To The Untamed Heart.

The drive home from Christmas dinner is when the depression usually sets in for me. The dark, cold drive home feels a bit more consuming knowing the last month or so of preparations have been unwrapped (figuratively and literally) and now all there is to do is to clean up and tear down. Warm yellowy Christmas lights bringing a homey glow to the early sunset drives coming down, leaving a bitter cold air.

This was the first Advent it really hit me that the season isn’t just celebrating the heart prep for Christ’s birth, but also His second coming. After having that revelation, the end of Advent didn’t really feel like a clean up and tear down moment. There is a lingering. I’m still waiting. And maybe now it feels even more weighty with the decorated pine trees and gaudy abundance of green and red out of the way. Because now the bitter cold sets in and the darkness feels a bit heavier. And we are here. Waiting. Setting resolutions to distract our hearts from the intangible brokenness that we cannot fix- though we know one who can.

For years I have wanted to think creation was made outside of time. In the early days of dating, I remember a specific conversation Donny and I had about creation. He told me as a science-minded person, he found it difficult to believe the Bible’s version of how it all began, so much of history being unfolded pointing to a much longer timeline. My answer was that maybe the Lord created it all with age, the plants being breathed out as full-grown, fruit-bearing plants. The chicken before the egg. I wanted to believe that when God breathed out, he brought forth everything in its prime. But I reread Genesis 2 this past week and though it broke my heart for a second, it also revived my post-Christmas heart, because my God who performs the suddenlys is the God who scatters the seed. For January first, when the snow isn’t covering the abundance of death and closing seasons, I breathe in hope knowing the waiting is a productive gift, too.

How do I wait well? It’s the question that was ringing through my heart, knowing it’s how I fill so many days. I am a ‘things can be better’ kind of person, which means most of the time I am waiting, molding, finagling something that I think can and will improve. I think I found the answer tucked in Luke 10.

Mary and Martha were hosting the dinner. Martha is in full blown prep mode and if she is anything like me during the kid’s birthday parties, she is make up less, in clothes she didn’t intend to be seen in, putting the guests to work as they show up to help finish because she didn’t expect to need as much time as she gave herself. She’s scrambling and she looks over and there is Mary, sitting at the feet of Jesus, intently listening to His every word. Jealousy fills her heart and she bursts out, “I hope you are seeing this, Jesus. I am doing all the work. You should probably say something.”

And here is where it all changed for me. Jesus said, “Martha, Martha. You are anxious and troubled by many things, but only one thing is necessary…”

How do we combat dissatisfaction of our circumstances? How do we combat the in-between season? How do we combat the anxious, busy, and troubled mind? We remember what’s necessary. Just one thing.

I don’t think Martha was just upset about the serving. I think the serving was just what pushed her already weighty heart to its limits. I believe Jesus was speaking to her heart- a much deeper level. Martha, Martha. You are not yourself. You are anxious. You are troubled. And though you feel unseen, I see you…

So this is the year I live in less baggage claims and more baggage checks.

I am choosing to pay attention to my heart and the different aches that set in. And when I feel that anxiousness, bitterness, jealousy, whatever it is set in, I am reminding myself that I don’t have to pick it up. I can pass the plate. Thanks to Jesus, I don’t have to worry about it. I am free.

Just because I used to carry it doesn’t mean I have to anymore.

Just because yesterday I carried it doesn’t mean I need to carry it anymore.

Just because I still struggle with it and want to pick it back up, doesn’t mean I need to carry it anymore.

You don’t need to carry it anymore, friend. Just one thing is necessary. And it’s not that. I pray that you are covered with the boldness and freedom to walk in truth fiercely and fully. That you will keep walking forward in forgiveness even though you made a mistake. And I pray that you will be clean of the lies of the enemy and covered in the blood of Jesus who has clothed you in righteousness and called you by a new name.

Happy New Year.