When I discovered that song a few weeks ago, it felt as if I had written it myself unknowing. No, I cannot directly relate with everything in the song, obviously. But it just fits so perfectly, the bittersweetness of it all.
There is a reason why I haven't posted anything in three months. Every time I try to write, my thoughts are too dark, too terrible to publish anywhere publicly. Sometimes, I cannot even face the darkness myself. I couldn't possibly share it.
I feel five years older this Christmas. And, oddly, that's not completely a bad thing. But it hasn't been easy. This semester -- and much of this summer -- have felt like hell. And yet, they haven't for one reason. I am more aware now than ever of God's merciful presence and grace. Never before have I been so close to the Lord, so longing to know him more intimately. It's a beautiful thing.
This year has presented more major trials than I could list on two hands. God has broken me, shattered me. He has shattered my strength so that I can do nothing else but find my strength in Him. He has broken my heart, spirit and will so that I might align more beautifully with His.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Christmas is so bittersweet this year. The message of hope offered in Christ has never brought me more excitement than now, as I have never understood so clearly the gravity of my sin. Never before have I been so thrilled daily to remember that, on my worst day, I am a child of the King. That truth has never meant so much to me. God had to strip me of everything else to make me realize how priceless that is and how all else pails in comparison.
Even His blessings I had made into mini gods. Oh, how wrong that was. I am ashamed to say that it took me achieving everything and more that I had ever hoped for to realize how empty it all was. That journalism, in which God is merely a component, rather than the center, is meaningless. It's interesting to think that most people think I must be so happy and have everything I ever wanted. But when I did, I realized that everything I ever wanted was meaningless because I had failed to invite Christ into every corner of it.
I never thought I would say Ecclesiastes is a favorite book of mine. Truth be told, I'm not sure I had ever read the entire thing before this year. But as I read, I couldn't help but highlight almost every other verse and scribble notes in all the margins.
But this Christmas, I will read Ecclesiastes along with the story of Christ's birth, and feel the anguish and the hope of both stories. I realize now that it's OK to feel the darkness -- as long as you don't lose sight of the light.
So, this Christmas will be a bittersweet one. I've grown up since last Christmas. And I don't think I would have recognized myself now back then. But there is one message that never changes, and that is the hope offered in Christ, through the miraculous birth of a child who would save the earth from eternal despair.
I now know true joy, joy that does not depend on circumstances or any earthly thing. No, true joy is rooted in Christ and no one and nothing else. The light offered in Christ is the light that truly shines on, Coldplay.
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