Oh, this time of year. When the traffic goes crazy, and a ten-minute errand takes an hour. Our calendars grow full and our wallets empty. All the rush-rush-rush. To parties. And concerts. And holiday events. Stack on top of that our self-imposed traditions: Tree cutting; putting up our own and admiring others’ Christmas lights; pictures with Santa; cookie baking and decorating (and eating); equally divided time between families; and the gift buying, and wrapping, and returning. Are you feeling the peace? No?
Why do we do this to ourselves then? What is it that we chase so restlessly every December?
Here’s what I think:
We yearn for the connection that comes from soft conversation with a few friends who stayed to help clean the kitchen after the party. We yearn for the peace we feel when we stop to watch silent snowflakes shimmer in the glow of twinkly lights. We yearn for the moment the light falls just right through the stained-glass windows as choirs sing about a holy night. We yearn for the quiet reflection that comes with that moment. We yearn for assured hope. The tug in our spirits. The Divine.
And we rush, because we fear that missing this event, or the next, means we will miss out on the single opportunity to connect with Divinity. And that we’ll have to wait another year before can try again. And in our frantic pursuit for meaning, we miss the whole entire point.
That a baby was born. Who would grow up to become a servant king, who sacrificed himself to forever restore humanity’s connection to His Father. We don’t have to wait for December, for tinsel, and choirs, and just-so lighting. Daily we can experience the community. The quiet reflection. The peace. The Divine.
Because of a Baby that was born.
When we first moved to the USA, we had visas that came with tight restrictions. My husband was only allowed to work for the company that sponsored his visa and I was not allowed to work at all. We were very careful to stay within the parameters of our visas, not wanting to do anything that could possibly hinder our road to citizenship, or result in exportation.
Later, when a small private school was willing to sponsor my work visa, procedures took longer than expected. The school year was about to start and my visa was still months away. I volunteered for the first few of months, receiving no compensation for my work in order to stay within the law and not jeopardize our naturalization process.
Three years later, when we received our Green Cards, we felt that we could breathe easier. Our stay wasn’t dependent on one company’s whim. We were able to change jobs when necessary and we had the freedom to stay here indefinitely. But there were still certain privileges we didn’t have.
In 2008 we became naturalized citizens of the United States of America. We checked in our previous citizenship and received US citizenship, along with all the privileges, freedoms and responsibilities tied to it. Citizenship is a loaded word! It implies security and protection. It means I have a voice and a vote – and responsibility in how I use my voice. I have shared interest in local and national government.
But mostly. I belong. I am home. I am not just a “renter” or temporary resident, but I am co-owner. I have interest here. The US have made an investment in me and vice versa.
Sometimes, when we think about God’s Kingdom, we live like temporary residents on a restrictive visa. Like we have to be so very careful not to mess things up. Like we can be kicked out at the slightest wrong-doing.
In Philippians 3:20 Paul writes: “But we are citizens of Heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives.” Paul reminds us that when we are in Christ, we are citizens of Heaven. Through grace we have traded in our worldly passports for Heavenly citizenship and we are privy to all the privileges, freedom, security and responsibility this Heavenly citizenship affords. We can put down roots. We are home.