"And it came to pass..."

Alright here's the dizzle. 

Our pastor suggested that when we display our Nativities this Advent season that we should leave the Baby Jesus figurine out until Christmas Day, so as to anticipate Christ's coming in a tangible way.  Brilliant!
So I obliged, as any good layperson would, and as I was unwrapping our nativity set a week ago, it "just so happened" that up on my iTunes playlist pops the song that has since become my anthem: "O Come O Come Emmanuel" by Future of Forestry.  
Best. Song. Ever. Download it now.  

The instrumental intro in this song is long, but it is just so gorgeous I wish it were longer! The chords and instrumentation really bring out a sense of eerie longing. 
Anyway, music nerd moment over... 
so I unwrap the sheep, donkey and shepherd and listen to the beautiful guitar theme.  I start bopping my head with the tribal beat of the tom drum as I set out the wisemen.  I get out Joseph and Mary and the music starts to decrescendo.  I stand there like a little kid, holding the Baby Jesus in my hands.  

Then I put Him back in the box.  

I stand there, just staring at the empty space in the middle of the nativity.  And the vocalist starts to sing the first verse.

O come O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appears.

And I lose it.  I mean fetal on the floor, uncontrollable sobbing, lose it.

Why?

Sigh.
Truth time.

2013 sucked for Team Johnson.  I mean suh-uuuuuucked.  Don't get me wrong, it started off fantastic.  Luke and I went on a work & witness trip to Argentina in January.  And it basically rocked my existence.  As in, last night I had a dream I was in Moreno, Buenos Aires, singing songs with the awesome church there and hugging missionary kids and kissing sweet faces and smelling of Yerba Mate .... and when I woke to reality in my American bed, I actually shed a tear.  It was A. Mazing.  It made me realize that it was possible for this chica to actually BE a missionary some day and not die OR break the Kingdom of God.  (more on that later...)

But after January it all went down the pooper.

There were some major events that happened this year that were so intense in their impact that they forced Little Miss Perfect Church Girl (that's me) into - GASP! - counseling.  (BTW, Christian counseling is awesome and everyone should do it, the end.)  I mean we're talking earth-shattering, yucky, nasty, heaps of terribleness.  So terrible, I'm not even going to name them.  Because what they were doesn't really matter.  It's what they left in their wake that's the problem.

Hurt.
Anger.
Humiliation.
Shame.
Fear.
Confusion.
Depression.
Anxiety.

All before breakfast.  Every day.  Hence the counseling.

One of the issues is resolving pretty well.  The others? Yeah, not so much.  I'm ready to move on. But shame is still rearing it's ugly head, shaking its finger at me at every weak moment, reminding me that I used to be a flourishing tree and now I'm just a stump, feeling cut-off. Useless.  A disgrace to my family and to the Kingdom. 

I've told Jesus the things I think He wants to hear like a million times. 
I know this will make me stronger.
I know You have a plan.
I know You can use this for Your glory and for our story.
I trust You.

But my heart cant lie.  It's saying things like,
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!

And not in like a cool, battle cry, Victory-in-Jesus kind of way.
In an "I'm freaking out, what the frack is going to happen to my family!!!" Kind of way.

So all this pain and waiting makes Advent like torture for me this year.  The juxtaposition of all the joy and merriment on the outside against the pain and fear and shame on the inside is just almost too much for me to handle.  And just in case you're a hermit and you never turn on your TV and you've never heard of Walmart, lemme tell you: It. Is. Everywhere!!  Every time I pass by our nativity set I think "OK, if Jesus isn't there yet, then poor Mary is still pregnant!! Ugh, someone rescue that poor woman and induce her for crying out loud!  The wisemen have gotta have some Petocin lyin' around, right?!?!"

I'm just so ready for Jesus to show up and save the day, y'know?  I've lived a very sheltered life.  I grew up in a very safe and happy place.  My parents are married.  I have lots of friends. I went to college less than a mile away from my parents' house. I married a good, kind (Hot) Christian man that I met in BAND.  I have two kids: a boy and a girl.  They're both healthy and smart and I haven't broken them yet, as far as I know.  

Yeah, my life is pretty safe.  Was pretty safe.  Now I feel like I'm fishtailing at 200 miles per hour in a minivan, blindfolded, babies in the backseat, and Jesus is in the passenger seat all like, "you got this girl, you got this."  

Ummmm nope.  Nope I don't.
So I unload on the Creator of the Universe.  I figure if Job and David can do it, why not me, right?
Yeesh.

All of my safety has been stripped away, Jesus.
All of it.
Seriously, it would be different if it were just me on this crazy trip.  Maybe on a motorcycle or a Prius.  But, Lord, I have a family with me here.  I mean it's one thing to mess with me.  But what about them?!  UGH, just come and fix it already!!!  I mean the scripture says "and it came to pass," right?  Not "It came to sit on your chest until you can't breathe anymore!"

(side note: I've learned through my therapy that this is called "ranting."  Using the words "always" and "never" is not a good thing. Unless you are talking about God and His promises, there are no absolutes... unless you're talking about God and His promises...
...Hmmmm...)

It's amazing how Jesus never interrupts my ranting.  He lets me just go on and on, all the while just waiting for me to finish.  And when I do, His Spirit never speaks down to me.  If I were Jesus, I'd say things to me like "Are you done?"  "Do you feel better now?"  "Well, that deserves an Oscar!"  He never does that.  Our God is not a God of shame.  He just falls over me with amazing love and compassion, like I SO do not deserve.  

Daughter. I love you.
I also said: 
Don't be afraid. 
Nothing is impossible with Me.
All things work together for good for those who love Me.
I will never leave you.
I am able.

Awkward Silence 
(they call it Selah in the Bible, but I think it really means you just got told. I have no theological info to back this up, so don't write it in the margins of your Bible, please.)

I have to learn to trust when I can't see.  I have to learn to keep it together when I have no idea what tomorrow will look like.  I have to learn to believe God. Not just believe IN Him.  
Some lessons can't be learned in books. 
Sometimes you have to take the field trip.

More Selah...

I have no idea how, why, when, where, or even what.
But I do know Who.

Breathe.

Selah


So. Here I sit. In the glow of our Christmas tree, smelling the smells of cinnamon and pine candles, and staring at that nativity.  I guess if Mary can wait, then so can I.  Probably not as gracefully, but it's imperfect progress, right?

Don't worry, Mary.  He's here.  He's just still in the box.  But He's here and He's got this.