Tradition (Advent Post One)

There's a deep-set love in my heart for traditions.

Whether it's hunting for a live Christmas tree with my family every year, stopping at the same gas stations on road trips, recreating pictures or making sure every trip home is marked by a Wendy's Frosty, my pattern-hungry brain can make any similar event or date important. I love traditions. Many of them are so silly that I refuse to mention them to other people (what, you don't feel a compulsive need to go to dinner at 6pm every Wednesday?), but trust me, I notice them.

Perhaps that's the reason why I so appreciate the church calendar-- Advent and Lent in particular. I can root myself deep in these traditions that are far older than me and will last far longer than I will. They remind me that these times in the year have far more significance than my own personal calendar-- that December means more than last minute study sessions, final examinations, and gingerbread house building, as good as those traditions may be. They remind me that I am part of something much bigger than myself.

The problem with traditions, though, is the way they can so easily slip into perfunctory action and lose their meaning. This will be my twentieth Christmas. My twentieth Advent. While in the grand scheme of life, that is no time at all, it's plenty of time to become numb to the joy this season brings. It's plenty of time to forget just how significant Christ's birth was.

I don't want to forget. 

My prayer this Advent is that my eyes would be opened to the meaning embedded in traditions new and old. I want this old period of anticipation to breathe new life into my relationship with Jesus. As cheesy as a statement as it is, I echo the cry of my devotional today -- that this period would remind me of the adventure I am on with Christ. 

Oh Lord, help me wait with open eyes. 


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