Of darkness and longing... rest, anticipation, and joy...

What ho, one and all! 

Lately I've been busy laying out many and various plots for the upcoming Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany seasons. I've also been feeling the writing itch again so decided to just plop (almost) everything into a blog post. All that to say, here I am back at this dear old cozy corner of the internet with some General Thoughts. 

 

Advent

Advent starts on Sunday, December 3rd this year (which, incidentally, makes for a very short Advent season -- more on that later). Concluding the Ordinary Time of the church calendar, Advent points us to the comings of Christ. It points us to His future coming at the last day, when He comes in awesome power and majesty -- in absolute glory -- with a trump to wake the dead and gather the living -- and when we will see Him as He is. Advent invites us to try and begin to imagine the very edges of what standing in the living, thrice holy presence of our Lord and the Judge of all the earth will even be like. It invites us to reckon our hours and number our days, to be sober minded, to do justice, and to walk humbly with our God. It also beckons and points us towards the absolute piercing joy and bliss of seeing Him. Seeing Him, face to face... an unimaginable intensity of joy. A joy we can experience only if we have been declared righteous. An impossible thing, for we are all sinners, dead and lost, irrevocably. 

So, too, Advent points us back to the very beginning: to the Fall in the garden and also to the protoevangelium -- the very first promise of the coming Savior (spoken simultaneously with words of promised judgment upon Satan, that great serpent of old), the promise that God immediately began bringing to fruition, faithfully, over millennia. Advent reminds us of those early chapters of the great story of redemption, packed with ups and downs and cliff hangers all the way; and it reminds us of the waiting, the long, prayerful waiting, as the saints of old kept watch over those centuries, longing in the darkness for the coming of the light, for the Promised Son.

Advent then points us to the Incarnation -- it points us to the Son of God taking on human flesh, growing in the womb of His mother (a young girl betrothed to a carpenter and living in a backwater part of Israel, under a Roman Caesar who had declared himself lord of the known world and a living god on earth). And so we can ponder that waiting too -- those final nine months of waiting -- the tension thick, throbbing, palpable.

 

Christmas

And so comes Christmas, when we celebrate the coming of the perfect, eternal Son of God. The Son of God being born.

Since Advent starts on a Sunday and there are always four Sundays in Advent, this means that Christmas comes any time during that fourth week -- sometimes early, sometimes later. It pops up perfectly and always as a surprise. This hop around nature of things is really interesting. Living in the pattern of the church calendar and going through a contemplative, thoughtful period of Advent, Christmas explodes with a shock like a firework, pointing too to the perfect timing and also surprise of the birth of our Savior -- precisely coordinated in God's perfect plan, and an utter shock to the kings of the earth.

Right from the beginning of Genesis, everything is heading toward Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday, but every day we mark along the way also has significance in that big picture; and so we celebrate Christmas, the celebration of Christ coming in the flesh, God with us. We celebrate the reality of His flesh -- for only One who is truly man and truly God can provide a propitiation for our sin. And that's what it's all about. He came in pain and weakness that He might die for the sins of His people -- that He might be buried and rise again the third day, declaring Himself with power to be the very Son of God -- saving His people, His bride, and someday, with her, all of creation. And He rose in that body, glorified, beyond our minds to grasp, yet still with the prints of the nails in His hands, hands grown to maturity that Mary must have caught and held close, as a mother does, that very first night.

Christmas is about the Father giving the gift of His son and the Son giving Himself, coming in weakness and thereby entering and exalting His creation, and it's about the Spirit hovering over all of it.

 

Epiphany

After the twelve day festival of Christmas, we come to Epiphany (sometimes extended as an entire season). Either way, hearkening back to the longing through Advent, Epiphany is about the light coming into the darkness. And it's about the beginning of the fulfillment of Psalm 2 -- that the nations will bow the knee -- which is where the Magi come in, exemplifying and typifying greater things to come. Once again, we see the story of redemption crystallized in the gifts they present to Christ: frankincense, generally understood to point to His divinity; myrrh pointing to His death and burial; and gold pointing to His kingship.

