Christmas season. And I read through the Book of Isaiah. A chapter each day.
At least, that’s the plan. But then comes Isaiah 6.
And I don’t want to stop.
Christmas season. And I read through the Book of Isaiah. A chapter each day.
At least, that’s the plan. But then comes Isaiah 6.
And I don’t want to stop.
“My soul magnifies the Lord…”
Mary proclaimed the greatness of the Lord, His glorious and mysterious ways, His tender mercy. Hers was a song of spontaneous worship, grounded in the word of God and the history of His people. A welling up from all she had taken in when the angel came to her. A joyful outpouring at her cousin Elizabeth’s confirmation that what had been spoken to her would be fulfilled.
Expectation. During Advent, we anticipate the coming of the Messiah—God’s promise fulfilled. Expectation.
Somewhere along the way we’ve made that word plural. Expectations. Which lead to unmet expectations. A word full of hope and glory wanders into unfulfillment and pain and sadness.