On Halloween night, it snowed. Apparently, this isn’t the first time I’ve experienced snow on Halloween. When I was younger and living in Kentucky there was a freak snow storm while I was trick-or-treating, but I don’t remember it all that well. And being in Southern California for most of my life, snow in October is not a common thing. Snow in general is not a common thing.
We got our seasons from the decorations at Disneyland and the seasonal offerings at the local eateries. “Pumpkin pancakes?! It must be Fall!” I think this is partly responsible for my love of all things Autumn and Christmas. I’m eating pumpkin flavored things the first Sunday of September, just because I wanna be in the spirit. I’m downing eggnog before we’ve even finished the Halloween candy.
But this year is a little different. Little baby Emmett is due in December, so my Christmas plans are going on the back burner. Kate and I aren’t sure to what extent we will decorate the Lodge in Big Bear because we’re going to be staying with her parents when the baby comes. Since we can’t know for sure when the baby will come, we can’t know for sure when we’ll be heading back up the hill. There are so many questions, and so many unknowns. All because we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of our little baby.
So, when God blessed us with our first snow on Halloween night I decided to throw tradition to the wind and just go full Christmas. I’m extending the advent season by 100%. No longer will it be crammed into the space between Thanksgiving and Christmas, like Santa trying to fit in a coach seat. We’re moving him to first class! Making the advent last 2 whole months.
Now, I have my selfish reasons. I want to listen to Christmas music before it will be interrupted by newborn cries. I want to enjoy the smells of Christmas before they’re paired with fresh dirty diaper stink (read: stank).
But I also think that this time of Advent is important. And this year may be the year that I understand Advent the best. Not just am I anxiously awaiting the celebration of the birth of our Saviour, I’m also anxiously awaiting the celebration of the birth of my first child.
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It’s weird how scary it all is. There’s this very special place in my heart that seems to be warmed every Christmas, it’s a personal time for healing and to remember the reason I love Christ in general. It’s something I protect, and anticipate. No one messes with my Christmas.
Except this year.
This year I’ve got this adorable little ball of confusion that’s going to come crashing into my life. There’s so little about it that I can control. I can no more say to Emmett “alright, we’re going to arrive a little early so that Daddy can get a bit more settled before Christmas,” than I can say to the weather “let’s start being cold earlier this year, you know, so I can get in the Christmas spirit.”
It reminds me of Job. I’m sure everyone was reading this post and thought “oh, he’s talking about his baby, and Christmas, I bet he’ll also mention Job. I know I think of Job when people talk about newborn babies and Christmas time.”
So, there’s this Job guy, and he’s supposed to be super righteous, a really good dude. Then the devil makes a deal with God and Job loses. We go through this whole story of loss, and we hear Job’s friends give the worst (yet technically biblical?) advice. Job is grieving and angry, and confused.
Then, God speaks.
“Who shut in the sea with doors when it burst out from the womb?-- when I made the clouds its garment, and thick darkness its swaddling band, and prescribed bounds for it, and set bars and doors, and said, ‘Thus far shall you come, and no farther, and here shall your proud waves be stopped’?”
God can talk in run-on sentences because He’s God.
Who determines the birth of my baby, and the time in which it should be celebrated? Who knows the number of hairs on his head and has them numbered? It sure as hell ain’t me.
Like I said, no one messes with my Christmas…
oh wait.
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So there are these Jewish people all waiting for a messiah to come. They’ve dreamed him up to be a military ruler who will save them from the Roman empire. These people will finally be able to have their celebrations on their own terms. This is what freedom looks like.
Then Christ comes.
The whole Christmas story begins to turn the narrative on its head. Born in a manger, no room in the inn. Born of this lineage that includes these women who were not even Jewish.
I can imagine it’s like some little baby coming into my life and saying “we’re not celebrating Christmas this way anymore, we’re doing it my way.”
(oh…)
Jesus later takes Passover and turns it into communion. Imagine this kid that you just read about going on and saying “yeah, Christmas? It’s not going to be about you getting presents anymore, it’s actually always been about me. The presents are gonna go to me, cause your whole life is about me now.”
(… I think I…)
It’s like Christmas isn’t really about Christmas traditions, and the things I’ve been trying to protect. Instead it is about this crazy unexpected thing that comes and completely changes your life.
(I get it, kind of like Emmett?)
Yeah, like having a baby.
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In the end, I’m reminded of this simple truth: it’s not about me. I know that it’s not really all about Emmett either. If I made my whole life focused on him, I’d be a bad dad who spoiled his son. Rather, it’s all about Christ. Christ, who told the ocean “here shall your proud waves be stopped.” (**shivers**)
I know there are many things that are unexpected in this world. Births and deaths and love and heartbreak all have a way of coming to you on their own terms. Just like I wrote about pain before. They don’t sleep when the sun sets, nor do they wake with an alarm. They crash in at 2:37 PM. They slowly bubble up over weeks and weeks. They do as they please.
In this same way, I can’t know when Emmett will get here anymore than I can know when Christ will return. But I have a choice. I can stand before the terror of the unknown and try to control it, like trying to tell a wave where to stop (for those of my landlocked friends, this is not possible, and often very painful). Or, I can celebrate. I can celebrate this time of anxious anticipation, knowing that I don’t know. Christ will come, just as Emmett will, on His own terms, and He’ll change everything.
Job heard God speak and responded, “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge? Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”
I anticipate things too wonderful for me.
|| Posted by Alex ||
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