The soft glow of Christmas tree lights share peace. In our homes and hearts we can actually hear it as bits of wrapping paper are torn. It hovers in the air whispering hope to our worn and weary souls.
We’ve celebrated and survived it.
Another Christmas come and gone. We held our breath as the first tear rolled down our cheeks. It represented the ache from someone missing. It fell to the floor and shattered like glass, but without sound. It was an offering to God.
We celebrated and survived it.
Our children squealed with joy as we gave our best gifts. We sang the carols and baked the cookies. We prayed for a mending of hearts and tagged a “Come quickly, Lord Jesus” to the end of our pleas. Broken worship with tear-stained- joy scattered in between is the best kind. It’s messy and makes the most sense to a God who understands our suffering, because He’s suffered Himself.
We’ve celebrated and survived it.
And we’ll keep celebrating…
And, actually, we’ve done better than just survive…
- In the midst of the missing there is hope.
- In the middle of the missing there is love.
- Right smack-dab in the center of the missing there is still life. And breath. And Jesus.
- In the core of the soul stirring angry seas of “why, God?” there is beauty that knows no end, because there is love that knows no measure.
Love came. Love died. Love rose again. Love is alive.
And because of that love, we celebrate and keep living every day with hope afresh. Every day is lovely because every day is holy. Every day is an offering.
My birthday gift to Jesus was the offering of a celebration unhindered by grief. To praise Him anyway because He deserves nothing less. To remember that He is on the throne always and forever. To give Him glory not for what He has done or can do, but simply give Him glory because He is God. And that should be enough. Because He is enough.
He is always enough.
May you rejoice with hope because you serve a God who is enough. Enough for anything and everything you will ever need.
Be blessed, friends!
Love,
Jennifer
