It’s the week of Christmas and if you’re like me, your thoughts and lists and errands are all pointed toward one end: readiness.
We ready our homes, our gifts, and our families.
We ready our meal plans, our guest rooms, and our attitudes.
We ready our smiles, our small talk, and our pretend peace.
And while all of these things have their purpose — hospitality, generosity, tradition, relationship — they can shove our real states of being under the heavy rug of denial. We enter into Christmas with untended souls and hurting hearts, with guilty consciences and stinging regret.
But who really wants to unwrap that sort of downer under the tree? Not me. And probably not you either. So we fa-la-la-la-la our way into gift-wrapping and road-tripping and home-keeping and all the while, the abode that really matters is a paradoxical horde of both emptiness and clutter.
We pretty up our outer world and that has its place. But is it distracting us from being honest with our inner world?
In recent weeks, I have been astounded anew that the God of the universe, the One who could make his home solely in the unspoiled beauty of the heavens, has chosen also to make his home within us. Even more, he dares to call our dilapidated selves his temple.
Because of Jesus, God clothed himself in the wrinkly flesh of a baby so that we who were once far off could be brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace, who has made us both one and has broken down in his flesh the dividing wall of hostility —
And his wall-splintering peace knows no bounds.
It breaks down the walls between a holy God and sinful man.
It has the power to reconcile nations and churches, spouses and family.
And most personally for me, right now, his peace reconciles me to myself, breaking down the wall of hostility that falsely divides Who Marian Wants to Be and Who Marian Actually Is. We are one and the same, loved and saved and being made new by the indwelling spirit of Christ.
It’s too good to be true but it is actually true. His person broke through the walls of the universe so that His peace can break through the walls of our hearts, taking up residence in our mess and somehow also making room for himself.
Slowly and lovingly, Christ sweeps up the filth and pretense and transforms a hovel of sin and superficiality into a temple radiant with his presence.
He doesn’t tell us to get it ready first. He simply asks to be let in and then He promises to do the rest.
And so I do. When I remember the Gospel, I let him in and then exhale relief because all of this readying is too much for me anyway.
On this fourth week of Advent, might we do what a 19th-century hymn requests — to fling wide the portals of our hearts and make it a temple, set apart.
And let’s remember, there is no place for striving when Christ is in residence. His presence is what sets us apart, nothing more or less.
Today, this week, in the coming new year that’s begging you to clean up and clean out and get your best self together, let’s remember that Christ did not come to help those who can help themselves. He came to help those who can’t. And I have a secret — that’s all of us. {Though the world is doing its best to convince you that with enough striving, you’ll finally measure up to your own expectations and everyone else’s too.}
The best way to ready yourself is to ready your heart. And that’s easier than you think. As the rest of that old hymn recites:
Redeemer, come, with us abide;
Our hearts to Thee we open wide;
Let us Thy inner presence feel;
Thy grace and love in us reveal.
Open your heart wide and let him dwell. Let his unspeakable glory shine through the humble cracks and crevices of your life. Let his grace and love, not your striving and to-do lists, get you ready.
And take comfort in this most beautiful of promises:
Behold, I am making all things new.
Yes, even us.
/////
And if you’d like to have a look back at the other 3 posts in this advent series:
Don’t want to miss a post? You can easily subscribe in the box below. Feel free to unsubscribe anytime you like.
Leave a Reply