More people fell in love with Advent this year than I’ve ever seen before. We desperately needed weeks to sit in ideas like faith, hope, joy, and love. But what do we do now that there are no structured reading plans and our world is still such a mess?
Where we sit now is where most people sit on the day after Valentines, their New Year’s Eve resolutions destroyed by heart-shaped chocolate boxes, steak dinners, and luscious mousse pies: defeated — knowing that the best thing to do is just to go back to the plan; and yet, feeling so powerless to do it.
I mean, really, who wants to hold on to believing if it makes you look naive? Christmas gave us an excuse, but now we’d just look childish.
Who wants to hope for a brighter tomorrow when military bases are taken over by terrorists? Christmas reminded us that God cared and came. But now, we remember that we’re alone. How can we hope when it’s time to prepare for something more dire?
Who wants to sing for joy as flu season approaches, arctic chills sweep in, and credit card bills arrive? The best most of us can muster is to get a pint of ice cream and pull up our Netflix account to see what new shows we missed.
Who wants to think about anyone else? Who wants to be selfless? Who wants to believe that anyone will even care?
Me. That’s who. And you do, too.
We long to return to home. We long to return back to a place where we can say I’m sorry and everything is forgiven. We long to have grace cover our relationships, and have conversations marked by depth and listening and easy exchanges.
That’s why Epiphany matters. Epiphany is revealing what matters most. It is post modernism at it’s best. It admits every real and tangible sorrow, and our need for something better — and then asks us to bring whatever we have, even if that means that we don’t get a picture perfect result.
Epiphany reminds us that we’ve already been on the journey, the least we can do now is show each other what we have to offer.
And when that happens, when people give the precious gifts they have, the most amazing thing happens: it’s enough.
Whatever you have to bring to your community …It’s enough.
Whatever time you can spend loving your family intentionally…it’s enough.
Whatever idea you can foster that brings goodness and hope to others: it’s enough.
Offer what you have, and it’ll be enough.