Invasion of LIGHT

It’s been a rough year. Piercing betrayals, ugly disappointments, shattered dreams, and empty promises have left me struggling to find my way. At times my soul feels enveloped in darkness. Why keep chasing the illusion of victory? Is it better to just bow out of the fight? Hand over the trophy to the enemy?

Have you ever felt this way?

This Christmas season has been hard. I’m reading the stories. I’m singing the songs. I’m watching the lights. I’m remembering the Savior. But I’m void of joy. I just can’t shake the darkness. I just can’t find the hope.

The thing about darkness is that is comes upon you unexpectedly. When afternoon surrenders to twilight, our eyes adjust as the darkness encroaches around us. The enemy doesn’t knock on the door and demand for us to hand everything over to him. No, he’s much more cunning than that. He steals things bit by bit. Slowly. Stealthily. Until suddenly we wonder where our joy has gone. What happened to the mom who saw big dreams for her family? What happened to the marriage that wouldn’t succumb to the ranks of statistics? Where is the heart that refused to give in to the status quo? If we think back, we won’t remember when we gave it away. It happened right before our eyes, but when we weren’t looking.

As darkness circles, our hearts adjust and hopelessness becomes the norm.

But Light is different. Light isn’t sneaky like darkness. Light can’t be ignored.

Light INVADES.

Light invaded my soul last night. Sitting in the back row among hundreds at New Life Church, LIGHT invaded the very fibers of my being.

Darkness around me so deep, I couldn’t see the child sitting on my lap. Darkness in my heart so deep, I couldn’t see the Christ we came to worship.

And then it came. Angels lighting up a black sky. Shepherds running in hope of a glimpse of glory. A star blazing in the night, blotting out the shadows. Three strangers giving up everything to follow its beckoning. A manger glowing with the luster of day. A baby cradled in the arms of an lowly carpenter. Famous words fill the space around me, and finally, finally the veil lifts and I remember. I remember why He came! I remember why we are celebrating.

I remember and the tears erupt from a heart that is finally waking up. The scene unfolds before me of that Holy night when the world was waiting in darkness. A thrill of hope arises as a weary world rejoices.

Why?

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

And oh, how I fall to my knees.

Do you hear it? These aren’t just words. This is the key to the prison cell of the heart. This is the gulp of air after suffocating too long in despair. This is an invasion of Light, and the darkness races to find an escape.

Oh, child of the King, will you let Light invade your heart today? Will you allow it to invade your home? The shadows of fear, depression, hopelessness, anger, anxiety, and loneliness will run as Light absorbs the mess. The star that blazed above a humble home those many years ago beckons you today. Come and find the King who radiates in the brilliance of HOPE.

He came to invade our darkness. He came to invade our hopelessness. He came to invade our plans, our dreams, our days. He came to invade our hearts.

May this Christmas be an invasion of Light. And may we invade the darkness of this world with the Light of the King!

Where are you?

The lights dance on boughs of green, twinkling in the shadows of the evening. The snow floats effortlessly through the stillness—the death of winter swallowed up in a cloak of white. The Jesse Tree stands reverent, unwrapping the wonder of ancient promises fulfilled in a swaddled bundle.

We’re reading the scriptures, hanging the ornaments, anticipating the arrival of the manger-sized King. Small eyes dance as the days draw near. Little hearts rejoice as the Dawn approaches.

And I sit here going through the motions not feeling a thing.

Signs of Jesus swirl around me, yet I can’t find Him. I’m searching for Him, but for some reason He seems just out of reach. I’m singing the songs, reading the books, remembering the story, but the wonder has vanished. Has Christmas become so normal that I can’t see the Christ who wrapped Himself in flesh in it anymore?

And then it hits me. Maybe I’m trying so hard to find Him that I’ve forgotten the miracle of glory-filled manger. Mary wasn’t looking for God when Gabriel showed up. God came after her. He found Zechariah that day in the temple. He found Joseph in the confusion of his heartbreak. He found the shepherds in the fields of their routine.

Isn’t it God who is looking for me? Isn’t that what He’s been doing since the beginning?

That day in the garden—in the cool of the day when God comes looking for Adam and Eve.

“Where are you” he pleads.

Where are you today? He’s come looking for you. In the cool of the day, as you hide in your shame, he hasn’t stopped looking.

He finds Hagar in the wilderness of despair.

He finds Jacob in the depths of a dream.

He finds Moses in the desert of shame.

He finds Samuel in the stillness of night.

He finds Jonah in the belly of a whale.

He finds Ezekiel in the shackles of captivity.

What about that sheep—the lost one—out in the dark, cold storm of life. The Shepherd goes looking. He’s in hot pursuit of the one he won’t give up on. That’s what Jesus said he came for. Not to be found, but to be the one who find us.

For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.

Luke 19:10

This is the miracle. The wonder of the straw-lined cradle. God came looking for us!

He doesn’t wait for us to come looking for Him. He’s already looking for us. Maybe if we would stop and turn around, we’d realize that He’s been right there all along.

Do know that there is a King who is madly, irrevocably, and unabashedly in love with you?  It’s a make your knees tremble, heart skip a beat, do crazy things kind of love.  And He is zealously, passionately, and jealously pursuing your heart. Right now. Today. Will you fall into His arms?