I watched A Charlie Brown Christmas again this year. It’s one of those that you have to watch every year around the Christmas season if you have any amount of yuletide spirit at all.

One thing I wanted to look for was the part where Linus recites the Christmas story for Charlie Brown. When he gets to the part where the angel says, “Fear not!” he drops his blanket.

That’s something I never noticed before. That blanket is Linus’ security. It’s what he carries around with him all the time everywhere he goes. He’s never without his trusty blanket. Until that one scene.

He picks it back up again, but lays it down for a second and final time around Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree, after the gang decorates it and makes it pretty.

To me, that says that I can lay down my own security blankets, those things that I look to for comfort when I get anxious or scared. The Prince of Peace has come in the form of a helpless baby crying in a feeding trough. He’s my security now.

In the year where nothing seems stable or secure, it’s good to know that this Prince of Peace is still around. He still offers His peace and rest for those who are weary and troubled who will but come to Him.

By the way, I got the idea for Linus and his blanket by something I read on a website called crosswalk.com. Here’s the original link:

https://www.crosswalk.com/special-coverage/christmas-and-advent/just-drop-the-blanket-the-moment-you-never-noticed-in-a-charlie-brown-christmas.html

“You are our eternal salvation,
The unfailing light of the world.
Light everlasting,
You are truly our redemption.
Grieving that the human race was perishing
through the tempter’s power,
without leaving the heights
You came to the depths in your loving kindness.
Readily taking our humanity by Your gracious will,
You saved all earthly creatures, long since lost,
Restoring joy to the world.
Redeem our souls and bodies, O Christ,
and so possess us as Your shining dwellings.
By Your first coming, make us righteous;
At your second coming, set us free:
So that, when the world is filled with light
and you judge all things,
We may be clad in spotless robes
and follow in Your steps, O King,
Into the heavenly hall.” (Unknown Author, 10th century)

That blows my mind that this was written nearly 1,000 years ago. It goes to show that truth is timeless and always relevant to whatever circumstances and cultures you’re in. The truth of Advent remains as true and trustworthy today as it was on that very first Christmas morn.

Lord, may we be found in You at this and every Christmas and know the true meaning of the season. May Christmas not just be one day a year but all the days of all the years in our hearts and minds and deeds.

I ran across this gem of a post from a friend of mine from Union University days. I think it speaks to where so many of us are these days in the joy mixed with sadness, in the now and not yet. I hope it will speak to you as it did to me when I first read it:

“Melancholy.

That’s the most accurate word I can muster to describe how this holiday season feels to me. Do you, too, recently find yourself experiencing the paradox of emotional numbness against the backdrop of Andy Williams singing ‘It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year’? Have you and/or your loved ones’ hardships left you lost in a pensive sadness, wandering around in your blasé thoughts?

Man, that sure is where I’ve been lately. Not just because of the recent losses I’ve experienced myself, but I can’t even tell you how many people I know right now who are hurting and experiencing life-altering difficulties. And on some level, the cheer usually associated with Christmas seems to emphasize the ‘blahs’ even more.

And yet, I find that it’s these times that test the mettle of my faith. I mean, if what I believe about God is only true when I’m ‘feeling it’ – then that’s a rather paper-thin orthodoxy, is it not?

So, I’ve decided to do something this season, and I wanted to encourage some of you to do it, too, if you feel so inclined:

Embrace the melancholy.

That’s right. Embrace it.

Before I unpack what I mean by that, let me be clear what I don’t mean. I’m not talking about wallowing in sadness, nor do I mean following it into a downward spiral of hopelessness and depression. If you are at that level, then by all means reach out and get help from a loved one or a professional counselor.

I’m speaking rather to those who feel like a train that has stopped too quickly. The weight of your circumstances and this dumpster fire of a year are gaining momentum and shifting forward. You’ve got an emotional migraine. Your feeler seems to be broken from feeling too much all at once.

