Eternal Anticipation

For to us a child is born, to us a Son is given, and the government will be on His shoulders. And He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
-Isaiah 9:6


I just decorated my apartment for Christmas. It started a few days and tree stands ago (long story), when my roommate and I attempted to bring holiday cheer to our apartment. As soon as December 1 appeared, up went the tree. And then the snowmen placemats and towels made their way to the living room and bathrooms. It looked cozy already. But what I really wanted, what I couldn’t wait for, was the night where I could finally give birth to the season’s magic.

I set my sights on Friday and cleared my calendar. It was me, my tree, tons of music and the ethereal blend of spiced vanilla candles. My apartment would be warm to combat the chill outside. I had it all planned.

And then I waited. Each day of the week passed with a slow shuffle, an agonizing patience stirring in me. I think the farther into the week I went, the farther off Friday seemed to be, like striding the wrong direction on one of those automated walkways at the airport. I hadn’t looked forward to a time like this in a while, and the longer I waited, the more anticipation grew in my heart.

When the appointed day dawned, I leapt for joy. I worked with fervor, delighted in the time spent with my parents and little brother for a bit in the early evening, and nearly burst with excitement as I headed home, eager to create my own winter’s dream.

I danced around my couch, twirling cords and colors with ornaments after stringing lights on my balcony, winter candles lit and a soft glow bathing the walls. Bags of gifts already purchased and cards ready to be written scattered themselves along the carpet, while the wicks of my candles swayed with MercyMe’s version of Silent Night. All too soon, the last strands were laid along the counter, and I surveyed my craftsmanship. Not bad, I thought, admiring the twinkling of the tree, not bad at all.

I was so proud of myself- my first Christmas on my own and the place looks like a (slightly altered) winter wonderland!

This is what I looked forward to all week- my night to load the lights and prepare the presents. To kick back when all was right and pen a few cards to those I care for. The anticipation ran high, sent jolts though my system at the prospect of preparing myself to celebrate this sacred holiday.

Anticipation.

We feel something coming, deep within our bones.

No one felt this tug more certain than the Jews, thousands of years back, while they awaited a Savior.

Through the wilderness. Through their scattering into nations. Through the signs and stumbles and wars and celebrations, they kept their hearts always ahead, hanging on the hope of a hero.

And He appeared. So much sweeter than anything they could have anticipated. But only a few noticed that first night, when He silently slid into the world He came to save. His parents looked down at their precious child, asleep soundly in his makeshift crib of cutout wood. They traced the curve of His nose, the sweep of his cheek that sung with each rise and fall of heavenly breath. His innocence before them, curled in a manger. And as all parents do, they anticipated His life- His childhood, the teachings He would impart not only on them, but on the world. Then the trial. The trail of blood and tears up a hill, where His final task would check complete.

But not now. Not yet. This night was theirs. Between donkeys and dreams, a man placed his newborn in his wife’s arms, gently touched His tender face, and kneeled before them both, amazed how he could ever hold such immense love for someone so small.



Prayer:
Precious Father, thank You for this time of the year. The anticipation of snow, lights and a warm feeling in my soul. But we remember another anticipation, an eternal anticipation and where this excitement fused with You, Father, and Your promise- a manger. With a tiny baby who changed our world. Changed my life. Let me remember the reason for the season. Amen.