Christ has been manifested to the entire world -- to the Gentiles. He is the perfect Son of Abraham and in His name Gentiles can trust. In Him, Gentiles can be brought near; and now (after His cross, resurrection, and ascension) able to come directly, directly, into the throne room of grace, able to obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

 

 

And so Advent through Epiphany catechizes us -- taking us from Genesis 1, in the garden, right through to the coming of Jesus, and pointing us forward to when we will specifically remember His cross, resurrection, and ascension in the future -- inviting us to ponder and dwell on the entire story of salvation, all the twists and turns, darkness and light -- inviting us to ponder on the very character and perfections of our Savior, and of God's love for His people.

~     ~     ~

This post turned out longer than expected, so I think I'll split my plans for the season into a second post, hopefully to come soon. Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! ;)

Frodo // A Character Sketch

(I wrote this as a guest post for the great LOTR read-along a few years ago. Thanks for letting me repost, Hamlette! :))

When first we hear of Frodo son of Drogo, he is an orphan. Brought up among the ‘queer Bucklanders’ and considered by many to be more than half a Brandybuck, he is being adopted by Bilbo as his future heir. Observant and clear-sighted, he is a lover of beauty, and also of maps and of elves, a ‘perky chap with a bright eye’ whom both Bilbo and Gandalf think the ‘best hobbit in the Shire.’

(Note, I still haven’t watched the movies, so I’ll be discussing all this as it appears in the books.)

With his rich inheritance comes the great and dreadful Ring. Gandalf had said of the Ring, in his first long discussion with Frodo near the beginning, ‘It is far more powerful than I ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the end it would utterly overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him.’ Of hobbits he said, ‘Among the Wise I am the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch of knowledge, but full of surprises. Soft as butter they can be, and yet sometimes as tough as old tree-roots. I think it likely that some would resist the Rings far longer than most of the wise would believe.’

A bit farther on, Gollum’s name enters the conversation. At this point, if we’re picturing the Frodo we know from later, his first reaction may be a bit startling. ‘Gollum!’ cried Frodo. ‘Gollum? Do you mean that this is the very Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!’ ‘I think it is a sad story,’ said the wizard, ‘and it might have happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.’ ‘I can’t believe that Gollum was connected with hobbits, however distantly,’ said Frodo with some heat. ‘What an abominable notion!’ And farther still, ‘What am I to do? What a pity that Bilbo did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!’ ‘Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike without need.’ …‘I am sorry,’ said Frodo, ‘But I am frightened; and I do not feel any pity for Gollum.’ ‘You have not seen him,’ Gandalf broke in. ‘No, and I don’t want to,’ said Frodo, ‘I can’t understand you. Do you mean to say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on after all those horrible deeds? Now at any rate he is as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. He deserves death.’

When he realizes what must be done about the Ring he says, ‘I do really wish to destroy it! …Or, well, to have it destroyed. I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?’ Nevertheless, he sets out -- going through hard adventure and dread fear and frightful pain to Rivendell, and once there, voluntarily takes on the further horrific task.

He is called to a mission, a mission stressing with horrible intensity the very places where he most needs change, and -- shaped by grief and pain and the weight of his burden -- he does change. The Frodo who meets Gollum above the Dead Marshes is a very different Frodo from the Frodo at the beginning. Grown in wisdom, he has learned the place of mercy, and knows also that the dealing out of final judgment -- final doom -- is not his.

He has grown in wisdom and mercy, but at the same time, he is desperately fighting the growing power of the Ring. We see a lot of this through the eyes of dear, faithful Sam. As, in torment and travail, they near Mount Doom, Sam ‘guessed that among all their pains he (Frodo) bore the worst, the growing weight of the Ring, a burden on the body and a torment to his mind.’ Twice, he tries to fight Sam off. The second time, ‘A wild light came into Frodo’s eyes. ‘Stand away! Don’t touch me!’ he cried. ‘It is mine, I say. Be off!’ His hand strayed to his sword-hilt. But then quickly his voice changed. ‘No, no, Sam,’ he said sadly. ‘But you must understand. It is my burden, and no one else can bear it. It is too late now, Sam dear. You can’t help me in that way again. I am almost in its power now. I could not give it up, and if you tried to take it I should go mad.’

