and met us here on Earth on Christmas Day.

Immanuel has not left us or abandoned us.

He resides within us, and He is all around.

Love is among us.

O holy Child of Bethlehem,
descend to us, we pray;
cast out our sin and enter in;
be born in us today.
We hear the Christmas angels,
the great glad tidings tell;
O come to us, abide with us,
our Lord Emmanuel!

O Little Town of Bethlehem, written by Phillips Brooks in 1868

[2] Bible Gateway. “Isaiah 9 NIV – - Bible Gateway.” Www.biblegateway.com, www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Isaiah%209&version=NIV.

[3] Barclay, William. “Commentary on John 1″. “William Barclay’s Daily Study Bible”. https://www.studylight.org/commentaries/eng/dsb/john-1.html. 1956-1959.

Let every heart prepare him room.

Joy to the World, written by Isaac Watts (1719)

Our college kids will be home for Christmas soon!

Floors are being swept and mopped while beds are being made.

A menu has been prepared with much-loved home-cooked meals.

The fridge is stocked, and favorite snacks are in the cupboard.

Our home is being prepared for the arrival of three very special guests, and my heart can hardly handle the waiting.

Soon.

They will be home soon.

***

There is a meme circulating. Mary and Joseph have arrived in Bethlehem. Joseph is apologizing to Mary for not booking a reservation at any of the local inns. Mary is irritated but responds to Joseph with, “I’m fine!” And anyone reading the meme would know that Mary is definitely not fine.

Most of our traditional nativity stories imply that Mary and Joseph were unprepared for their stay in Bethlehem. But the reality was that due to the census, Joseph’s family home—where they intended to stay—was full. Rather than stay in one of the guest rooms, Joseph’s family relocated the couple to the stable, where the animals were kept.

Whether one chooses to believe the traditional story or abide by the more accurate explanation of how the nativity unfolded, one thing we can be very certain of is that the place and time of Christ’s birth were intentional.

The stable may seem awfully primitive for a King, but this setting was exactly the way God ordered the events of that night.

Humble.

Unassuming.

Away from the congested home where family members were bumping up against each other throughout the day.

A place to prepare and make space for a newborn baby.

And in this stable, amongst the animals and the smells and the hay and the braying, Immanuel, God with us, was born.

In the well-known hymn, Joy to the World, one of the lines in the first verse says, “Let every heart prepare him room.”

How are you preparing your heart this Advent season?

What would making room for Jesus look like for you?

As I am busy with all the preparations before our kids arrive for Christmas, I am also taking time to pull away from the noise and hustle, the online social media chaos, and the urgent to-do list, to give God a more attentive me.

Lighting the Advent candles on Sunday, taking turns reciting the Scriptures and responding, singing hymns, and praying as a family, draws our attention away from ourselves and onto the One whom we celebrate.

Each evening when we light the Advent candle and read the devotional for the day, we are setting aside time to abide with Christ as a family.

This is how we are making room.

Don’t miss out on the preciousness of this season.

Don’t let the clutter of Christmas crowd out the beauty and wonder and joy of Christ’s birth.

Open wide your heart and prepare a place for Him to stay.

Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.

Luke 3:4

Self-care in a season of chaos.

When we moved to South Africa, I had come out of a very challenging season in Malawi. It was hard on all fronts – from helping our children transition, to navigating life in a foreign country, the ever-precarious visa process, the insurgence of Covid-19, to understanding a new organization and all of the intricate policies, procedures, and bureaucracy. It was hard. But, like I have said before, we were able to find creative ways to establish stability.

Still, when we arrived in South Africa, I felt like I had run a marathon and was standing at the starting line of yet another marathon. The decision for our move was, primarily, to get help for Jasper. We knew he had some significant developmental issues, and South Africa provided the much-needed resources to help him.

As I sat in our Airbnb one afternoon, completely exhausted and weary, I remember thinking: “Can one lose resiliency? Is it possible that I am not able to bounce back from challenges like I used to?” A friend of mine called me. She and I have known each other since high school, and we are both Third Culture Kids. She said to me, as I was thinking out loud, that the question of resiliency cannot be answered when one is in the middle of transition. She encouraged me to walk slowly and take it one day at a time.

I was beginning to feel like, perhaps, God was disciplining me- that all of this hard stuff we were facing and working through was because I had, somehow, upset and disappointed God. I was stressed out trying to determine if my own frustration and anger at some of the things we had experience had been a result of me not being a good enough Christian, missionary, wife, mother, etc. While I was grateful- deeply grateful- that God had brought us to a place where we could help Jasper, and we had even found incredible resources for him, and for our family, I couldn’t shake this feeling that I was somehow responsible for how hard the past year had been. And I was worried that I might not bounce back from it.

