This year, this Christmas season, it was all Isaiah 61. I kept needing to ponder those promises. The ones that sound like a sledgehammer breaking down thick walls …followed by skilled hands fashioning luminous skylights in all the openings.
I thought about the promise of one anointed to preach good news to the poor.
Of one binding up the brokenhearted.
Proclaiming freedom for the captives! And releasing prisoners from deathly darkness.
Marking a year of the Lord’s favor and a day of vengeance for our God.
I thought of comfort offered to those who mourn. Provision for the grieving.
A crown of beauty traded for ashes, oil of gladness for mourning, and a (gossamer) garment of praise instead of a (scratchy) spirit of despair.
I want to put that on!
I thought of people receiving a double portion rather than shame. Faces lifting heavenward to rejoice in an inheritance, rather than heads hanging in disgrace.
A people welcoming in everlasting joy.
I delighted that the one who was wrapped in swaddling clothes is the very one who clothes me with the garments of salvation.
Every single day.