So we come to Mount Doom -- and to his claiming of the Ring and the final reappearance of Gollum. Frankly, this part always bothered me until recently. But lately, I’ve begun to see just how exciting it is. First off, if Frodo had somehow managed to drop the Ring into the fire himself (as well as trivializing the danger) we would have much more of a straight-forward allegorical tale with him as the central Christological figure. Instead, we have (at least) two other major Christ-type figures, with all of them together contributing to a much fuller, richer glimpse and a tale of marvelous depth and complexity.

Second: initially, Frodo was sent on an almost hopeless errand, not knowing (if he even reached the mountain) how he would ever gain the strength and will-power to destroy the Ring. Yet the conflict isn’t resolved by deux ex machina, either. Gollum was shown mercy over and over again -- by Bilbo, Aragorn, Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, and even Faramir -- all with the idea that he had yet a purpose to fulfill and offering further opportunity for repentance. He was under oath to both Frodo and Faramir against treachery. ‘Then I say to you,’ said Faramir, turning to Gollum, ‘you are under doom of death; but while you walk with Frodo you are safe for our part. Yet if ever you be found by any man of Gondor astray without him, the doom shall fall. And may death find you swiftly, within Gondor or without, if you do not well serve him.’ Frodo had earlier warned him that a similar oath on the Ring would twist him to destruction.

So the mission incredibly succeeds -- succeeds as themes of wisdom and mercy flash brilliantly into focus, and a divine, overarching doom falls. From Sam again, ‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again, and in his eyes there was a peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire. ‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free.’

Here we come to a really interesting point. Frodo had to be saved. Now again in some ways (his burden-bearing for others, the royal temptations he faces, the pain and the anguish, the knife-wound, and the chilling, torturing, death-like experiences, etc.), Frodo can definitely be seen as a Christ-type figure. But -- while all that is absolutely true -- I think it equally true that he could just as well be a picture of us. I’ve also come to the conclusion that, of any of the characters within the story, he might actually best be compared to Boromir. Both are strong and honorable yet stumble at the same temptation, both are saved by grace and repentance (also seeing their actions clearly), and both are treated afterwards as being no less worthy of all honor and respect. And both see something through all the way to the end of their road, though death (in metaphor or reality) lies at the end of it.

Finally, on the slopes of Orodruin, surrounded by spewing flames and shattering earth, Frodo (and Sam) lie prostrate, starving and thirsting. And against all hope they are saved. The eagles come, bearing Gandalf, and they are brought out of fire and death and the tumult of destruction. Awaking in a place of dappled sunlight and cool green shade, they find themselves in the garden of Gondor and in the keeping of the King -- of the King who has tended and saved them -- of the King whose crown Frodo later bears.

Frodo, a richly adopted heir is, in the fullness of time, given and called to a task. A humble being, fighting and winning and losing against temptation (and yet succeeding because of the wisdom and mercy he has learned), he is led by his calling on a path of sufferings and death and darkness. And he is brought out again to glory -- to light and to joy, to a place of fresh raiment and song. Brought with a multitude of others to a place of piercing joy, to ‘regions where pain and delight flow together and tears are the very wine of blessedness.’ And to a place where -- crowned with circlets of silver -- he and Sam are led with high praise to seats of honor at the King’s table.

~     ~     ~

Thanks for reading -- I'd love to hear your thoughts. :) And again, be sure to check out all the other lovely posts at The Edge of the Precipice!

Celebratory Easter Ideas

I missed posting this last week, but I figured since we’re still in the Easter season and some of these ideas might be interesting/worth putting more thought into for next year, we’d just go for it. So here ye are. (For my first post on this, you can click here.)

Now for the further discussion of presents.

And celebratory things in general.

And the presents. ;)

But first, decorations.

After all the twinkly lights at Christmastide it’s always a downer to go to nothing at all in January, so this year around Epiphany (Jan 6th)/the end of the 12 days of Christmas, I switched out and put up some different white string lights in our living room and running down the hallway, both of which tend to get a little dark in the winter anyway. I really like the idea of having them up through Easter and Ascension Day. It creates a nice ambiance and has actually served as a really good daily reminder of the forward march of the church calendar.

