I have tasted each of these emotions over the last few years. Even now, at times, brokenness is my breakfast, weariness my lunch, and defeat my dinner. I can’t see the light at the end of my tunnel. I can’t see my pot-of-promises at the end of a dirty, faded rainbow.
Anyone that knows me knows that when I do something, I like to do it BIG….so when I have my “life sucks” pity-party, it comes fully equipped with balloons, streamers, and Mountain Dew. So I sit and pout in a dark corner of my mind; arms crossed, eyes closed…all alone.
But I’m not all alone. Sometimes in an earthquake, sometimes in a whisper, I hear a voice that calms my fears. I feel a presence that brings me peace. I hear a still soft voice that says, “I’m here, I’m your promise.”
Recently I’ve been trying to figure out how to “Return to Wonder.” How do I get something back that’s been lost? How do I feel now how I felt then? How do I stop worrying about the darkness of “my tunnel” and start allowing his word to be a lamp to my feet and a light to my path (Psalm 119:105)?
And then, in his all-to-perfect timing, I’m reminded of Advent; the arrival of a promise…the birth of a Redeemer.
It’s not a rainbow I should be following; it’s a star. There’s not a pot-of-promises to pursue; there’s a Baby in a manger, a Lamb on a cross.
It doesn’t take long to return to wonder when I think about the Creator of the universe stepping out of the Heavens and into humanity. It doesn’t take long to return to wonder when I picture a risen Jesus rolling away a graveyard boulder with the gentle push of His finger. It doesn’t take long to return to wonder when I feel Him take off my disgusting, black robe of pride and replace it with His pure, radiant robe of righteousness. It doesn’t take long to return to wonder when He leads me to a giant kettle—a pot-of-promises—and tells me to look inside. So I peak my head over the edge and peer into the darkness.
At first it looks empty…no silver, no gold. But upon closer inspection, I see my promise at the very bottom of the pot…a tiny drop of his blood.
The wonder has returned.