Following the Invisible Star

 

KELLY BARBREY, author, crosswalk.com

“By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” Luke 1:78-79 (NRSV)

The reflection of the face looking back at me in the mirror seemed years older than the one just months before — hollowed in all the wrong places with less light behind the eyes. 2020 seemed to have worked its gnawing way from my insides to my outside.

In all of the waiting and hoping and praying for life to return to its normal cadence of work, school, sports, friends and worship, it dawned on me that my pleas were misaligned. I was praying for my circumstances to change rather than praying to shine in my current situation.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. Each slow and awaited return has been welcomed and celebrated. When our congregation announced that after months of online worship, we would be returning to the sanctuary in a limited capacity and with masks, I was thankful. I was so ready to be back. Walking into the building with its familiar voices, smells and faces (well, eyes above masks at least) was good for my soul. I imagine the same will be true for my kids upon returning to their school buildings and classrooms.

Yes, I was ready and grateful for those small returns to routine. But I didn’t think I was ready for Christmas. It seemed to sneak up on me this year. I wanted to get everything back to normal first and then have a normal Christmas with all the trappings and trimmings. But I was slow to realize the very core of Christmas is precisely what we all need right now … not with our circumstances perfect, but in the midst of the mess.

Zechariah’s prophecy of the coming of Christ says, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace” (Luke 1:78-79).

Before Jesus came to save us, there was darkness and turmoil, kind of like now. People thought they knew what they needed, but the actuality of the birth of Jesus and how He would rescue us eluded them. Similarly, we may not think we are ready or can even begin to open our hearts to the joy of the Christmas season this year, but perhaps this year, of all years, we need it the most.

This year, it’s been hard to find joy. Most of the time, I am one of the annoyingly early adopters of Christmas spirit. Before the turkey leftovers have been stashed in the fridge, out comes the tinsel and manger scene. My heart is full of the giving spirit. I am ready to decorate, celebrate, bake, worship and praise. But this year, it’s been hard to see the light leading to the true meaning of Christmas.

Today, I’m challenged to do things differently. Instead of praying for my circumstances to change, I am now praying to flourish where I am, knowing and believing that the star of wonder and the miracle of Christmas is hidden there, just beyond the thick and looming clouds.