A few months later, I was on a Zoom call with a mentor of mine, sharing with her my fears, my worries, and doubts, and she said to me, in the most empathetic and kind way, “Amy, I think you need to walk in God’s love. His yoke is easy, and his burden is light. He is not disciplining you. He wants you to know that he loves you, and he is with you.” I can’t begin to explain how the combination of my friend’s words and this mentor’s words spoke life to me. They still do. I have a small sign that I received as a gift from this mentor before we moved overseas. It says, “You are loved”, and it is a gentle reminder of this truth that I see each day when I sit at my desk.

Walk in God’s love.

Be gentle with yourself.

Breathe.

Release these burdens and cares and rest in God’s presence.

Take it one day at a time.

Transition in a season of chaos brings a kind of weariness that is difficult to describe. It overwhelms and saturates so much of our lives. Too often we brush it off, or we blame ourselves for not being strong enough or resilient enough to handle the chaos, rather than recognize that we have limits. And it is okay to have limits. It is okay to say, “I’ve reached my capacity.”

Self-care in a season of chaos, for me, looks like:

1.     Waking up in the morning and reminding myself that I am loved by God.

2.     Loving my husband.

3.     Prioritizing my family.

4.     Homecooked meals.

5.     Handing over the things that are out of my control to God.

6.     Laughter with my family.

7.     Reading books that help me understand the process I am working through.

8.     Regulating social media.

9.     Speaking kind words to myself.

10.  Letting go of guilt when saying “no” to something is the healthy thing to do.

Transition is a season. It is not a lifestyle. The missionary life tends to be more transitory in nature than a regular occupation, but constant transition is not the norm, even for missionary life. It is a season; these seasons pass.

It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear…It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.

Marilyn Ferguson, American Futurist

Transition is the in-between. It’s the letting go and the reaching out with no clear sight of the new beginning. I would add to Marilyn Ferguson’s thought that we, as Christ followers, do have something – Someone – to hold on to. The season of transition breeds all kinds of internal restlessness, and it feels overwhelming when we are in the thick of it. However, we are not alone. As we learn to pivot in the chaos, we have someone in the storm keeping the boat from sinking. Jesus never leaves us. He promises that he has gone before us, and he is also in the middle of all the mess with us…standing strong.

Resting in his love and allowing his presence to carry us through the seas of the in-between, will give us the resilience we need to keep pressing on and moving forward.

It is okay to take care of yourself in these seasons of chaos. It is okay to hit “pause” and remind yourself that you are loved by God. Rather than try to figure out if you are doing it right, or doing it well, give yourself the gift of care – whatever that might look like for you. This is not a race…you don’t lose points for those moments you pause…stop…recalibrate. One of the greatest gifts you can give to yourself- and your family- through periods of transition is self-care. Eventually, you will find yourself on the other side of the trapeze.

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

Isaiah 40:11

I’ve been a little obsessed with the animal kingdom lately. We were at a game reserve last year, and there seemed to have been a baby boom across the northeastern part of South Africa. We saw so many mamas and babies. What struck me, and what I have not been able to stop thinking about, was how naturally and instinctively these mamas watched over and protected their young, while simultaneously, the babies sought after and stayed within close proximity to their mamas.

Elephants are highly protective of their young. A mama elephant will charge anything that she perceives to be a threat to her baby. Elephants stick together in family units, and for increased security, they will join with other elephant families to form clans. Many of these family units and clans are comprised of females and their offspring. Lots of mamas protecting their little ones.

Touch is an important communication tool among elephants, especially between mother and calf. Wherever the calf and mother may be, they will be touching. And if the baby is behind the mama, she will reach out and touch her young with her tail. It is a beautiful picture of care, protection, and love.

On the other side of the size scale, sea otters are another fascinating creature! Because of their dense fur, they can sleep in the ocean floating on their backs, but they do not float alone. Sea otters will float in groups called rafts. These rafts can range from two sea otters up to hundreds of otters. They stay close, holding hands in order not to lose each other and to protect themselves from drifting away and becoming vulnerable to predators. Sea otter mamas hold their pups on their tummies and will spend hours fluffing their fur. This is more than just a fussy mom trait, but it is a necessary instinct they do in order to ensure the pup’s fur is prepped well for floating. A mama sea otter will carry her baby through rough waters and hostile environments in order to ensure the safety of the little one.

This picture, illustrated in living color, of intuitive care and motherly instinct is powerful.

