Some time ago, my friend introduced me to this blog by a friend of hers. For whatever reason, the last few posts only just showed up in my google reader feed a couple days ago, but here are a couple excerpts that I found encouraging:
God grew in those moments (or maybe I finally shrank). I realized how big he was, and how small I was. He is in control and I can enjoy breathing. I can enjoy Him. Nothing is required of me. I am accepted by that which is greater than me. And I am safe there.
Intimacy with Christ often leads us to go backwards in comparison with what the world values. Though God may want to teach much through me, give much, love much, and perform much at some point, I appreciate so much this emphasis on being unimportant, unwise, and irrelevant.
Community is always around, and it has been my pride that has hindered me from experiencing it. I believe a lie that others care about me only for what I do, and not who I am. In reality, I believe that lie about myself: I am only valuable for what I do. I have based my own value in my productivity, instead of my relationships.
It's Christmas Eve. I plan on seeing Where The Wild Things Are this afternoon at the second run theater near my home, and then my mother and I will be picking my brother up from the airport. We've been a family of three for over ten years now. It still feels a little strange. We have a lot in common, and a lot that's different, of course. Family is so interesting. It happens in so many different ways, and then there's this whole other story of being adopted into God's family, becoming co-heirs with Jesus. But family is that weird thing that you don't choose, for all its blessings and dysfunctions.
I've neglected the beauty and anticipation of Advent this year. And suddenly Christmas is here. I do want Jesus to come and restore all things once and for all. But there are things that I want to see happen before then, right? Ways for the Kingdom to come and take shape around me and in my life and in the lives of those I love, before the end of our time. Maybe you know what I mean.
Here he comes, let us adore him.
