Emmanuel

It is 4:30am Christmas day. I imagine jet lag may have something to do with the fact that I am wide awake at such an hour, but less likely that it is driving my thoughts to distraction, making the possibility of further sleep entirely unattainable.
So what does she do? She blogs, of course.
My transition home has been good so far. I am enjoying the simple pleasures of eating fresh fruits like berries and grapes that I haven't had in a year. I love the moments with friends and family so much and I'm trying desperately to take a snapshot in my mind of every hug so when I think back sometime next year, when I am back in Africa, I can remember how good it felt.

I was driving to church with my parents last night and found my mind wandering.
"I miss the babies on their mama's backs" I said.
But to myself;
I miss Africa
Words you don't say out loud when you've just been home under 48 hours.
I stayed composed until we sang of Emmanuel. He was written in the prophesies, we hear about Him, usually on Christmas, but I say its a fair bet not many actually lets those words settle in. Do we really meditate on who Emmanuel is? This is not to say I have arrived at any wildly theological conclusion, far from it. I just tell the stories, that's it. Once again this is a story where I am left humbled and crying, a place where God loves to whisper into my soul words of comfort, a place I'm glad I even have the privilege of being.

While singing last night I thought of my beloved Africa. I thought about all those left behind and I cried for them. I cried for me, for my heart that aches so badly to hold and lay kisses on a velvety smooth baby, or cast my eyes on a smiling child along the side of the road. I longed to feel the joy so strongly associated with Africa that I was struggling to find it there in the sanctuary of our church. I cried because it turns out this isn't as easy as I thought, I am between two worlds that I love so dearly. I can't be in one and not miss the other.
I'm being honest in saying I believe this is an incredible paradox to face. There are people in this world who never find their niche, who never have a place to go where they feel inexplicable joy and love.
I have two.
While sitting, tears falling on my cheeks, grasping my moms hand, I heard it. I caught a glimpse of understanding. Hours later I woke up thinking of it. Now, as I sip tea and try to comprehend all that I feel, I know, again, that I had it all wrong last night.
It's not about me. Well, it is about me, but not in the selfish lens I was looking through.
Thousands of years ago a baby was born.
Rejoice, rejoice, Emmanuel.

He came into this world to save, to take on the sin of the world. He came to love and not condemn. He came to save me. He came to save all of you too, whether or not you like it, that's a truth I will stand by until I meet Him one day.
Its fitting that I came home just days before Christmas, it puts my world into a perspective that is much needed. Yes, my transition is a bit tough, but my goodness, God, the King of Kings, was sent to be among us. The epitome of innocence and purity in a world filled with hatred and demise. A savior for the broken, a friend to the friendless, He came to us.
It is because of Jesus, because of that day, that I live. I was saved from this world. Yes, I live here, I am split physically between two continents, but my heart, my soul, rests in a kingdom. That understanding trumps everything else I am feeling, it is my comfort. If my life consists of the pains of being split between two places in this world, if this transition is only one of many, I will drink it deeply. I will live a life of someone who was saved and then gently asked to go out and spread the news.
I will love because He first loved me.

Emmanuel, God with us. El Shaddai, all sufficient.