On Christmas poetry

I’m convinced that Christmas carols contain some of the finest words ever penned. Perhaps this is because their topic is the greatest the world has ever known. The advent of Christ. The incarnation of our Creator. Everything, everything, hinges on the Christmas story.

And if there’s one carol theme that keeps me completely mesmerized, it’s the fantastic contrast between what is happening and what is actually happening in the Gospel accounts. There’s an expectant couple. An inn. A birth. There are shepherds and stars. There’s government. Travel. Baby blankets. But we know what is couched in these ordinary things. The long-expected Jesus, born to set His people free.

Brilliant.

I could write a long time about this at Christmas time. And I normally do. So I’ve included my own little carol below not because it’s well written, but because it helps me flesh out the wonder of this beautiful contrast in the Christmas story. May it prompt your own worship this week.

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In a humble stable room,

The mighty promise now unfurls.

Against the stiff and earth-warm hay

Lies the Saviour of the world.

See the child in swaddling wrapped?

He will wrap the world in love.

Greatest love that can be known

The Father sends His only Son.

Hear the infant’s peaceful sleep?

He will bring us peace with God

And silence make of all our foes.

A quiet worked by His own blood.

Sinners now rejoice and sing!

Christ into our night has come.

Like a Dayspring from on high

For all to know a glorious morn.

In a humble stable room

This glorious Christmas morn.

Beth

it is enough: a single's response to the big question

Sometimes people ask, you know. Although it’s not often a spoken thing. They ask with a fleeting glance I wasn’t meant to see. A curious gaze at weddings, baby showers, or other crowded events. I see it in their eyes when I talk about my week or they rave about theirs. It’s the big question.

I know they ask because they love me. They want what is best for me, and their only reference point is what has been the best for them. But I wish sometimes that they would put words to this question because I know the answer, and I do not doubt it.

Let me tell you how I know.

When I am aware of a love I have not experienced. Like when I watch the unreserved tenderness and delight of a newly married couple. When my insides turn soft and quivering as I hold someone’s tiny infant. When I would reach for someone but they are not there. When I am the only single in the room. You may have wondered about this. In these moments and more, His love is enough. Don’t ask how this can be, but the steadfast loving kindness of God endures. And it is enough.

When I do hard things as one. Like when I file through funeral lines of loved ones. When I’ve laid on the exam table fearing the lump is cancer. When I’ve left a job without another one in sight. When I do long battle with the doubts and fears that come with singleness and it’s not yet 9am. You may have wanted to ask. His grace is enough. I can’t explain how His strength is sufficient for me. But it is enough.

When I face life alone. Like the thousand details of every day.  When I walk up to a dark house after work. When I lay alone at night. When it’s Valentine’s Day, Christmas, Mother’s Day, and just me. When I must do new and uncertain without a companion. You might be curious. Don’t ask me how, but His presence is enough. He has never left nor forsaken me. And it is enough.

So friends, ask. Ask so you can raise your heads heavenward and praise Him loud together with me. The God who is your all-I-need is mine too. There is a rich, throbbing glory in this truth. A platform so large and strong that all manner of men and women and children may safely stand together lifting one mighty Christ is sufficient! Hallelujah.

He is enough.

Beth 

what wondrous love

Tis the season for love. We hear it in the holiday songs. We watch it on the holiday movies. We feel it as we buy and wrap presents for those we hold dear. But Isaiah paints a love that looks quite different than the glitz and glam of the holidays. A love not based in feeling, but in surrender and sacrifice. A love that requires a response. The wondrous love of Jesus Christ.

He was despised and rejected. God’s face turns from our Creator on the cross. We turn our face because we’d like to forget we’re the fallen creation. It’s hard to look on a love you do not deserve and you cannot match. That requires humility. So we turn away in search of some lesser love to make us feel better about ourselves. Someone or thing that makes us feel less like the wretched sinner and more like the judge we fancy we are. And, like the Judge of all the earth on that fateful day, we hide our face from Christ. And He is despised and rejected of men.

By Lippo Memmi - LivioAndronico, CC BY-SA 4.0,
https://commons.wikimedia.org

He has borne our grief and carried our sorrows.  And we consider Him not quite enough for that. We thrash about for something else to lift the load. Some escape. A pill. A move. A therapy. A friend. A group. A special truth. A change. We throw our whole life into pursuit of these things. Creation groans under the weight of the curse, and we spend ourselves crying out to it for relief. We suffer loss. Everywhere and at all times there is what could have been but wasn’t. And what happened but shouldn’t have. What we had once, but it was snatched away.  What we want so badly but can’t. And we feel it. And in the fever of our feeling we begin to think our Saviour humbled and weak. Afflicted. Somehow unable. And He would bear our grief and carry our sorrows.

He was wounded and bruised for our transgression. And we would live our days in the gnawing, soul-squeezing grip of secret sin. Hiding our errors. Closeting our temptations. Covering our lies. Doing what we would not do. And our enemy prowls about satisfied and smug. And our Creator stands wounded and bruised and triumphant over that sin.

He was afflicted and oppressed willingly. Like a silent lamb to the slaughter, He chooses the path of the Father’s will. And we choose our own way. Forge our own path. We think deep down we know what is the best course for our lives. The course to our happiness and contentment must be something of our own making. Something other than faith and obedience.  Something more than submission to narrow truth. When push comes to shove, we make sure we’re pointed in the direction of our own understanding.

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But the wonder is that this love will not be stopped.

The promised love that was planted at the feet of a broken, humiliated Adam has shot up and bloomed in the person of Jesus Christ and now is the season of plenty. The fruition. The lush and flourishing love of Christ that would be an aloe to the sting of our weaknesses. The arms that would carry our heaviest hurt are even now outstretched and strong. You see, the Saviour can be rejected because He is still present and calling. He is still Emmanuel. Inviting us to drink long draughts from the well of our salvation dug deep at the cost of His own life. The love that exalted valleys and crumbled mountains has leveled a straight and peaceful path for our wayward, aching feet. And His love will not and cannot be stopped.

This is the wondrous love of Jesus.

Beth