Our older three children loved to be held when they were little. Sometimes, if they were feeling exceptionally affectionate, they would run and try to jump into my lap for a quick hug and kiss. Sometimes they would reach their hands up to the sky, a clear message to me to pick them up and hold them in my arms, simply because they wanted to be close to me. Even Jasper, who is not naturally an affectionate little guy, will lay his hand on my lap, or hold my hand close to his chest, when I am singing to him at bedtime. There is something very warm, comforting and affirming when we find ourselves being held by those we love, and who love us.

To be held.

There are so many images and Scriptures throughout the Bible that encourage us to hold on…persevere…cling to Jesus. We can find, in moments of exhaustion, mentally exhorting ourselves to just keep pressing on- and holding on to Jesus.

The challenge is that sometimes we wear out. We let go. Or we wander and get disoriented by the trials and heavy burdens we bear. Our intentions are good and pure…we are doing our best. We are holding on!

He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart…

Thankfully, the burden of our security and our preservation does not lie solely in our hands. Yes, we must hold on, but while we are holding – and in those moments when our grip releases – we are also being held.

We are held in Christ’s hands- gathered up in his strong and capable arms.

He holds us close to his heart.

Like a mother elephant, or the sea otter, he is always near…finding us…touching us with his presence…holding our hands so that we do not drift out to sea.

He will gather them in when they wander, gather them up when they fall, gather them together when they are dispersed, and gather them home to himself at last; and all this with his own arm, out of which none shall be able to pluck them. He will carry them in the bosom of his love and cherish them there. When they tire or are weary, are sick and faint, when they meet with foul ways, he will carry them on, and take care they are not left behind. He will gently lead them.

Matthew Henry’s Commentary

What a reminder of the constant care of God.

Our relationship with God is reciprocal. We reach out to Him and He is reaching out to us. It is not just us holding on to Him, holding His hand, reaching out to Him, but it is also Jesus holding us, leading us, finding us and carrying us. He keeps us safe in rough waters. He is ready to charge when predators come near.

We are safe.

We are loved.

We are His.

How comforting and encouraging.

Wherever we are, whatever we do…in our daily work or our evening rest…as we are holding on to Jesus, He is holding on to us.

Ordinary is highly under-rated.

It seems the sincere longing for significance has pushed past contentment in doing a job well done, to that of being a world changer…influencer…and platform-creator. It is not enough, anymore, to do the hard and consistent daily work of investing our lives into meaningful, yet oftentimes, ordinary endeavors. Today, we are driven to be seen…to be heard…to position ourselves for greater significance and greater influence. Ordinary is boring and old-school, and it certainly doesn’t illicit the kind of attention that so many of us are seeking today.

And yet, there is something extraordinary about the ordinary.

My days are not so impressive on the outside. In this season of life, I am in the throes of child-rearing, home-managing and integrating culture into the impressionable minds and hearts of our children. I grocery shop, do the laundry, plan meals for the week, cook, clean, pack lunches, help with homework, create schedules, maintain order, educate my children on the importance of table manners and etiquette (this is never-ending work!), balance the checkbook, keep the budget, go on coffee dates with Joel and the kids, and oversee the day-in/day-out lives of my family, while developing relationships and ongoing connections with the people in our sphere.  It’s not all that exciting.

It is very ordinary.

And while my calendar boasts of a very ordinary life, there is something quite extraordinary happening between the lines and the dates, the appointments and the pen strokes. The lives of our children are being shaped, formed, developed, and discipled. Within the ordinary, God is doing extraordinary work. It is tempting to want to create for myself a profile that makes me look special and significant, but in doing so, it minimizes the good work that is taking place within the constraints of the ordinary. Ordinary is highly under-rated. Ordinary invites the time and space for deeper relationships, honest conversations, and focused attention.

Maybe I am feeling inspired to write this because I need to remind myself of these timeless truths, and maybe there is someone out there that needs to read it too. Maybe we both need the gentle reminder that our significance is not written in the headlines, but rooted in the ordinary work we are doing right now…in this moment…at the dinner table…in the bedtime prayers…in the middle of the meltdown…during those car ride conversations and marathon Lego days…in the tone of that email…or the slow pace of the project we’ve been overseeing. We need that little voice pulling us out of the drive for external significance and back into the precious gift of these ordinary days.

While the world craves more hype, more incentives to participate, more flash, more enticements and rewards, my heart is craving a more quiet and ordinary life. The world is temperamental…it shifts too quickly and too impulsively. The world (and this includes the church/ministry world) is becoming more and more addicted to performance – lights, cameras, action. Trying to keep up with it all creates instability, insecurity and a frenetic pace that eventually leads to burn out. I am, quite bluntly, less impressed with all the hype, glam and glitz, and more drawn to the daily and consistent rhythms of the ordinary.

The world is saying, “Speed up!” and my heart is saying, “Slow down!”.

