...on Christmas Eve

Today is Christmas Eve. The day before we celebrate the birth of our Jesus, our Savior, our Redeemer. 

Today is the day before the light shines on the hope and joy as we rejoice the birth of Christ.

Yet, what if the weary world was just weary. A world trying to rejoice, but their hallelujahs turn into muffled cries. 

What do we do then? When we understand the sweat on Mary’s brow, the hurriedness of the shepherd boys to see with their own eyes truth in what the angels told them, the frustration of Joseph succumbing to the fact that his wife would give birth in a barn without any midwife or medical attention. What do we do when God tells us “Do not be afraid,” but fear and doubt seem to be the only rational piece of this whole puzzle?

How do we make Christmas feel like a birthday celebration instead of this longing inside of us to break the word down into two terms - more of Christ? 

More of his peace. 

More of his presence. 

More of his comfort. 

Remind me - what do we do then?

What do you do when Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas?

When you feel wounded, sick, and sore.

When you feel broken, at a loss, and thirsty.

When you feel like you’re missing out on the happy kind of joy that you’re supposed to feel in this season.

I am not alone. 

I won’t put on a face to hide my hurt.

I’m being real - for a real world in a real season.

Yet, I have to face each feeling with a plan. I want Christmas, I want it bad. I want the feelings that I've been preparing my heart for this December. I want the feelings of advent to rush in and fill my soul. 

So -

I will keep worshipping. 

I will keep rereading Luke 1-2.

I will keep seeking out my Jesus - his peace, his presence, and his comfort. 

I will keep facing my fears with God’s perfect love that casts out fear.

I will sing my broken hallelujah for my Jesus and God to hear. 

And if no emotions change, if the joy doesn't come flowing in like a south Texas flash flood, if my heart still is longing - my God is still good. 

The Broken Shepherd Boy

Something in you breaks when the Shepherd boy falls to the floor and cracks in half. Something about the symbol of humility separated into two pieces pulls on your heart strings as you pick him up in your hands.

Then as if it fell with a purpose, the little damaged boy reminds you of the True Shepherd's mission when he stepped into this world. It reminds you that his body was broken, cracked, and pierced to save his Father's sheep.

Tears swell up in my eyes as I see the beauty in this brokenness held in the palm of my hand. Yet, another whisper from Jesus saying, "This is why I came."

As I set him down my eyes examine the shepherd boy protectively holding his sheep, a tear slips from my eye, and there right behind him the word JOY speaks loudly catching my attention, as if to be crying out "FIND JOY! FIND JOY!"

And so I do.
I begin to search for the beauty.
I find it and quickly snap pictures.
I engulf myself in this process of seeking because the King came to this earth as a baby, grew up as shepherd, and allowed his body to be broken for our sins.
Then three days later he was alive.
So in his birth and in his resurrection I will find JOY.

My sweet Mister putting up the lights <3!!

The paper ornaments waiting expectantly to be placed
on the Jesse Tree during advent.

All in All.

They sit under the tree - perfectly wrapped, waiting patiently to have impatient fingers open them, to experience the joy of the beholder, and to be used. These gifts that were thoughtfully chosen, wrapped in love, and perfectly placed... all for the joy of giving.

For this joy of giving.

I have realized there comes a moment in your life when you have to reach for the gift, unwrap it, and behold what was given to you. Sometimes what lies behind the wrapping paper may frighten us, but it is still a gift. Given out of love, waiting for the joy to wipe across you face. Hopefully. Then other times in our life the gift needs to be unwrapped by the giver...

Four months before Adam asked me to be his forever, we separated. It wasn't a fast break, it was a slow one. I pushed him away, fearful of what my emotions were doing to me. A recluse, I stopped answering phone calls, ignored him, I couldn't look at him anymore. These feelings of trust, hope, and most of all love - they scared the daylights out of me! The days that followed were some of my darkest ones, I didn't cry, didn't think, just filled myself with hate... convincing myself I was not worthy of love, I was a mess, and love always failed. Depression sank in, anxiety ate at my soul, and hopelessness and fear destroyed the rest. Yet, God had other plans. In my darkest he wanted me to know him fully.


So one cold December day, I stormed into my aunt's home and up to my room searching frantically for my bible. Great, you might be thinking, she wanted to see what God had to tell her - to search for biblical answers. No friend, I searched for the bible to curse God all the more fully. I hated him, hated. I was so angry and spiteful. Then I found it... the bible.

I found it, screamed, and threw it as hard as I could into the closet. When I went to toss myself on the bed I noticed a small folded paper had fallen out as the book soared through the air. I knelt down and picked it up, careful not to tear the worn paper - I unfolded it. The worn pencil markings on it read:

"Child of weakness
Watch and pray
Find in me 
Thine all in all."

I crawled into the closet and began to weep. A flood of emotions, so walled in broke free and poured out - heavy, flowing, no dam could shut off these waterworks. My pride and hate were shattered. Realization poured in as the God of all the universe wrapped this messy, pig-pen child in his arms and whispered...

You are weak. Child... you are weak. Look at me. Look, I am here. I am your all in all. I must be your all in all before any man can be your anything. Look at me, find that I am here. 
Watch how I love, it is unfailing. (Psalm 13:5)
Watch how I lived, it was righteous. (1 Peter 1:19)
Watch how I died, it was redemptive. (1 Corinthians 1:30)
Child... you are made in my image. You have access to all of that. To unfailing love, to a righteous life, to a redeemed spirit. 
I am love. If you live in love, you live in me.  (1 John 4:7-19)
Watch and pray.

Dear reader, please... please take note of this gift. This gift that I was afraid to unwrap because it was so wrapped in love. This gift that no fingers eagerly opened but instead like a new born child the gift was unwrapped before me, shown to me... by the one who adopted me as his own. This messy child, this human child. In my darkest most hateful moment - he said no more, listen I am here.

So I did and I realized I was scared to death of two truths:
1. God had to wreck me, take me, and make me new to make me fully his own.
-and-
2. To truly love (God or man), I had to lay down my wants and needs and in place of that seek to understand the one my soul longed for more. To watch and learn my love's ways... in order to be fully filled with better understanding.

I know. I know... but friend I also know this. I know that God made people for one purpose, to glorify himself. The people were too human and so they easily gave way to sin. The Creator of all could have been finished with us right then and there but he wasn't! No! Instead he loved us so much he put us... US... before his own, yes. He put his son's life before our deserving death sentence, one who knew no sin became sin so that we might be reconciled with the righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21). Why? Because he loved us (John 3:16). So why wouldn't I want to put down my wants and needs and receive this gift that I crave to not only hold but give back.


Stepping into God's way means leaving our ways behind. Marriage is that way. Following God is that way. All weakness are shown so that you must watch and pray, find your all in the one who made it all.