Anticipation and Christmas Eve

It's here, my favorite day of the year! And I'm not posting this a day early, either.

No, I'm convinced that December 24th is my favorite all-time date. Today, Christmas Eve, contains all that is right and good about the entire Christmas season. Christmas Eve is all about waiting, expectation and hope.

And unlike the day that follows, Christmas Eve never ends on a down note. Let's face it, even the very best Christmas Day, filled with joy, laughter, movies, games, the best of presents (in both wrapping paper and the kind that come from the oven), ends with a twinge of despair because at the end of the day, Christmas is over.

But not today. Today is Christmas Eve, and it's here in all its hope-filled glory. When tomorrow is over, it's Monday, December 26, as far is it can get from Christmas, but when today is over, it's Christmas.

Today, I'll be waiting (along with Anabelle) for my parents to fly in from Northern California and for Janelle to get off work, then it's back to the house to watch and see the annual fall and redemption of one George Bailey. And who knows, maybe we'll get some card-playing in as a fitting follow-up.

I wish my brothers, sister-in-law and niece could be here too, but as the song says, "one day soon we all will be together..."

As a kid, Christmas Eve was always a stellar day. We'd get going in the early afternoon to visit our aunt and uncle for the evening, and--it seemed like always--on the way home we'd listen to Nat King Cole (or Nat King Smith, as he was affectionately known) bid us a Merry Christmas in song.

Sometimes on Christmas Eve, we'd go see the lights at Dovewood Court, which was a neighborhood almost certainly sponsored by PG&E power company, but we invariably would end up back at home reading the familiar Christmas story out of Luke and making sure Santa and Rudolf had a nice spread when they paid us a visit later on.

Then it was to bed with the three of us, which on Christmas Eve meant that it was to an all-nighter of Monopoly that was consistently--shall we say--monopolized by my older brother, Dusty.

Meanwhile, our dad would be out in the living room, building a presentation fit for Christmas morning, and we'd try and sneak a peak from the hallway every couple of hours. We couldn't wait for the sun to come up, and that time in between first light and 8 o'clock--when we were allowed to wake my parents up--seemed like it would never end.

The hope of Christmas morning, the anticipation, is what kept us up all night, and that's what always made Christmas Eve so special.

All of this hope and expectation is nothing but a glimmer of what must've been coursing through the veins of an old man named Simeon back in Jesus' day. We get introduced to Simeon in Luke 2, when Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the Temple to have him dedicated at eight days old.

Simeon, we're told, is a man who is righteous, devout and he's filled with the Holy Spirit--that is, he's a prophet. But maybe the biggest thing that defines Simeon is that it's said he's "waiting for the consolation of Israel."

In Simeon, we meet a man who embodies the history of Israel in miniature. It's as if we're introduced to the very poster boy of Israel's waiting and longing for a Savior, a Redeemer, a Prophet, a Priest, a King.

Now here's a man who has lived an entire lifetime of Christmas Eve.

But, unlike probably anybody else on the face of the earth, Simeon had lived for ages with the God-revealed promise that, before he went six feet under, he himself would see the Lord's Christ. This old man, filled with God's Spirit, knew that he would one day meet God's Anointed One.

Can you imagine what he must have been feeling when he not only saw, but cradled the Consolation of Israel?  I can still remember the unbridled joy that my brothers and I felt as we discovered our first Nintendo one fateful Christmas morning, and that joy was trumped a hundredfold on Janelle and I's wedding day, then a thousandfold when I first cradled our daughter a year ago.

And he rejoices. With the Christ-child held close to his chest, ol' Simeon blesses God for keeping His promise, not merely to himself, and not even just to Israel, but to the world. At last, Christmas morning has come and Simeon's eyes see the salvation of God, "prepared in the presence of all peoples".

Think about that this Christmas Eve. As you experience even a twinge of anticipation for what's to come, think of ol' Simeon, holding God-With-Us in his withered hands.

Think of ol' Simeon and rejoice, because Immanuel has come to Israel.

Merry Christmas Eve!