Certain mystical traditions dictate that there are specific locations where two worlds meet, where the spiritual and the physical cross. They are usually strange places, surrounded with mystery and strange occurrences that nobody can quite explain.
I’m reminded of highlands full of what feels like a combination of the whimsy of fairy dust and the gravitas of destiny.
In my mind’s ear I hear hushed music and I feel the mist on my skin and I’m not quite sure what I’m walking towards. I know very well it could tear me into pieces.
But I also know that it can give me life.
I wonder if it occurs to us: this is what Christmas is.
Two thousand years ago, Heaven’s hand brushed earth’s cheek, as well as the cheek of a young girl when an angel told her not to be afraid.
And she took him at his word.
She said, Okay.
We had been reaching for Heaven’s skirts for our entire existence.
Nine months later, Heaven touched down. A portal was opened.
It looked like a pregnant girl and her screams of labor in a mangy stable.
It looked like the blackness of night split open into a chorus of innumerable angels.
It looked like poverty and a trough for a cradle.
It looked like a star — like those fairy lights we imagine, only brighter. Stronger.
Myths have a foundation in reality.
What if this is where the myths come from?
What if the stories of the portals where Heaven and earth criss-cross have their basis in this true event — the story of a virgin girl who somehow got pregnant and of the Son she bore Who came from another place altogether?
There is a wrinkle in the space-time continuum, and He is it.
He is the place where Heaven and earth collide.
L’Homme-Dieu. The God-man.
A portal that opened Heaven for us like the angels opened the sky for the shepherds.
And now, you see, the earth is full of little collisions like this, little mystical places where the metaphysical meets the physical.
These places are you and me.
The Spirit of God knits Himself to our spirit in a deep, secret place.
It’s impossible to explain away or understand. We only know that it is true.
And now we have become thousands, millions, billions, countless lesser portals to the Kingdom we cannot see, but know is there.
We are the place where Heaven and earth collide, and it is only possible because two thousand years ago, the only Door we can ever walk through collided with us.
I hear music from another world. I’m not quite sure what I’m walking toward — I’ve never seen Him with my waking eyes — and I know He has enough power to tear me into pieces.
But I also know He gives me life.
This Christmas, may we see the way the heavens have opened to us. May we remember that the stories are true. Heaven and earth have met and joined — and we are living in the crosshairs.