I've been thinking so much in Advent about making space, making room for Jesus in a new way into my heart. Someone I was discussing this with asked me, "But don't you have it figured out? You've been a Christian for a long time. Don't you just do the same thing every Advent?" The question haunted me.
Of course we all have traditions in our communities, churches and homes that are part of the beauty and wonder of the Christmas season. But the seasons of Advent and also of Lent are so meaningful to me in my Christian life I the way I prepare my heart. I think from the time I was a little girl and we lit the Advent wreath, read scripture and prayed, I knew it was a very special time. Looking back now I see the reverence of the moment, the quiet space we created to worship. As I grew in my faith I realized, for me, I found that finding God in the silence to renew my soul, to gain greater perspective, to experience Advent in a new way became an important part of my faith life.
I think the yearning in my heart to receive Jesus in a new way is a refreshing thought. But the yearning doesn't mean much if there is no action attached. As I experience Advent fully, I think deeply about the journey...not just the destination. I love the thought of reflecting, preparing, expecting, anticipating the joy of the greatest gift ever given...yet again. Because I'm not who I was even last year on my faith journey. The joys and challenges of each year bring greater depth in my faith walk and I am so grateful, to approach this season with new eyes of faith.
My boys and I recently moved to a new home and we had some trouble finding a space that seemed right for our Christmas tree. We talked through moving furniture, squeezing it in a tiny place, what size it should be to fit. Finally, we decided, even if it looked strange, we wanted it in front of the balcony doors so its light could illuminate into the night. I wondered if we had been talking about the Christmas tree, or the need for something else--the need to let light within each of us shine in a different, new way. So that perspective helped me to look everywhere for light.
I've been noticing more about about space as I thought of this topic during Advent. As I took a walk in the park on a cold December morning, I felt alive with all the space God has created in the woods, in each plant that has broken forth from the earth, in the majestic arms of branches of the oaks, in the rapidly flowing stream and in the vastness of the sky. I thought of a mind's eye photo in my memory of walking up from the creek on our farm and seeing the entire meadow covered with glistening snow and the sun setting so brilliantly. All the space He has made for us to live, and move and have our being. And now I ponder the way I can make space in my own life.
Am I so caught up in the preparations of a meal, for instance, that I hurry along my son as he tells me about his day? Or, am I willing to stop, to listen to even what he is not saying? Do I notice the glimmer in the eyes of the children at a recent community choir concert? Do I see their innocence, their delight? Do I take the time to sit with a friend in need and offer encouragement, instead of rushing out to buy the final presents. Am I learning to listen--both to the movements of God in my own life and to the very deep soul-talk of others? Have I learned to be alone and treasure my time with God in the Word, in prayer, in meditation? Am I ready to leave old habits behind, and move forward as God draws me? Am I willing to wait patiently when I don't have a answer, or the answer is "not yet"? And am I willing to strip away my own masks to reveal the authentic, nicked up, wounded, but ever healing soul that resides in me. And am I willing to open my heart fully, instead of hiding away?
When I think about making space this Advent season, what am I making room for? And I know the answer. I'm constantly called to make room for love. For God's love. For the greatest gift of love ever. It means entering spaces I might not have dared to go before, but with this knowledge that God shines so brightly.
We just need to begin making spaces, I think. And to never stop. Reflecting, then carving out those places in our lives that need more of Him. Those spaces are everywhere. Making space feels very much like finding ourselves loved. And in that space, there is a light shining...as we make our way to Bethlehem.
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