A Thrill of Hope...
...The Weary World Rejoices
Merry Christmas!
I don’t know your story or what this holiday season feels like for you. Maybe it’s magical, holy, and your favorite time of year. Or perhaps it’s painful, filled with trauma from past experiences with “religion”…or filled with quiet grief over the empty chairs around your table. Or maybe you don’t quite get what the holiday hype is all about.
For our family, this season is a time to draw near to the wonders of His love - a God who draws near to us, even in (and especially in) the most broken world.
Tonight, as we gather in a candlelit room, lifting our voices to sing A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices…Oh, night divine…
I will inevitably tear up at the thought of how weary this world truly is. How desperately we need a thrill of hope. And how the God who sees our brokenness (yes, even the brokenness inside churches) decided to meet us right here where we are, in all of our messy humanity.
Tonight, as we sing Silent night, Holy night…
I will inevitably turn to my three daughters giggling and squirming in the church pew next to me, and I will remember the nights I was in labor with each of them. And I recall that they weren’t silent nights at all.
My experience was filled with groaning through intense contractions, tears shed in anticipation, and at times the intensity of it all felt like too much to bear. When I finally held them in my arms, there was a rush of emotion so deep that I couldn’t hold back. Silence was not an option for me.
And I can’t help but wonder how much those nights were similar (or different) from the night Mary gave birth to our Savior. Was it really silent? Was the holiness so palpable that she could hardly speak? Or was she like me, an ordinary girl in extraordinary hours upon hours of non-silent labor, bringing life loudly and intensely into this world? I’d like to think it was the latter…
Either way, I’m drawn to the thought that our Savior entered the world the same way each of us physically did, through the laboring of a woman. In a most vulnerable and intensely beautiful way. Maybe not a silent night, but certainly a holy night.
No matter where you find yourself tonight, I hope you can stop for even a small moment and ponder what it means to experience a thrill of hope in this weary world… Not hope through the broken people around you who…will inevitably disappoint you. Not hope solely within yourself…because you were never meant to carry the weight of this life alone. But hope in a powerful kind of Love that humbled itself to draw near to us right where we are, as we are…on a holy night, and on every ordinary day since.
Wishing you a holiday of peace despite your pain, joy despite your circumstance, and the wonders of His incomprehensible love.
-Leigh