IN.CARNATION. My eyes surprise me by becoming wet at church tonight. Unexpected waves of the Spirits power pouring over me. Also, unexpected anger at my kids. For yelling at each other all the way to church. And before church, for yelling at us about dressing and hair brushing and... And then the anger is all mixed up with the holy as the service unfolds. I dont know about the in; I can only hope and pray for the breaking in of the in but theres plenty of carnate at church tonight. My emotions. My teenager being a teenager. My five year old sitting in my lap and passing gas. Inexplicably stinky gas. Whats the kid been eating? And the anger and the tenderness and the holiness are all mixed up with the meaty carnate-ness as the tears keep coming to my eyes, as we light the candles for the obligatory round of Silent Night. And the seven year old holds back from the fire, its scary, she whispers. Good, Ill say in the minivan on the way home, I think the coming of God ought to be just a little bit scary, and I wont say it with the kindness that Id wish for. But I, too, am glad I put my hair up before church, as I stand near the fire and the five-year-old, his eyes alight as he holds such unaccustomed, forbidden, flaming power in his meaty, sticky little hand. And the carol is sung, and the lights are lifted high, and the faces of the kiddos are transfigured in the candled glow. Its terrible and its cliched and its holy. Oh, so holy. As God continues to work in the mess, in the meat, even in me. Come, Lord Jesus. Merry Christmas, dear ones.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 02:20:26 +0000
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