Christmas in July
We enter The Christmas Shoppe in Smithfield, VA, my mother-in-"love" and I. I am looking around amazed at how a Christmas store can stay in business year round. And then I realize, it's people like me with an infinite and astonishing love for Christmas. I take my time looking at all the nativity scenes. Some are absolutely gorgeous and yet when I look at the price tag, I wonder how is it possible to pay $140 for a statue of baby Jesus, Mother Mary, and Joseph to set out once a year.
Then I see the kind of nativity scene I've been hunting for. It's a small, crude carving of the nativity scene with driftwood for $10 (really $7 with the 30% off sale). While I'm certain Aaron could make it, I decide to buy it as a pattern and inspiration for future carvings.
I don't think much of it at the time. I walk around the town with the nativity scene neatly wrapped and placed in a brown bag.
On our drive home, Aaron and I reminisce and talk and laugh. During our 7 1/2 hour drive we spend much of our time talking about our families and the complex webs of joy and sorrows that are woven over years of time. As I hear him share his experiences and his insights, I am overwhelmed to the point of tears at the graciousness of the Lord. We serve a God who redeems, who breaks chains, who destroys cycles, who renews the patterns of our minds. I see it. I see it taking root in Aaron and I's life. I am overwhelmed by the blessing of both our families and the ways they have sought to love us.
And suddenly, I feel the weight of that baby Jesus in the backseat of our car. I turn around and glance at the package laying there and feel it's immense significance. Jesus. The one who came so that the chains may be broken. Jesus. The one who left His throne in heaven to become one of us. To become flesh and blood. To experience the dirt beneath His feet and the sorrows of this life. To look death in the face and humbly say, "Not my will, but yours be done."
At home, I hang up the nativity scene. Aaron asks if I am going to leave it up year round. Of course I am I say.
I don't just need Christmas in December, or even Christmas in July. I need it every month. I need it in January when the dead of winter tries to fool me into hopelessness. I need it in February when the holiday devoted to lovers leaves me wanting His love even more. I need it in March when the whimsical hopes of luck and four leaf clovers are dashed. I need it in April when the rain showers seem to never cease and I fear drowning. I need it in May when the flowers bloom and the earth sprouts new life. I need it in June when the freedom of school being out may make me forget what true rest and freedom in the busyness is. I need it in July when fireworks and patriotic songs may make me forget my citizenship in heaven. I need it in August when the blazing yellow sun makes the asphalt so hot I am afraid to take a step. I need it in September when the leaves start to turn brilliant colors that whisper the coming of cold. I need it in October when goblins and ghosts make me fearful in the night. I need it in November when I may be tempted to be more thankful for my things than the One who made me. I need it in December when the red and the green may cloud the view of the baby in a manger.
I need Jesus. I need to hear how He understands. I need to hear how He walked the earth and loved beyond earthly measure. I need to hear how he was hungry and thirsty and gave us bread and wine.
And it's only a few days later that I forget the lesson briefly. So I sit down to journal and the only sentences that come and come like a fury are: You are gracious. You are loving.
I'm writing in rhythm over and over. My this be the story I write. Let this be the rhythm of my walking. Hebrews 2 comes to mind and I read over it savoring the last few words.
"Now since the children have flesh and blood in common, Jesus also shared in these, so that through His death He might destroy the one holding the power of death—that is, the Devil— and free those who were held in slavery all their lives by the fear of death.... Therefore, He had to be like His brothers in every way, so that He could become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For since He Himself was tested and has suffered, He is able to help those who are tested."
Then I see the kind of nativity scene I've been hunting for. It's a small, crude carving of the nativity scene with driftwood for $10 (really $7 with the 30% off sale). While I'm certain Aaron could make it, I decide to buy it as a pattern and inspiration for future carvings.I don't think much of it at the time. I walk around the town with the nativity scene neatly wrapped and placed in a brown bag.
On our drive home, Aaron and I reminisce and talk and laugh. During our 7 1/2 hour drive we spend much of our time talking about our families and the complex webs of joy and sorrows that are woven over years of time. As I hear him share his experiences and his insights, I am overwhelmed to the point of tears at the graciousness of the Lord. We serve a God who redeems, who breaks chains, who destroys cycles, who renews the patterns of our minds. I see it. I see it taking root in Aaron and I's life. I am overwhelmed by the blessing of both our families and the ways they have sought to love us.
And suddenly, I feel the weight of that baby Jesus in the backseat of our car. I turn around and glance at the package laying there and feel it's immense significance. Jesus. The one who came so that the chains may be broken. Jesus. The one who left His throne in heaven to become one of us. To become flesh and blood. To experience the dirt beneath His feet and the sorrows of this life. To look death in the face and humbly say, "Not my will, but yours be done."
At home, I hang up the nativity scene. Aaron asks if I am going to leave it up year round. Of course I am I say.
I don't just need Christmas in December, or even Christmas in July. I need it every month. I need it in January when the dead of winter tries to fool me into hopelessness. I need it in February when the holiday devoted to lovers leaves me wanting His love even more. I need it in March when the whimsical hopes of luck and four leaf clovers are dashed. I need it in April when the rain showers seem to never cease and I fear drowning. I need it in May when the flowers bloom and the earth sprouts new life. I need it in June when the freedom of school being out may make me forget what true rest and freedom in the busyness is. I need it in July when fireworks and patriotic songs may make me forget my citizenship in heaven. I need it in August when the blazing yellow sun makes the asphalt so hot I am afraid to take a step. I need it in September when the leaves start to turn brilliant colors that whisper the coming of cold. I need it in October when goblins and ghosts make me fearful in the night. I need it in November when I may be tempted to be more thankful for my things than the One who made me. I need it in December when the red and the green may cloud the view of the baby in a manger.
I need Jesus. I need to hear how He understands. I need to hear how He walked the earth and loved beyond earthly measure. I need to hear how he was hungry and thirsty and gave us bread and wine.
And it's only a few days later that I forget the lesson briefly. So I sit down to journal and the only sentences that come and come like a fury are: You are gracious. You are loving.
I'm writing in rhythm over and over. My this be the story I write. Let this be the rhythm of my walking. Hebrews 2 comes to mind and I read over it savoring the last few words.
"Now since the children have flesh and blood in common, Jesus also shared in these, so that through His death He might destroy the one holding the power of death—that is, the Devil— and free those who were held in slavery all their lives by the fear of death.... Therefore, He had to be like His brothers in every way, so that He could become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For since He Himself was tested and has suffered, He is able to help those who are tested."
And I feel again the weight and beauty of baby Jesus.
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