The decoration box was lugged to the attic yesterday. It was a festive month of wreaths, greens and magical lights on the dock.
Alas, here we are with yet another Advent finished. Another Christmas season complete.
She had the baby.
There’s a “pregnancy” to Advent that provides an accessible reason to wait - a tangible conclusion to our waiting. Jesus, the Christ child, is born into flesh.
We feast; we savor; we unwrap presents, and presence, astounded that He is now here. With us. Immanuel. What now though, when the manger must be departed from, the evergreen aromas swept away? When the womb feels without again, the year ahead unknown?
Maybe Jesus is easier to trust in a pregnant story. Maybe He's easier to fathom with all the songs and light and magic of the season. But as a real, born person, He can be harder to grab hold of. As the incarnation realized, His following can seem more complex.
Maybe some parts of Christmas were never meant to be stored. As decorations make their way to the chilly cedar attic, maybe some themes should remain, like hopeful waiting and God being in our midst.
Jesus said, “I have come into the world as light, so that whoever believes in me may not remain in darkness” (John 12:46).
Would you help us believe this as true today, Lord, not just for the Christmas season, but for the whole year through? Amen