Living in Advent

One of my most fondest memories of Christmas Eve is sitting in my former church, anticipating the last song, Silent Night. Each year, before we began the song, the pastor, with a twinkle in his eye, would encourage us to take the opportunity to hug, speak or acknowledge those of our family and friends who were with us. To mark this moment of the holiday with love and joy for those we held most dear. And I loved it.

Until I didn’t.

Until I didn’t have my family next to me. Oh, I had part of it. I just didn’t have a whole family anymore. Which caused me to get anxious as Silent Night approached. In fact, one year, I left before the song began because it was too painful.

Andy Williams is right. Christmas IS the most wonderful time of the year. It’s filled with Christmas cheer, celebrations of the birth of Jesus along with parties and gifts and my homemade eggnog.

But it’s also a time when, unlike any other moment of the year, I’m forced to acknowledge the losses I’ve had or currently have. When I allow tears to fall because in the midst and mix of this magical season, I’m fully aware of my brokenness.

And it would be so easy for me to live here, to run out of the church, so to speak, in order to avoid the pain. But, I’ve been thinking. If Christmas is a time of anticipation and hope and joy and cheer, then it’s not meant just for my present but for my future.

Christmas is about remembering how the Israelites waited and waited and waited for their Messiah, for their Savior to come. Life, for them, was difficult and harrowing and, sometimes, life threatening. But then, out of the blue, in the most unexpected way, Jesus came. And he changed everything. Everyone. And if scripture is as it says, “God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,” then I’ve got to be inspired to be like the Israelites. To wait, to anticipate, to be expectant. The Israelites lived and breathed in the anticipation that their Savior would come. They didn’t know when, they didn’t know how. They just believed in the scriptures that their Messiah would one day come.

And isn’t that to be true for me today. Sure, I will cry (as I am now), feel the pain and loss of things and people in my life. And probably more to come. You know, the ‘ole “in this world there will be trouble.” But, the joy comes in, as the old worship song says, by turning my eyes upon Jesus. Knowing that one day, either here on earth or on the other side, God will bring the longed for hope and healing to my life. Which, in this moment, makes Christmas truly magical. To look at my tree and my lights and the gifts with a renewed heart. I still acknowledge the loss but the greater feeling, that overcomes the pain, is choosing to believe and knowing that Jesus is here and he WILL change everything. Everyone. Including me. I don’t know when. I don’t know how. But I am choosing to believe the scriptures and to live in the advent of his arrival.