Oh, and I also got some neat lanterns last year I love and… forgot to pull out this year. (The consequence of having things, neatly organized of course! ;D, but in multiple places due to ongoing construction. At least that’s what I’m blaming it on. ;))

I’ve been thinking a lot about imagery to do with the Tree of Life. I know there’s debate about Christmas trees (personally, we stand firmly cheering Boniface), but either way the evergreens are a symbol of eternal life, etc. This might be obvious, but when I was little I remember being kinda disappointed when reading Genesis that we never got to hear much more on the Tree of Life and then I distinctly remember the thrill when I was around twelve or so and realized it's really the whole point. The Tree of Life runs through every chapter, looming large and shaping the entirety of the story of creation and redemption. From Genesis through Ezekiel and on to Revelation 22 wherein we find the tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.

And of course -- spilling out from this -- garden (and mountaintop) imagery is typologically apt: with Christ as the New Adam, Christ rising in the garden, the world becoming a garden, etc. etc.

Fresh flowers are always lovely. And I’m not generally too keen on silk flowers (cause they can get dusty so quickly), but I have invested in some realistic looking wisteria and rose garlands (ivy’s also nice). I’m hoping if I keep them boxed up they’ll last for quite a few years and be something of a family tradition to pull out.

Now to the feasting.

As always, I think we should give some thought to hospitality. (And I don't want to send a critical message re different preferences, situations, etc. -- we're just trying to get the thought wheels spinning here.) It does seem that folks tend to expect more of a family dinner holiday (i.e. like Thanksgiving -- I mean you might have other folks over too, but the general emphasis seems to be on family). And the day IS very specifically joy for believers and condemnation and fear for those who are not. But if Christ rose from the dead the world should be hearing about it. Our neighbors should be hearing about it. And step one, we should most definitely be warmly inviting and welcoming in our fellow Christian brothers and sisters.

Of course, when thinking about evangelizing, we want to be winning our neighbors. Not making them uncomfortable on the one hand or making light of the glorious feast day on the other. So cookies at their gate or doorstep is always a great initial idea too. And the cookies don’t have to have a message. The idea is that it’s an unexpected gift and it’s to get people thinking. Surprise them.

Another idea I’d really like to try is singing at nursing homes. We’ve done caroling around Christmastime (which is great), but I think it could be a particular Resurrection Day blessing as well.

And if you have an extra day of family time around Easter maybe a special outing... a trip to the zoo, day in the mountains, cave visit, water and sand time at the ocean, or even a fun backyard picnic. Something memorable and un-everday-ish.

And the presents.

I’m so happy some of you liked my thoughts on gifts in the last post. I really loved hearing from you! :)

The little Princess got some books I’ve had on hand and been wanting to give her for a while: A Time to Keep by Tasha Tudor and Flower Fairies of the Spring and Autumn by Cecily Mary Barker. I found the sweet wooden puzzle on eBay and the fairytale dress on Amazon. I’m really excited about the dress so sharing the link here. Y’know usually the play dresses end up being kinda itchy, but the tulle on this one is so soft and the top is cotton -- nice medium weight cotton. And it’s not $50, much less than $50 in fact, coming in to just about what the fabric cost would be.

So there you go. What d’ye think? I’d love to hear more of y’alls great ideas!

Christmas ~ The Year of Our Lord 2017

Hello everyone and happy 2nd Day of Christmas!

I feel like it's a different sort of Christmas here this year. Different than expected anyhow. Usually I focus intensely during Advent -- on Christ's coming, on God's heart for His people, on the darkness of the world and the piercing glory of God's tangible, solid, absolute goodness -- but this year I've been a bit distracted, mentally and emotionally. (Also, I've been realizing each year will just be different.. and that's perfectly okay.)

Today, I got Baby loaded in the car and out of the house and into town for a dentist appointment... only to find a sign on the door saying "Will Be Back Tomorrow" (serious Winnie-the-Pooh moment). Pulling out my phone I found, sure enough, that the appointment's for tomorrow. (I guess the upside is that we were definitely early/on time -- talk about Mommy brain. ;P)

So! I have a house that needs to be tidied and loads of laundry to do at home, but (since we drove one car today) Baby and I are now at Daddy's shop, and I'm focusing on the particular blessings around me: sitting still and enjoying the sparkly lights on the office tree, and the incredible warm snuggly baby sleeping hard on top of me, and thankful for comfortable new winter shoes and exciting packages(!) and door delivered pizza (nothing gourmet, but very welcome warm food for the hungry) and for 10 more days of Christmas to look forward to.

