Jesus, not quite the same.

https://mshaiti.blogspot.com/2021/12/baby-jesus.html

I wrote that post a few years ago at Christmas, the Christmas Dad was diagnosed with angiosarcoma. The Christmas before, our first in America, had been incredibly hard and lonely and foreign. But that Christmas, the phone call Christmas, that was HEAVY. The next Christmas, dad was suffering on his death bed, heavier still. I could hardly breathe. There was nothing I could do to stop what was happening. Then last Christmas, Matt stepped away from WBS, and everything left felt crumbled to ash heap. It was all I could do to get through each hour of each day, mostly for 7 kiddos.

Looking at my half-nativity set that first dark Christmas, I wrote and lived and relived again and again...

I don't know where Jesus is, or where the angels went.  I've just got shepherds on the piano, staring upwards.  

If we're on this road again, I guess that He is, too.

We'll have to find Him along the way. 

This week, a dear Wellspring friend popped into our chaos of Matt's parents, their two dogs, seven kiddos, a new puppy and Christmas. She gave me a little box, noting disappointedly that it was not the same, but close.

Inside, after all these years of mama's piano bearing only shepherds and wise men, was Mary. Joseph. Little Jesus.

After all these years, the shepherds are finally looking down at the faithful family. Finally, the wise men extend their gifts to the Holy Little One. She gave me Jesus. 

They're not quite the same, Melinda said again, apologetically. Not quite the same. And she's right. 

It's NOT the same. Much has been changed and been lost since those original pieces were. 

It was mama's Jesus, gone 20 years. It was dad who gave me what was left. It was a different person, the Stacey who loved and traced them each Christmas, the little brown and golden halo'd Jesus, peaceful Mary, vigilant Joseph.

Our piano finally has Jesus come, and He is, as noted, not quite the same.

Or at least not quite the same as I had thought.

It's not that Jesus has changed. I was just in a big long line of those who were wrong about Him.

Following Him has been far more painful than I had planned as a child. Seeking Him far more heavy and dark than that little orange bulb star once shining down on ceramic Jesus had me thinking it would be. 

For the last several years, I haven't been quite sure where Jesus is in all this mess. I thought He was Silent Night and warm and fuzzy and calm and peaceful. I thought He'd protect me from all the broken and bless my socks off always if I loved Him. I thought my faithfulness would merit more things going my way.  I thought our brothers and sisters in Haiti would find food with their hope, would find governmental peace for their faithfulness. I thought maybe He was genie-Jesus or enough-through-my-parents Jesus or maybe American-work-hard-it-works-out Jesus. 

The road has been far more narrow than advertised (except by His Truth).  The cross has been far more heavy than expected (except I remember now it was heavy for Him.) The Jesus I've been following has led me far more often down His road of crosses than of crowns, He has asked me to identify with Him far more in struggle and pain and death and resurrection than in gold and frankincense. 

Frankly, I have not always seen Him.

But this year, not-quite-the-same-as-I-thought-Jesus on my piano reminds me with tears that He. has. always. been. there. He has always come.

He hasn't always been quite who I thought. He hasn't often done what I wanted. Almost everything in my life I very much so counted on--aside from Chris--has been lost with the original manger scene.

But I HAVE found Him along the way. The True One has always been and has not changed, Jesus drawn near more real than He ever was. 

He's been tested and true and found faithful. More and different than I ever thought.

If you're not seeing Him this Christmas, keep your eyes open, friends, keep the space, watch the gap. Keep your eyes up to the dark skies and breathe. If all your expectations have been dashed, be expectant of Jesus instead. 

It's His breath in our very lungs and until you see Him...He's right here. Stop looking for the Jesus you wanted Him to be, the Jesus you thought, maybe.  The Jesus you were hoping maybe you deserved. Your family's Jesus. Your genie Jesus. Your "as long as" Jesus.

He may not be the same as you thought...but He's NOT changed. Always been right here. He's drawn close.

He is MORE than I thought...And He isn't finished.