The Christmas season is supposed to be a season of wonder.

Some (not all) grew up anticipating Christmas morning and everything leading up to it just like they do in the movies.

I did.

And I am grateful for the experience. Boyish wonder is something I feel still serves me today. It is something that fuels imagination. Wonder that fuels theological thinking. I think it’s a great tool and serves me well.

I’m closer to Ebenezer Scrooge than Buddy-the-Elf now. This season in America isn’t about wonder. It’s about merchandising and ending the fourth quarter in the red.

Not much wonder in that.

Wonder can be a rare commodity in a culture fueled by marketing, skepticism, and Memes.

We are creatures who love familiar things. We embrace what we know. We seek out the common. The habitual. The ordinary. Leaving little room for awe and imagination, even in our faith.

I have a weird Christmas tradition.

Because my eyesight is not so good, I have to wear corrective lenses in order to see. Anything. They’re real bad.

But I do have the unique experience of looking at Christmas tree lights without corrective lenses. It’s a sea of bokeh and beauty. I’m awed by it every year.

This year I am reading a book of advent thoughts to stir my imagination and rekindle wonder.

Because it’s okay to be amazed by bokeh.
It’s okay to not entirely understand the beauty.
It’s okay to worship with the wonder, humility, and faith of children.

Advent allows for it.

We should jump at the opportunity.