O Come, Emmanuel

Today my heart is weighted by the symptoms of a diseased people. Evil has polluted the places we thought to be immune to danger. Fear-crazed and sin-enamored brokeness has spread and hurt us all deeply. Despite our attempts at control, we cannot escape the painful realization that we are a people insisting on destroying ourselves. Then I think of Emmanuel. God with us. I think of the deep love that drove a Creator to send His purest posession into the muck of sin because he knew that even mankind's best attempts to reach up to Him for help would fall short. He did not wait for His people to acknowlege their need and cry out to Him. Immersed in mortality, tempted by darkness, burdened by brokeness. He was with us in flesh. He is with us even still. Can you hear it? The aching groans. The deep longings echoed by many. The earth and those who inhabit it are yearning. Because whether or not they know what they ache for, they know that all is not as it should be.

O come, O come, Emmanuel.

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night And deaths' dark shadows put to flight!

Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

 

Free thine own from Satan's tyranny

From depths of Hell Thy people save

     And give them victory o'er the grave.

 

Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

What is hope? Hope is Emmanuel. The One who came to us. The One who remains with us. The One who will return with power to redeem and restore. All will be made right.

Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come.

It's in the Quiet I Know

I am finding that it's not enough to decide that you are sufficient in the loud, maddening stress. When I am aware of my need for you. I must purpose in my heart that you are sufficient when I'm alone and it's quiet. When it's calm and the urgent things die down. In the quiet, I am forced to face the fears of my soul head on. The feelings I wish to avoid catch up with me. There is no one to distract me, or to look to for affirmation that I so dearly need from you. It's when I slow down that I encounter the Divine. This encounter does not always mean easy. It means a confrontation- the realization that I feel lonely, uncertain, not nearly as put together as I wish to be, insecure and needy. All that I am lies completely exposed before you. I cannot hide or run away with the noise. My "what if"s and "should have"s are revelealed for what they truly are. I tell you what I feel, remind you of what I most long for, stop holding back the tears. And when all my darkest things have come out, after my very honest self-appraisal, when I have finally made myself slow down enough to stare honesty in the face... you meet me there. Tender eyes seeing, compassionate heart beating in rhythm with mine. You whisper hope. I am understood. Warm relief fills me as I mouth a silent "thank you". And it's in the quiet I know you are enough.

Not nice, but good.

"Be nice" they say. "Don't talk back. Say please. Don't roll your eyes." Since I learned to brush my own hair it's been drilled into me that I must be polite. Ladylike. Sweet. Not mean. So nice-ness becomes the reflex response. Hurt is crudely covered by a masked smile. "Yes" is abused and my plate is overfull. Graceful femininity is admirable. Courtesy and care worth striving for. But when did nice become the highest regarded character quality? I want nice to retire. I want to be good. I want to hang up the synthetic garb of sweetness and clothe myself with strength and dignity; be the woman who "laughs at the days to come". (Prov. 31) I want to run from shallow, half-invested relationships and fight for fierce loyalty; be the woman who vows before God to stay by the side of her embittered mother-in-law. (Ruth 1) I want to shatter the facade that my heart is impenetrable and embrace complete and utter honesty; be the woman who weeps and begs for her soul's desire of motherhood. "I am a woman troubled in spirit....I have been pouring out my soul before The Lord." (1 Samuel 1) I want to flee the temptation of passivity and bravely act against injustice; be the woman who defies the law and boldly approaches a King to save those who God loves. (Esther 7) May my character be shaped and my persona be characterized by the heritage and faith of these noteworthy women. I am saying "no" to sugary sweet. To shallow pleasantness. To best efforts at feminine perfection. I am saying "yes" to uncommon strength. To unconventional faith and beauty. To goodness that knows when to laugh, when to fight, when to weep, when to be brave. I want nice to retire. I want to be good.