Thursday, December 25, 2014

Slipping through the cracks

I saw this video today:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-g4ONM_jBZ0 (yes, you should go watch it right now) and it made me think, and then I wrote what I was thinking, and then I haven't posted anything on my blog in too long, so it became a slightly-strange Christmas blog post.
The format is all funky, because this is how I write when I'm not actually planning for other people to read it.
Hopefully it makes a bit of sense.
Merry Christmas! 


I knew about the dreams they scattered in pieces at the foot of Your cross.
The dreams of political freedom.
Dreams of fame, of proving them all wrong.
(all they thought freedom could be)
But there were other broken dreams before that day, weren't there?
In fact, you slipped into the world through the cracks of quieter, simpler dreams.
Because I don’t think her little-girl dreams included the shame of a pre-marriage pregnancy.
And I doubt his dreams included holding his fianc√© in a barn as she gave birth to a baby that wasn't his.
Surely they didn't dream of doing it all alone.
And these were all such simple dreams, good dreams,
Sweet expectations,
Bent, broken and scattered.
But then in the dark, You slipped through the cracks.
The Better-than-we-knew-to-dream-about.
I have my dreams to, You know.
I think they’re pretty good ones, to be honest.
And…. Sometimes I find them bending, cracking along the fault lines.
(Some are already in pieces)
And You know, how I fight You on those.
It’s silly though, because I know You’re like this, all that about ‘beauty from ashes’ in the songs I sing, it means this.
It means you slipping through the cracks in my dreams too, with Your better than I knew to dream for.

And there's Thomas, on the other side of the cross with empty hands and a broken heart; “I will not hope again,” until You slipped through the cracks in the closed doors again and You said His name.

There were others too, before Bethlehem, even.
Widowed Ruth, with all her broken dreams.
Rahab, who surely didn't dream to be a prostitute.
David's dead sons.
Joseph's pit.
And we look back to find all these broken dreams, become the very path you took to get here, to get to us.
To be our Immanuel - God with us.




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