Linger here.

 This may be an odd after-Christmas greeting, but can I just be really honest for a second: Do you sometimes truly just despise yourself?

I mean despise. Do you sometimes look around at your life and realize how repulsive it is? No, I don’t mean you are some criminal or live some secret despicable life. I mean you live a real life. A “normal” life. And I tell you that this past week I cannot shake it. I look around and all I can think is, “Who am I kidding?”  Who on earth am I kidding?

The inclinations of my heart are wicked. I, who truly more than anything want to seek God and follow Him, I read the page in Romans 3 and the only thing missing is my name.

“None is righteous, no not one; no one understands; no one seeks for God. All have turned aside; together they have become worthless; no one does good, not even one.”

Like the meat rotting in the back of my car, I continually unearth pockets of pride in the corners of my life. (Every. Single. Day.)

And for a too many seconds I listen to the slithering serpent’s suggestion: Hide. Run away, hide it all. There is no “little light of mine” to shine so quit holding your ridiculous arm in the air. Who are you kidding?

And for a moment the offer looks good. Run away. Hide. Just cover up that rotten meat. Duct-tape up the windows so no one can see in. Get the bushel and crawl underneath.

And then, by some miracle. Christmas comes.

And I read ofL’Enchante.

And I remember again that Christ came to a stinking stable. A stinking stable.

It might as well have been my home.

And if I am hung up on my poor performance I have not understood His perfect performance. I have not understood the gospel. His resumé in place of mine. His beauty for my ashes. His joy for my sorrow. His riches for my poverty. His righteousness for my rags.

I can hang Christmas lights around my home but it still reeks of the sinners who inhabit these rooms. Without His daily grace we are utterly lost. He came into the filthiest places. I will cling to this. And I will trust this, when I look down, in, deep, and see the absolute bankruptcy of my soul, I will not get lost in the darkness but turn, look up and hear:

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Christmas may be over, but what if we lingered in the stable? I am always the first to leave. I don’t want to wear out my welcome. Never want to let that silent awkwardness set in. Leave before it gets too quiet. Keep things moving along.

But what if, this week, before we looked ahead to 2012,  we lingered a little by His side? Like L’Enchante. And when we looked around that stinky stable we might recognize our own home. Our own lives. And we might find ourselves bowed low all week in humble thanks that He has entered our filth and is making us new. What if we lingered in our adoration? The tree will come down, the wrapping paper stuffed into trash bags, fir needles vacuumed, stockings stowed for yet another year.

But what if we stayed low, kneeling to adore Him? What if, just as we slowly, carefully, prepare through advent, what if we slowly, carefully, reflected upon His birth this week? What if we were careful to look back before we dare look forward?

I really just want to stay here and adore Him. I think you probably do too. And I know my home is a stinking stable and my heart is even worse, but He came into this place and He is here and He is mine and nothing can separate me from the love of God. 

{Linger this week by His side. He is in the middle of your mess. Stop, bow, worship Him there. Thank you for letting me be real in this place. And thanks for reading.”.