...the undecorated heart

...make your house fair as you are able
trim the hearth and set the table
people, look east and sing today:
love, the guest, is on the way.
---eleanor farjeon, 1928

I'm trying. My boxes are scattered across the floor, tops raggedly open, in multiple rooms, guts spilling out in a Tim Burton-esque holiday dreamscape that is equal parts mess and obstacle course. Trees are up and lit (no, I mean, you know, lighted...), and because I stayed up too late last night, they all have ornaments. Magi follow stars, shepherds wander here and there in search of...something they heard whispered on the wind. The angels stand and look, but you can tell they know more than they are saying.

And I am tired. In truth, November and December present some stumbling blocks for me, and I have to navigate the days with care. The holidays are difficult for the teens I work with; regardless of their history or the tough front they may present to the world, at Christmas they are kids who can't be home with mom. And I know that friends who have suffered loss of loved ones, broken relationships, or life changes during the year feel it most keenly during "the most wonderful time of the year". 

And so my heart sometimes remains quite plain. No twinkling lights, no manger scenes or angels, no aromas of baking or wintry drinks simmering on the stove. No guiding star up above leads the way for me, or to me.

Come, Jesus. I welcome you, in this quiet, to my undecorated heart.

...and not look away

Star-Child, earth-Child, go-between of God,
love Child, Christ Child, heaven's lightning rod,
this year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!

Street child, beat child, no place left to go,
hurt child, used child, no one wants to know,
this year, this year, let the day arrive
when Christmas comes for everyone, everyone alive!
---Shirley Erena Murray, 1994

The images are arresting, wrenching. They take my breath away. Stories of kids, babies really, who never had a chance. Their families failed them, the schools failed them, our society failed them. They are hungry, aimless, abused, bitter, out of hope.  We let them down, then we shake our collective heads at what they become. I look away, because I read in their eyes the reflection of the guilt I bear for my part in the way I live my life alongside the least of these. And then I thank God for 31 Days of ABC Family Christmas movies, and click the remote control. Because really, who can handle the news?

But no remote  can control the message of love and justice ushered in with the birth of another Child, ages ago and for all time. The God of the universe set aside power and might, and entered time and culture powerless and voiceless. Great God became small human, dignifying the human struggle and sanctifying the lowliest life.

I cannot celebrate Christ's birth and look away from the suffering of God's children. I will not.

...hope past hope's believing

View the present through the promise, Christ will come again.
Trust despite the deepening darkness, Christ will come again.
Lift the world above its grieving through your watching and believing
in the hope past hope's believing; Christ will come again.
---Thomas Troeger, 1985

We wait and watch here, in the darkness of the 'before' time. We shake our heads at the state of this world. We whisper, we cry, we shout, we pray, "How long?" How long now till things are made right? How long till good is rewarded, and evil is punished? How long until the weak are protected from harm? Till justice rolls down like mighty waters?

Lord, how long? We wait and watch. For it to happen. For us. To us.

In this relatively new text by hymnist Thomas Troeger, our waiting and watching is no passive thing. To a world grieving starvation, disease, wanton violence, stony disregard for the suffering of others; to this world, hope comes with power to rescue. Our hoping, our believing has a presence to lift this world. Because our hope is in a transformative Christ, who grieves this world with us, who comes to set things right. To feed the hungry, to heal the sick, to break the sword.

And most of all? To fill the hearts of humanity with the desire to do the same. Could it happen? Hope past hope's believing. I believe.

When It Hurts to Be Human

When through the deep waters I call thee to go,

The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;

For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless,

And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.

---Rippon's Selection of Hymns, 1787

There are lots of ways to look at the rough patches and tragedies in our lives. Some folk choose to look at everything that happens as God’s distinct will, some look at bad stuff as karma or payback. I see the bad things that happen as part of the price of being truly human in this world. For me, this resonates with my observations, with history, with my own life experience, and with my belief in a loving God.

In today’s hymn, with its text from the 18^th century, the hymnist speaks from the viewpoint of a strong, caring God to a searching believer. We will be called, no choice about it, through our life experiences, to journey through deep waters; but we will not go alone. God goes with us through our troubles and distress, to bless and even to make holy those experiences that try us the most. To me this says that God can bring some worth out of even the most tragic, worthless, hurtful situation.

What a hopeful thought from a loving God!