Journeys

Its Christmas morning and Esther is at Melbourne Airport reflecting on her group Christian Backpackers Meetup Melbourne. 

The tagline for Christian Backpackers  is ‘We’re all on a journey’. As well as pointing out the common ground for travellers, the more artistic of us might realise its metaphorical reference to other journeys. Our personal journeys. Our spiritual journeys. Everyone’s trying to get somewhere right?

But the path is oft not easy. The way is winding, confusing, uneven. They say God is love, but he sure seems distant sometimes. 

And so this is Christmas. Mary, Joseph and their little donkey, little donkey made the trek to O little town of Bethlehem. Shepherds left their flocks by night to confirm the great news and bundle of joy. Them three kings from orientar*, bearing gifts, travelled afar. And then there me: 6am at the airport, already tired from the trip home and there’s still 2 hours til take off.

We think of Jesus as the Holy Infant, so tender and mild. We think the travels centred around him, but in fact, he was a weary traveller too.  How long is the trip from eternity to earth? And how long is the road to calvary with a cross?

We struggle our way to him, but he’s already come down to us.
He places heaven on the horizon and walks with his hand in ours.

We’re all on a journey –
O traveller, walk with him.

*come on, didn’t you think it was one word when you sang this growing up?

All I want for Christmas

My Christmas wish
my prayer, even
is that in this sweet
yet struggling world
after a year of success and surprise
alongside volcanoes, bush fires, anti-government protests, mosque shootings and more -
God would once again meet us where we are.

That he would invade hearts and lives
- quietly, powerfully -
like he did that first Christmas.

I am reminded that he did not provide a quick fix back then
(we know better than to believe in those)
thus its unlikely he will do so now.

But that the ray of hope,
the comfort that flowed 
as his feet his the earth
was, and is,
all we need.

~~

How silently, how silently

the wondrous gift is given. 

So God imparts to human hearts 

the blessings of his heaven 

No ear may hear his coming 

but in this world of sin 

where meek souls will receive him 

still the dear Christ enters in. 

                                                                                             ~O little town of Bethlehem
                                                                                                                                                                      P Brooks, 1868

Discrepancies

The 1 December, the first day of summer. To mark the occasion, Melbourne put on a top of 16 deg and a relentless downpour. The next day, as a consolation prize, there was a high of 15 deg and a hailstorm. One could be forgiven for thinking there had been a serious mistake.

As I longed for mulled wine in my merino jersey, I mulled over similar discrepancies:

When the letters after your name say you’re a qualified surgeon, yet you don’t feel qualified to slice the pizza you’ll binge on tonight.

When you're head hunted and got that promotion - and still feel like unworthy to be a janitor in the building.

When he says you’re beautiful and proved it with a ring, yet you can’t brush your teeth in front of the mirror.

When you read 'Jesus died for the sins of the world' in your Bible and sing 'red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight' with your kids, yet can't help thinking you're his one exception.

Winter weather, when the calendar says summer.
The facts - and the feelings that suggest otherwise.
How do you dress for the discrepancies?

No one's suggesting you head out in a bikini. The storm is real.
Nevertheless head out; dress warm, head up.
Weather the weather and know deep down inside
it is
     indeed
          Summer