Christmas Rain And The Birth Of The Gospel
Part I
A humble attempt at reconciliation, a Christmas card, remains unopened, thrown in the snow, its sentiments ignored forever…a dejected man with little strength to lift his head above his woes steps out in the cold hoping for a glimpse of the Christmas star- only to find the clouds merging to produce rain…instead of the long-sought return of a spouse a woman’s heart and marriage are torn asunder by divorce…when asked what she wants for Christmas, a child shuns thoughts of toys and pleads for her mother to come home, not realizing she is in a place beyond anyone’s reach…a forgotten and withered old man seeks someone, anyone, to end his loneliness and affirm him worthy of attention…cutting words from peers leaves a teenage girl screaming in silence and cutting more than the pages of the dreams in her journal…a freshly broken heart bleeds over everything it touches, spilling its dying desires to anyone willing to listen…a minister struggles to write a Christmas sermon as his secret doubts confound him and threaten to eat his faith alive…a newborn strives for life in the hospital, desperately searching for its first unencumbered breath while her parents pray for healing and a moment’s peace…
Despite marketers’ best efforts to manufacture and callously sell the joy of a season, all many want for Christmas is a conclusion to their tears and a sustaining hope to become acquainted with their name. If holidays are indeed holy days, Christmas is undoubtedly among the most sacred. The weight and waiting of depression, pain, and loneliness often weigh more during this holy season than at any other time. People reside in darkness starving for light, the malnourishment from their pain and burdens causing them to dwell in the land of the shadow of death. In spite of the good intentions of themselves or others, the tears fall continuously as the tidings of good cheer only mock them. If only it was as simple as purchasing happiness, any price would be worth it to be rid of this pain, they think to themselves. But their happiness is an illusion even when it is supposed to be so near. How they want to make new memories! Tentacles from the past reach into their minds and hearts, solidifying their grasp more strongly every passing year.
Where is the simplicity of a promised mercy? The granting of a new breath that brings strength and experiences deliverance. Even the smallest light cannot go unobserved in the blackest of night if eyes are but opened beyond hopelessness. Yet, in the obscurity of their lives, who will hear their cries? Questions abound, their sorrows never quiet for long even as their best efforts at prayer seem futile attempts at finding comfort. God appears disinterested at least and purposefully distant at best. The demands of patience grow more expensive in the shadows and cycles of a holiday season that overwhelms to the point of unending despair. If ever a hero with good news of a new beginning was needed, it is now. If ever a light was required in darkness, it is at this time. It is not supposed to rain on Christmas, after all.
Part II
I see your strength and faith waning, your souls becoming heavier with burdens you were not intended to carry. You fear the dark because of the unknown- what you can’t see and when the night will end. How your hearts are so weighed down, your minds overcome with everything but what they are supposed to be! Your hopes are drowning in the cold Christmas rain- all that you can’t let go of nor will let go of you. Though your tears do not cease, neither do my thoughts of you. I count your tears and collect them in a bottle as treasure not to be discarded or disdained. I grieve at your misery and mourn at your weariness and repining which refuse to yield to new thoughts. If you but knew how familiar I am with the causes of your lament- in all of your afflictions, I am afflicted with you.
Your brokenness has broken my heart but not my faithfulness. No matter the depth of your anguish or the lateness of the hour, I have not forgotten you, nor my promises to you. Their fulfillment is doubtless as I cannot lie, nor do I employ empty words. My intentions and endeavors will not be daunted by the weight of your burdens. I have suffered long with and for you, waiting until the fullness of time came.
Oh, you afflicted, tossed with tempest and not comforted, look unto me and let your hearts be lightened. I will reveal my numberless and precious thoughts to you in a face you can behold, a face full of grace and truth. My answer will not arrive in the pomp or pageantry of a king but the glory of a humble newborn baby. Behold, and wonder, for his birth is good tidings of great joy to all people. He will grow from one helpless to one whose strength defeats hopelessness and proclaims liberty. His name, Immanuel, brings an end to loneliness and beauty for ashes. Touched with the feeling of your infirmities, he will never be untouched by them. He will trod a sure path step by step to your redemption, healing, and deliverance.
As the dayspring from on high visits you, Immanuel will satisfy you early with his mercy. You who sit in darkness, arise and shine for your light has come. Surely, the night has become light about you and your darkness as the noonday. You need no longer be a slave to sorrow, nor worship pain as a false god that exacts ever more with no respite. Immanuel is your hope from days of yore, fulfilled, now and forever. Your brokenness is not the end, your heartbreak not the last word for He is the Beginning and The Ending. As promised long ago, Christmas is not the continuance of the rain, but the birth of the Gospel.
Discover more from theploysofheaven.com
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.