The Season of Immanuel

“All right then, the Lord himself will give you the sign. Look! The virgin will conceive a child! She will give birth to a son and will call him Immanuel (which means ‘God is with us’).” Isaiah 7:14, NLT

A few weeks ago I was in court for a guy I know. On Thanksgiving night he and his wife got into an argument that for the briefest of seconds turned physical. It was, however, the proverbial tip of a greater iceberg that has been growing for years. The next day she filed a complaint with the police and later that day they came to his work and arrested him. He spent that weekend in the county jail and on the Monday following Thanksgiving he was released on a signature bond.

“Released” is a relative expression. On account of the number of bond hearings they had on that Monday morning, he didn't exit the jail until nearly dinner time late that afternoon with the stipulation that he have no contact with his wife and their infant child until these legal matters are cleared up early in the new year. But the worst moment for him came when he arrived at his now empty house to find an angry letter from his wife with her house key laying on top of it. Gone was their bed. Gone were her clothes. Gone were their baby's things. Gone was their cat. All these absences evidence of a greater loss, of what once were the trappings of a happy family.

He sat on the floor in abject despondency while I sat with him. Like everybody who's ever been in his shoes knows at that moment among other things you simply cannot seem to comprehend how it could have ever come to this. And with the court ordering no contact until the hearing later in January there is no way to know if this is only a temporary separation or a lead up to something far more permanent. At this time the pall that hangs over that empty house is enough to dampen whatever hope might be conjured up in a soul “hoping for the best, bracing for the worst.”

There were no words I had for him that night. I just sat with him doing my best to mourn with him. Like him, I remember happier days for them their wedding day included. There was a lot of celebrating that warm summer day and plenty of dancing. It's a memory that now only adds to his sorrow, a dirge that drowns out the sound of the merriment we made that afternoon.

The best I could come up with at the moment was to remind him that we were now in the season of Immanuel (as Advent had begun just the day before). When Jesus was born in Bethlehem it was not under the best conditions; rather, it was under the worst. Mary and Joseph were far from home and the press of people driven there on account of the Census made it impossible to get adequate lodgings. A stable behind the hostel would have to do. The cloud of suspicion that hung over the details of Mary's pregnancy made them loathe to return home. By the time the magi showed up perhaps a year or two later, they were no longer living in the stable but residing in Bethlehem making do however they could by Joseph's skill as a journeyman carpenter. The wise men's appearance unwittingly sets in motion the events that lead up to the holy family's hasty departure to Egypt to escape the clutches of ruthless Herod. But their circumstances of finding lodging in crowded David's town, of the serendipitous visit of both shepherds and kings, and the dream that got them out of Dodge before Herod's soldiers could do their worst point to a greater truth: God was with them. Yes, the baby they cared for was God in flesh and bones but clearly God was also in the midst of their fear and uncertainty and their trouble and perplexity.

It worked out. They got away. Herod died and with it his malevolent paranoia. Eventually they came back home to Nazareth where this story had all began and quietly went about raising their family. The fact that with the exception of one episode when he was 12 years old we know very little of Jesus' life prior to his baptism by John is proof that they were successful at that.

God is with us. Right now not at some future, better time. Right now in the midst of our mess, our sin, our trouble, our fear and doubt. Immanuel has come and remains and by his Spirit is at work moving in the midst of the circumstances of our lives to accomplish God's purposes. My friend hopes for reconciliation. He hopes that one day his wife's house key will once again be on her key ring. He hopes that before his baby is old enough to know better they will all be living under one roof once again. But there are no guarantees. That iceberg most likely runs deeper than he guesses. His wife's hardened heart may not thaw his prayers notwithstanding. Still, for all that he has done to contribute to the court-enforced silence that is now between them God is with him whether he feels his presence or not. What matters is that as he waits for any or all of these things to come to pass that he wait in hope certain that God sees, that he hears and is at work to bring about good in his life as well as in the life of his wife and child in due time.

God, I’m not trying to rule the roost,
    I don’t want to be king of the mountain.
I haven’t meddled where I have no business
    or fantasized grandiose plans.

I’ve kept my feet on the ground,
    I’ve cultivated a quiet heart.
Like a baby content in its mother’s arms,
    my soul is a baby content.

Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope.
    Hope now; hope always!

Psalm 131:1-3, The Message (MSG)