in utero
The season of Advent is wrapping up. Yesterday was the final Sunday of Advent, and we heard the famous song that Jesus's mother Mary sings, before he is even born.
The Christ child still in utero, still gestating, still surviving off holy amniotic fluid, wrapped in the sacred womb of Mary.
I know it's easy to skip forward to Christmas - there's so much to do, so much to plan - and the twinkling of Christmas eve is much shinier than the slow burn of Advent.
But Christ is still in utero - still not-yet-born, still forming.
We struggle to stay in this stage, when things are unclear and we can't quite make out what is coming next.
I remember being pregnant and holding the tension of the closeness of my child in my body, but also how far away he felt - I couldn't see him, couldn't touch him, even though we were one.
It took the violent moment of birth for me to know him, hold him, smell him, and those months of bearing our children felt long, endless. Did Mary feel that, too? Did she worry about the baby growing in her womb, place a hand on her belly hoping to feel the baby kick?
In my own life, so many things are still in utero. My family is preparing for a huge move back to my hometown of Kansas City. We are packing our things in boxes, dropping our kids off at school for the last time, saying emotional goodbyes.
What will come next? We don't exactly know. The date of our move, I think it might feel like a violent birth, a painful tearing away from this place and these people we love so much. Right now we're in utero, still wondering who we will be in that next stage of our lives. So much is still unknown, still forming in the darkness. It's messy, a time of great uncertainty.
What is certain is that during this time of pregnancy - for my family, for whatever is still in utero in your life - God is a mother singing songs over her growing belly. She sings a lullaby, just as Mary sang while carrying the Christ child in her womb:
"You, God, have shown strength with your arm; you have scattered the proud in their conceit; you have deposed the mighty from their thrones and raised the lowly to high places. You have filled the hungry with good things, while you have sent the rich away empty. You have come to the aid of Israel your servant, mindful of your mercy - the promise you made to our ancestors - to Sarah and Abraham and their descendants forever.”
When things are forming, and unknown, and in utero - never forget that God is humming a lullaby, a prophecy, of what will come. Never forget that God's dream for you, for me, for us, is a vision of a world where all are fed, all are provided for. God's vision for us is never singular - it is always caught up in the living-out of the kingdom of God, always entwined with the birth of the Beloved Community.
Right now, things may feel tenuous, hanging by a thread. What will change? What will stay the same? What can I count on, as things shift and realign?
Count on this - as you grow in the darkness, as whatever is taking form in you is knit together, God is whispering a subversive lullaby over you. It's a lullaby that sounds a lot like an old spiritual hymn, a song that comes from the chest and makes you want to dance, a song about freedom and fullness and faith.
