Christmas Nights and the Love of Simple Paradoxes

Hello future me (since I'm the only one who reads this),

First off, note to self, writing at two in the morning is a horrible idea. On that note, let my violate my own tenant of self-notation.

Tonight, was one of those nights, one of those awesome nights. I will refer to them lovingly as "Christmas nights," even though they can occur at any time of year. These nights seem to increase in frequency in the fall and winter, they are the nights when beauty collides with comfort and creates...something else...something perfect. I went to Mass tonight. I like Mass, even in its somewhat cold, traditional form. But tonight wasn't cold or traditional, tonight was, I guess, contemporary Mass. There was a choir of teens singing in the back, playing guitar and keyboard and some bongo drums. There were a lot of people sitting together in a well lit room, all listening attentively. It was so wonderful, yet subtle. There was no overwhelming beauty, there was no overwhelming theological implication, just simple happiness.

That is sometimes such a luxury, the simplicity of happiness. You know, those moments when you can just lightly smile and it warms you to the core. I had a lot of those moments in New York, maybe that's why I liked being alone when I was there, because I could just be simply happy. I could walk around aimlessly and smile at strangers and listen to street musicians and take in, not the sites and sounds or the hustle and bustle, but just the sheer simplicity and normalcy that still existed in that most hectic of locales. I remember the first time I went off by myself, I went to Harold Square and just sat in a small park and read for a little bit. All around me were honking horns and swirling lights and billboards and noise and everything distracting you can imagine, but in that little square, that little concrete island in the midst of the streets, everything felt so still, so quiet. I remember smiling at two middle-aged women that night while I sat there, and the whole moment was just beautiful, not for any profound reason, it just was.

Maybe that's what I mean by "Christmas nights," nights that just are, that just exist without frills or frustrations. Maybe they remind of Christmas because of all the free time that a kid has over Christmas break. The evenings are so relaxed as a kid, no homework, no school, nothing, just the beauty of another snow-filled tomorrow to look forward to. Those were good times. I like being reminded of those.

I know that I'm rambling, but forgive your former self future me. I think all of those previous thoughts led me into something more spiritual and something that connects with the sermon I heard this morning (which may have been the best sermon I've ever heard). I really love when God calls himself "I am." I think it's profound and perfect. Who is God? He is. What is God? He is. Nothing else, pure simplicity, the simplest of simple sentences. And that sentence probably carries more theological weight than anything else, anywhere, ever. So subtle and simple, yet so powerful and complex, the perfect paradox.

That's what I love about God. It's not the only thing, but its a big one. All of the beautiful paradoxes, creating a poetic, deep, meaningful, infinite, powerful, and able God. A God who can do what he wants and will do what he says and will love you along the way. In the prophets (I'm thinking Joel) there's a passage where with one hand God is shielding his people and comforting them, while with the other he is laying waste to the enemies of his people, and his people, for all intents and purposes, deserved the wrath of their enemies. God as mother and almighty warrior. God of compassion who is wrathful beyond all measures. God of justice who pours out grace and mercy upon his people who deserve death. All paradoxical, yet all real, all one.

My belief in this God, my love of this God is why I believe myself to be part of the "one holy catholic and apostolic church" no matter how many sects it tries to break itself into. I believe that God can do what he wants to do and that he is able to do it, and that he, in his infinite beautiful paradoxes, can make sense of what we've done as Christ's bride. I believe that God is able to keep us from stumbling, to keep us standing tall and celebrating in his glorious presence (the Doxology of Jude).

I don't know if any of this made sense future me, but if anyone can figure out what I'm trying to say it's me. To him be the glory and the honor and the power, forever and ever. Amen!