collide

Life is full of collisions, everywhere you look.

Joy collides with the messiness of life.

Hope collides with grief.

Peace collides with tension and dissension.

Relief collides with pain.

Love collides with loss.

Light collides with darkness.

And this year: Christmas feels like it’s colliding with reality, all around the world!

I don’t know about you, but the idea of a collision is something that I would usually shy away from. It implies conflict, impact and disharmony, and we all know that when differing emotions or opinions collide, sparks can fly. But even concepts like peace, love and joy don’t exist separate from their opposites. Instead, their value is deepened by the contrast. Yes, sparks might fly, but what if they are sparks that drive you toward a deeper, fuller life, rather than away from one?

But this sits uncomfortably with us, doesn’t it? To accept a collision for what it is, without necessarily knowing the outcome. Because we want solutions and resolutions, and we want them now.

Take a look at Christmas movies. They’re full of (albeit cheesy) smiles and laughter and happy-ever-afters, and before we know it, we’re hooked on finding those endings for our own stories. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy them (and this year, more than any other, I’ve loved the predictable rhythm that movies like these bring). But have you also noticed that, in a year that has held considerable challenges, there seems to be more of them than ever? Are we allowing these to define what we think Christmas should be, and what joy should look like?

The fact of the matter is that joy, ultimately, isn’t found there. Yes, we see a surface happiness and a version of “joy” that celebrates family and perfectly resolved conflict and friendship and love – and these are all good things. But they’re not the only places where joy can be found. We’re limiting ourselves if we think so!

Joy is more than a feeling. It’s a deep well of hope and grace and grit and light that is found right in the middle of the nitty gritty of all those things that seem to be going wrong. It collides with the mess, to bring a hope that is beyond us. I’m going to say that again:

Joy collides with our mess, to bring a hope that is beyond us.

Joy doesn’t remove the mess. Instead, it’s our choice to breathe and remember that this is not all there is, right here IN the mess. Whether things are going wrong, or whether they’re going right. Joy is not distanced from suffering, nor is it superseded by it. The joy in us can be deepened and strengthened as it collides with the mess; as we grapple with the darkness.

Just as this is true of joy, it is true of hope. Of love. Of peace. And more. Collision is what Jesus Himself chose, by coming to this earth. He arrived to the grubby, understated “mess” of an animal stable. And even so, the cry of this newborn child still brought joy to His mother’s heart. I’m sure of it! We sing “Joy to the World” not because of the grandeur and beautifulness of His birth, but simply because He came. Like He promised. He’s the one we remember at Christmas time.

Because Jesus is the one who collided, first.

He came in love, knowing there would be loss.

A long awaited King in a rough hewn feeding trough.

He brought peace where conflict brewed.

He came to be a light in the darkness.

A promise of redemption wrapped as a tiny babe.

The joy of new life juxtaposed against all the “what if’s” to come. And there were so, so many. And for us, there ARE so, so many. What ifs, maybes, if onlys… so many.

Today, as you each step into Christmas and navigate whatever it means for you and your family, may you remember that joy is still present, still real, and still yours to recognise & choose. Always. Joy will collide with reality, no matter how messy that might be. Because by its very nature, like hope, it shines best in the dark.

Those collisions you’re experiencing in your life right now? They’re a part of life. A valuable part of life. And you will emerge strengthened from those encounters. In the very centre of each collision, is a God who sees and hears your heart. A God who understands and validates each and every one of the emotions coursing through you. You are not alone.

These truths are resonating with me today, as I write this on Christmas Eve, because tomorrow isn’t going to be like it was meant to be. And my own family won’t be together like I thought. But I, too, can choose joy. If not in my circumstances, then in the multitude of blessings I can still count even if the tears come, as I suspect they will. The “collide” concept has been sitting with me for awhile, so it’s interesting that it’s today that I’ve finally felt the call to write about it, and share my heart.

I’m so thankful that the meaning of Christmas remains, even when ours doesn’t look like the cover of a Hallmark Christmas movie. Because it won’t. Because it’s messy. Because there’s a collision here. But I’m choosing joy, anyway. And as I allow joy to collide with the reality that I’m in, I’m reminded again of the reason Jesus came in the first place. And I’m humbled.

May you know overarching joy this Christmas, even if (& when) it collides with all manner of other emotions and encounters. May you find yourself pleasantly surprised, and blessed, by the outcome of the collisions you’re experiencing. And may the joy of the Lord be your strength.

Peace, love & joy to you all,

Kristy x