Merry Christmas To You
I'm home alone for Christmas. My first time in what must be five years. How strange and yet familiar, this mixture of gladness and loneliness. How beautiful the city lights in the distance are, the slight chill in the air refreshing with each breath, the expanse of darkness before me crispy with cold and familiar, cushioned by the soft romanticism of this time of year, almost reminiscent of a snowing Christmas night somewhere in a wooden house on a hill in England, as I'd always dreamed it'd be, every Christmas through my childhood.
The radio is playing choral music, the kind of sound that soars to the very steeples of cathedrals, from the lips of choir boys with candles in a warm cozy church, aglow with dim yellow lights, wooden pews and red carpeting. Outside is the bitter stinging cold, although it is a cheerful gale that blows the snowflakes into a dance, and sitting in there hearing the singing, one feels safe and glad.
The radio is playing many other things that I have not heard in years. All of a sudden I'm here back where I am, 17, not knowing where the future will lead. I don't know what I am mourning, but I am close to tears. Just five years ago, I knew a lot less joy, and a lot more pain. In these five years I've come to know Jesus's heart. Tonight, in this beautiful dark I will spend a quiet moment with Him, surrendering again my heart, both its whole and shattered pieces, and thank Him for all He's done.
So in this strange position of being both 22 and five years younger, I find myself examining the changes in me with each passing year, and extending that hindsight another 8-10 years more. Christ has moved me from innocence and ignorance, watched by me through the most painful of experiences which were no fault of mine, bore my rebellion and pride, waited by me till I let Him pick up my shattered pieces, taught me to move on when I couldn't see how else to go on, and taught me joy again.
Why do I long to go back?
I'm looking for who I was at the start. I want to know. I want to be the kid that knew nothing, that looked out at the world with eyes full of hope, and who was better at discerning the truth before life twisted all perception. I'm looking for who I am. Why does every step I take in You dear Jesus, feel like I'm walking further and further away from home? Jesus, if You are leading me into who I was meant to be, shouldn't I feel like I'm slipping into my own skin? Why is my own skin sometimes so hard to wear? Why are the most wonderful moments in my life those in Your arms? Jesus, you must know, that those moments give me strength to obey, to believe, to trust You. I know you said I'd find the perfection process hard, and each day you mean to change a little of me, but Lord, when will I take on the very nature You made me for? You say I will be complete in perfection when You come again to take me home. Jesus you must promise me then, to give me the strength to hope in You, to help me hang on to You, for I might not have the strength to hang on. For Lord, I am hungry, thirsty and impatient for more of You to live in me.
I don't know how my friends who read my blog will feel. Some will despise the weepy tone of all this, and because the very frailty of the heart may be comparable to the soap operas we roll eyes at, I'm guessing there'll be those who will go "Esther, get a grip. You're made of tougher material, I've always known you to be strong. If you put your mind to something you get it done. Stop whining. What happened to the God you professed?" If I were a guy, probably a few slaps on the back and some male bashing/teasing to toughen both the interior and exterior. But this would leave a starved in-between.
All I want to be is honest. Perhaps if all this fragility and weakness is despicable, then it will say all the more for Christ's redemption in me. I'd like to be strong, but I need Christ for that more than anything. I'd like to be less tender, but I wouldn't know how else to love, or be kind. I'd like to feel much less pain, but I won't bury it under smiles, or consider how it might burden those around me like five years ago, because that’s a heartbreaking lie. So I won't pretend everything's ok when it's not. I wanna be real. And yes, I do hurt, still.
But being real also means I tell you about the joy that I have found in Christ. He has filled me inside out till I've overflowed with more of Him than my heart can hold. He has held back washing out one last corner of this cup, but I am not bitter about it for I believe He has not abandoned me. It just needs to happen in His own good time. I have tasted His goodness, it is more than I deserve, although I also believe there is still more He will give me by the end. Yes, Jesus, I trust Your heart in this. I must be a little like a child waiting for Christmas presents. Imagine waking every morning wondering if today will be Christmas. Imagine not being disappointed because you know even if it's not today, it means you're one day closer to its coming.
One day that dark spot shall be washed out, and Jesus in me will be who I completely am.
Jesus, I love you.
Thank You for loving me enough to come when no one would.
So dearest friends, I bid you a very merry Christmas--whether its in a warm little chapel shielded from the cold and snow, or looking out at city lights on a high balcony taking in the chill and romance, may you have a meaningful year ahead. =)
It's best spent with Jesus. =)
| e.s.t.h.e.r in the arms of Jesus @
12/25/2005 09:40:00 pm |
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