When starting this post I looked up the word 'reality' and synonyms include 'absoluteness', 'brass tacks', 'certainty', 'concreteness', 'solidity', 'truth', and this little fascinating fact: in the 1550's, before the spelling differentiation, it was the same spelling for the legal term of 'fixed property', which leads to a rather amazing analogy.

No matter how scatterbrained I am, or how much I do or don't feel emotionally in sync with events at a given time, I am His fixed possession. My husband is His... This wonderful baby girl He's given into our keeping is His...

Christ, the Great Second Person of the Trinity, chose to become a weak, helpless baby: a real baby who cried for His mother's milk, who needed His linen changed, and His small heavy head held securely till His neck strengthened and He learned how to hold it on His own. A real baby who would learn to smile and coo at His mother's face. He became a baby that He might grow to a real man, a warrior -- lauded at times and at the last despised -- who would give Himself over to Death itself, fighting the Great Dragon in a bloody battle for the souls of His people and taking the captives free.

"For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39

And that's what I'm going to be working on meditating on this year. :)

Merry Christmas!!!

Christmas // The Year of Our Lord 2016

"Man’s maker was made man that He, Ruler of the stars, might nurse at His mother’s breast; that the Bread might hunger, the Fountain thirst, the Light sleep, the Way be tired on its journey; that Truth might be accused of false witnesses, the Teacher be beaten with whips, the Foundation be suspended on wood; that Strength might grow weak; that the Healer might be wounded; that Life might die." Augustine of Hippo

The paradox of Christmas. Leading to and bound together with the cross, the bull's eye center of history and of this whole entire glorious creation that we run round every day.

The twists and turns and darkness and then the blinding surprise of joy round the roughest, darkest corner of all. And now our deep and yet yearning satisfaction. Our God delights in doing the unexpected, and His incredible goodness spills out over His creation.

And then there's Matthew 1:23 that knocks me breathless every time I try to really grab hold of it, "Behold, the virgin shall be with child, and bear a Son, and they shall call His name Immanuel," which is translated, “God with us.”

God with us.

God in the flesh. A crying, hungry baby. Growing up and going to the cross for the salvation of the world. God the Son now reigning at His Father's right hand over the nations and hearing the prayers of His people. Knowing His people. Intimately. Knowing, as only the Shepherd can, all the deepest darkest corners around which He is leading us. Knowing, too, the blinding joy waiting on the other side. Joy to explode our hearts and minds if we had not been prepared and tested through the valleys. For He is creating us anew in His own image, always.

Our Great King has come in the flesh and it is earthshaking -- cause for the very greatest and highest joy indeed!

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!

Of Deep Story & Beauty ~ Cinderella

Cinderella has always been one of my three favorite fairy tales, but over the last few weeks, I’ve started trying to figure out exactly why. Unlike the more obvious Sleeping Beauty or St. George, what is it about Cinderella particularly that makes it one of my greatest heart stories?

As is the way with most true fairy tales, I don’t even remember where I first heard it. I didn’t grow up with the 1950 film version and there wasn’t a particular picture book version that I read to bits. (Those all came much later. ;))

So what is it? Then about a week ago, it all clicked together.

With beauty of heart and hand, Cinderella is definitely the hardest working of any of the traditional princesses, which creates room for some amazing character development.

There’s her shining loyalty, her forgiveness -- her patience and kindness. 

There’s her hope even in the direst of circumstances, a hope that doesn’t deny darkness and despair and heart-wrenching pain. 

There’s her resilient fortitude and perseverance.

And there’s her courage. To quote C.S. Lewis, “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point, which means, at the point of highest reality. A chastity or honesty or mercy which yields to danger will be chaste or honest or merciful only on conditions.” 

Some of these qualities are fleshed out/developed much more in good retellings and/or films, but they’re all there at the heart of the original story.

And found in cultures all over the world, spanning the centuries, woven into the very fabric of creation itself -- pointing to and mirroring the Deepest Story of all -- Cinderella is the only fairy tale that (as in the original story itself) has ever actually made me cry.

For it brings a glimpse of joy. To tie together two more quotes from C.S. Lewis, “Joy is distinct not only from pleasure in general but even from aesthetic pleasure. It must have the stab, the pang… The experience is one of intense longing… This hunger is better than any other fullness; this poverty better than all other wealth.”

