Miserable sinus infection raging in my head. It's made the rounds throughout the house and just the baby boy has escaped (so far). Little boy who just may have spoken his first words this week--hi, go, car, mama, moon--zooming trains around his sweet little train tracks. Vroom vroom. Lights up on the bushes outside, courtesy of the 10-ager. There are burnt out spots and unappealing gaps of bright orange electrical cords, which to the untrained eye appear very Griswald-ish, but to this practiced mama's eye are pure beauty. Chaos reigns. It started to feel not a lot like Christmas and then I listened to this song.
Andrew Peterson, Behold the Lamb of God
A Christmas album worth the splurge
The first Christmas wasn't silent. Or serene. Or perfect. But it was sacred. Full of love. Steeped in grace.
"Embrace the mess," I hear Christ whispering to me. "I'm not looking for the cleaned up version of your life that reeks of human control and functional atheism (according to Parker Palmer functional atheism = the myth that we have control and therefore no real need for God in our lives. Why bother if we can get there on our own with good behavior and clean living?). I am used to the mess. I made my entrance into humanity in a stable full of animal noises and smells and excrement with a young couple who just trusted. I can make my entrance into your life amidst bickering big girls, toddler boys who only want their mama especially all the time, laundry piled up to the ceiling, Christmas lists that have nothing to do with Christ that are nowhere near to being begun."
Come, Lord Jesus, come. My messy Christmas needs this Christ. Maybe yours does too?