This Christmas season has felt weird. I would be lying if I said I had the same level of excitement that I’ve had in past years.
This year, I haven’t had the radio on Christmas music since November 27th.
I’ve procrastinated with all of my gift buying (okay ... maybe that hasn’t changed.)
My Christmas decorations remained in boxes until a few days ago.
The tree is still unlit.
The Christmas Hallmark movies have not been watched.
And the Christmas sweaters are still tucked away in my closet somewhere.
Christmas cheer and Christmas spirit haven’t been the first thing on my mind. I don’t want to sing Jingle Bell Rock - if anything, I might be down to have River on loop.
I miss my dad more than I want to admit most days, and going through this first Christmas without him feels like it is tearing my soul apart on the inside.
2020 has been a wild year. We all know that. We’ve all said it and felt it a million times. And as much as I’d like to act like it is, Christmas isn’t excluded from that weirdness. And that reality has been hitting home for me lately.
I wanted to go into this Christmas season carrying the joy. Full of happiness. And I want to be honest: there are moments where I’m incredibly joyful, filled with wonder and excitement for the season. But more often than not, I feel a sense of dread, unease, and sorrow this Christmas.
I don’t want Christmas to come because I don’t want the new normal of my dad no longer here.
I have missed him more in the last few days than I thought was possible. My heart has literally hurt because of the grief and overwhelming sorrow that he won’t be here to help us decorate the Christmas tree when my brother flies in, that I won’t get to hug my dad on Christmas morning and hear him say “Merry Christmas Sunshine,” and that I won’t get to see him moving around the kitchen with my mom in a beautiful dance after hosting together for 30 years.
What this season has brought more than anything else is a reality of longing. A longing to be reunited with my dad again. A longing to see him in heaven. A longing for his presence.
And isn’t that what Advent is all about?
Longing. Hope. Desire.
And more than that, longing fulfilled. Hope realized. Desire met.
For 400 years between Malachi and Matthew, there was complete and total silence. A world, once filled with prophetic words from God, now seemingly in darkness - yet through it all, a deep longing for the long-awaited Messiah.
And then He came. Emmanuel. God With Us.
The story of advent, in a nutshell, is that God keeps His promises. He keeps His word. He never fails.
Isaiah 55:10-11 (NIV) says:
“As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”
Did you read that? God’s word will never return empty. God’s word always accomplishes what it is set to achieve. God’s word never returns void.
So while the whole world waited in silence, God was moving, and Heaven was waiting in expectation knowing what would come. And during those 400 years, God was setting things into motion to establish the most beautiful reality of God With Us.
I was listening to a podcast recently, and they pointed out that the Christmas story really starts with the miracle of Zechariah and Elizabeth having John the Baptist. And they pointed out that Zechariah, in Hebrew, means “God remembers.” And Elizabeth means “God’s covenant or oath.” God starts the Christmas story with the beautiful reminder that “God remembers God’s covenant.”
A world waited for the Messiah to come. We wait for the Messiah to return.
So we sing, O Come, O Come, Emmanuel with the same hope, longing, and expectancy for His return.
In the midst of pain, longing, and sorrow Jesus comes through. He is God With Us, and we wait in expectancy for His glorious and victorious return. But in the wake of losing my dad, the veil between here and eternity has lightened a little bit. My longing for Heaven has only increased.
So, we wait.
We wait in expectation, knowing that whatever God promises, He will fulfill. We wait, not in fear, but standing in faith. Whether that’s on the Mountains of Moriah like Abraham, or the valley of shadow and death like David, we wait. In faith. Knowing that our God is faithful. He fulfills His words. And that God remembers His covenants. Always.
Friends, I don’t know what you’re waiting for. I don’t know how this Advent season has been to you, and I don’t know if you’re in a position like me where you’ve lost a loved one. I do know this holiday season has looked completely different, and there’s a level of loss we are corporately experiencing.
But what I also know, and what I’m confident in, is that God remembers His covenants. His word never, ever returns void. So we set our hearts on this beautiful reality of Advent - He is faithful, He is Present, and He draws near to us.
O Come, Emmanuel.
