For All Who Wait at Christmas
I’ve heard it said that we’re all waiting for something, and I suppose in part that’s true.
But when you’re waiting for something like a marriage, or a baby, or a job, or a diagnosis that could change everything, waiting for a train or the food to microwave seems pretty trivial. No offense.
I don’t know what you’re waiting for, but I understand the tension. The faith-breaking, faith-making crazy that happens simultaneously, because we’ve been waiting a long, long time too.
We’ve spent ten years praying for this particular need – ten years that have passed both in an instant and an eternity – and we are still waiting. There are days I am overcome with supernatural peace and the surest of hope, knowing that we must be closer now to our answer than we once were. And then there are moments despair lies thick like a blanket and smothering with the incessant questions of Why? When? and How much longer?
Maybe you can relate.
Waiting is hard, lonely work. It’s heavy and it’s long and the people you love can get tired of waiting with you, or waiting for you – but waiting at Christmas can be excruciating. When all the world is bright with joy and the anticipation and expectation of good things. When there’s a heightened sense of family, and a hyper awareness of connection, and you just feel so disengaged for all the waiting has taken from you.
Let me remind you that Christmas, in all it’s beautiful complexity, is hope for all who wait.
Consider Israel who had not heard God’s voice in centuries, or the gray-haired husband and wife with whom He breaks that silence, who are finally given the joy of becoming parents. Remember the shepherds who waited a life-time for their chance to be invited in, and seekers who spent the same searching for the one-true-King. And then there is Messiah, who marked time from the Fall to the rule of ancient Rome to be Immanuel, God with us, in all of our joys and all of our trials.
In all of our waiting.
I don’t know what you’re waiting for, or how much it hurts, or how hard it’s making this Christmas, but from one wait-er to another, let me whisper these words of encouragement to your tired heart.
Wait brave, sweet friend, wait bold.
Wait joyful and expectant that the God who made promises is also strong enough to see them through.
Wait well, dear friend, and count up your blessings – however many, however few – because there is no one, no one, who does what our God does for those who wait for Him.
Christmas is for you, friend, even in the waiting.