Christ’s life was, in many regards, ordinary. He talked to his followers, not about how to build a platform or create a movement, but about bearing the weight of the cross. His invitation was to pick up their cross and follow him, and through the New Testament Scriptures, we know where that path led them…not to fame, fortune or a flashy title, but to suffering, marginalization, and death. The ordinary means – producing extraordinary fruit – of walking with people, listening, daily discipleship and the cross of suffering was, and still is, the way of Christ.

Obedience to God’s ways of bringing about the kingdom is the only way, even when those ways seem small, obscure, and weak. Even when no one notices. Even when our kingdom work can’t be captured and packaged for a ready-made inspirational social media update. Someone earnestly desiring to do great things for God can have all the right motives but all the wrong mechanisms. Jesus’ obedience tells us that mechanisms matter – if godly ends are pursued by ungodly means, the whole project will be ruined.

– Katelyn Beaty, Celebrities for Jesus

I have thought a lot about the cost of obedience and the return to the ordinary.

Obedience is, in the very truest sense, letting go of our own will and surrendering it to Jesus. There is nothing very glamourous about that. We step off of platforms rather than hoist ourselves up to be seen.

There are men and women caught up in the fast running current of trying to find significance through extraordinary means. There are a great number, I can only imagine, that want to do great things for God, and wrestle with the ordinary days in which they are living. There is an altruistic desire to please God, while at the same time a fear that a hidden life in Christ will amount to being forgotten by the world.

And yet, if we really want to get down to it…to the reality of what following and serving Christ is all about it comes to this:

He must become greater; I must become less.

John 3:30

That statement: I must become less, is not a directive to become less than who God has created you to be; that somehow wallowing in the dirt and lowering oneself to nothingness is the key to pleasing God. But rather, becoming less is putting ourselves in the right order and right place with God. It is releasing the striving and driving towards worldly acceptance and acknowledgement into God’s hands, and taking the ordinary tasks that he gives us each day and carrying them out to the best of our ability so that God gets the glory…God gets the greatness…so that God is seen above our talents, gifts and charisma.

In my ordinary days I find such encouragement when I see that God is using me to disciple and shape our children to follow Christ. That’s a big deal. It’s not always visible to the outside world. This is a slow and weighty work.

Your ordinary will look different than mine, but it is incredibly significant. It is the means by which God will do extraordinary things. It may never make the headlines, and it may never evoke a rush on social media, but if your ordinary work points the world to Christ and brings Him glory, then it is extraordinary.

The significance of the ordinary is not how amazingly we can do it, or how creatively we can brand it; the significance is that this is how God chooses to do his most astounding work; His quiet, steady, and world-changing work. He uses you and me. He takes the materials in our hands, the season of our lives, our brokenness and all of our flaws, and says, “Follow me.”

Stop striving.

Slow down.

Let the God do the extraordinary through our ordinariness.

It is God who makes us significant, not all the kingdoms we create.

Rest in that.

And rest in the precious gift of these ordinary days.

As I watched the clock strike midnight, its hand leaving 2021 and tick-tock-ticking its way into 2022, I felt a wave of relief. Covid and transition left me feeling kind of empty. Rather than enter the new year with a bang, I mostly coasted in on fumes.

I came down with a fever on Christmas Day and spent the following week either in bed or on the couch. Sydney was with us for a very short period of time, and I desperately wanted to spend as much time with her as possible, in spite of the flu. By the time New Years’ Day arrived, my days were mush as I spent the first week of 2022 packing Christmas away and catching up on life.

My word for 2022 was “Whole”. As a family, we were on a trajectory of healing…processing and working through some hard-to-articulate wounds from the past few years. Joel and I both sensed, individually, that God had a very personal work he wanted to do in us and in our family. And he did just that. While I can’t say it was all neat and orderly, God was very much at work. There were many moments throughout 2022 that I honestly wondered what in the world God was doing because his work did not look like healing or wholeness. Yet, as I reflect on the year past, I do see God’s hand, and his handiwork.

Miracles happened. Not the big and audacious kind that we love to talk about, but the small and internal kind that water deeper growth and spiritual resilience. The kind of miracles that don’t always elicit external awe.

Miracles are still happening. Healing is a process, and it is still in process. I wish I could boast of some grandiose moment of instantaneous healing, but that is not the way in which God has chosen to work. Rather, he is taking our lives, moment-by-moment, and awaking our hearts to not just find personal healing, but to have an awareness of the much-needed healing in the lives of others. His work is never just for “us”, but for his glory and the benefit of others. If my pain can be a catalyst for connection and healing of another, then this pain is worth it all.

