the majestic middle

Something subtle from our staff Christmas party on Monday continues to mull in my spirit.

Something quiet and unexpected and easy to miss, and as such, it has been shining on my mind and heart of Christmas.  

I have found it, that meaningful place by the manger this Christmas, and it was Leme God used to bring it.

The festive cheer of our Christmas party is always a little dulled by a short work-related portion between the meal and the games. This year, it was Leme's turn to bring the business.  

"I have three things to quickly go over this morning," he shared, looking at a scrap of paper in his long fingers.

"First, and foremost, and above all else--the filter through which everything else must be understood from this moment forward--Jesus Christ is coming. He is coming back, and we must be shining lights, sharing and waiting expectantly.  Praise the Lord, He is coming!" He glanced down again, and continued in the same breath "And grades are due by Friday, the business office is closed on the 21st for Jodenel's wedding, hallelujah!, and you can pick up your paychecks on the 14th!"

We moved right on to games amidst the wedding and paycheck cheers, but (thank you Lord) I didn't miss the significance of his seemingly out-of-place reminder.

Each Christmas, I try to focus.  Like all the church calendar holidays, they exist as reminders of what God has done, and I want them to be just that, truly I do. They are our stones, turned upright and anointed with oil, reminding us of what He's done, of how faithful He's been. Christmas, the songs, the tree, the advent devotionals, they remind me, each year, that Christ came. That He came for me, for us, for this right here. 

It so easily gets crowded out, our quiet Savior, His subtle birth. I fight for it, each Christmas, I fight to hold on to Him, to carry His peace, to shine His light.  

But how often I forget all the other days the foremost thing Leme reminded me of, the filter through which everything else must be understood.  I forget that that He is coming as easily as we forget at Christmas that He has come.  I forget the urgency, the soon and very soon, I forget the promise that this time it will not be subtle, that this time it will not be quiet and dark.

Someone said to Matt and I a few days ago with empathy "It must be very hard, celebrating Christmas day there in Haiti where nothing feels like Christmas. We'll be praying for you."

You know I appreciate prayers, always, and I totally get what they were saying and have been tempted to struggle the same way, but don't encourage me to confuse Christmas!  Remind me instead of the first and foremost! Christmas is not ABOUT it feeling like Christmas, whatever that means to each of us.  It's not ABOUT me living my imagined perfect day with snowflakes and pine-scents and cookies and squeals of delight. Christmas is not my birthday. Christmas is not about me or about met expectations or bigger and better or shinier and happier or anything else. 

Christmas looked so incredibly subtle and drab and quiet that almost everyone missed it. There was nothing festive in the least about Christ-come, though His coming transformed the entire world, forever, and I'm very anxious, most, for our Christmas to look like that...heavy with the weight and awe of the Maker of the Stars, born on earth.  

We dwell in the majestic middle, family...between Christ come and Christ coming, that which already fully is, and also is not yet. 

Waiting expectantly, Leme reminded me. The filter through which everything else must be understood....how I understand "My" Christmas. My parenting. My work, my goals, my marriage, my rights, my celebrations, my mourning, my pain, my joys.  My day.  

If we are His Faithful Children, then all of it, every day, must be understood through the foundational filters of Christ-come and Christ-coming. 

That middle is where my feet must be solidly planted, carrying about within me the echo of the angels...to every person...that Christ has COME, come to dwell among us, come for each and every.  Come, quietly, a whisper, that God might be brought close, God among us.  

Carrying about within me that Christ is coming, with all the hope and joy and urgency that brings, my focuses, my seasons, my priorities, all set on His soon return.

Matt is back to the States today for the funeral of his uncle. My sister sits this morning by a once-again very sickly Mayah, surrounded by beeping-babies fighting for their lives. The world is a mess this morning, maybe yours is too. Maybe your marriage is very broken, maybe your Christmas is very dark. Maybe your struggles are suffocating, maybe our to-do's are overwhelming. Maybe your child is very sick, maybe your parent is dying. Maybe your tank is empty, maybe your bank is, too. Maybe your loved ones are far from home, maybe they are far from Our Father. Maybe you're missing, maybe you're afraid, maybe you're desperate. Maybe (try probably) your friend or co-worker or family member is living kinds of broken, too.

And the world would have us think that all of these things are very un-Christmas. Very grinch. Very unhollyjolly.

Beloved, seemingly out-of-place reminder: 

Our pain is the essence of Christmas, for it. is. what. He. came. to. touch.  

Our grief is the guts of Christmas, for it. is. what. He. came. to. share.

He has COME for broken, praise the Lord, hallelujah.  Find us there this Christmas, dear Jesus. 

He is COMING for no more tears, no more sickness, no more pain, NO more broken, not ever again.  Expectantly make it shine within us, Jesus, our hope and stay.

Merry Christmas, dear family--don't miss it, the majestic middle.  God is come...and is coming, rejoice.