It begins with inappropriate words uttered over the breakfast table, followed by a discussion of those inappropriate words, followed by a retraction of the promised ice cream outing to Ivanna Cone scheduled for that evening. Then here’s the crying and the wailing and the gnashing of teeth (by both child and mother).
And the next thing I know, the nativity has been rearranged on the coffee table.
Baby Jesus sits in the very center, but instead of the tiny clay wise men and lambs and Joseph and Mary gazing down at him in a close-knit circle of adoration, Rowan has moved each of them to the far corners and edges of the table, with their backs turned to Jesus.
Every lamb, every goat, every angel is turned away from Emmanuel.
“You know, honey,” I say to my seven-year-old son, Rowan, when I spot the new arrangement, “even when you turn your back on Jesus, he still lives in your heart.”
No response.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe a revelation of sorts? Maybe I expected Rowan to look up at me all gracious and repentant, a flash of illumination written across his face. It’s Advent, after all. Isn’t Advent supposed to be pretty and perfect? All glittery and shiny and beautiful? A season of anticipation and awaiting and love?
But he didn’t. Rowan turned his back on me, too, and walked away.
There I was, poised to point my finger and start ranting and raving, when I caught another glimpse of those wise men and the sheep turned away from Jesus. And it hit me hard. I do it, too. I’m no different than Rowan. I turn my back on Jesus, too. I walk away from him. I can’t point my finger at Rowan without first pointing at myself.
In the end, the lesson I intended for Rowan is really meant for me. I need the reminder, too – that Jesus is Emmanuel. God with us. No matter what.
I need to remember that even when I turn my back on him, he still lives in my heart. He doesn’t abandon me. He doesn’t walk the other way.
Emmanuel.
God with us.
Amen.
Michelle writes stories about finding and keeping faith in the everyday. A native New Englander, now living in Nebraska, where she discovered the great plains, grasshoppers the size of Cornish Hens and God. Michelle married to Brad, a man who reads Moby Dick for fun, and mom to contemplative Noah and rambunctious Rowan.
She also writes a monthly column for the Lincoln Journal Star and frequently contributes to The High Calling and Prodigal Magazine.
You can find Michelle at her blog Michelle DeRusha
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Amen. We turn, He.doe.not.EVER.
He is the One constant, no matter what else shifts and changes, and dwells in all who choose to receive Him.
In the middle of our messes. He Is.
Thank you, Michelle
“In the middle of our messes, He is.” Beautiful, Karin. That is poetry and Truth.
Grateful his arms embrace eternally.
Advent has been beautiful but full of hard lessons…a few from my pint-sized professors.
My kids are the very best teachers when it comes to faith!
I’m pretty sure you must live at my house some days:-) Being a mama is hard, both in bringing up the littles, AND in being an example. I continue to remind my self that God is making messages out of my messes! (That gives me peace when I use “that voice” and then regret it!) Love how you made it into a teaching moment, and at the same time were taught!
I’m sleepy, and I just took a quick glance at that photo before reading your post. I thought the nativity pieces had simply been scattered. After reading your post, I went back and studied it. Tears are spilling down my cheeks. It’s one of the most profound and sad and convicting pictures I’ve ever seen. Jesus came into this world as an innocent baby, a beautiful offering, and the world rejected Him. What’s even sadder is when Christians turn their backs on Him, as you say, from time to time. I’ve done it. And often when I have, it’s a callous, calculated move. Thanks for this really stark reminder, and then the staggering comfort that Emmanuel, God with us, always is with us, and never turns His back on us. In fact, He has our backs!
Bless you, Michelle.
Lynn
Isn’t that so often how it works, Jen – that we teach, and at the same time, are taught ourselves. I love how He works through us that way!
Michelle, I love that your son felt the freedom to move the nativity characters and express his emotional reality in that moment and I love that you could take a step back and see that with him … I think I am tuned into your son right now because had I done that as a kid, my sense, true or not is that I would have gotten spanked and shamed … The beauty is that that He stands, arms wide open, so ready to help us peel back the layers that blind us from seeing that who we NOW this moment even as we have back turning moments …because He is in us … and that does not change … Thank you !!
You’ve reminded me here, Michelle, that when we point a finger at someone, three more are pointed back at us. So many times when we set out to correct someone, we find we need to learn that lesson ourselves.
Beautifully, poignantly written, my friend.
Blessings!
I have learned more about the Parenthood of God from the lessons taught to me by my children than from any other teacher.
Beautiful Advent meditation, Michelle. Thank you.
~ Cassandra from Renaissance Women
Wow. This is such an excellent post, Michele. I’m pretty sure most of the lessons I think my kids need to learn, are actually for me. God’s funny like that. Thanks for this. Xo
Lovely
If we could look back at my household when my children were growing up – this might be a similar story. I could not help but smile when I saw the Nativity re-arranged! ☺