I want you to know that God, in His sovereignty, gave us a wide range of emotions to experience, and He did it on purpose. He created them for us. Sadness isn’t a sin. It doesn’t make you ‘less than.’

While the apostle Paul said he had found a way to be content in every circumstance, he never said he was giddy all the time. Hardships are, well. . .hard – and God gave us the pressure valve of our emotions (some pleasant, others not as pleasant) so that our heads wouldn’t explode every time something extreme happens.

Perhaps our best cue for embracing the melancholy is found in the Psalms. As a musician, it’s always been my favorite book of the Bible. I often find myself strolling through the Psalms, especially when something seems off in my life. I’ve come to realize that David wrote some of his best stuff when things were personally falling apart for him.

Amazingly, the psalmist’s difficult circumstances often drove him towards God, not away from Him. So it stands to reason that God is in fact willing to sit with us in our sadness. Whether we ‘feel Him’ on our end or not, God is both gentle and relentless in being with us when we are hurting.So, do I crave hard times? No, of course not. They stink.

But after my nearly 50 years of living, I’m just now discovering that whatever path I’m on – God still wants to be near me and He’s strewn things along that path for me to pick up and carry with me for future reference.

So, friends, if you feel like I do this Christmas — let sadness and hope jostle in the balance. Be okay with the messiness of how that feels. Simultaneously embrace God and the feeling of melancholy. He’ll sit with you in the midst of it. Do what might feel counter-intuitive – go towards Him. There is something to be gleaned here in this strange place. After all, one of the miracles of ‘God with us’ is that it’s not circumstantial. He is still Emmanuel no matter where you are” (Carey Dyer).

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial.

To be known and not loved is our greatest fear.

But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us” (Timothy Keller).

That’s the greatest kind of love– better than romantic love — to have someone love you just as you are, warts and all. That kind of love isn’t the kind that winks at your flaws but transforms you and makes you want to be better and do better.

That’s the love of God, unmerited and undeserved, for each of His children. For you. For me. He really does love each one of us like we were the only ones to love. That’s one of the perks of being infinite and eternal.

May you know down deep in your bones and in your soul this kind of selfless, sacrificing, agape love of God this Christmas season.

I think that should just about cover it.

Seriously, I think I’d like to feel some sand between my toes in the near to not-so-distant future. There’s something healing about smelling the salty ocean air and feeling those ocean breezes at night.

So, in lieu of gifts, just send me money. Lots and lots of money.

I’ll be over here holding my breath.

“God favors the darkest places — so we can see His light the brightest.”

I won’t use the old cliche that the night is darkest just before the dawn.

I will say that God is closest to those who are broken-hearted and crushed in spirit.

I will say that the best place to be sometimes is at the very bottom where all you can do is to look up.

I will say that God’s presence means more to those who are walking in darkness.

“The people who walk in darkness
    will see a great light.
For those who live in a land of deep darkness,
    a light will shine” (Isaiah 9:2, NLT).

I’m tired. By that, I mean that I’m ready for bed. But I’m also tired of a few other things well.

I’m tired of all things Coronavirus and the Pandemic. I’m tired of reading about all the new cases and deaths (including more and more people that I knew and loved).

I’m tired of wearing a mask and not being able to see people’s faces. I miss seeing people smile and being able to smile at people. I also miss hand shakes, fist bumps, and hugs. By the way, I still wear a mask in the chance that it might help others in the slightest.

I’m tired of people who use politics and mask-wearing (or lack of mask-wearing) to be nasty to each other and to call each other names. That has no place in the hearts of children of God ever. Fear and shaming are not how God’s people are to motivate others to do right; they’re not good leadership but bad parenting for two year olds (as Dave Ramsey said once).

I’m tired of people who have spoken hatefully in the name of God. They do not speak for God when they degrade those made in His image and for whom Christ died. Whether conservative or liberal, Republican or Democrat, Trump supporter or Biden supporter, they all bear the imago dei and are loved by God.

I’m tired of seeing how people are turning away from the faith (including many I know). It saddens me that they will forsake the only spring of Living Water for broken cisterns that hold no water. It also saddens me that people who profess to be Christians have done much to drive them away.

