Every December, I feel my heart and body brace themselves for another blow. As twinkly lights sparkle in windows and the collective mood gets merrier, a sense of dread typically settles over my heart. I struggle to pull the Christmas decorations out of storage with my girls, and tears often fall.

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I was desperate.

And life was dark. So very, very dark. I looked up from the pit and wondered where God was in this grief, this impossible season, this shattering. Those dark December days stretched on–creeping towards the darkest days of the year. And it just felt so symbolic. It’s like the cosmic candle of my life had been snuffed and the last sparks were beginning to fade and smoke. All was lost.

Dear Church, we are called to step in towards people. To live incarnationally--the hands and feet of Jesus reaching out to the broken in our midst. We are not to exalt ourselves but rather, humble ourselves before others.

We can approach the throne of mercy and grace with confidence. On days of doubt. Days of loneliness. Days when our lives feel impossibly broken.

On our best days and our very worst days, we have access to mercy and grace.

The juxtaposition of a season full of cheer and twinkling lights and my own utter darkness and despair was almost palpable.