And it is not just the heart wounds that God uses, but the physical deficiencies that plague our bodies. Jackson, as we have openly shared, deals with a genetic eye condition by which his optic nerve is slowly atrophying which has caused significant visual impairment. Because we believe that God is a God who heals, we have prayed for complete healing. This supernatural kind of healing has not come. This is not to indicate that I have lost faith in God’s capabilities, but it is our present reality. I still pray and believe for healing, but likewise, I am praying God’s will…his most perfect will to be done in the life of Jackson…whatever that may look like.

I’ve asked myself multiple times this past year: “What if…”

What if the miracle is not Jackson’s eyesight being restored, but rather the miracle is learning to trust God’s goodness regardless of the outcome of our prayers? What if the greatest miracle of all in Jackson’s story is spiritual insight and sensitivity rather than physical sight?

What if our current circumstances do not change, or – even worse – get harder, do I still believe and trust that God is good?

What if the hope of seeing our dreams unfold never materializes? Can I still hold on to Jesus and trust his plan? Is Jesus really enough for me? Is this the miracle we are waiting for…simply Jesus?

The awe and wonder this side of 2022 is that Jesus never left us; his hand was always in the middle of the process.

The miracle of “wholeness” was not the absence of disappointment.

The miracle of “wholeness” was God’s complete presence in the midst of a really hard year.

Perhaps the most audacious prayer we can pray is, “God, give me the grace to accept hard things, give me the strength to endure unmet expectations, and give me your joy in perseverance.”

The miracle is not all the big answers to prayers.

The miracle is God’s grace, strength and joy in spite of our circumstances. It is Christ’s character being formed in us, and in turn, conforming our desires to his desires.

This truly is a miracle.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

Christmas is here, and I find myself wondering: how did that happen? Did we really plow through twelve months of rainy seasons, dry seasons, cold seasons, heat, flooding, traffic jams, school days, sport events, haircuts, doctor’s appointments, and all the little things crammed into the open spaces of our calendars? How is that even possible?

And yet, here we are. Another year. Another Christmas.

In some ways, it has gone by very quickly; in other ways, it has felt incredibly slow and arduous.

I’m going to be honest. I am weary. I’ve been living in “weary” for quite some time. I need rest. My soul needs rest, and I am finding glimpses of freedom in acknowledging this. My defenses are down. I’m becoming comfortable with this reality.

While I’m not waving a flag of victory and dancing my way into Christmas- and the year ahead- I am consciously more settled in my soul – now more than ever – with the conviction that God is God, and I am not. The flag I am waving looks more like surrender. My role in this grand story is to live a life honoring and representing Christ in the best and most authentic way possible. And the way I can do this is to take his yoke upon myself – to learn from him the deeper practice of trust and resiliency – and to keep my gaze fixed on Christ.

I want my life marked, not by doing everything perfectly, or handling each challenging situation without flaw or with a track record of exceptional strength, but marked by working out my faith in weakness and humility, surrender to God, and never giving up. In the weariness, there is rest.

Jesus calls the weary to himself. He does not call the self-sufficient, nor those with the proper religious credentials or perfect, Instagram-able lives. He calls those exhausted from toil, from just getting through the day. He calls those burdened with heavy loads, those weighed down by sin and sorrow. It is these, not the confident and successful, to whom Jesus says, “Come to me.”

Prayer in the Night, by Tish Harrison Warren

It has been a year, and I need Immanuel. I need his closeness…his nearness.

Weary and worn, my hope…my peace…my joy and my heart are living in the childlike wonder that Immanuel is here – that his promise to never leave us is a promise kept, and that his invitation to “Come” has not expired.

Throughout this Advent season we’ve made space to reflect upon the hope we have in Christ’s promise, the peace that anchors us in a world of chaos and sin, the joy as we look to something – Someone – greater to come, and the delight in being so loved by our Savior. We’ve welcomed the anticipation and we’ve leaned in hard to the steadfast truth that holds us in our weariness.

Today is Christmas Day. The long-awaited Messiah has arrived. We no longer wait in suffering and silence but hold his promises close.

He says “Come” to the burned out, the broken, the tired, the hurt, the grieving and the hopeful. He is the Savior for the weary, the long-suffering and the lost. And he invites us to take his yoke…to learn and trust…to rest in his presence.

He is God with us.

Immanuel.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.

John 3:16

For God so loved…

The word “so,” when used as an adverb, can have a few different meanings. It can express the degree or extent of something, or it can also declare something that is definite. For example: “The music is so loud,” or “The volume of the music must be just so.”

One statement is expressing the extremeness of the sound of music playing, while the other is declaring the absoluteness of what level the volume of the music must be.

In this Scripture, both meanings can be applied.