Still, I know that Jesus said that if I came to Him with all my burdens, I could find rest for my soul. I could trade my burdens for His, which are light. I could find peace not in the absence of trouble but in the midst of it.

“Jesus! I am resting, resting
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
  Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For, by Thy transforming power,
  Thou hast made me whole” (Jean Sophia Pigott /James Mountain)

I want to note that I did not write this. I found it on Facebook just now and thought it was worth sharing. What follows is something every believer needs to remember during this Advent season:

It’s assumed that Mary rode on a donkey, but the Bible doesn’t say she did. ⁣
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It’s assumed there was an innkeeper, but it doesn’t mention one anywhere. ⁣
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It’s assumed there were three Magi, but it doesn’t give a number of those who showed up. ⁣
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It’s assumed there was a star overhead when Jesus was born, but it doesn’t say that either. ⁣
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It’s assumed that Jesus was born in a stable, but all it says is that He was laid in a manger – and that could’ve been any number of places. ⁣
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Christmas comes with many assumptions—some helpful, some not so much. ⁣
Spirituality also comes with many assumptions, and the ones that fail us are the ones we make about what it’s supposed to look like, who is worthy for it to happen to, and what kind of outcome it’s supposed to have for us. Assumptions like . . . ⁣
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You should be more than you are now to be pleasing to God. ⁣
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Your weaknesses are in the way of God’s plan for your life. ⁣
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Your lack of religious excitement disqualifies you from divine participation.⁣
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You’re probably not doing it right.⁣
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Other spiritual people have something you don’t have.⁣
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Our assumptions hinder our spiritual journey in all kinds of ways, and the antidote to assumption is surprise. The surprise of Christ’s incarnation is that it happened in Mary’s day as it is happening every day in your lack of resources, your overcrowded lodging, your unlit night sky, your humble surroundings. ⁣
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It’s a surprise that life can come through barren places.⁣
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It’s a surprise that meek nobodies partake in divine plans. ⁣
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It’s a surprise that messengers are sent all along the hidden journey of life to let you know you are not alone.⁣
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It’s a surprise that you will be given everything you need to accomplish what you’ve been asked to do.⁣
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It’s a surprise that nothing can separate you from the love of God.⁣
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Nothing can separate you from love. Your assumptions believe there must be something that can . . . But surprise! ⁣
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Nothing can. ⁣
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May you thank God with joyful surprise at how much you have assumed incorrectly. ⁣
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advent @honestadvent

I think tonight most of us just need a little more faith. 2020 has been hard on all of us. It hasn’t always brought out the best in us.

I think we can all agree that sometimes for me it’s best to just admit that I don’t have it in me to cope and that I need God now more than ever.

It’s not true that God helps those who help themselves. God comes to those who know they can’t help themselves. God comes for those who admit their neediness and helplessness.

It’s also not true that God doesn’t give us more than we can bear. He never allows us to be tempted beyond our ability to endure. If we never faced anything that was more than we could bear, we wouldn’t need God in the first place. If we’re honest, all of us at times have faced adversity that seemed overwhelming and beyond our ability to endure. That’s where we saw God come through most clearly.

So yeah, I need more faith. Even if it’s still small, it’s enough. When it comes to the economy of faith, it’s not so much the size of your faith, but the size of the object of your faith– in our case, the size of a God who can be trusted at all times.

“Come, Lord Jesus, and be with me where I feel poorest. I trust that this is the place where you will find your manger and bring your light. Come, Lord Jesus, come. Amen” (Henri Nouwen)

How many of us have felt inadequate and weak this year? How many have felt overwhelmed with anxiety and fear? How many have tried to live out of victory and faith and ended up at the end of the day feeling like they’d failed?

God often comes to the lowliest. He comes to us when we feel poorest. His strength is perfected when we’re at our weakest.

Come, Lord Jesus, to Your people who need you most that they may feel you near tonight. Amen.