This morning I sit in Starbucks with Faith Hill singing Silent Night in my ear. This Christmas Eve morning while it’s still dark, before the family wakes and the hustle starts, I think of my sister-in-law without David for the first Christmas.

I think of my friend whose due date was two days ago, still waiting for her new baby to arrive.

I think of the dying woman who I visited in the hospital yesterday afternoon, just a couple of hours before she fell into the arms of Jesus.

I think of friends, barren, longing for new life, and those with prodigals, waiting for them to come home.

I think of Syria and refugees and Isis and friends serving in hard places like Palestine and Iraq.

I think of family and friends gathered around our table this week – the loud laughter and joy and thanksgiving, but also the brokenness that lurks beneath the surface.

We all have our stuff, right? We’re all so desperately in need of restoration and redemption and relationships being set right.


And so, tonight, the rescue mission begins, for all of us longing and lost, hurting and hopeful. Love arrives like the allies landing in Normandy. Not really, but only in the sense that we know how the story ends. The battle against pain and evil, loss and brokenness will be won.

Help is here.

God enters in.

Love wins.

The world will be set right.

This Christmas we rejoice in the now, but long for the not yet. And Jesus takes our hand and says, “In me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (Jn. 16:33)

And I hear a father whispering to his fretful baby, “It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok. I’m right here. I’ve got this. It’s gonna be ok.”

Merry Christmas, friends.