Reflections on Christmas
I’ve reflected at different times this season about the concrete reality of a little baby embodying and imbuing life and mysteriously bringing life back into childhood—into those places that have been robbed, taken, or muted, into those places of confusion, of confidence, of createdness. Of bringing life back into existence by becoming and offering an invitation to live into being a child again no matter the age, no matter the context, no matter the loss of what life has been like.
But what does ‘being a child’ again look like if not from living from a nascent sense of trust? Trust is the bedrock of play, of physical, emotional, and spiritual growth. Without it, we may age, but we will never grow up.
Christmas is now here. And with it comes a reality that a little newborn, just a couple of days old (2,000 years ago), was changing reality while being utterly dependent on a newborn mum: she was living into an awkward reality of life that was comforted by angels and God’s spirit—she had been pregnant before ‘being married’, her boyfriend almost left her, and she was travelling while giving birth. She didn’t even ‘have sex’ to create the child—even though she co-created him in Love—and Love makes any child. And while all of this was happening, she was told that she was chosen and that she was going to give birth to a great little guy. She had a relationship with this god of hers, and she trusted. “Let it be,” she said. And in that, I find she did the most amazing thing—she pondered all of these things in her heart. She was quiet. She lived, and she contemplated. She didn’t just go blab and share, she let a new creation incubate her heart and incubate in her heart. In other words, she was incredibly grounded—rooted.
And with all of this happening, another quiet reality was growing: childhood was being consecrated as a holy experience. To cry meant a babe was human. To defy and grow was a part of development. To become an adult meant to keep that thread of trust continual through all years, never needing to ‘find a voice’ or ‘boundaries’ because this human knew how to simply be in all situations and contexts. And he always was returning. Returning to the Source of life, and I also believe being strengthened by his mother who was a physical image and embodiment of compassion, deep understanding, and trust. Choosing to trust and behold the glory of God no matter any present darkness or loneliness of the path.
This Way of living is like seeing any baby for the first time: an invitation to live life from an unabashed place of holiness born of a trust that grows the heart.
I have been appreciating this reality of powerlessness in the darkness. Of living into the powerlessness rather than evading the vulnerability of loss and controlling context and relationship. But it’s hard. I have two hearts: mine and the one being recreated. Most of the time in recent times, I forget about the new one. Of living into the powerlessness to then become empowered to trust even when trust has been broken—because I see I am no different. The beautiful irony that comes from receiving a gift of life born from holiness, born from a trust that grows the heart.
I hope you mark not just a day but a season if you celebrate Christmas (and even if you don’t)...a Christmastide, even if you try to figure out how to. I’m trying to recall the early followers of this Way while also remembering the stories of this Way in my life and in my family’s life. For twelve days, experiences, gifts, and posture of heart and the way I see the sunlight will serve as reminders of this season. Of Christ being born and inviting me into a different existence.
Lord, help me to live from Love, I can find it so hard sometimes, but help me in my powerlessness. Give me courage of spirit and heart. Of mind and body so that I can be at peace with and in you, and therefore, then, with another no matter the context or process.
x
Jessie
Of Warmth and Womb
jessie lipps
Grant me:
the courage to face the loss,
hand (and heart)
open and opened
to the sky
waiting,
waiting to be heard,
to be received.
to receive word,
life, sight, joy
to accept difference.
A courage to cry
and lament the reality
that has tried to be denied:
being alone is hard.
Courage to see
and to not control.
Courage to shed my own reality.
To quietly go forth
in a quiet trust
in a Quiet (Larger) Reality
that never lets a word fall
to the ground
or a tear not be unnoticed.
Help me to wait and be patient,
waiting and being patient on You
to simply be seen, to be
not for anything else.
May the (gift of) space
be the very thing you are giving me—
the present of space to grow and to transform.
And in the darkness,
help my heart to relax,
be grounded,
to grow even more deeply in You—
rooting into your warmth
and womb.