There are lots of things I genuinely enjoy about the Christmas season—the food, the family gatherings, the gift-giving, the celebrations. It's the one time of year when songs about Jesus play openly in public spaces across our city. In many ways, Christmas really is a good celebration. And yet, if we're honest, it also awakens something deeper in us—a longing, a heart-cry that won't quite go away.
This month, I've had a fresh rendition of the Christmas carol O Come, O Come Emmanuel on repeat. It's not a version everyone enjoys. It is stirring some controversy because it slowly builds toward a raw, heavy metal crescendo—a guttural roar of longing—before collapsing back into a quiet plea: O come, O come Emmanuel. (Thank you, Skillet)
Your taste in music may be more refined or reserved than mine, so that particular version might not be your thing. But the cry behind it is.
Because beneath the lights, the music, and the celebrations is a shared ache—a yearning for this broken world to be made whole, and an honest awareness that we are not yet whole ourselves. That's why this ancient Christmas hymn doesn't begin with cheer or triumph, but with a plea: Oh come. It is the heart-cry of people who are waiting.
The Wilderness That Shapes Our Longing
That same sense of longing and waiting runs right through the Old Testament story of Israel's journey in the wilderness.God rescues his people from slavery in Egypt and then leads them into the wilderness. There, he provides for them. He protects them. He guides them by his presence—cloud by day, fire by night. He gives them his instructions and his laws and calls them to trust him and love him wholeheartedly. And yet, again and again, their hearts resist him.
They doubt God's goodness.
They try to take control.
They chase after other gods to get what they want.
They grumble against—and put on trial—the very One who rescued them.
The wilderness exposes a deep heart problem.
God remains patient. He continues to provide, protect, and speak. But even clear instructions and holy laws cannot fix what is broken inside them—or inside us. They can only expose it.
The problem is not simply that we break God's laws. The deeper problem is why we break them: our proud, unbelieving, self-protective, wandering hearts. God's law could diagnose the disease, but it could not cure it. It revealed God's holiness, but it could not heal the human heart. And so God's dealings with Israel in the wilderness always pointed forward to a new day.
In Moses' final address, he speaks of that coming day, when God himself would act decisively: "The Lord your God will change your heart and the hearts of all your descendants, so that you will love him with all your heart and soul, and so you may live." (Deuteronomy 30:6)
Yet as the Old Testament story continues, nothing seems to change. Generations come and go. The same patterns repeat. The longing remains.
The Old Testament ends with waiting.
Still hoping.
Still crying out: O come, O come Emmanuel.
Christmas: God Enters Our Wilderness
After centuries of waiting, God answers that cry at Christmas.The apostle John captures what Christmas truly is in one breathtaking sentence:
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." (John 1:14)When John says Jesus "dwelt among us," he uses the Old Testament word for tabernacle. In the wilderness, God's presence filled a tent at the center of Israel's camp. His glory dwelt near his people.
But at Christmas, something far more intimate happens.
Instead of God's glory filling a tent, his glory takes on human flesh. Instead of remaining at a distance, God steps fully into our world.
He walks our roads.
He breathes our air.
Jesus is born into the wilderness of our world—a world marked by political unrest, danger, scarcity, and spiritual confusion. A world filled with false gods and false hopes. A world populated by people who had failed every heart test God had ever given.
From the glory of heaven to a crying baby lying in a feeding trough, Jesus enters our scarcity.
He knows hunger and thirst.
He knows displacement and danger.
He knows suffering and temptation.
He knows loneliness and betrayal.
He enters our wilderness—and experiences firsthand the brokenness of a sin-scarred world. But unlike Israel—and unlike us—Jesus remains faithful.
Jesus Does What We Could Not Do
In Matthew 4, Jesus faces the same core tests in our wilderness that Israel failed:Will you trust God for provision, or take matters into your own hands?
Israel grumbled when hungry. Jesus, after forty days of fasting, refuses to turn stones into bread and entrusts himself entirely to the Father.Will you trust God's presence, or demand proof on your own terms?
Israel tested the Lord, demanding signs in an attempt to get him to act on their own terms. Jesus is tempted to throw himself from the Temple Mount and force God's hand. He refuses. He will not manipulate the Father to prove his love. He rests in the Father's faithfulness without demanding spectacle.Will you worship God alone, or reach for idols to gain power and control?
Israel chased other gods in an attempt to get what they wanted on their terms. Satan offers Jesus another way - I will give you the kingdoms of this world without the suffering of the cross if you will worship me - yet Jesus refuses. He chooses faithful obedience over shortcuts to success.Jesus passes every wilderness test. Where Israel failed, Jesus stands firm. Where our hearts wandered, his heart remained fully devoted. And Jesus doesn't just pass the test—he takes our failure upon himself.
Dying a criminal's death by crucifixion, he bears the full weight of our unbelief, our pride, our misplaced loves, and our refusal to trust God. And in his resurrection, he does what the law could never do: he gives to all who will receive him, new life and a new heart by placing his Spirit within us.
John puts it this way:
"From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." (John 1:16 - 17)And yet—even with new hearts—we still live in the wilderness of this world.
Walking With Jesus Through The Wilderness
We sing of peace on earth, but nations remain at war. We celebrate family, while feeling the ache of strained relationships and empty seats at the table. Celebrations and generosity collide with financial pressure, stress, and exhaustion. This world is still marked by scarcity and struggle.But here, in this wilderness, God strips away what we think we need—so that our hearts are turned more fully toward Jesus. God exposes our misplaced loves and false securities to show us that Christ truly is full of grace and truth.
With Jesus, the wilderness becomes a place where we are formed, sustained, and cared for.
With him, we learn to recognize the enemy's lies.
With him, we discover what truly gives life.
With him, we can count.on receiving daily bread instead of living in constant anxiety.
With him, we find rest instead of endless striving.
The question is, "Will you face this wilderness alone, or will you walk through it with Jesus?"We can rely on our own strength and strategies, or we can entrust ourselves to the One who has already gone ahead of us and stood firm where we failed. And with Jesus, the wilderness does not get the final word.
The same Jesus who entered it for us has promised, and will one day return as King.
The work he has begun in our hearts will be finished. On that day, the new creation already stirring within us will renew the whole world.
Every tear will be wiped away.
Every broken thing will be made right.
Every longing will be fully satisfied.
Until that day, we pray: O come, O come Emmanuel. Not as a cry of despair, but as the honest prayer of people who know they cannot save themselves—and don't have to.
O Come Emmanuel
So don't numb the ache beneath the lights and music.Lean into it. Let that deep longing become a prayer.
Open your heart to Jesus—
to his presence with you now,
and to the sure hope of his coming again.
Because Jesus has come.
Jesus is with us by his Spirit.
And Jesus is coming again.
O come, O come Emmanuel.
Comments