It was the lights. The way the cheaply shone on the window panes and tried to spark joy in my hardened spirit. It was the price tags in bold red that screamed clearance and drew my heart away from its source. It was all the cars and all the people and all the noise that pummeled my heart like a wrestler in a boxing ring. I couldn't take one more round. I couldn't give anything more.
It wasn't like I didn't want it. Christmas is a time of joy and giving and peace and glad tidings, but I felt nothing of the sort. The places where there was supposed to be wonder and simplicity, I only felt annoyance and overwhelmed.
Because Christmas comes no matter what. Christmas comes and the sadness is still there. The battle from November turned into the battle of December. The struggle that was there before will be there still. Christmas comes even if it brings memories that hurt a heart far too much. It comes even if there are spaces empty at the Christmas table. It comes even when there is anger and sadness and fear. It comes. December 25th every year shows up faithfully. For some, it means joy. For others, it means survival.
I've come a long way from those times as a child when I marveled at the Christmas story or when the presents under the tree seemed to be more than my little heart could have dreamed of. It's been a long time since I sat in wonder at the lights that we drove by or the joy that came with the hustle of the season. Now I was tired and the hustle irritated me. Now I am far from those bright lights of childhood.
My wonder is broken.
My wonder is lost.
But that's just it. I've lost the wonder of Christmas. I've entered this Christmas season mortally wounded from a battle I no longer want to fight. I've come to this Christmas season with a broken heart.
And Jesus still came.
Like Christmas, Jesus still comes no matter the circumstance, despite the pain. Jesus came, even though there was no place for him to stay. Even though Mary probably tried to stop those labor pains and keep that baby inside till she returned back home. Jesus came, even though the government didn't want him and threatened to kill him. Even when the world stopped looking for him. Even when God had been silent for nearly 400 years, Jesus came.
Jesus came, even though the world would hate him. Even though his people would reject him. Even those his followers were almost snuffed out. Jesus came, knowing about the sleepless nights and the people that would cling to him. Jesus came, knowing about the nails that would be driven through his wrists and feet. He came knowing his death would be that of a broken heart. He came, knowing the prophecies, knowing the suffering, knowing the struggle.
Jesus came.
And even now, when I cry out "where are you?", when I've lost the wonder of his birth. When I doubt his faithfulness. When I allow the earthquake to shake my heart. When I look at those I love and feel a helplessness I cannot shake because of a hurt I cannot remove. When I look at those I hold close and feel burdened because the prayers I've prayed for years have fallen on seemingly deaf ears. When I look at my own heart, a bloodied, battered mess, and cry out because it's been hurting for too long and I just want some peace. Even now, I see him.
Even now, I know him.
Immanuel, God with us, came down.
It was hidden, in a silent night. It was disguised, in a stable birth. It was wondrous because the Savior of the world came down.
And now, I am called to remember, to remember what he did, to remember his goodness, to recall the Hope he gave.
It is with a broken wonder I come. Before, I saw the simplicity of what Jesus had done when he came to earth as a baby. Now, I see the complexity. Because he didn't come to a world of small children, eagerly waiting to accept the gift he had to offer, instead he came to an earth that didn't want him, that would hurt him and reject him. He came for my messy heart, he came for the ones that would turn away from him and for the ones that couldn't hear him. He came for them because he loves them. he came for you and he came for me.
So with my broken heart, I wonder at my beautifully broken Savior. I marvel at the simplicity and complexity of what He has done. I praise him because He came. I celebrate Christmas, even if it comes in a whirlwind and I don't want it, I celebrate it because it is what I need: to be still before the greatest of gifts. To worship because he came to be Immanuel, God with us. It is what I need because even when I try to shut him out, he still comes. Even when I cannot see him, he is still there. Even when I turn my back, he is relentlessly pursuing me. Praise to Jesus who has come.
It wasn't like I didn't want it. Christmas is a time of joy and giving and peace and glad tidings, but I felt nothing of the sort. The places where there was supposed to be wonder and simplicity, I only felt annoyance and overwhelmed.
Because Christmas comes no matter what. Christmas comes and the sadness is still there. The battle from November turned into the battle of December. The struggle that was there before will be there still. Christmas comes even if it brings memories that hurt a heart far too much. It comes even if there are spaces empty at the Christmas table. It comes even when there is anger and sadness and fear. It comes. December 25th every year shows up faithfully. For some, it means joy. For others, it means survival.
I've come a long way from those times as a child when I marveled at the Christmas story or when the presents under the tree seemed to be more than my little heart could have dreamed of. It's been a long time since I sat in wonder at the lights that we drove by or the joy that came with the hustle of the season. Now I was tired and the hustle irritated me. Now I am far from those bright lights of childhood.
My wonder is broken.
My wonder is lost.
But that's just it. I've lost the wonder of Christmas. I've entered this Christmas season mortally wounded from a battle I no longer want to fight. I've come to this Christmas season with a broken heart.
And Jesus still came.
Like Christmas, Jesus still comes no matter the circumstance, despite the pain. Jesus came, even though there was no place for him to stay. Even though Mary probably tried to stop those labor pains and keep that baby inside till she returned back home. Jesus came, even though the government didn't want him and threatened to kill him. Even when the world stopped looking for him. Even when God had been silent for nearly 400 years, Jesus came.
Jesus came, even though the world would hate him. Even though his people would reject him. Even those his followers were almost snuffed out. Jesus came, knowing about the sleepless nights and the people that would cling to him. Jesus came, knowing about the nails that would be driven through his wrists and feet. He came knowing his death would be that of a broken heart. He came, knowing the prophecies, knowing the suffering, knowing the struggle.
Jesus came.
And even now, when I cry out "where are you?", when I've lost the wonder of his birth. When I doubt his faithfulness. When I allow the earthquake to shake my heart. When I look at those I love and feel a helplessness I cannot shake because of a hurt I cannot remove. When I look at those I hold close and feel burdened because the prayers I've prayed for years have fallen on seemingly deaf ears. When I look at my own heart, a bloodied, battered mess, and cry out because it's been hurting for too long and I just want some peace. Even now, I see him.
Even now, I know him.
Immanuel, God with us, came down.
It was hidden, in a silent night. It was disguised, in a stable birth. It was wondrous because the Savior of the world came down.
And now, I am called to remember, to remember what he did, to remember his goodness, to recall the Hope he gave.
It is with a broken wonder I come. Before, I saw the simplicity of what Jesus had done when he came to earth as a baby. Now, I see the complexity. Because he didn't come to a world of small children, eagerly waiting to accept the gift he had to offer, instead he came to an earth that didn't want him, that would hurt him and reject him. He came for my messy heart, he came for the ones that would turn away from him and for the ones that couldn't hear him. He came for them because he loves them. he came for you and he came for me.
So with my broken heart, I wonder at my beautifully broken Savior. I marvel at the simplicity and complexity of what He has done. I praise him because He came. I celebrate Christmas, even if it comes in a whirlwind and I don't want it, I celebrate it because it is what I need: to be still before the greatest of gifts. To worship because he came to be Immanuel, God with us. It is what I need because even when I try to shut him out, he still comes. Even when I cannot see him, he is still there. Even when I turn my back, he is relentlessly pursuing me. Praise to Jesus who has come.
