I can't drink my Starbucks if the label on the cup is not perfectly lined up with the label on the sleeve. I would struggle to concentrate all day if I knew that my bed wasn't made. Everything in my office has a very specific place and I can't leave work for the day without knowing that each thing is in its proper location. My room was once described as looking like a hotel all of the time. From the outside, these things look extremely organized and put together. But the truth is: I am a secret mess. If you were to look in the center console in my car, you'd find a collection of gum wrappers that could go in the Guinness Book of World Records. If you look under my bed, you'd find a stash of things from purses to swimsuits to posters I have from concerts and movies. If you look in my "mess drawer" at work, you'll find unused mugs and affirmation letters and random blank CDs. (Note: it is with great humility that I share this with you)
Recently I heard it said that the state of your room reflects the state of your heart. And as I reflected on this statement, I recognized its validity in my own life, specifically in my relationship with the Lord. When it comes to my faith life, the person that I present to people throughout the day and the heart I bring before the Lord is the put together, poised, tidy version of myself. But this is not the reality. My interior is messy. My desires are disheveled; my prayer life is unkempt; my priorities are disordered; my affections are confused. My heart is cluttered. And the truth is that I am embarrassed to bring this mess to the Lord. I am scared to admit how truly unworthy of a dwelling place I am. And somewhere deep within me, I still fear that if the Lord really looked at all my infidelities and imperfections, he would no longer desire me.
Luke 2:7 says "She gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger." Luke continues the story and tells us that when the shepherds came to adore Jesus in the manger, they left "glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen." Obviously they were worshiping God for the fact that "a savior has been born...who is the Messiah and Lord." But I think that they also left with the image of Jesus, lying in the MANGER pierced into their minds and hearts. And what an audacious image this is. Jesus Christ became man to dwell in a manger. A trough for animals to eat from. The most undignified, filthy resting place imaginable. And it is in this image that we find hope.
The word "Advent", derived from the Latin, means "coming". But in one of his messages for this Advent Season, Pope Benedict says that this word more profoundly means that "God is here. He has not withdrawn from the world. He has not deserted us." St. Gregory of Nyssa says that Jesus Christ became flesh because "sick, our nature demanded to be healed; fallen, to be raised up; dead, to rise again...Did (these things) not move God to descend to human nature and visit it, since humanity was in so miserable and unhappy a state?" These words speak to us of a God who is not afraid of our messes. He is not disgusted by our disheveled, unkempt, disordered interior. He is not afraid of those places in our lives in which he is least dignified and least adored. The same Jesus Christ who dwelt in the undignified, filthy manger actually desires to dwell in the messes of our souls-to bring healing, to shine light, to set us free.
As I reflect on my own life, I humbly acknowledge that the Lord has every right to withdraw from me. For the countless times that I have abandoned and deserted him, he has every right to do the same to me. But in this season, we can once again find hope in the fact that HE HASN'T. He has not withdrawn from us. He has not deserted us. He is here. The filth of the manger could not diminish Christ's glory, could not stop him from his mission, could not keep him from coming to dwell on earth. And with praise and exultation, we acknowledge that the filth of our lives and the wreckage in our hearts does not diminish his glory, does not stop him from desiring the salvation of our souls, does not keep him from dwelling within us.
Jesus Christ, we thank you for the audacity of your choice to dwell within our messes. Take up residence in us, O Perfect Savior, that we might become a more purified, sanctified dwelling place for you.
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