What Child Is This

Advent has always been my favorite time of year. Admittedly, when I was young, I loved this time because it meant that Santa was coming soon. But as I've grown up and learned more about God's love for me, the excitement around advent has become much more deeply rooted in my heart. This year has undoubtedly changed me forever, and advent is no exception. There is something very powerful about celebrating Jesus' coming so far from home, after a year of such unpredictable transition.

In the last 12 months, I have experienced some of the deepest sorrow and some of the greatest joy of my short life. When I stop to think about that, I truly am not sure how I could have done it all without knowing that God has a plan for me that is better than I can imagine. Last Sunday at church, we sang What Child Is This -- a song I have heard so many times -- and it struck me in a very new way. To think that Jesus came here so that I could know God and talk to him and allow him to do things like move me to Philadelphia and trust that he will continue to lead me and bring people into my life to show me his love. That he is bigger than the darkness and sadness I witness all the time and that he has and will overcome it. I am overwhelmed, humbled, thankful.

And I am also pretty terrible about maintaining this reverence throughout my busy days, but I hope you can find time to think about how much your life has been influenced this year by a God who loves you so much. It's okay to cry a little about that.

What Child is this who, laid to rest on Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, while shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing; 
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud, the Babe, the Son of Mary.

Why lies He in such mean estate, where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here the silent Word is pleading.

Nails, spear shall pierce Him through, the cross be borne for me, for you.
Hail, Hail the Word made flesh, the Babe, the Son of Mary.

So bring Him incense, gold and myrrh, come peasant, king to own Him; 
The King of kings salvation brings, let loving hearts enthrone Him.

Raise, raise a song on high, the virgin sings her lullaby.
Joy, joy for Christ is born, the Babe, the Son of Mary.



With love.