The Magi Have Not Yet Arrived

Tinsel falls to the ground, the lights and beads are about ready to slide right off, the ornaments are getting ever closer to the end of the branches. The tree droops with age and fatigue.

         Much like how I feel.

         I leave my tree up till Epiphany.

         Between all the hustle and bustle of the holiday season, it feels as if December 25 comes upon us and then after all the hustling, pushing, purchasing, rushing we wonder why yet another Christmas has come and gone without that familiar festive feeling we all long for.

         We rush, we purchase, we push, we pressure the season into something of our own making. We warp it this way and that to try and make it “feel like it used to.”

         We come to the end, or we live through the whole month of December saying “I don’t feel very festive” and prepare ourselves to go right back at it in a year’s time.

         I have felt this way too many Christmases before. So, I have tried to find another way. One that honors my need for the holiness of the season, one that loves the magic and festivities, one that makes space for stillness, coziness, and rest.

         We are getting better, every year we learn a little something and we implement it when the season swings right back round again.  

         Its January 5th, and my tree is still heavy laden with ornaments, tinsel, and twinkling fairy lights. She shines bright against the darkness of the sky, and she reminds me the Magi still have not yet arrived.

         Reclaiming the liturgical year, the seasons in which I can pattern my life to make meaning out of the time. You see, Christmas is not a day but a season—where do you think the twelve days of Christmas come from? It’s the liturgical season of Christmastide. The Magi still have not arrived.

         Epiphany does not happen till, tomorrow, January 6. The wise men are still making their way, being led by faith in a star to find this special child who was born, the travel with their gifts, to go and offer their praise, they are led by the Divine and keep their hearts open so they might know that when it is time for them to go home, the ought to go by a different way.

         So, my tree will twinkle while she droops and I will keep my eyes out for that star too. I will journey with the Magi, led by faith, and I will be still and rest—knowing that God is the God of Christmastide, and it is far more powerful and beautiful than the hustle and bustle of frenzied shopping, parties, and decorating and undecorating. God is the God of the amazing and miraculous and the God of the mundane, ordinary stillness.

         So, I will sit in the twinkling light of my drooping well-dressed tree, sip some tea, and wait for the Magi to arrive. And then, only then, will Christmas be finished for this year. I will count myself blessed to have felt the festive and celebratory glow in my heart and soul as I remember what Christmas really points us to—the ways God is constantly at work weaving something new.

         Perhaps we are let down by Christmas because we never stop and allow ourselves to become still enough to really enjoy it, to think about it, reflect on the things that really matter to us, and to truly feel the awe it ought to instill in us. Maybe that is what we have such a hard time with, being in our bodies, in a particular time long enough to actually be present, reflect, enjoy, and become struck with awe from the big and the small things.

         The other day I saw someone post something about spring, or today I saw a post about how the sun will set at 7PM in 39 days. We, and I completely include myself in this, struggle to let ourselves just be, to trust the journey, to live into each season with gratitude because we need each season and each moment to have meaning in our lives.

My tree will twinkle, she will continue to droop, and when it comes time to come down she will shed a lot of needles. I will pack up the Christmas stuff, cozy up, and rest. I will live into the season of winter and allow God to lead me through. I choose this year to be, be present, become grounded, and live into peace.

         The Magi have not yet arrived. Let us be still and rest for a while.

Amen.