The Missing Messiah
I stand staring at it, the twinkling lights, the ornaments we’ve collected over the last 14 years, the small touches that each family member has added, the angel that sits atop that was once my mother’s, and yet something is missing. It just is not quite right. It just is not done yet. I know exactly what is missing, however this year more than any other since since she passed on Christmas I am finding it hard to add the handmade name of God ornaments my Grandmother gave me. Names like Emmanuel, Jehovah, YHWH, Goel, Elohim, Salvation, Shar Shalom, and Lion of Judah that have hung on my tree for a decade. Hanging them each year has been a sacred moment in time and usually the one part of decorating the tree I do not share. As I lay them all out and begin to hang them one by one, I say the name and offer thanks to the Lord for each and every name he represents on those ornaments. In this moment I am filled with awe and wonder of who our Messiah has been, is, and will always be.
It has been five years since she passed on Christmas morning. Somedays it feels like yesterday I was sitting at her feet being taught the names of God, being quizzed at random times as we would set the table for dinner or be stirring a pot of soup on the stove. She had a love for Jesus and His Word that I have never in my life ever seen in anyone ever. She was dogged in her pursuit of scriptural truth, never afraid to ask hard question or challenge a way of thinking as she felt led by the Holy Spirit. She wasn’t perfect or angelic but she was the most passionate person, for the things of God, I have ever known.
So, why do I write this story? Well, maybe you are like me this season, standing in a place and something seems missing. Maybe you just cannot put your finger on it. Maybe you know exactly what is missing, a loved one, a relationship, a hope or dream. Whatever place you find yourself in I invite you to pause and remember who the Messiah has been, is, and will always be.