The Call of Christmas

Christmas.

It can be a busy, almost all-consuming time of the year.

Though I put on familiar carols about the birth of Jesus so my mind recalls what Emmanuel — God with us — is all about, I lose sight of Him all too quickly and easily. The pull of the world and its idea of Christmas lure me in — the lights, the baking, the movies, the gifts.

All in the name of making memories. Of creating something special to make this holiday one of a kind, a holiday worth celebrating, as if without my efforts and plans, and gifts under the tree, Christmas wouldn’t be worthy of celebration.

Of course, this pursuit that leaves Emmanuel behind, leaves me weary and overwhelmed and, dare I say it, depressed.

Every year, I promise myself I will pursue Him, follow the star, make my way to Bethlehem, and immerse myself in the quiet of silent nights of hope and promise and miraculous proclamations of good news and great joy.

But instead I fall prey to familiar whispers that Christmas is about stuff and things and without the twinkling lights, the decorated tree, the sparkle of the trimmings, the brightly wrapped gifts beneath the tree, Christmas won’t be Christmas.

When that mindset settles in, and the season becomes for me a series of Instagram photos, Facebook posts of events, and gift-buying adventures, there are no silent nights and there is no quiet reflection. There is no good news of great joy, but rather great anxiety and joyless overwhelm.

With less than two weeks left until Christmas, my soul fights for the hope of Emmanuel. My heart yearns for celebration of shepherds and the chorus of angels and the cries of a baby laid in a manger.

Never have I needed these reminders as much as today.

Imagine the overwhelm of discovering the big gift you bought for your 10-year-old, the one she asked for and that you pictured her opening on Christmas morning, won’t be arriving because the online site where you purchased it is nothing more than a scam.

Imagine the emotional gut punch of having a limited budget, looking at the calendar and realizing the reality of your money and the number of days until Christmas won’t come together as smoothly as you hoped and planned.

Imagine the flooding of anger made deeper with your inability to right this wrong.

Imagine.

Imagine Christmas.

Imagine Bethlehem.

Imagine angels appearing, shepherds staring in fear, then awe.

Imagine those same shepherds celebrating, then kneeling by a manger.

Imagine God, creator of the stars, now a baby.

Imagine Emmanuel, God came down. God left heaven and remained with us. With me.

Imagine joy and peace.

Imagine love and hope.

Imagine the hopes and fears of all the years are met in Him that night. All the years, including this one. All the hopes, including mine. All the fears, including mine. All the skewed perspectives, including mine.

GeekNab.com, I imagine you may be enjoying taking advantage of many like me, celebrating your windfall of wealth.

Even so, I refuse to dwell on spite, which would be far too easy and less hope-filled, but rather I choose to dwell on Bethlehem and sit by the manger and consider the miracle of God with us, and, yes, us includes you, GeekNab.com. What you choose to do with that miracle that calls to you this Christmas is up to you.

As for me, I choose to receive it filled with hope and joy and expectation.