Outside in a bucket of water, our Christmas tree waits. Swaddled
in plastic netting, the green branches will probably need awhile to open out
once we unwrap it.
In many windows, already the coloured lights twinkle and
wink, tinsel shines and baubles bob. Still we wait.
Anticipation rises as we look forward to welcoming Mhairi
home for Christmas. She flies in through Iceland on Wednesday. A new route,
booked at the last minute: we’re all excited to have her here for the holidays.
Joy to the world. The Lord has come...is coming again. He is
here, but he will be here in glory one day. He will reign. Peace will prevail.
Still the world waits. Waiting is hard.
Joy. It isn’t unalloyed happiness but rather a deep well of
hope, sure and certain hope, that however the world looks today, however my
circumstances look and however much I am grieving or lonely, I know that this
is not all there is.
Soon we will unswaddle the Christmas tree and decorate it,
hearts full of joy and sorrow in equal measure, but the joy is everlasting, the
sorrow is here for a night.
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you
trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy
Spirit. He is faithful.
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