There is a secret medicine given only to those who hurt so hard they can’t hope.
The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.
You were born with potential.
You were born with goodness and trust. You were born with ideals and dreams. You were born with greatness.
You were born with wings.
You are not meant for crawling, so don’t.
You have wings.
Learn to use them and fly.
It’s the first Sunday of Advent.
The season where we sit in darkness waiting for the Light.
The season where we live in the tension of now, and not yet.
The season where we dare to believe that our earth’s conflict can resolve into peace.
The season where we wait to feel a quickening of joy deep in our weary souls.
If this year, as Rumi said, you hurt too hard to hope, this season is just for you, my friend.
Instead of cringing at the thought of Christmas, relax into the Promise.
Instead of regretting that you don’t have energy to meet the high notes of this season, rest in the Arms of Love.
Crawl into the manger and fall asleep.
Lay on your back with the shepherds and wish on shooting stars until the angels come.
Let the wisemen’s myrrh soothe the pain you’ve been carrying for so long.
Find comfort in knowing that you don’t have to build a ladder or a tower to try to reach Emmanuel.
Emmanuel is coming down to you.
Today, for those of you who hurt too hard to hope, there is good news.
Advent has arrived.
Let your face relax into a smile, let your tense arms fall free, let your burden roll away.
Because you don’t have to fight your way to Hope.
This Advent season, you can rest. Because Hope is fighting to get to you.