Approaching Grace

 The cool, iciness of winter has long set in and, as Advent-expectation begins to grow deep inside me, I'm contemplating the idea, once again, of that simple truth: God with us. It's funny how a few life tragedies can make a promise like this come even more alive and for all the Christmases you heard the prophesies that foretold His arrival and all the carols you sang as a child that talked about Emmanuel and the coming King, somehow it takes a bit of personal pain before you realize just how much you actually cling to a hope like this when life takes a turn for the worst. 

Spend a few dark hours wondering what went wrong, cry a few tears asking God that age-old question of why, feel trapped in a soul-ache you can't seem to escape, watch the world go by as you attempt to pick up the pieces of what fell apart and nurse a broken heart and you'll start to see just how lost you are and how needy you are and the reason for there having to be a present God at all. 

Sometimes when you can't locate the joy, the only thing you have to hold onto is the reality that Love is holding onto you - always. That God's moving heaven and earth to dwell among men and save the world means that God will do the same to come and comfort you. 

Taking out my Bible, I start to see the theme of God's coming weaving all around the holy Scriptures and that this is the central idea of the redemption story He set in motion the moment after Adam and Eve turned their backs on Him. He could've left them and all of us alone at that point... but He didn't. Because He cared too much. And everything since then has been a constant proving that there are no lengths He won't go to in order to rescue a shattered life. 

One story after another showcases how a sovereign God was still working behind the scenes of every loss, every failure, every sin, every heartbreak: 

God with us in the desert with Hagar and Ishmael, supplying water and care in their worst abandonment (Genesis 21). 

God with us in the opening the wombs of Sarah, Hannah, and Elizabeth after years of infertility (Genesis 21, 1 Samuel 1, Luke 1: 5-25). 

God with us in the mysterious providence of Joseph's being sold into slavery, imprisoned, and later raised up to save both the Jewish and Egyptian nations (Genesis 37-50). 

God with us in the hiding of a baby named Moses among the river-grass to avoid the child slaughter of the evil Egyptian government so he could one day lead the Israelites out of generational captivity (Exodus 2:1-10). 

God with us in the Jericho moments (Joshua 6), the captive moments (book of Daniel), the war-time moments, the rebuilding of walls moments (book of Nehemiah). 

God with us in the life of a shepherd-king named David, who spent much of his years on the run in distress yet gave us some of the most consoling words in scripture (Psalms). 

God with us through that same king's lineage as a baby born in Bethlehem, David's city, would one day give His life to redeem humanity (Luke 2). 

And God with us through the centuries and millennia since as rulers reign and nations fall and events take place all within the scope and consent of the King of Kings to accomplish His good designs. God with us even in the smallness of our own little lives and all they entail. Emmanuel present with us always, through everything. 

Trace back the continual care and intentional work of God and you'll realize that all history is documentation that He never took His hand off or turned His back forever on those He loves. He never ceased moving, always coming toward us in love. And why then would we ever think that He doesn't notice us now? Sit with us even here in the things that rip our souls right open? 

Christmas isn't just about trees and trimmings and all things merry and bright. Sometimes it looks like sitting amid the ripped wrappings of dreams killed and hopes dashed and lights gone out on all you once thought so stable and sure. And the fact that God still finds us even in these broken places and empty spaces where life's love used to be (or perhaps never was) reminds us that the story of God entering the hard is still active today. We are never entirely alone, nor will we ever be as long as He is on the throne... which is forever. Through all the upheaval that is our macro-world and our micro-world, God still finds a way to be Himself for us in it all. 

Emmanuel - God with us - is still the same as He's always been: alive, active, present. Moving in the midst of even those things we deem irreparable, turning the broken into blessing so that we might know His love and the extent to which He cares. 

So as the days roll on and the holidays unfold themselves like an un-opened gift, allow your heart to open too. Because the reality is that the manger-message is for everyone to rejoice in: the lonely that their hearts can find a home, the broken that their wounds can be healed, the helpless that they know a divine Aid, the lost that they can be brought to redemption. Each of us, wherever this Advent finds us, can gather as did the shepherds that night and worship the God who "so loved the world that He gave His only son" (John 3:16).