Cinderella’s character is beautiful, but the second definitive element -- the golden nut at the heart of the fairy tale, making it different -- is her prince, her prince caring for and taking her for who she is. 

This is unconditional love; love akin to Christ’s love for His people (which, of course, goes infinitely beyond, as He loved us when we were unlovely). 

And -- since we’re dealing with deep story here -- it also runs multiple ways. It’s a picture of what He has done and what He’s still doing. This is an ongoing story and we’re right smack dab in the middle of it.

In Cinderella, there’s the ball, then there’s a separation, and then -- hunting the length and breadth of his kingdom -- the Prince comes seeking his bride. Meanwhile, she’s right back where she was, continuing to live faithfully in her wretched circumstances -- living out further good deeds done in good faith. 

Cinderella is found shining in the dirt and grime necessarily associated with her calling and place. She’s not afraid of getting her hands dirty in faithful service. 

And when her prince finds her, he isn’t frightened by any of it.

On an eschatological scale, this is the church awaiting the final consummation and marriage supper of her King. He has won our hearts -- holding them securely. Winning them, He has, too, our full allegiance and love, and we are now able and called to joyfully do or die in His service. 

And… keen and passionate, our Prince loves the beauty of His bride.

Christmas ~ The Year of Our Lord 2015

On Tuesday, I was privileged to spend an entire afternoon and evening attending a fellow church member’s funeral. A husband, a father of eleven children, a grandfather, and a friend of many, he was a man flawed and imperfect -- saved by the grace of God in Christ alone -- and humbly and faithfully using his gifts for the strengthening of the body of Christ. It’s incredible to spend over three hours at a funeral service while family member after family member and friend after friend is sharing about, grieving, and celebrating the valleys, the mountain tops, and the heritage of a race well run.

And it’s Christmastime.

The merriment of Christmas does not gloss over the pain-filled voice of the widow crying out to her God, or the aching tears of the now fatherless. Christmas does not deny the darkness and terror and death pervading God’s good creation. Christmas is because of it… because of the suffering, the violence, the sin. Our sin. 

On that very first Christmas there was emotional travail and the physical discomfort of travel and the pain of a girl in child labor and then the murder of innocent children. 

To quote from The Christian Imagination, edited by Leland Ryken, “To many North Americans… Christianity seems soppy. That is because they have not seen the real goods. True Christian imaging meets violence head-on, mine and the world’s, but also God’s. The Christian imagination… must face the reality of Job’s cry, the cry of God’s crucifixion, and of our participation in it. Once this is recognized, faith becomes not only possible, but necessary; it can never again be rose-water belief in Santa Claus.”

In John 11:35, outside Lazarus’s tomb, we read, “Jesus wept.” The famous, shortest verse in the Bible and one that can be both puzzling and ambiguous. Was He weeping out of sympathy with all the present mourners? Yes, surely that, too, but (more properly translated) the Greek word would be “raged.”

In the words of B.B. Warfield: “Inextinguishable fury seizes upon him (Christ)… It is death that is the object of his wrath, and behind death him who has the power of death, and whom he has come into the world to destroy. Tears of sympathy may fill his eyes, but this is incidental. His soul is held by rage: and he advances to the tomb, in Calvin’s words… “as a champion who prepares for conflict.”…What John does for us in this particular statement is to uncover to us the heart of Jesus, as he wins for us our salvation. Not in cold unconcern, but in flaming wrath against the foe, Jesus smites in our behalf. He has not only saved us from the evils which oppress us; he has felt for and with us in our oppression, and (with those) feelings has wrought out our redemption.”

Our Warrior, our Kinsmen Redeemer, coming in the flesh, coming to give Himself over to pain and agony and death, coming and advancing on the foe in a white hot heat of passion for His chosen ones. 

Fighting through the tearing thorns and waiting darkness, our Great Prince has woken His Sleeping Beauty. 

Our St. George has come, tearing His bride from the ripping jaws and fiery flame of the dragon. 

This is grace.

We’re warriors on the verge of battle -- taking a breath in the trenches -- and our merriment’s no gilded bauble. Joy springing from the deep laughter of God -- that deep laughter shaking the depths of the oceans and upending the world -- it’s both a weapon and an uncontainable joy. 

Merry Christmas!!