The Holy Moment

Maybe it's because Christmas starts revving up just after everyone is in a sugar slump after eating their Halloween candy and then it really gets going after the turkey is barely out of the oven.

Maybe it's because Christmas is so easy to love--the lights, the twinkling, the songs, the baking, the presents, the magic, and the fullness of it all.

But, often, by the time Christmas actually arrives, I feel almost tired of it.

Weary of listening to the all the music, weary of running around and looking for gifts, weary of feeling like my schedule is off-kilter, weary of trying to be creative with my Christmas decor, and weary of thinking about all the ways I should be feeling Christmasy.

This year, though, I've been trying to avoid that Christmas overdose.

I want to soak in every bit of this season, but I don't want to drown in it.

Practically, that's meant letting go of taking traditions with Luke too seriously (we've started a few, but I'm not interested in trying all the things right now)

It means not listening to Christmas music every minute of the day (even if I'm tempted to)

It means shopping mostly online and making gifts instead of heading to the mall (because if anything makes me feel dizzy it's the mall!)

I wanted this year to be intentional, slow, and about seeing the gospel with the magic that Christmas brings. I had plans of doing an Advent devotional and taking time to be still.

But, you know what? Recently, my time reading the Bible and really focusing on the gospel has been short-lived and rare. I know that the Word brings life and perspective--that it wraps truth around me to protect my heart from all the other stuff that doesn't matter.

But, I've squished other non-important things into those crevices of time that I have to read and just be still. I've been distracted, and fidgety, and feeling out of sorts.

I'm tempted to let my non-habit become just the way it is instead of remembering that every minute brings grace, and newness, and change.

It's not about being good enough or having it all together or having a 5-week study plan lined out. Really, it's quite the opposite. It's saying,

God, I'm not good enough. I don't have it all together. I am so easily distracted by all the stuff. I get all fuzzy about Christmas cookies and lights and forget about that baby in the manager.

I miss the mark, time and time again. 

And that right there is the holy moment--the moment when I can't help but be in wonder about that baby in the manger and the gospel because I see my need for that babe who had come to take away my sins.

I can't help but be humbled by the gospel.

No matter how many minutes I've sat in adoration or how many minutes I haven't--it's still there.

No matter how Christmasy I feel or don't feel--it's still there.

No matter what I do or don't do.

The Hope of the world was there--swaddled in the manger and born to take the sins of the world.