Cycles (Adoration)
GOD bless my dear friend Max Cattana. Whenever we cross paths, the conversation that ensues is so rich and full of life and intellect. He is someone who I feel I can bare my soul to in a constructive way. And he is someone I could sit with for hours as he explores the way he sees the world and what brought him to where he is now. Last week, we caught up quickly and the conversation around the holiday season came up. We began to open up a bit around what we celebrate and why we celebrate it. Christmas is one of the hardest times of year for most people. Unfortunately, life doesn’t stop in the name of a “joyous” season. That would be nice though, ha.
Speaking with Max about Christmas and the repetitive nature of the calendar year kinda made me realise just how cyclical this pilgrimage actually is. You’re rarely trudging through it linearly. Often, progression is met ever so quickly by regression, which breathes out of it progression which in turn, invites regression. This is the peril of being painfully shortsighted creatures I guess.
Making sense of this forced me to accept the fact that I’m very much in the same place I was a couple years back — enamoured by this season, gravely disappointed by its reality, convicted by its beauty and flawed by it madness.
Although I’ve found myself in the same place, I’m not the same, which I guess makes all the difference. I know with confidence that I’ll be forever moved by the logic-splitting inconvenience we call Christmas, where divine infiniteness embraced the finite in all of its fragility and weakness. But I also know how to live and breathe in light of this. So I’m here now — fighting for quiet, fighting for moments to revel, fighting for time with those whom I cherish and treasure most, fighting for generosity, and fighting to get healthily caught up in parts of tradition if capacity and effort align. But above all else, I’m fighting to allow my heart to yearn and draw closer to the Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father and Prince of Peace.* He holds my heart forever and always, and I can feel Him calling out to me in each and every moment. I can hear creation’s melody echoing the sweet sound of grace and mercy. And I can see the beauty all around.
I’m awake now.
Best to you and yours —
Merry Christmas.
2022.
Christmas doesn’t feel like Christmas anymore.
Every year, as December approaches, there is an unspoken longing for the return to some form of childlike wonder.
As a child, the ushering in of the Christmas season carries more weight than perhaps Christmas day itself. The magic seems to unfold in such an effortless flow of joy. There's the warmth that engulfs the heart at the sight of lights along the street, the comfort that invades each and every sense as various foods and delicacies are baked and prepared, the home (literal or figurative) that comes together around the set up and decoration of the tree, the sound of familiar melodies that tell of Christmases across the world, the angelic choruses sung over mornings through the kitchen radio and evenings at the shows and spectaculars, the excitement that fills you up as you receive Christmas cards, and the undeniable eagerness that takes over as packages and parcels of all shapes and sizes start appearing under the tree. All of this works together to hold you captive in anticipation and longing for the 25th.
The tragedy that undoes all of this is growing up. Growing up means coming face to face with the reality that none of this just happens. Christmas doesn't happen to you anymore. Behind every awe-inducing display of lights, there are people who have spent hours painstakingly hanging everything up after a long day at work. Behind every whiff of baked Christmas treats, there is a long grocery list full of other meals that need to be prepped for the week, and the carving out of time away from relaxing to prepare something extra. Behind every pristine Christmas tree and every home decorated, there have been weeks of conversations around what day everybody will be free to help with fishing out the decorations and placing every ornament in it's correct spot on the tree. Behind every spectacular or event, there are hundreds to thousands of volunteers who give up their days and nights with family and friends to host and clean and rehearse. Behind every string of words or tactile gift received, there are hours of work and energy that have been put in to make up for lost time or finance, or in most cases both.
Often, when you unwrap wonder, it reveals itself as an inconvenience. Learning the mechanics of how something works has the power to undo a lot of its magic and splendour. The reality is that Christmas takes a lot of gruelling work, energy, effort, labour and sacrifice. Knowing this to be true has the power to remove the magic of the season, and for the jaded, it can become something to endure as opposed to something to behold.
I guess the ‘magic’ is the beauty that lies in the inconvenience. Wonder will always come at a cost. It requires someone stepping outside of their own narrative to colour someone else's, and that is what makes it so beautiful - it's love.
Christmas is wonder in all of its splendour. It is the greatest inconvenience in history. The madness that God chose to lower his universe-breathing self to embrace the small frame of His most dearest creation is just that. It's madness.
He could have saved us within a matter of seconds, but instead, He stepped into our story and coloured it with life and grace. And this is the wonder that we breathe each and every day. We will never truly be able to understand what happened in all of its fullness. Our minds will never be able to comprehend the mechanics of what or how God did what He did, which is why this wonder is forever. But we will always know why - it was done out of love.
In every way, that same wonder that we once felt during Christmases of old is still accessible to us now.
So in light of that, find some time to embark on your own journey of discovering wonder this Christmas. May you revel in the beauty and the splendour of His names, and may you live each and every day during the holidays in pursuit of knowing the One who created you. See the world and see your narrative in all of its colour, in all of its intricacy, in all of its design, and in all of its wonder. Let it flow into all that you do, and let it pour out onto those whom you spend your moments with. Let love lead and guide you into wonder, and may this be your reality over Christmas and in every waking moment to follow.
With love.