As a way of expressing the extent of God’s love, we can read it as “God loved so much – so intensely and so extremely – that he gave…” As a definitive statement, we can read it as, “There is no question about God’s love, it is just so, and therefore he gave…”

Either way, we recognize that God loved us extremely and most purposefully, and because of this intense and absolute love, he gave his most precious possession: his one and only Son.

Have you ever been loved like that? Maybe you have a person in your life that loves you so completely that they would be willing to give their most precious possession to you, or even further, they would die for you. If so, that is a gift. But would they be willing to give, or to die, for all? Is their love so expansive and perfect that they would lay down their own life for that of a stranger, a sinner, or someone they don’t particularly like? To be so loved by One who knows the faults and the sins of all of us is a love I don’t think any of us can begin to fathom. And not one single human being on this earth can honestly say we can so love in the same way.

It (John 3:16) tells us of the width of the love of God. It was the world that God so loved. It was not a nation; it was not the good people; it was not only the people who loved him; it was the world. The unlovable and the unlovely, the lonely who have no one else to love them, the man who loves God and the man who never thinks of him, the man who rests in the love of God and the man who spurns it–all are included in this vast inclusive love of God. As Augustine had it: “God loves each one of us as if there was only one of us to love.” William Barclay’s The Daily Study Bible Series, Revised Edition.

God so loved all.

This kind of love is beyond comprehension.

This kind of love causes our hearts to pound in our chests, especially when we begin grasp the enormity of it all.

This kind of love should move us…compel us…humble us…to shed our pride, our broken systems, and our preferences, and love sacrificially.

This kind of love should undo us…wreck us…change us.

Christmas is just the beginning of the love story between Christ and mankind. It was the spark that ignited a new era of love between God and his people. It was the fulfillment of prophecy and law. It was Immanuel. It was God with us. No longer far off and distant, this love came down, in the form of a human – a tiny, precious baby – and was among us. Flesh and bone, eye-to-eye, rubbing up alongside the world, feeling our feelings, carrying our sorrows and soothing our pain. He came because he so loved.

Christ’s arrival was the start of a journey that eventually led to the cross. His mission was set. There was no other way. Wrapped in swaddling clothes, the story of redemption made its way into our fractured world. Love was born. A love that had never been experienced on earth before invaded the darkness, stepped into our brokenness, and extended itself to any who would accept it and believe.

So loved.

I have been reflecting on this love for several weeks. How has being so loved by God changed me? What evidence is there in my life that reflects this kind of love? And what is my response?

To be so loved does demand a response. Not because this is a conditional kind of love, but because such an unconditional expression of love compels us.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe stands condemned already because they have not believed in the name of God’s one and only Son.

John 3:17-18

When our hearts come face-to-face with this extravagant and unconditional love, they are required to make a choice: believe it or deny it. There really is no middle ground. We are either compelled to embrace this love with belief and obedience, or we choose not to accept this reality. This love demands a response, and there are only two options.

If, when a man is confronted with Jesus, his soul responds to that wonder and beauty, he is on the way to salvation. But if, when he is confronted with Jesus, he sees nothing lovely, he stands condemned. His reaction has condemned him. God sent Jesus in love. He sent him for that man’s salvation; but that which was sent in love has become a condemnation. It is not God who has condemned the man; God only loved him; the man has condemned himself. William Barclay’s The Daily Study Bible Series, Revised Edition.

Beyond believing and accepting the One who lavished this love on mankind, being so loved drives us to do something. We don’t do in order to receive God’s love. We do as a result of God’s love. So, what do we do? What are the actions that follow acceptance?

We obey.

We love.

We follow Christ.

We put on humility.

We give.

We die to self.

I think those of us who struggle to obey, love, follow, show humility, give sacrificially and die to our selfish nature are those of us who have not truly grasped the love that God gave us on Christmas. We may mentally take note of it, but our hearts have yet to  receive it. Because being so loved should leave us trembling and aware of the depths God went to in order to save us and redeem us and draw us back to himself. It is too powerful to not be transformed.

For Christ’s love compels us.

2 Corinthians 5:14

What about you? Are you wrestling to even accept and acknowledge Christ’s love for you? Have you yet to receive it, believe and enter into a relationship with Jesus Christ?

If so, what it holding you back? Are there fears or past hurts that seem to stand between you and redemption?

Maybe you have accepted this love, but you struggle to truly embrace its power and extravagance. You are carrying around a lot of fear and wounds, and it is hard to comprehend being so loved. And, in turn, it is difficult to express this unconditional love to others.

Without shame and without pressure, can I just encourage you to consider just how much God loves you right now – imperfect and flawed? Just take a moment to sit in that space…reflecting on how it feels to be so loved.

