The Gift of a Holy Pause

There’s a certain quietness that settles in during the days after Christmas, a pause that seems to happen between December 26 and January 1. The beautiful chaos of Christmas morning is tidied. The leftovers are in the fridge. Family and friends are on the road returning to their homes. And the volume in the house has decreased.

This is the quiet aftermath following the glorious raucous, and it’s natural to feel a bit let-down. As we left my parents’ Missouri home yesterday morning to drive eight hours back to Texas, the tears fell. Because we’d enjoyed all the holiday had to offer, and then it was simply over.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way. Many of us sense this, and the days between now and the turn of the new year roll one into the other with a melancholy weight. Christmas is over. The newness of January 1 has yet to come. And we find ourselves stuck in the in-between.

But what if there’s more to this in-between? What if we’re missing something? What if these few days between Christmas and New Year’s Day are a precious gift we’ve yet to unwrap … a present that everyone forgot in the rush of all the excitement. And now it sits there … quietly, expectantly, reverently.

Luke 2:19 tells us “But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.” This verse comes immediately after the birth of Jesus. Messiah has come. The angels have announced his arrival. The shepherds have adored him. Immanuel is here. The hope of all mankind is no longer a pre-ordained promise. He is a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and everything is different.

And after all of this, Mary treasures it all and ponders it in her heart. The original Greek for “pondered” in this verse is a present active participle. This means the action is ongoing. Mary didn’t ponder it all and then move on. She actively continued to think on it. She set her mind to the task of actively mediating on all that had occurred. The gift of Jesus was so incomprehensibly extravagant and so compassionately gracious, Mary had to continue to think on it in an effort to take it all in.

The same goes for us. The son of God taking on flesh and bending low to be born unto us is a gift we will continue to unwrap even into eternity, and it is so profound and so divinely wondrous that we couldn’t possibly absorb its glorious realities in the span of Christmas Day. We need time each year to mediate afresh on the wonder of it all.

And that’s exactly what these days between Christmas and the new year can provide. These days give us the gift of a holy pause. This in-between is an invitation to still our souls and wonder with admiration and gratitude at the greatest gift of all.

This year, I pray we don’t move on too quickly. I pray we open this gift of the in-between and continue to reflect on the divine mystery that occurred in Bethlehem. I pray we use this week and those to follow to mediate on the incomprehensibly extravagant and compassionately gracious gift of the son of God taking on flesh. I pray we set our mind to the task of actively reflecting on the gift of Jesus coming to the cradle so he could go to the cross.

I pray we use this in-between to sit in the holy pause.

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