on serving the God of christmas tree lights

In a country like this one, it’s very easy to lose your perspective on a lot of things, it can happen almost instantly. Surrounded by so much devastation and poverty, you can find yourself asking a lot of different questions. The one I’ve found myself wondering lately isn’t so much Where is God in the midst of all this madness? No, the doubt that has been slowly eating away at my faith has been this one: how can God care for my needs -my frivolous, petty wants- in the midst of all this? Because surely I am so insignificant, so unimportant.

Hunger is huge, poverty is huge, sickness is huge. Ask me what things I think are closest to the heart of God are and I will say: the widows and the orphans and the sick and the dying. I do not doubt for a second His love for those dears ones. Those are the things He cares most about because those are the important things, the big things. But tonight I was reminded about Who my God is, and what His heart cares so deeply about.

Our kids have a Christmas tree set up in the downstairs of the orphanage. There’s red and green paper loop chains and glittered snowflakes hanging from the ceiling and garland and jingle bells strung across the entire downstairs. And in the corner there’s a Christmas tree covered in glass ornament bulbs, lit up only because we serve a God who cares. We couldn’t find the Christmas lights; the ones we had were broken, no good. And nobody had any extras to loan us. Eventually the kids were told no lights, we're so sorry. We started to get ready for supper. And then she finds them, in a box in the storage room, beneath all the stockings. Laying there, where He knew they’d be: new, beautiful colorful Christmas lights.

I have no doubt that my God is a great, big, powerful God who does great, big, powerful things. Actually, on a day-to-day basis, it’s easier for me to believe that than to believe the opposite- that my great, big, mighty God works in the infinitely small details and whisperings of today.

It’s easy to imagine the Almighty God caring about ‘big and important’ matters in this life like famines and droughts and wars. You know, the save-the-world kinda stuff. But how much harder it is to believe His hands that hold galaxies and oceans and the highest of mountains and lowest of valleys are also the same hands that wrap themselves around my every day needs, and hurts, and fears. It’s easy to believe that my insecurities and my fears and my dreams are somehow too little for Him to take note of. It’s easy to forget that He sees the school days and laundry that gets hung on the line and children playing basketball on the court in the hot afternoon sun. It’s tempting to consider it true that He doesn’t hear the voices that sing His praises every afternoon at 4 pm and the quiet prayers murmured before schooldays and Bible study and mealtime and bedtime. But yet, He is Who He is because He cares exactly about those things.

Yes, my God is the God of the stars and the rushing rivers and mountain peeks and incredible sunsets. And the reality of that is humbling and, oh, it brings me to my knees in awe and wonder and worship. But do you know what leaves me more awestruck tonight? Remembering that He’s the God of Christmas lights and peanut butter sandwiches, the God of broken hearts and unspoken dreams, the God who sees a little girl’s tears fall to the ground when her school uniform gets ripped and holds those tears precious, the God who has counted the hairs on my head and yours, and calls us by name, the God who knows whenever a single sparrow falls to the ground. He’s the God who settles Himself right into the everyday and the ordinary. Simply because He loves us. How extraordinary is that?

As we embark on what could be the busiest time of the year -with the family gatherings and the parties and the to do lists and errands to run and cookies to bake- let’s not forget to slow down and take the time to be still. It’s easy to glimpse past it and fail to see the beauty of it: the God of Christmas lights is here among us, doing wonderful and mighty things. And He’s standing there with hands outstretched, inviting us to join Him.