Dear Jesus,
I’m a bit nervous about this Advent blog. I’m wishing we chose something more fun and lighter, like having church members share their favorite Christmas recipe and why it’s special to them. Maybe we can do that next year.
Why am I nervous? Well, what we say to You is such a private, personal thing. You said, “whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you” (Matthew 6:6).
I don’t want to be one of those religious actors, praying to be seen by others, or praying as a sanctified, socially acceptable way to make my soap-box points. (Yes, I see the irony here Jesus, as someone who prays publicly at church every five weeks or so. But this feels different.)
I wonder how those who wrote letters to Santa would feel if they knew we would read them decades later, many preserved in the Santa Claus Museum and Village. Did they want their requests for desks, roller skates, dolls, and even coal, to be private? Or perhaps they hoped that someone, anyone, would read their letter and become one of Santa’s helpers.
As I write You this letter, and invite others to do the same this Advent season, what am I hoping will come of them?
I’m hoping that reading each other’s letters will help us get to know each other better, and care in deeper ways. James says, “Acknowledge your faults one to another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed” (James 5:16a). Healing can come from acknowledging our insecurities, our griefs, our struggles, and desires.
I’m hoping that writing these letters will give us some one-on-one time with You, amid so much hustle and bustle. With all the concerts, dinners, parties, decorating, card-making, and gift-buying, it’s easy to forget that this is all in anticipation of Your coming.
Advent time, these 24 days before the 12 days of Christmas, is for getting in touch with our longings. It’s for recognizing that even though the nights are getting longer and longer, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5).
It’s for preparing, yes, for getting ready to celebrate Your first coming, but also for anticipating Your second coming, and for clearing out the cobwebs and clutter of our hearts. As the hymn goes, “O come to my heart, Lord Jesus, there is room in my heart for Thee.”
Writing You a letter reminds me that “now we see only a reflection, as in a mirror, but then we will see face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12a). This is my Advent longing, to see You, ultimately, but also here and now. Let me not be so distracted by my to-do list that I miss You.
And where will I find You? Yes, seated at the right hand of the throne of God. And yes, in the hungry toddler who is losing it before lunch, and yes, in the thirsty immigrant braving their way across the sea or the desert, and yes, in the stranger who just showed up at church and is wondering where to sit or the youth who just came out and is looking for a welcoming space. Yes, I will find You in the neighbor coming to FoodPantry+, the Thrifty Box, or the Wellness Warehouse to shop for clothes, and yes, in the ailing relative who now needs extra help, and yes, in the one who is spending this holiday in a physical jail or an emotional one.
I can’t imagine that You’re content to sit on a throne in heaven while Your family suffers. You show up with us persecuted ones and knock us persecutors off our high horses.
This Advent, as the darkness grows longer and stronger, may we see Your light and be Your light.