Just done.
I blamed it on an overwhelming to do list that filled most spare time from the weeks before Thanksgiving to those that continued to stretch before me.
I blamed it on the stress of a job transition that was leaving me emotionally drained.
I blamed it on a pace of life that I knew was not sustainable.
I blamed it on a sense of loss, a sense that things had changed just a little too much from what I knew of Christmas as a child
And there were grains of truth in that blame game.
But even looking for a reason felt a little futile.
And then I took a moment to listen to the words "Mary brought forth her son. . . " and I fell into the story for a moment.
Mary
waiting more than a few months,
waiting nine.
The wise men
preparing and traveling,
possibly for years.
The nation
waiting for Messiah,
for centuries.
Perhaps this feeling of a holiday dragging on too long was a tiny taste of the waiting in the real story.
"Come thou long awaited. . . ."
It was a big picture prophecy that took on the weighty cloak of ancient. A desire so long ingrained that it held the trappings of epic. Something beyond one life, beyond one era, beyond one nation.
And then when he did come it sure didn't look like what was expected.
My own expectations of a Christmas similar to those of my childhood are going to be lost in this changing society. Christmas isn't a day to be celebrated now, but a holiday season. A season full of parties and celebrations that each bring an increasing sense of business and things that need to get done. And make no mistake, there will be a challenge there to continually dig out the real meaning, to set aside time for what is important. But I need to stop mourning the simpler time and focus on that challenge, because what I think Christmas should be like, is like what the Jewish nation thought the Messiah would be like. They both comprise of expectations that are simply too small and too far from what God brought about.
If God could bring the Savior to earth in the most unexpectedly humble way, he has the ability to take a holiday whose structure is continually changing, traditions that start and fall to the side by the host, and he can seed it with meaning. Because he is bigger than all of our structures. He is unexpected and unfathomable.
He sent a glittering army of angelic beings to tired, stressed shepherds, the blue collar working class of the day, and scholarly astronomers to Herod's doorstep to ask for directions.
"'Come into my parlor', said the spider to the fly."
Maybe the Christmas story reflects a lot of things we don't always think about.
waiting
awkwardness
broken expectations
fear
grief over the slaughter of innocents
and yet it in all of this,
that humble baby was the arrival of the Prince of Peace
He brought hope, not the hope that was expected, but something deeper.
Not a simple conquering king to overthrow the Roman government,
But a man to overthrow death itself.
Done with the holiday?
Tired of waiting,
Stressed,
Overburdened,
Fearful,
Grieving,
In pain,
that's OK,
because this story resonates with all of that.
Sometimes it is the empty times, the tired and drained and fearful times, the path of grief times where God touches us the most.
Some years I resonate most with the shepherds in the fields, other years the wise men. This year I am seeing those in the story who had to wait and it is an odd comfort.
So God help me not to pack up the Christmas tree on Christmas day as soon as the packages are opened. Help me not to start on that "how I need to change list" for the New Year. Help me to rest a bit, and wait a bit, and really think about the real people in this real history, who had real feelings and thoughts, and help me be just a bit more in awe at your place in that story,
and in this one.
Amen.
