A Gift Unexpected, Undeserved

Waiting. It’s woven into every advent season. It sparkles in the eyes of every ponytailed girl and footie pajama dressed boy as they peek under the tree and shake their oddly shaped gifts. It sings in the melodies of our favorite carols as we stand with candles lit, voices raised, and hearts hopeful. And sometimes it tugs at our chest, right after we click off the lights, slip under the covers, and let our minds drift.

Waiting. It’s woven into every advent season. It sparkles in the eyes of every ponytailed girl and footie pajama dressed boy as they peek under the tree and shake their oddly shaped gifts. It sings in the melodies of our favorite carols as we stand with candles lit, voices raised, and hearts hopeful. And sometimes it tugs at our chest, right after we click off the lights, slip under the covers, and let our minds drift.

Advent reminds us that God’s greatest gift has come and is coming. We’re somewhere in the middle of this grand story, reflecting on Christ’s humble birth and anticipating his return. So we celebrate, give, toast, feast, and wait. Isn’t that how life usually looks?

Amidst a year filled with weddings and family vacations, friendship and football games, I’ve done a lot of waiting. As I stand at the edge of this year and peer into the next, I have more questions than answers. And sometimes I get tired of waiting.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve found myself in the Old Testament so much this season. The prayers are honest and prophetic, desperate and hopeful. As the people lift their voices, they reflect upon the unexpected ways God has worked. They remember God’s undeserved blessings. And they tie it all together with praise.

In Psalm 126 Israel laments for restoration. They reflect upon God’s previous work as something of a “dream.” They ask him to restore again and anticipate their coming joy. And in the middle they give him praise saying, “…then they said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad” (Psalm 126:2–3). God restored them once. He would do it again. And those around them would give God praise.

Mary utters this same phrase in her magnificent. She calls herself a humble servant regarded by God, considered blessed by the generations, “for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name” (Luke 1:49). The gift was unexpected. She was undeserving. And her God received the glory.

Isn’t that the very essence of our Christmas story? The Messiah slips into the world by way of a virgin womb. He dies upon a criminal’s cross bearing our sin. He rises again and will return in glory. And he offers us his greatest gift—salvation.

The same thread runs through our own lives. I didn’t plan to hear the gospel or go to seminary. I avoided ministry and my husband. Yet these are my greatest gifts—and I did nothing to gain them.

So as I find myself waiting and wondering every time I turn out the lights and let my mind drift to a new year, advent reminds me that the best gifts are unexpected and undeserved. So I’ll sing my carols, drink my cider, give my gifts, and wait. He has done…and will do again…great things for us.