And tonight we can let out the breath we’ve been holding-holding in our hopes, our anticipation, our hurts, our loneliness this Advent- and let our tears of joy wash away our deep longing . . . His birth is finally near.

And as Mary did, we can bravely say yes, your Servant is faithful and willing through our fears and disbelief.

And as Joseph did, we can let go of doubt and lean into unrelenting faithfulness.

And as the angels did, we can proclaim Your glory, in the darkest of nights, to a land that hungers for You amidst so much silence.

And as the shepherds did, we can humble our hearts before You, awestruck at the lowly sinners You choose in Your story.

And no matter what darkest of night we might be walking through, no matter how deep this winter season is inside of us; tonight is the night we can surrender to the Joy of Emmanuel coming. We can join the collective nativity in choosing to worship You in the midst of the night. Tonight is the night we can lift our hearts and faces towards the Bethlehem Star, the babe in a manger, who came to earth on Christmas morn to be our Emmanuel, our Always with Us. Tonight is the night our hearts are nearly bursting with the Expected and our doubts can give up and rest in His coming, in His never leaving. Tonight is the night we can lay down this Advent’s failures and heartaches and gaze to the manger, where You wait for us, a sweet baby, born in the still of night, to an unexpected mother, in an unknown stable, in a way nobody anticipated; and we can rejoice in whatever brought us here. We can sing Joy to the World and let it ring out from our hearts because tonight, our weary hearts rejoice. Because tonight, the thrill of Hope bubbles within us and Christmas morning is before us. And as we let out our breath, the breath we’ve held in glorious anticipation this advent, the breath that maybe held us together this advent season; we can make room in our hearts to receive the King. JOY TO THE WORLD.

This season, I long to keep my gaze fixed on the manger.  And it’s so hard.  My days are not hushed or expectant; they are filled with chaos, noise, and a determined grit to hang my hopes on new morning mercies each day.  Adding our sweet boy to our family has made this advent sweeter and full of celebration, but it has also made it a season full of many transitions and hard emotions.  So while we rejoice, we are hurting and scared and full of questions too.

And I can only imagine that maybe Mary felt this way too, on that first Christmas, and I draw comfort and grace from that.  Rejoicing that the Promised Messiah was finally here, incredulous she was called to mother him, but I’m sure full of questions and sorrow too at what this Messiah-life lived out as a man would be.  And yet she kept her mother-eyes, full of faith, on the manger.  A scared teenage mother, hurriedly and in a hushed manner married to her betrothed, exhausted after a long journey to Bethlehem and birthing the Messiah; yet in that moment that she saw Him in the manger, clinging to the Hope of a babe come down from His throne through her, a humble young girl who said yes to God.

And all I can do this advent season is the same- humble myself enough to keep my mother-eyes on the manger.  Humble myself enough to admit my fears and failures.  Humble myself enough to admit my desperate need of His grace to say yes to His call this season, and every other one . . . And exalt Him.  Exalt Him for His deep mercy in my life.  Exalt Him for His unrelenting love throughout my days.  Exalt Him for sending His son, as a precious, lowly baby in a manger.  Cherished Son becoming Mary’s son.  The Lion coming down like a Lamb.  The Word birthed as flesh.  The Prince of Peace born in a stable in Bethlehem.  The Bright and Morning Star, underneath the star, that led them all to Him.

And because of these truths, I can say, as Mary did “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”  And I cling to that through the questions, through the chaos, through the days that hurt and the days that rejoice.  I can sing my praise through my fears, like Mary, and humbly submit my doubts and questions to His unrelenting faithfulness.  And I can keep my gaze fixed to the manger, fixed on the one who brought Mercy down, the literal Emmanuel- God with us and among us forever.  And this advent season, despite its fast pace and hurts, I will find my rest in His presence in the manger and in my heart.  And I will let Him fill me with His love come down this Christmas.

Lord this advent season, as every other one, there is brokenness crying out to you.

Broken hearts, broken bodies, broken spirits longing to find an answer to their cries,

Longing to find that sweet expectant-ness that they’ve heard whisper of,

Longing to rest in that Peace that passes all understanding that they’ve read of,

Lord, longing to feel Your Presence amidst the presents and know Your stillness in the midst of the hectic bustle.

Lord, we desperately seek You against all odds, against all hurts and pain that make us want to turn away from You.

We stubbornly refuse to let go of that still small Hope that burns within us, that refuses to let go of what we know to be true.

The broken parts of this world weigh heavier this Advent season, a season of hushed excitement that just feels empty when faced with babies with no families and kids with literal broken hearts.

How do we reconcile the Hope of the season with the brokenness that surrounds us? How do we continue to press on in Joy when our hearts ache with the troubles of this world?

Perhaps the answer is this: the brokenness is what leads us to the manger. The brokenness is what fills our hearts with such deep longing, that only a Savior babe in a humble manger can fill.

Perhaps the brokenness can give us an even deeper excitement at the Messiah’s coming.

Perhaps these broken Advent seasons can even more lead us to press into the Christmas Story where we can curl up by the Manger and be held in the presence of the Holy One come down from His throne to serve the world.

Perhaps the light from the Star can fill our faces and hearts with a brightness that shines out more than a tree.

Perhaps this Advent season we can let go and fall into the arms of the babe in the manger who ended up on the Tree, His love on display to a world that desperately needed Him.

‘Twas the first night of advent and all through the earth, every heart was expectant awaiting His birth.

Eyes deep with longing, and whispers of heavenly Stranger; who’d soon leave His home to lay in a manger.

Our hearts await through this long advent season, excited, anticipating, the bursting forth of the Reason.

We enter into it, our faces towards You, hushed and ready, Lord, make our hearts renewed!

Keep our pace slow, intentional, pining; reflecting on the babe under Bethlehem-star shining

This first day of advent, our thoughts are on our Savior; the humble King who answered long uttered prayers.

Let us pause often to reflect on Your Glory and cling to the Hope of the real Christmas story.