It’s Christmas time in our home.
The Christmas tree is up with presents underneath.
We lay Isaiah by the tree and as he tries to rollover Eliot crowds him.
This year white lights hang from our house, mingling with snow and ice from last Friday’s storm. While we were snowed under, Christmas came early– Jason Miller finished mastering Kaitlin’s EP and we released it on iTunes.
I’ve been listening to my wife’s album on repeat. I think it’s my right to be a little proud and happily biased—I love it!
This afternoon I reflected and wrote this:
What if the struggle for justice could be found in a mother’s heart?
What if it could be found in the simple yet disciplined expression of nursing your toddler and newborn through the night and changing diapers and sucking out congested baby noses? As you cry out for justice for a man wrongfully convicted in Kenya and the rescue of a group of girls before they are trafficked from a train station in Calcutta and pray that our boys shape the world to look more like Christ intended? Perhaps in seeking Him for your boys and our home you were seeking justice and peace for the hurt and broken. Maybe these struggles are linked in ways we can’t understand as the spirit intercedes. Faith remains a mystery I don’t understand.
Perhaps those moments being sick in a hotel room rather than joining the crowds of people praying at IJM’s Global Prayer Gathering were the painful but necessary steps along the journey to bring you to this place? I don’t know why we travelled to DC to spend that weekend housed up in that room… But, perhaps by it, you were brought to the place where you could hold your music up like a light, a beacon of hope, a reminder that Advent is year round.
What if the struggle for peace was more about harmony than the absence of conflict?
Last week I was lecturing on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and restorative justice. I asked, “What is peace?”
I got two answers. One student shouted the obvious answer, “The absence of conflict.” The second answer came more softly. I almost missed it. “Harmony,” he said.
Perhaps, this is the power of your music. It is the blending of the reality between the pain and insecurity of the present and the available and real hope of what is and will be. It’s all in the transformation from being dead in our graves to his hand picking us up, dusting us off, as he says we are free.
Yes, there will be conflict in our home. Yet, there is also harmony—a togetherness.
Your music inhabits a deep place where your prayers for justice and peace harmonize with your longing that your boys will be loved.
I love and respect you for many reasons. Your release of “Healing’s Coming” is but one of them.