Come, Lord Jesus: The Weight of Waiting is now available! For the last few weeks I have invited the members of my “street team” to share their stories and reflections on the book, the topic of waiting, and Advent. (This post contains affiliate links.)
I wasn’t prepared for the sunrise but I believe it was prepared for me. When I rounded the first curve on the way through our morning ritual of school and daycare drop-offs I caught a glimpse of that halo streaking bright and proud from the tips of the clouds. And I wondered if God was up to something.
As the bypass around my little hometown turned the trees broke enough and he gave me this. Well, he gave us this.
Anyone who was paying attention that Thursday morning could have seen his glory on display, the light splintering through shades of blue sky so clear I wondered if trumpets were about to sound. For a moment, my heart skipped that beat it does sometimes when I see a sky so unusual I stop and ask him, “Is today The Day?”
But I bet some folks missed it. I mean honestly, we are all adeptly good at missing the signs he sends us.
You know, the reminders. The nudges. The whispers. I know I am. But not that morning, for that few minutes as I drove I saw his work from every angle and was reminded that he can still paint the sky and speak to me through air and light and beauty.
I’m living a distracted life of late and I’ve noticed that there’s a rhythm to it right now that closely resembles chaos. It’s loud and booming and it presses in on me from every side pushing its way between me and the Father. It’s discomforting yet it grows more familiar with each passing day.
I can feel the pull of entropy with every breath I take.
There’s a physicalness to working outside the home and caring for a family this large that I find myself woefully unprepared for and that nobody much talks about. Of course, anybody with half a brain knows it’s going to be hard. But nobody mentions it. No sweet well-meaning soul has the heart to look you straight in the eye and tell you that the chaos of daily living can very well eclipse your view of the Savior.
No one tells you that you must step over mountains of dirty laundry, scores of homework papers, and scrapping siblings to touch the dust on the sandals of the man who gave you life in order to live this life.
No one says that your daily quiet time may happen on your way to work with you in your minivan crying out for redemption, begging for God to come down now and set all things straight once and for all.
It can be easy to give into the hard edges of our lives numbly living out our days with no real awareness of what God is showing us. But when we forget that all that is holy gave up all that was holy to walk beside us Satan has, for the moment, gained the advantage.
When our chaos reigns, Christ does not and we lose sight of what we are living for, the coming of Holy again.
And dear hearts, Holy is coming again.
While I love to see the reminders of his coming through the nature he has created, like that sunrise spectacle, there was another sign he gave us, a much greater sign.
As Kris wrote in Come, Lord Jesus,
“Of all the signs God could have sent, He selects His very own Son to be the sign of great joy, for all people. The sign and proof of His relentless love.”
And it is this sign, a baby born without fanfare, to a mother considered dishonorable that I remember when the chaos of my life becomes so great it threatens to crowd the Savior out.
Father may we lean into your word at every turn of our life. May we whisper it when the chaos become deafening and we cannot hear your voice. Remove our blinders and allow us to see each small sign of love that you send us as a confirmation of your enduring patience and unending peace. May we remember that the line from the cradle to the cross has already been walked and we need only to trust in the promises they have given us.
Guest Post By
Laura Beth Martin is a woman who walks with Jesus. She writes and speaks about this walk and her daily life as a wife and working mother from her hometown in Southern Arkansas. Together she and her husband parent four children and are advocates of adoption. Laura Beth writes for imperfect hearts on her blog at laurabethmartin.com and you can connect with her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest.