For with God nothing shall be impossible.*
My house is quiet today. Quieter than I’d like. Quieter than I’d hoped for.
But that’s my Christmas story this year. An echo of my Advent story for the past few years.
But just as the angel of the Lord told Mary, “For with God nothing shall be impossible,” so I have held onto this as a promise for me.
What was impossible, now is possible.
And sometimes I just have to wait. And let there be quiet.
Because that’s what the Advent season is, that time of expectant waiting, that preparing for the celebration of Jesus, that word which means “coming.”
Advent is a pause … a holy waiting … for what is coming. It’s also a time of great expectancy, filled with incredible hope. And in the quiet, the stillness, I see Him coming – just like He promised.
So in these winter days, these Advent days that are short and dark and darker….
That for me are also quiet, quieter.
The impossible is possible. Jesus comes. Love is born.
What was dark, now is Light.
What was quiet, now is a chorus, Hosanna on High.
I can’t escape the fact that I’m going to have times of unexpected unwanted quiet, even as I’m ready to celebrate the birth of my Lord. It’s too quiet!
But I remember those words: with God nothing shall be impossible.
It’s been said – in movies, in commercials, on cards – that Christmas is the best time of year to be united. That Christmas is about family, the gathering of loved ones. But what if that doesn’t happen?
What if things in life have gone more sideways from anything I could have imagined?
What if those I want to be in my house aren’t there; what if those I want to come, don’t enter?
What if there is too much quiet?
Here’s my plan.
I’m staying open to Advent, to the anticipation, to the belief that what is impossible will be possible, that what is quiet will be filled, that what is broken will be repaired, and that what is lost can always be found.
God fulfilled so many promises when Jesus came as a baby in Bethlehem. I’m daring to hope and trust that He will fulfill His promises to me as well.
No matter who visits my house, there will always be Jesus.
There is more room for Jesus than anything, anyone.
Perhaps I’m exactly where I need to be, even in the quiet, to experience the miracle of Advent after all.
And to always know that with God nothing is impossible.
As I enter this last day of Advent, may my heart be focused on the real story, the only story that really matters. May His Light brighten my darkness, may the angels singing shatter my quiet, like it did on that first Christmas, so that I can see my place in this season.
And I have incredible hope. Because nothing is more powerful than God’s love.