Christmas redemption: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel

My red nail polish is chipped. It's broken. So much like me. 

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, it's a plea, a begging, Emmanuel, God with us, I need that. I need Him with me. With us. 

Brokenness is all around me. A graduate of my college was killed by his brother a few days ago. My friends struggle with which parent they going to see first when they go home on break. Families regather for the holidays expecting conflict and tension. The homeless in my city are cold. And wet. And yet it's Christmas.

People rush around the city buying decorations and gifts they can't afford, hoping to please friends and family they may not even genuinely know or love. Because being fully loved requires being fully known. And being fully known is dangerous. And threatening. And vulnerable. 

Where's the beauty in this? 

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. 

He's coming! He has come! Hallelujah! He cares to come sit in my pain and my brokenness, in the pain and brokenness of the world, of my neighbor, of my city.  

Psalm 147:3-5 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He counts the number of the stars; He gives names to all of them. Great is our Lord and abundant in strength; His understanding is infinite.

He is the Divine Namer. That's who He is. And by naming us, He knows us. Knows us in our most vulnerable place and still says 

I love you. Knows us and all of our wrong and still says I'll die for you. Knows us and all of our pain and says I'll know your pain, too. He doesn't just want our happiness, pasted on smiles, singing Christmas carols and decorating the house. He wants our loneliness, our loneliness in a crowd, our broken hearts, our anger and hatred, our loss. He wants us. 

When Jesus became a little baby in a cold stable (the King of the Universe didn't even get a proper home) and slept on a pile of scratchy hay, and slept surrounded by the smell of cow and sheep manure, He was saying something very loudly. I'm here. With you. And I'm not leaving. I'm here for everything that's broken, to heal it, to walk beside you, to weep with you. Later in his life, when his friend Lazarus died, he wept. He didn't just sweep in on a white horse in shining armor, but He sat down next to Lazarus' sisters and wept.

And He sits down with me. And with you. And He weeps. He wipes away the tears running down my face and still whispers I love you.

So if this Christmas is less than what we see on the Hallmark Christmas channel and you are feeling empty or disappointed, please remember, Christmas is our celebration and our reminding ourselves (because we forget so easily) that Jesus is with us. And that He is whispering I love you. 

O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. God with us.

(The inspiration for this post came from Ann Voskamp's raw post 3 keys that salvage any christmas about redemption at Christmas). 

a mountain thanksgiving break

this thanksgiving, I went to my family and then headed up to the mountains to visit my grandparents for a few days. it was really restful and stunningly beautiful.

my barren blue ridge mountain 

the mountains majestic in all their barren glory,
even the mountain stripped clear for timber,
looking like a young boy's crooked, cropped new hair cut,
the sky achingly blue against the gray of lonely trees.

my mountains once blue, are now aching gray,
waiting for spring. only the pine remains in 
scattered clumps, clinging to the hilly crests. 
wispy clouds skirting over the ridge.

I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving and I pray that this December will be a peaceful and restful once as we are reminded again of Jesus' love for us. He is coming! 

ache and grace

it's so easy for this time of year to be painful. to be a reminder of all that's broken. in me, there's an ache instead of gratitude. but I'm pressing deeper into Jesus to feel the gratitude. 

because I am grateful.

I'm grateful for this life of mine. it's broken. and sometimes (a lot of times) life just sucks. but today at church as I wept at my awareness of brokenness and emptiness, I was surrounded by other believers who were there to pray for me and encourage me.

I'm grateful for getting to celebrate thanksgiving today with some of my closest college friends. and getting to spend thanksgiving with my grandparents. and getting to see my family. 

I'm grateful for being able to feel the pain. for being able to feel God's healing love. because He's healing me. He's healing the broken pieces of me.

so for any of you who are feeling the brokenness going into thanksgiving week, God loves you in the messy. in the broken. you don't have to be fake. God longs to be real with you and show you His deep, deep love. and His grace for your aching, shattering heart. Thanksgiving is sometimes simply a time of pressing into that grace and begging Him to feel grateful. because it's easy to be angry, bitter, and resentful for the broken. so I'm begging Him to make me grateful. because I'm not really empty. 'cause He's filling me up.

to make me feel more deeply His love, because ultimately, that's what I'm grateful for. love running over my cup, grace, pressed down, shaken out into my lap, spilling over. all of it, undeserved. and seeing His face look at mine with tender love. 

grateful. being still.

This fall has been quite a whirlwind. It is difficult to believe that there are only nine more days of classes, and then finals, and then Christmas break. 

Jesus has done amazing things this semester. I have been so blessed to live with my wonderful roommate, to learn more in my classes, to get to know new friends, deepen older friendships. 

I went camping over fall break at Hanging Rock with my friend, Brittany. It was my first camping trip without my family. We went hiking at Window Falls. Actually, we hiked down the trail, got into the creek, and climbed up the rocks in the waterfall. That night, we went and stared at the stars and talked for hours and listened to the wild dogs howling. We woke up in the middle of the night in a huge thunderstorm. I woke up pretty wet, and it continued to rain that day. Since I didn't have proper rain gear, we headed to Old Salem for the day to walk around. 

I have carved pumpkins with some of my best friends. Actually, I gutted their pumpkins and roasted the pumpkin seeds. 

