Roots: A Communal Journal

I’ve spent time thinking this week about the things keeping me from resting and enjoying Christmas. I feel aware of the extra work I have to do this season while I know people who are already on vacation. I find myself wondering when the Christmas magic will set in for me, and worrying that I might miss it.  And then I think of all the others who will put in work to create that magic for others. Or those who work to keep us safe and fed and alive, even when the rest of the world shuts down.  And I realize that no adult is out here just fully basking in Christmas cheer without any part to play in making it happen. When you’re young it often all happens for you. As we grow up we each find our part to play in making it happen.  I want stop longing for that childhood time of watching it unfold, and find joy in the part I get to play.  This is about more than just Christmas, it’s really how we work in the world all year long.  My neighbor who mows lawns up and down t...

Christ appears, even in locked rooms. Abandoned or in bands in spare rooms or in bright we hide, woozy and downcast— and Christ is present wedding our future to his past. Christ appears, just in locked rooms. Host as guest he arrives for the missing, the not-yet-present the downcast, the cast aside— Christ appears just in locked rooms to unlock them from inside. Christ disappears, becomes for us the unlocked room. But never absent in his absence present not as body but as breath keeping those within, anxious for those without— Christ becomes our unlocked room making space for us to doubt. Christ remains; provides all the room we need. So doors, swing open—wide and wide! And friends, uncork only the best wines! Everyone, everyone’s invited, near and far— Come, Jesus will greet you and bend to kiss your shining scars.