Advent - Emmanuel

in , , by sarahmfry, December 11, 2009
It is the season of coming.  I have prayed, at times, for God to be somewhere or do something only to have Him stop me in my tracks with the sharp awareness that He already IS.  He already DOES. 

Even for those of us whose lives are pretty much built around our faith, there are times when earth simply seeps into our skin around the edges.  And somehow, for some ignorant reason, it dulls us to the reality of His absolute presence.  His nearness.  As close as the breath on your lips  Closer, even.

The incarnation is amazing.  The story of Christmas is delightfully familiar.  Sometimes to the point that the wonder of God-In-Flesh loses its breathtaking freshness.

Ever had a baby in your womb?  Ever felt it kick and squirm and punch until your skin hurt?  (Yes, the babies in this house were all wild even before birth!)  Or - if not - ever held one while it slept?  Or kissed its laughing mouth?  Or bounced it when it cried?  I sit here even now and shake my head as I try to imagine Elohim fitting into that kind of package.  All of Him?  Really?  In-your-arms-tiny?  With kissable cheeks and all?  Surely not. 

Surely not the Power that breathed the galaxies and created clouds and painted mountains and stirs up oceans.....subject to emotions and skin and injury and the dirt of life? Walking around the neighborhood?

He's felt it all?  Really?   The joy of an autumn morning, the ache of loneliness, the agony of loss.  Boredom.  Anger.  Weariness.  Irritation. 

And He planned that, while He was in the process of redeeming all of mankind, he would also give us a perfect example of how to walk on this soil and live in this skin.  A lesson in living color for those of us who don't always get it the first time. Perfect, human-sized Steps to walk in - pressed eternally into the dirt of time.

I think one reason that we don't always bask in the wonder of the incarnation is that it's really so much bigger than us.  Our minds can't really get wrapped around it. 

But I'm eager to better walk in those soil prints.  I'm hungry for Him and His quiet wonder.  To sit still and alone in the dark with the quiet glow and to just let Him fill the silence with Himself.  You know that feeling when you're all jumbled up inside and you find a closet somewhere and just let the words tumble out however they will and then you finally pause for breath and realize that you're...okay again. 

Perspective and quiet and soft joy return.  Simply because He's there.

"Emmanuel".....  God.  Here.  Now.


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