It's all a bit sad and funny at the same time. But whatever. In the current era, some of us use the occasion of Christmas to celebrate the birth of Christ. It's symbolic all the way, but that's OK. This is the time that we do it.
In honor of that, I will be starting an advent tradition in our home. We have not done this before, though I have always wished for more peace, more focus on the One who should matter most, the One who gets shoved behind the tree or lodged under piles of wrapping paper only to be rediscovered as I am vacuuming up pine needles and wondering how I missed Him this year, yet again, despite my best intentions.
We will not be forgetting Him this December. He is too precious. I want my son to know how precious the Christ is, and he'll never know if I do not first lay aside my holiday idols and bring my gifts to His feet. For my son, as all children do, learns most powerfully from my example.
So we will start with a daily observance of Advent - the time of waiting, of expecting, of hoping for the God of the universe to meet us humans where we're at...wrapped in limited, meager bodies, wracked with ailments and fears and the annoying ability to mess everything up even when we're trying our darndest to do everything right.
We will include in our readings The Jesus Storybook Bible, which is one of the best tellings of the story of God that I know. It also has some beautiful art in it; I'm a sucker for pretty illustrations. If you wish to teach your young ones about God, and not just a bunch of apparently disconnected stories in a musty old book, get this. Now. It has helped me see the Bible in a whole new light; it's that good.
Finally, I can't help but share with you a bit of writing by Ann Voskamp. She has written out what we believe in the most beautiful language. For the original context, or to read more of her, visit her web site: A Holy Experience.
I believe in Jehovah God who created the whirling galaxies, the birds soaring in the sky overhead, the endless crashing waves and all that dances within them. I believe in Father of all who knits together life, made in His very own image, in the secret quiet of our beings.
I believe in Jesus Christ, the One with no earthly Father, with the dust of this earth between His toes, and with our names etched onto the palm of His hands, right beneath the nail scars…Who now sits at the Father’s right hand making endless intercession on our behalf. I believe in the stone rolled away, in the Body being raised, in the first fruits of the dead…and us all following soon, very soon.
I believe in the Cross as our only Hope, our only Claim, and our only Foundation. I believe that in the pounding surf of life we have only one thing to cling to: the feet of our Lord, hanging on that tree, His lifeblood flowing down, washing us whiter than snow.
I believe in the Holy Spirit, moving, whispering, indwelling our very skin. I believe in living by the Spirit, walking in the Spirit, and producing fruit in the Spirit…in the Spirit who helps us in our weakness with groanings that can’t be expressed in words.
I believe in the infallibility of the Bible, God’s Word – a sure Word, a pure Word, the only secure Word. I believe the words on those pages are breathed from the very throne room of heaven, are the love letter penned from the heart of the Lover of our souls; a beacon of light for stumbling feet to find sure footing on a dark path.
I believe there is more than believing. There is living what I believe.
