Love in the Cracks and Chaos

Love in the Cracks and Chaos

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,
‘See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.’

And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’

Revelation 21:1-5

As you read this, my wife and I will have just attempted the truly courageous act of parental optimism, the overnight red-eye with our three kids in tow. We are returning from my cousin’s wedding, and booked the Christmas Eve red-eye because it was the cheapest option (i.e. nobody else is crazy enough to want it). The last time we braved a night flight, our then-seven-year-old vomited spectacularly, our five-year-old developed pressure headaches with accompanying cabin echoing screams, and our one-year-old spiked a fever mid-air.

Heaven, to me, would have been the simple joy of lying horizontally in my own bed - alone, silent, un-vomited on. 

And yet, even in that chaos, as much as part of me wanted escape, there was also no place I would rather have been. My daughter pressed against my chest in the dim cabin light finding what comfort I could offer. My son clutching my arm as I tried to soothe him and let them know it was going to be O.K. My wife and I catching each other’s eye with that mix of exhaustion and affection only parents at 3 a.m. can understand.

Little cracks. Small breakthroughs of love right in the middle of the mess.

Revelation 21 is born in a chaos far less trivial than my airborne apocalypse. John doesn’t receive this vision from a quiet retreat but from the margins of empire, watching a world unravel. Most scholars place the writing of Revelation at around 90-95CE, during the rule of the Roman emperor Domitian. The churches of Asia- Minor receiving John’s words lived in a world of authoritarian rule and cult worship of Caesar, amidst a system and empire propped up by propaganda, military expansion, political violence and exploitation. Many were feeling crushed by the world around them, uncertain of their future.

And into that darkness comes a glimpse of something breathtaking: 

A new heaven and a new earth, 

God dwelling with us, 

Every tear wiped away, 

All things made new.

The promise of a cosmic renewal — vast, sweeping, unimaginable

But one that begins with presence.

With nearness.

With God coming close.

A God that draws us in close, wipes way our tears, and assures us it’s all going to be O.K.

Love breaking through.

Which is why this vision sits so beautifully on Christmas Day.

For today we remember that the renewal of all things doesn’t begin at the end of time, but in the middle of it - in a small, crowded home in Bethlehem, in the fragile cry of a newborn, in Jesus taking on flesh and entering our chaos, not to escape it, but to transform it from within.

And in a world marked by violence, poverty, exploitation, injustice and brokenness we need that promise as much as we ever have. We wrestle with economic systems that harm people and our planet, a society that too often has stepped away from reconciliation rather than toward it, political systems that punish rather than protect those most in need, including our children and asylum seekers, and of course, the brokenness within our own homes and within ourselves.

We need the Jesus who shows up in the cracks.

We need the Christ who draws near.

We need the love that is breaking through.

In the tenderness we show to our children at 3am.

In courageous acts of compassion.

In communities seeking justice.

In the sound of laughter, and moments of hope restored and change that has come.

In the surprising moments, both small and world changing, where God’s renewal bursts through the fractures of the world as it is. Moments that so often occur when we choose to follow the one that is love incarnate.

After our all-night Christmas Eve flight, I’m sure the chaos of the world will be feeling all too present today. But whatever state we’re in, bleary-eyed, overtired, and possibly still carrying the faint scent of cabin calamity, I know I’ll be holding onto this truth:

Love has come.

Love is near.

And one day Love will make all things new.

Gershon Nimbalker is the National Director of Common Grace and founder of Sojourners Social Change Consultants. With over 15 years of experience in advocacy, policy, and research, he has led numerous grassroots movements campaigning on social justice issues. Gershon lives on Awabakal Country in Newcastle, NSW, with his young family.

This devotional is the last in a series of daily email devotionals for Advent 2025 reflecting on the realities of our broken world along with the unshakable hope that love still breaks through. It explores how God’s love disrupts, heals, and transforms—breaking through darkness, despair, and injustice to bring light, joy, and renewal.

__________

Common Grace is a diverse movement of individuals, churches and communities passionate about Jesus and justice. We have come together as those from different Christian traditions who stand in the continuity of the historic Christian faith, centred on the life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ as witnessed to in holy scripture. This series highlights the diversity of followers of Jesus across these lands. These voices may not agree with one another (or with you), but they are each an expression of longing for the God whose love we see break through in Jesus.

We pray this 2025 series has been a blessing and encouragement you in this season of Advent.