I have gone for several beautiful, autumn walks with great friends on the greenway.

I am currently reading "Having a Mary Heat in a Martha World" by Joanna Weaver. It has been such a blessing and very eye-opening. My favorite quote from this book is 

"We live in the constant tension between 

the urgent and the important."

I'm surrounded by so many things that are urgent, but only one thing is truly important: seeking Christ in all things and knowing Him more deeply.  

So through this crazy, hectic, head-spinning semester, there have been amazing moments of being still before the Lord. And while the world is still flying at breakneck speed (and I am, too), I'm learning to keep the quiet, still peace of Jesus about me. I was forced to be still last week and the week before because I keep getting sick. And while that has been stressful on one level (seeing the work piling up and being incapable of doing it), I'm learning to rest when I'm supposed to rest. 

I'm so grateful for this semester. For what Jesus has taught me through it. For what I've learned. For the friendships that are so amazing. For a wonderful small group of girls seeking to learn more about Jesus. For interesting research projects. For vibrant colors of fall. 

Be Quiet and Breathe

I know it has been very quiet, but I have not been able to craft or create very much at all lately. I have been completely overwhelmed with homework, exams, papers, and the like. 

On one particular day that was tiring with school, I saw a gorgeous butterfly on the loading dock where I work. It was Jesus' quiet reminder for me to open my eyes and see all that was beautiful in my life that He has given me. While I don't have any new crafts I have worked on or tutorials to share, Jesus has been doing a lot in my heart. 

Reminding me of His gorgeous glory that is EVERYWHERE.
Reminding me of His grace for me. 
Reminding me of all the lovely, sweet people He has given to me to have as my friends. 
Reminding me to breathe and remember that He loves me.

No matter how crazy life seems.
No matter how I feel about a test.
No matter how a presentation goes. 

Tonight in my girls' small group, we talked about John 2:1-12, where Jesus turns water into wine for a wedding that has run out of wine for their party. It just struck me how Jesus took time and made a miracle for something that in the scheme of eternity is not a huge deal. He took the time to listen. 

He listens. Jesus listens to me. About whatever I ask. And I can sit there and simply be in His presence, because I know that He knows my heart more than me and He is here speaking to me. 

And His voice speaks when I am still. 

So I need stillness. Just to sit at His feet.

He makes beautiful things out of broken people. But I have to listen to Him and be quiet enough to hear His voice.

And then I have to speak. Because He wants to use me and use you to speak His truth and grace.

Compassion

Lamentations 3:31-32 For the Lord will not cast off forever, but, though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love.

The Lord has compassion. He does not retain His anger forever. He is merciful and just through the Cross. He is merciful out of His great storehouses of mercy. This is a great foretelling of the Cross. "Though He cause grief" points to the suffering of the cross of Jesus Christ. "He will have compassion" on the fallen souls He has called because of His sovereign mercy.

When from the dust of death I rise

To claim my mansion in the skies,

Ev'n then this shall be all my plea,

Jesus has lived, has died, for me.

Jesus has lived, has died for me.

O let the dead now hear Thy voice;

Now bid thy banished ones rejoice;

Their beauty this, their glorious dress,

Jesus, thy blood and righteousness,

Jesus, thy blood and righteousness."

                                    Count Zinzendorf

Emmanuel, God with Us

Psalm 91:1-2 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to my LORD, "My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."

Oh give thanks to the LORD,

for He is good,

for His steadfast love endures forever!

Let the redeemed of the LROD say so, whom He has

redeemed from trouble and

gathered in from the lands.

He satisfies the longing soul,

and the hungry soul, He fills with good things.

When our eyes are most fixed on Him, our problems are most small. When we are filled with gratitude at what He has already done, we grow in faith to see what He is going to do. Beginning the day with a verse praising God for His shelter, His power, His grace, His glory, reminds me that my God is bigger than my problems. I serve a mighty God.

He shaped the universe with A WORD.

THE WORD. The Word that became flesh and dwelled among us. He pitched His tent among the very people He created who used that breath He breathed in us to curse Him. Yet He still pitched His tent and became Emmanuel. God with us.

He orchestrated everything perfectly, from the way the mitochondria on a cell function to the way the stars in galaxies move in harmony. Yet He still looks with kindness on undeserving, insignificant, sinful, hateful people like me and you.

How gracious is our God? How grateful should His people be?

So, my dear sisters and brothers in Christ, as you struggle with the burdens you carry, be they illness, or unemployment, or relationships, or bitterness, or anger, or hostility toward God, know this. That everything is done before Him and in light of the Cross. That He paid for it all. The penalty for sin has been paid and the power of sin has been broken. We are no longer captives, but children of God. How much should that inform the way we live our lives, the way we view other people, the way that we are diligent in our work, the way we worship God with our hearts. 

God with us

Emmanuel, pitching His tent

Among our shabby shacks

Eating with the unclean, unwashed,

Lifting up our downcast, tear-streaked faces

To say "I paid it in full.

It is finished.

Your sins are forgiven.

The Death-wrought chains

That bound you to sin

Are shattered, broken, gone.

Live life freely now in Me."
Unafraid to touch our filth

Our rags, born in a stable,

A king, but not in a palace,

Clothed in rages, not robes,

Crying in hunger and cold.

He knows what it's like to be me.