My last month has required a lot of letting go. God has taken a lot away from me lately, and I’ve been forced to be okay with losing the things I’ve held onto. To be sure, some of these things have been normal and good to let go of—for instance, I graduated with my AA degree from Arapahoe Community College this month, and don’t yet know exactly what my spring will look like. But the Father has taken a lot of things I love from me lately, and not necessarily because those things themselves were bad.
I think if I could use one word to describe this fall semester, it would be “uproot.” God has uprooted most of my comfort and security, calling me to let go of my expectations for what friendships will look like, pushing me out of the school environment where I know I can work hard and find fulfillment, taking away my sense of home within one specific church and instead teaching me to be okay with a period of wandering, and reminding me that in a mere 9 months, I’ll have to say goodbye to my family and get used to not having a home for a while.
This month has felt a lot more like Lent than Advent.
Nearly everything that has felt secure or safe to me has been taken away, and I find I’m left staring right into the eyes of Christ. I’m learning that when he takes away, it is so we might have faith. In seeing these passing things of earth, we learn to long for the eternal things of heaven.
As he removes the things I’ve loved, I find that Jesus fulfills in every way I couldn’t have dreamed he would. I take joy in knowing that, in the letting go of the things I think I need, I learn to cling ever tighter to the One my soul truly desires. And in this time, I find my view of the Christmas season changing a lot.
I think of how Mary is described in the Gospel of Luke. The angel Gabriel visits her with the joyous news that she will bear the Son of the Most High, and her response is joyful, humble, and obedient. And yet, it seems too often the next thing in the story we talk about was the birth of Jesus. But there were 9 months of pregnancy between those two events—9 months of fear and uncertainty, wondering who this baby would truly be, whether her betrothed would leave her, not knowing how to handle being a young Nazarene pregnant out of wedlock. And yet, it is in this time of doubt that we see her sing the Magnificat:
My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.
For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
And his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;
he has brought down the mighty from their thrones
and exalted those of humble estate;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
as he spoke to our fathers,
to Abraham and to his offspring forever.
In this time when all her certainty, comfort, and security were taken from her, Mary’s only response was to hold fast to God’s promises, offering him praise. She clung to her hope of what he would do on earth, and did not lose hope even when all her security was removed.
The greatest gifts God longs to give to us require the greatest sacrifice. We are called to give things up and cling to him alone, that our hearts would be made ready to receive his love.
Perhaps this season ought to entail less indulgence and a little more sacrifice. We are such a contrast to our society in this time, when consumerism, Santa, and cheerful music are so embraced by culture. Maybe letting go of security is exactly what we should do in the season of Advent, as we remember the sacrifice of the incarnation made by our Savior—“who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men” (Philippians 2:6-7).
I rejoice in losing the things I’ve held onto, knowing that my heart is being prepared to receive Jesus Christ in greater capacity, both this Christmas and another 9 months down the road on the Race itself.
Thank you for supporting me so faithfully through this time of preparation!
Father, teach us to let go of this world, that you might prepare our hearts for your coming and the coming of the next life. In the passing of earth, teach us to love the coming of heaven. May the second Advent of your Son Jesus come quickly. Make our crucifixion in Christ complete, that together we may share in his resurrection, and know you, our Lord and Father. Amen.