God didn’t send his son, Jesus, for a privileged few. He sent Jesus for all. God wasn’t, and still isn’t, looking for a perfect person upon whom he can lavish his undeserving love. Jesus came for the lovely and the unlovely. He came for the Abraham’s and the King David’s. He came for the Tamar’s and the Rahab’s. He came for the Jews and the Gentiles.

He came for the rest of us – for all of us.

And all he asks for are our hearts…our obedience…our trust…and our willingness to give his love to others in return.

Christmas is coming. In just a few short days we will gather with family, or attend a church service, and – perhaps – engage in traditions, old and new. As we anticipate the culmination of this season of Advent in the warmth and joy of Christmas Day, may our hearts be further challenged to receive and give this incredible gift of being so loved. Without pause, may we be quick to give our lives in obedience and embrace those who Christ also came to save. What a very different world this would be if we could simply live as so loved.

What can I give Him,

Poor as I am? –

If I were a Shepherd

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man

I would do my part, -

Yet what I can I give Him, -

Give my heart.

Christina Rosetti (1872)

The celebration of Advent is possible only to those who are troubled in soul, who know themselves to be poor and imperfect, and who look forward to something greater to come. Dietrich Bonhoeffer

Troubled souls.

I can be included in that category. Troubled. Imperfect. Poor in spirit. In need of a Savior.

Hope and peace turn our hearts towards this “something greater to come”. We know that our hope is secure. We know that peace is Immanuel – God with us. And so, joy is birthed from the conviction that something – Someone – greater is coming.

Nevertheless, there will be no more gloom for those who were in distress.

Isaiah 9:1

Isaiah prophesied that a time was coming when there “will be no more gloom”. He declared that a light would pierce the darkness, and the joy of mankind would increase.

He was prophesying the coming of the Messiah – Jesus Christ. Hope was imminent.

But first, there would be gloom and despair. Troubled souls, like yours and mine, would be waiting, hoping, wondering, and longing. Like the beloved hymn states: “Long lay the world in sin and error pining”.

Mankind was in need of a Savior.

The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2

But, finally, light broke through the wall of thick darkness. The weary world was shaken to attention. The announcement to the shepherds, the star that guided the wise men, it was a most significant event – the dawning of the Messiah.

You have enlarged the nation and increased their joy; they rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest, as warriors rejoice when dividing the plunder.

Isaiah 9:2

This event…this light dawning, would be more than a beautiful sunrise. It would be more than a bright and shining star. It was a promise that something greater would cause troubled souls to rejoice. It was likened to reaping a harvest or a great feat by a warrior. It was going to bring a kind of joy that would increase and expand everything in their small and gloomy world. It was a moment that would take the crazy and the chaos, the messy and the out-of-order, and bring everything – all creation – into wholeness and completeness.

Mankind is still in need of a Savior.

Christ came, and he brought his perfect peace, but not every soul has grasped it. There are still so many walking daily in the darkness and gloom. They have yet to experience the joy of Christ’s light. They are trying so hard to put things in order in their own power. They live as though the promise of hope has yet to come.

I think we can all be found guilty of this, if we were honest. We forget that Christ came, and his light gives us everything we need to rejoice. We forget that he is coming again. We lose that anticipation of the second coming. Our joy wanes in the heaviness of the here and now.

But when we recognize that our souls are troubled, that our own imperfections cloud the truth, then we are on our way to being transformed by the Light shining in the darkness.

If you have not felt the troubledness of your soul, then you cannot truly experience the joy of Christmas…the hope of what is to come. If you are hardened to the true condition of humanity, and you live blinded to the gloom and despair, then the reality of Christmas, and the light that shot down from heaven to earth – illuminating everything – will be sadly lost on you. Christmas will only amount to trees and tinsel and presents and unmet longing. We must acknowledge our troubled souls in order to appreciate and grasp the enormity of Christ’s humble arrival over 2000 years ago, and his imminent return. There is no greater joy than the promise that Christ fulfilled, and the promise yet to come. This Advent is a celebration of what has already come to pass, and what is most surely on its way…Christ has come, and he is coming again!

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end.

Isaiah 9:6,7

Christ is with us. He is Immanuel.

There is joy in his presence.

And Christ is coming again.

The Advent of his coming makes our joy complete.

I am looking for something…for Someone…greater to come.

Jesus Christ…Savior and Messiah.

Are you, too, a troubled soul? Have you had a moment of spiritual amnesia? Have you forgotten Immanuel?

Are you struggling to put your life, this world, back into order? Are you weary?

Reflecting on the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy what brings you hope, peace and joy? Can you connect the dots beginning with the promise fulfilled which leads to the promise of Christ’s second coming?

Is your joy complete in Christ? If not, what do you need to release right now in order to experience the hope, peace and joy that Christ has to offer you?

