Immanuel

We have done this every year since she was a wee girl of three.

We stop at the door of a mirror lined room.  More than a hundred ballerinas fly around like butterflies.  Every year I tell her the same thing, “I will be watching,”   and she replies with the wisdom of her old soul, “I know.”

Children have the most uncanny ability to know without seeing and hear without listening.  I think of her and imagine what life would be to have faith like hers.

There is no room for doubt in her mind.

I think of her and her confidence.  I see in her the same tenacity as those waiting for Jesus.  As much as I adore the story of the Birth;  I race to read the reaction of Simeon and Anna.  They forged their faith into life.  They lived to see with eyes open and hearts holding hope.  I want to live like that.

This Immanuel,  this God with us.  Physically yes in a stable, but so much more;  He brought with him stability.  The strength to know He is alive, WITH us.

His reaching beyond sorrow to Joy, beyond death to life, beyond bondage to freedom, beyond fear to peace.

He is   -  so we can be too.  I don’t need the happy ending here.  I have it there.  The battles, the disappointments, the trials;  they show us Him.  They reveal His great love, His tender mercy,  His strength in the teary, weak, give up moments.

He reaches in, climbs down, builds up and reveals his presence    with us.

“Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace.”  Luke 1:78-79