Where Hopes and Fears Meet

Image found at relevantmagazine.com

 O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by.

Yet in thy dark streets shineth the Everlasting Light;

The hopes and fears of all the years, are met in thee tonight.

Of all the Christmas songs the one that keeps coming to me this year, that gives me so much comfort, is this last line: "The hopes and fears of all the years, are met in thee tonight."

I suppose it has something to do with my frustration with so many Christmas songs, the ones that are so resolutely buoyant, the ones that seem to ignore the fact that anyone could possibly be unhappy or discontented or frustrated or depressed during the brightest holiday of the year. The ones that seem to say that all sadness, cares, grumpiness and indigestion are banished at the mere mention of Christmas.The ones that, despite their lyrics, don't seem to give a fa-la-la-la-la about any emotion other than the merry and bright ones.

Don't get me wrong- I'm not a Scrooge, at least, I hope I'm not. I love Christmas, I adore Christmas. I even like most Christmas music. I love the free-for-all to decorate out the wazoo, buy nice things, and get together with people I don't see often enough. I often get such bad tunnel-vision during the year, I think it's rather nice to be MADE to do these things. That's what holidays do--derail our busy,one-track minds into something more beautiful and bigger than ourselves.

But it's not always easy, and sometimes with derailing there comes a crash, either physical or emotional.

Take me, for example.

I've always had a tendency to be high-strung, worrying about the rightness and correctness of the piece I'm writing, the room I'm cleaning, or the conversation I'm having. Somewhere along the line I picked up the anathema image of God waiting with a lightning bolt for whatever mistake I make, and that image often haunts me, despite so many years of experiencing and learning love and grace. But throw in a few family and friend get-togethers, gifts to buy, and meals to prepare for the BIGGEST HOLIDAY OF THE YEAR and you have me, a basket case, all tied up in a bow.


So that's why I need the last line of "O Little Town of Bethlehem."

I love that combined wording of hopes and fears because they are so like the two sides of the same coin. Both are standing-on-tip-toes expectant about the future. Both come with a racing heart. Both come with eyes straining to see ahead. Both have an element of anxiety and nervousness, wondering what will  happen, and if it will be as wonderful or dreadful as we expect.

And yet it's in the midst of these kinds of emotions, those uncertain times, that Christ came and still comes.

Can you imagine the emotional climate of Bethlehem? Tired, busy, ragged people jostling their way into the city for the census. The anger and frustration towards a tyrannical government. The heightened hopes of those waiting for deliverance.

Oh man, not so different from us today, both culturally and for many of us personally. But notice that this is when Jesus chooses to show up. Consider Luke's message:

He has raised up a mighty savior for us in the house of His servant David...
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.



It's in the shadows, in the darkness, that Christ the Man and Christ the Lord arrives to work and to save and to be with us, wherever we are. I don't know about your, but I so need to be reminded of this message. Every. Single. Year.


So as my basket-case self excitedly and nervously prepares for yes, the biggest holiday of year, I bring all my human hopes and fears and anxieties along, confessing them, and celebrating the Savior who came for someone just like me.

When I Want Something So Badly

It's the sparkling week of Christmas. Lots to do, so much to get ready for, and I'm trying to wrap up a few work projects and it's really killing my holiday buzz.

Sure: Be sensible and tap-tap-tap on the computer, while your darling cat snores in the corners, presents wink at your from the corner, and allll that ribbon you found on sale is in the bag, waiting to wrap said presents. Schedule appointments post-Christmas and New Years when you have family coming in and the place needs to be cleaned from top to bottom and the meals planned and that special mysterious breakfast casserole created and all that chocolate and peppermint to play with.

Mm, well, I'm trying my darnedest and it's not going so well. My usual anxious tendencies fluctuate between ecstasy and exhaustion as I try to be a big girl during the biggest kid holiday of the year.

And to top it all off, on the midst of all of this there is something else, the Thing I want so badly.

Most of us have wish lists this time of year, but this item is one I've been working on for quite some time now. I've wished for it, dreamed about it, worked for it. But it's not up to me when I'll get it. And that's weighing on me pretty well.

Because of the public nature of blogs, it's not good for me to name this Thing here. Sufficient to say, I want it quite badly, and that got me thinking.

This Thing I've been wanting, I've prayed about it, agonized over it, doubted it, and wondered if it was the Right Thing. Everyone I talk to says it is, but then I wonder if they're telling me the truth, and then I stop listening to what they say.

And this is what it comes down to and this is why I'm writing about it over Christmas-- do I want God as badly as I want the Thing? Because I am so good at wanting things. Given a bank account and the free reign, I could fuel the economy all by myself. But given my current desire for a Thing has made me wonder if I crave God as deeply.

When I pray, do I pray for wisdom and love and God himself as much as I pray for the Thing? I so often snivel along, begging Him for the Thing, when He must look at me so quizzically and say, "What you want is not the Thing, but the thing you want, I've already given in Myself. Haven't you noticed I'm here?" And I must whisper, "I'm sorry, I forgot."

Because, see, what I want isn't the Thing, but I want w,hat I think the Thing will give me: joy, love, creativity, even power in some ways. When in reality these are the things that only God gives, the things are media, tools, and conduits, but not The Thing itself.

Sigh. So I find myself with the classic Christmas conundrums of the I-Wants,and I've got to be honest, I have been feeling them so badly lately.

So you know what I'm looking forward to this Christmas? Time to rest from the I-Wants, and time to reflect on the I-Haves. I've got my work cut out for me as I work for the the Thing, but what I also want to do this Christmas is not so much worry about that Thing, but look to the One Who gives all things and just rest in that. Yeah, because more than what I say I want, He knows what I need.

I swear I'll Never Do This Again, Again.

So it's been a month. Oddly enough, very nearly to the day. But that's neither here nor there. The thing is I haven't been writing (well, here). Well, if I was honest, not much anywhere else, except for some scratching on student papers and some cramped doodles in my personal journal.

I've actually been doing more photography as well as working on some other writing projects. The trouble is, I've been doing so much information gathering for said writing projects that I haven't really written, as in, put my thoughts down on paper, in a while.

I was about to write a Facebook post (see? that's writing! Okay, grasping for straws here), calling out to my writing friends about ways to motivate myself, to give me a cute trick that both inspire me and get my fingers working.

But as I was about to do that, I realized that both took the same effort-- the sitting and down and writing the FB post and the sitting down and the writing of, well, the writing.

It's Christmastime, and I always get very inspired to be a better artist and writer around the holidays. I feel both deep and sentimental as well as heartily ashamed of everything I haven't done write, I mean, right, this year, as a result of my life thrown in the relief of the wished-for perfection of the Christmas season.

But that's okay, whatever it takes to bring me back here, back home, where I belong. I always swear I won't do this again, but here I am. Merry Christmas, I'm starting over. Again.