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
‘Till he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Placide Cappeau

]]> http://amyeslater.com/?feed=rss2&p=5055 0 http://amyeslater.com/?p=5046 http://amyeslater.com/?p=5046#comments Sun, 04 Dec 2022 04:31:12 +0000 Amy http://amyeslater.com/?p=5046 Peace.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

John 14:27

Peace is hard to come by. In our world, it is difficult to find a point of agreement on just about anything: politics, religion, philosophical beliefs on topics ranging from parenting to leadership to morality to social justice. We just can’t seem to find common ground, even on the fundamentals. The truth is, there has never been a time in history when we all agreed on every matter and every point of view. There have always been conflicting thoughts, opinions, and perspectives. That is life. However, never before has there been such animosity, hatred, and the absence of peace in the midst of our differences. It’s not that we can’t get along or find common ground. It’s that we won’t.

Interestingly, we all long for peace. And yet, in that longing, we create more and more of an atmosphere void of peace. We push so hard to get our point across – believing that peace will be attained by uniformity – that we sever relational strings that have long held us together.

I’ve often wondered what was it like during the four-hundred-year intertestamental time – that time between the Old Testament and the New Testament? What about it made Isaiah refer to it as a time of “darkness and fearful gloom”? What was happening?

The intertestamental time was a era fraught with conflict. The difference between this period following the Old Testament and the advent of Christ was that there was complete silence from God. There were no prophets speaking and warning, bringing God’s word to the people. There was no Jesus disrupting the status quo. There was nothing. No voice of conviction nor comfort. Just silence.

And in that silence was longing.

Judas Maccabeaus, the leader of the rebellion against the Seleucid king, Antiochus IV Epiphanes – who desecrated the Temple in order to impose Greek culture and religion onto the Jewish people – led the fight which eventually brought political freedom to the small nation of Israel. But this only lasted eighty years – the span of a life. The Roman empire, which was the ruling kingdom at the time of Christ’s birth, swiftly conquered the independent Judea.

The Hebrew word for peace, shalom (שׁלום) is derived from a root denoting wholeness or completeness, and its frame of reference throughout Jewish literature is bound up with the notion of shelemut, i.e. perfection.

Dr. Aviezer Ravitzky

From the final prophetic word to the time of Christ was around four-hundred-years. And even though Israel won their freedom for a short period of time within that long timeframe, there was still an emptiness.

The Maccabees attained a form of liberation, but even that was still considered, by the absence of documentation by the prophets, as a dark and fearful time. Why?

Because God was silent.

Imagine a world without God’s voice. Imagine no word from heaven. No Holy Spirit speaking and nudging hearts and minds.

Heaven was silent.

As much as man tried to restore peace, true peace had not yet come.

It wasn’t until Jesus Christ, the Messiah, entered into the story that peace – shalom (שׁלום) – illuminated the darkness and the gloom. Jesus was the embodiment of perfection, the heart of peace. And his peace brought wholeness and completeness.

Christ’s peace was not the manmade manufactured kind, and knowing that the disciples would encounter more gloom and darkness, He brought words of comfort:

My peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.

His peace is the assurance of his presence, his grace, his justice, and his truth. Christ wasn’t going to leave them in silence. He promised the Holy Spirit to them.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

He warned them that the peace the world will try to attain and put into practice will not suffice…it will leave them wanting. The world cannot give the kind of peace that aligns with perfection. Only God can.

Along with truth and justice, peace is among the most hallowed Jewish values.

Dr. Aviezer Ravitzky

In this season of “peace on earth, goodwill toward men” let us not confuse our earthly methods of creating and attaining peace to the kind of peace that Jesus promised to us. If we are looking to a political victory or a win in an argument, we are going to be sorely disappointed. That peace, the world’s peace, will never satisfy the longings of our hearts.

It is the assurance that Christ gives us, and we are reminded of every year as we anticipate the wonder of Christmas, of his presence, his voice, his coming again. We can hold on to that. In Christ’s kingdom, unlike all the ancient kingdoms come and gone, truth, justice and peace will reign. We can cling to that, and in the midst of this broken world, we can surely find peace.

In what, or in whom, are you looking for the promise of peace?

Christ promised us his peace, a peace that brings wholeness and completeness. As you anticipate the celebration of Christ’s birth, what facets of his character bring you peace?

What challenge are you facing that is causing anxiety for you today? How can Christ’s promise of peace bring a calm to your weary mind and heart? What hole in your life are you trying to fill yet failing to close the gap and achieve wholeness? What do you need to release to God today so that you can stand secure in his perfect peace?

Silent Night

Silent Night, Holy Night

All is calm, all is bright

Round yon virgin mother and child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace,

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Joseph Mohr