The Greatest Gift
It's the most wonderful time of the year.
'Tis the season to await, commemorate, and celebrate! Finding new ways to incorporate word play into my writing is one of my favorite things to do. And speaking of favorites, Christmas is hands down my favorite time of the year. (I love corny segues too.) It's something that has been a part of my life for my entire life. The day we commemorate and celebrate Christ's birth. Christmas is a day, but it also represents a season where as a Christian, I am hopefully taking the time to remember the birth of Jesus, the Savior of the world. The baby born to die for me, and the greatest gift I've ever been given.
Quick side note: I used to think it was morbid to talk about Christ's death in the same breath as his birth during the Christmas season. I mean, isn't that what Easter is for? My joy of the season has actually been enhanced, and served as a reminder of why his birth is such a big deal in the first place. While Christmas is definitely when I mostly reflect on his birth, I have found it impossible to do that without pondering his life and death on my behalf.
It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
Needless to say, Christmas has looked differently over the years. Presents and gift-giving have always been a huge part of symbolizing the greatest gift I could ever receive. The gifts under the tree have always paled in comparison to the gift in the manger all those thousands of years ago. My excitement for those gifts under the tree symbolize my joyful anticipation of the greatest gift ever given.
Of course I realize that Christmas - both the day and the season - mean different things to different people. There's something about this time of year that tends to speed everything up, as the flurry of decorating, baking, card-mailing, get-togethers, and presents fill an already full calendar. If I'm not careful, this day and season become a mad dash to Christmas morning, instead of the mindful meditating on precious truth it's supposed to be. Slowing things down during a time of year that is screaming at us to rush, and do all the things seems like quite the impossible task. Every year, I'm in a never-ending battle as I fight to keep the main thing the main thing.
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.
Then along comes Advent, the arrival of the most notable person, thing, or event of all time. Honestly, I didn't even know Advent was a thing until I was an adult. Neither my husband or I grew up with Advent traditions. At first, I thought incorporating Advent was adding four more days of preparation and events to an already full Christmas calendar. Those four Sundays leading up to Christmas seemed like such a precious commodity to hand over. Small price to pay for the greatest gift ever given, Becky, don't you think?
We were raised with plenty of Christmas traditions, some of which we've fought to keep. As our knowledge and convictions grow of what the day, as well as all the days leading up to that day mean, it's been easier to hold on to and let go of things in order to make sure we cling to what matters most. It's more than just a day or a season, or even those four Sundays leading up to Christmas. It's an attitude of the heart.
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Sitting in my living room this past Wednesday, waiting on folks to arrive for a little Christmas get-together we were hosting, I caught myself thinking about the different ways I wait for different things in my life. I happened to be in an attitude of joyful anticipation for our little party. That isn't always the case for this introverted hostess.
I have waited expectantly, and I have waited with dread. I have waited in faith, and I have waited with fear.
Awaiting Christ's arrival, and how we approach that season where we commemorate that precious hope, can look the same for us too, I guess. Joyful anticipation or dread; faith or fear.
Yesterday marked the fourth and final Sunday of Advent, and during that morning's sermon, we were asked to consider an important question: what song is our heart singing? The song (or songs) my mouth is singing tends to be a pretty good indicator of that. For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace.
By now, you may have noticed what my subheadings have in common. They are snippets of lyrics from a few of my favorite Christmas songs. The songs of the season are a big part of what makes this time of year so wonderful for me. Songs that are filled with truth and beauty. Songs that help me to await and commemorate.
I hope you've also been able to gather that Advent and Christmas, the days and weeks where we await and commemorate, go beyond December 1st through December 24th. It is a lifestyle of awaiting and commemorating I am hoping to cultivate.
You might be wondering, "Well, that's all fine and good, Becky, but I'm grieving loss." If the waiting and commemorating finds you in a season of grieving or dealing with loss, please know that I am in it with you. I shared a few thoughts about that here.
I'll leave you with the lyrics of a Christmas hymn that I've known of for a while, but have only recently been struck with its simple yet powerful truth. That baby born in a manger meets us in the awaiting and commemorating. He meets us in the midst of our flurry of activity. His everlasting light meets us in, and breaks through our streets of darkness. He meets us in our hopes and fears, every single one of them. May Jesus be the greatest gift we give and receive this Christmas.
O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie.
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by;
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light.
The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in thee tonight.