O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.

Before the arrival of the child who would ransom the world--the birth of this Jewish baby named Jesus, who would alter the course of history forever--there was a lot of waiting.

Centuries of waiting, if you were part of the nation of Israel. They suffered foreign invasions, terrorism, exile and religious marginalization. Through the dark years, they clung to the simple hope of a Messiah, a Rescuer, who would show up and make things right. 

They yearned for His arrival, even without understanding what it would look like when it happened. Most expected Him to come as a military commander, someone to take down their oppressors with a flashy show of force.

Imagine their surprise when He came in the fragile form of an infant.

We know the name "Emmanuel," used in this old familiar carol, means "God with us." This is how God's redemption begins: with presence. His plan for healing didn't involve offering military might or the erasure of all the negative circumstances of Israel's dark days. He offered Himself.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here.
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.

This carol reminds me of what I'm inviting when I say "come." It teaches my heart the posture to hold when it feels like life has me immersed in dark days that make the light of Christmas morning seem like a distant reality. I want to plead for the presence of Jesus rather than plead for my preconceptions about what He should give me. Nothing less than His heart will disperse the shadows of my soul. 

And I can know it's alright to ask Him to come because Christmas tells us what He's like. He's the kind of God who doesn't dismiss the dark, but rather enters into it with us and ultimately places Himself in a position to be broken by it for our sake. He's the kind of God who cares so much about every single heartbreak of human life that He would live through them Himself. He's the kind of God who shows up, even if the waiting feels like it takes as many centuries as it did for Israel.

O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave.

If this season you are facing the cold shadows of winter in your soul, may this song spark hope that the Rescuer is coming, that His presence is a gift we can always anticipate. This Advent expectation, this waiting in the dark, is a place where we can pray, "Come and be with me, Jesus. Come and tell me it matters that it's dark down here. Come and ransom me, buy me back, from this broken world. Come and conquer the death in me with Your life."