come in.

why don't you think of God as the one who is coming,

who has been approaching from all eternity ... ?

-rainer-

"when a heart breaks ... does your heart break?"

the words bounce from the hardwood floor I'm crumpled upon to my ears and down deep into my soul.

 "can you hear your people, Lord? does Your heart ... break?"

I mouth these lyrics through my sobs, and stare at my open hands sitting heavy on my lap - my eyes catching on the band wrapped around my finger. How did I get here? I know the question will not be answered as it rises from my broken heart. In one moment of gut-wrenching emotion, I am able to feel completely lost and completely grateful. Don't ask me how. But I know he's here. I've made it this far.

In my weeping, my body tenses every single tiny muscle, like my spirit is moving, yearning to escape and break free from whatever this is - this beast that is far greater than just emotions and anger and exhaustion.
and right here, I am begging him to come in. Come into this hole that was burned into my sweet child self. Come into this frustration. Come into the offenses. Come into my broken heart.

Oh, won't you come in?

I am searching for him in the abstractness of Christmas. This year has been different than previous years. I am more distracted, less attuned to the little whimsical things about the season. More heaviness that I'm brining to the manger scene. More hurt that I'm lifting alongside my carols and praise. More darkness and cold surrounding me. More unfamiliar things I am experiencing.

It's here in all this more and hard and struggle that I am met by a precious, innocent child.
And I am told that he, this baby, is God.
God has come in to my world, and he's vulnerable. He, with his mind and hands and cries of a newborn - he has come to make me new, to show me truth, to heal me. This child.

It's a beauty and miracle that my mind rejects, but my soul's rejoicing is too loud to linger on any specific doubt. It brings tears so unlike the ones I know ... tears of love and joy and thankfulness. Tears that emerge from a heart that is satisfied with not knowing everything - just the love of such a God who would plan something as complicated as this and yet as simple as this. To become like us. In order to overcome that which overwhelms us. To experience and remind us that he also felt. And feels. And he still knows.


"... but he goes down to come up again and bring the ruined world up with him. One has the picture of a strong man stooping lower and lower to get himself underneath some great, complicated burden. He must stoop in order to lift; he must almost disappear under the load before he incredibly straightens his back and marches off with the whole mass swaying on his shoulders."
[C.S. Lewis]


On Thursday night, I watched a man perform O Come, O Come Emmanuel. As he slowly and perfectly sang the first verse, my hand gripped Kip's a little harder. I was swept into the great cry of humanity - into the great promise of deliverance and restoration.
Ransom.
Tattooed on my back and into my heart, this word encompasses Jesus for me.

He came.
He comes.
And he will come for us.


caught up in our everything of life, let's ask him to come in.
let your soul finally feel its worth.
hold this baby & let him give you comfort and joy.
embrace the mystery of the one who has been approaching from all eternity.


he comes to set you free.