Wrestling LOVE.

"The power of the Most High will overshadow you." Luke 1:35

His eyes glistened as he peered through the glass at the puppies as they played. A trip to the mall in the hectic holiday rush left our hands quite empty as none of us were in the mood to scan the shelves for treasures and our wallets weren’t encouraging us to do much of that either. So we walked from store to store unimpressed, that is until we discovered the puppies. They jumped on top of one another, bit each other’s ears, and came to the glass to look into the sweet eyes of a four year old who was enchanted. As the dogs wrestled and we all watched, my heart saw my three brothers, who so often filled our house with rough and tumble as we grew up.  What is it with boys and wrestling?

Prissy me never was too fond of the let me grab you by your neck and knock you to the floor type of love, yet to this day I recognize its beauty. You have no choice when you are the sister to three brothers.  And somehow, no matter how old boys get, even when they are 60 like my dad, they still love a good wrestling match. I know because once, or twice, or a bunch of times this Christmas weekend, when we are all home stuffing our mouths full of sugar cookies, and enjoying the lights on the tree one boy or another will start the domino effect that is roughhousing.  And a nerf, pillow, kicking, or wedgie war will ensue.

And there I’ll be in the middle of a trap I did not ask for and am not strong enough to get out of on my own. There will be chasing, and tickling, and crying from laughter, and the whole time I will be yelling for it to stop. But even as my words say one thing, my heart says another. Wrestling is the way my brothers love. In the madness of headlocks, and booby traps, my brothers show their purest form of affection. It doesn’t always look pretty, you know, that wrestling kind of love. It’s not tied up in a pretty red package like the love I will show them with thoughtful gifts under the tree. It is not cozy like the sweet hugs from my mom when I have had a long day. It isn’t like the gentle voice of my grandparents sending love over the phone. No, their love does not look like that. But can I ignore the fact that it is love just the same?

Every year at Christmas, God reveals to me a new piece of the story. There in the middle of what looked like the most impossible route to love, Mary and Joseph said yes despite their hesitations and fears. How could God be asking them to bare this embarrassment, shame, apprehension, uncertainty, and deeply personal walk with Him in a space that felt so alone? And why? I have to imagine that their hearts struggled with these questions. And I am surprised to discover that THE GREATEST LOVE entered the world, not in a convenient little package but in the middle of a real struggle among real people. I cannot help but wonder how the key players wrestled with God's plan for them.

I wonder…kind of like I wonder how much longer I can wait here in the desert as I face time going by and seek to discover my path to love. It is kind of like I wonder how I can tell my friend to keep trusting in God when one thing after another ends in what looks like a losing battle. It is kind of like I wonder how terminal illness, and homelessness, and suffering suck life from so many. It’s kind of like I wonder how wrestling, practically laying there in defeat, can bring me closer to the love my brothers have to give.

There I stand in the middle of it all, wanting to be the peacemaker. Can we not just compromise? I do it with my brothers and I do it with God. I want to skip the wrestling. You know why? Because the wrestling hurts, when they step on me or pull my hair or accidentally knock me in the eye, it hurts.  When I have to surrender and let them tickle me to death or tackle me to the floor because I do not have the stamina or strength to keep fighting, I hurt with defeat. Even as I watched the puppies that day I wanted to whisper, be careful of each other.

But, perhaps, God is there most in the midst of the wrestling. I have to imagine that even after their yes, Mary and Joseph at times felt beat up, broken, and defeated.  Yet, their lives were the story that we celebrate at Christmas.  They brought God into the world like no one else could. They wrestled in faith and helped to share the greatest gift we could ever ask for, a love that lasts forever.

My gut would say to save you from the wrestling, and the heartache, and the questioning that life brings. My instinct is to protect myself from it all too.  But what if all the wrestling leads to something bigger than we could ever imagine? I would rather get kicked in the gut a thousand times than miss out on that. And I know you would too.

God loves us enough to let us wrestle, to let us question, and ponder and discover within our own hearts a love for Him that is deeper than words and stronger that we can imagine. When I wrestle with God, like when I wrestle with my brothers, it is not a matter of winning but rather a matter of mutual love. God did not design you or I to be robots but to be real, living, human beings. He sent a real living, human son to show us His love and while we know its all true, a little wrestling every now and then lets God prove it.

I will never really understand why puppies and boys love to wrestle. But I trust that God lets us wrestle over and over again so that each time, we find ourselves surrendering more and trusting deeper in His everlasting love. And while I cannot tell you where my story or yours leads, I know the GIFT of Christmas is that the wrestling leads to glory.

So here I am with a mind that says the wrestling is messy, but a heart that says yes anyways.