free to be

I admit it. I love the rush that comes when I'm searching for that perfect gift. I even enjoy the crowds, the bustle, the same old Christmas tune repeatedly playing overhead. I like the way Christmas lights soften and warm a room; having friends over for a fire in the fireplace and a toast for the season. I love the snow and the cold because without them both, I wouldn't appreciate hot chocolate and a warm blanket or good book. The season is full of so many fun, beautiful, warm things...but sometimes they distract me. I didn't even know until last night how far my heart had drifted from the truth of Christmas.

Last night I walked through the doorway of a home I had never been to before. It was late, and I was tired. I was cursing the beeper in my pocket that kept going off, ultimately taking me farther and farther away from my bed and pillow. The home was located in the projects and I had already heard bits and pieces about the man I was to see. As I walked through the unfamiliar doorway and into a small living room, my eyes adjusted slowly to the dim glow. A haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Across from me stood a small brightly lit, tinsel strewn Christmas tree that illuminated the crowded room with color. To my left lay a dying man in a hospital bed. Scattered around the room sat various people; most of which were homeless--as was the man I had come to see. They gathered together, in the home of a friend, to take care of this man who once showed them how to survive on the streets. Around his bedside, they shared their stories with raw humor and brutal honesty; some had visible wounds fresh upon their faces. It was, as one of my co-workers said, one of the most profoundly beautiful and painfully sobering things to behold. On one hand, I observed this eclectic group of men and women living not as individuals but as one tightly bound body. I watched as they demonstrated selfless, shameless love for the one in greatest need. They wiped his face, they turned him, they gave him water. On the other hand, in the midst of this love and by the glow of the christmas lights, there was palpable pain; fragmented lives.

For a couple of hours, I was a part of a community that I have never before been in. In so many ways I did not belong. I didn't talk like them or dress like them. My stories were nothing like the ones being told and yet, I might have been the only one who noticed. For a couple of hours I was far removed in mind and spirit from the bustle and activities of which so recently consumed my attention. As foreign as this living room and the people within it's walls felt to me, a part of me longed to stay. I was afraid I might not have this experience ever again-or at least for a very long time. Although no one ever mentioned God I felt Him in the room. I wondered if He was in the hospital bed. As I stepped back into the dark, into the cool of night, I was quieted in my soul by what I had just been part of.

This was what was missing. Jesus. He came for this-for them-for me.

In the midst of the bustle I hope we become people who are caught up in His Spirit. I hope that we intentionally invite strangers in and gather together to meet the needs of each other. I hope that we unashamedly wipe the brow of one who needs it. May we live and breathe and love by the beat of His Spirit. He's the reason everything is so sweet.

I think the sparkles, lights and snowflakes are because He likes to leave us breathless.