O Magnum Mysterium

Having been raised in a Church that largely favors conceptualizing a loving and even familiar God and a Savior who is truly our friend, I have always been able to find personal peace and comfort even in times of the deepest and bitterest heartache. Sometimes it feels as though the holidays are when I most need to plead for that reassurance from on high that broken things will be mended, that all which is lost will be restored, that I was created to praise and to have joy (which might end up being more or less the same thing, when I think about it). 

But one thing that I perhaps haven't spent enough time doing is showing my reverence for something like the birth of Christ simply by acknowledging its incomprehensibility—its mystery. There are moments when I truly do awe at the miracle that is a falling snowflake, a warm embrace, a word tenderly spoken, or the irresistible magic of the lit-up Christmas tree in my childhood living room. My sense of wonder should be a hundredfold and eternity for the gift, genuine and sweet and everlasting, of a Savior who came to this earth to love and heal in ways that transcend my understanding.

This setting of "O Magnum Mysterium" has a way of, well, making me cry. And also reminding me that it really is a great mystery, this thing we call Christmas.

May you all enjoy as many beautiful things possible on this Christmas Eve.