A Beautifully Broken Christmas
Learning to bless the Spirit of the season.
I love the idea of Christmas.
I love the festive atmosphere and Starbucks red cups, wrapping presents, making cookies, and sipping coffee in the warm early morning glow of the Christmas tree.
Every year, my heart reaches deep down into childhood moments filled with giddy expectation, the hopeful unabashed anticipation that THIS year will be different. This year will be perfect. My heart clings to happier memories, carefully-timed snapshots of Christmas cards hanging in the kitchen, stockings freshly-filled on Christmas morning, the captivating warmth of the fireplace. I remember decorations on tables and walls, colorful distractions that lightened the mood and gave each day a constant visible infusion of hope. Could there be something worth celebrating that was bigger and stronger than that invisible thing which weighed down lesser, ordinary days with a slow drip of impending dread?
I love the idea of Christmas.
I love candlelight Christmas Eve services, when the maddening world stops spinning and my heart rate slows along with it, as the lights fade out and I gratefully give in to the entrancement of flickering candles and soothing voices singing soft melodies into the darkness. And no one can see my eyes fill up with tears.
I love the idea of Christmas.
Until the helpless, vulnerable paralysis of my past reality clamors to the forefront of my memory. When the delusion dissolves into a barrage of bright commercials filled with grinning family faces gathering around tables, modern-day Norman Rockwell pictures that prod memories of heartache to the surface, goaded on by intrusive kitschy Christmas music blaring out from every street and storefront.
And, I fight back.
I fantasize about starting my own new traditions. I buy holiday Starbucks drinks in spontaneous cheerful acts of defiance. I decorate the tree with a perfect balance of color and not too many ornaments, just the way I like it. And, I tell myself I will bake cookies and drink wine and spend time with friends and turn the music up and stay happy and keep busy, until I stop feeling left out.
The self-talk started early this year. This year will be different. This year, I will get a head start and all the not nice feelings will finally get left behind, obscured and obliterated by magical Christmas fairy dust.
It was going so well, until all of a sudden it wasn’t. Do you ever feel like it takes days to proactively plan but only seconds to get caught off guard? And, the dust settles surprisingly fast.
I shared my feelings with a friend, how in spite of my best efforts I couldn’t catch and keep the spirit of Christmas this year. She was quick to console.
“You really don't have to feel anything specific just because it's the Christmas season. It's okay for you not to feel childlike joy at the side of a Christmas tree! I'll admit this year I'm struggling a little to get into the swing of things too! It feels like it's happened way too fast and I'm not ready yet. I spent two solid days getting my house decorated inside and out and the kids are definitely ready... But, I'm over here. Still feeling a little off.”
Her words bring a sense of comfort, and yet I hear my heart’s still small muffled cry.
But, it’s Christmas.
I asked Jesus, why can’t I, after all these years, just let it be Christmas? Why can’t the season in itself be enough? Why can’t the joy of His birth push past all of the pain? Why can’t I just listen to music and make caramels and put up Christmas lights without feeling the underlying, gnawing, painful twinge of my past?
Even the sight of a lovely, conservative nativity scene was enough to make my blood boil with frustration, because I just couldn’t seem to feel the holiday “spirit.” Even when it’s Jesus. Why is this time of the year the hardest time for me to feel peace on earth?
It feels sinful and selfish and shameful. It’s not about me, it’s about the birth of Christ. He came to suffer and die and set us free. Surely, that should be enough. I have much reason to celebrate. I should feel nothing but thankfulness and joy.
As I prayed out my feelings, Jesus brought to mind a passage of scripture that precedes a prophetic description of His coming. The Messiah. Our Savior. Redeemer.
And it is anything but joyful.
He says, “I looked for someone among them who would build up the wall and stand before me in the gap on behalf of the land so I would not have to destroy it, but I found no one.” Ezekiel 22:30
Sin and corruption was rampant preceding the arrival of Jesus. Judgment could not be turned back, because there was no one left who sought the grace of God, no one to stand in the gap and intervene on behalf of the people.
Before Jesus, there was deep and heavy darkness, spiritual grief, and joylessness. The people had no peace, no deliverer. Israel herself was crushed under the heavy weight of its own hypocrisy, evil, oppression, and injustice. But, while people willingly turned their backs on God and broke their own covenant with Him, the Lord’s love and faithfulness stood firm. When no one else was found, He took it upon Himself.
And, light burst forth into darkness.
As a child, I remember reciting the angelic message announcing Jesus’ birth. “On earth, peace, goodwill toward men.”
And I often wondered, why don’t I feel it?
It’s easy for me to feel like something is wrong with me during the holiday season, as the world happily drowns itself in commercialism and costume and synthetic lights. Perhaps, at no other time does it more hastily define blessing and blessedness by the amount of money you have, how many presents are under your tree, what you wear to church, and the number of people around your table.
It doesn’t take much to start feeling left out and like you do not measure up.
When we define our state of blessing by the material things we have and the way we feel, it’s no wonder so many of us who carry scars from trauma, abuse, poverty, and broken relationships feel as though we suddenly fall short. It’s hard to rally when it seems like circles are drawn and yours is small and empty.
Friends, I hate admitting that in spite of all the counseling I have done, all the work, and my deep love for the Lord, this time of the year is still challenging for me.
But, as I was praying through these thoughts and feelings, Jesus graciously reminded me that He doesn’t look at me or these things the way the world does.
In this season, when we feel the weight of broken relationships, pain from past sin, and a deep longing for peace that transcends the commercialized plastic packaging full of empty promises and fleeting joy, this is not the moment to condemn our hearts for desperately wanting more.
This is the moment where Jesus steps in and whispers. Yes, this is why I came.
In this season, when we feel the weight of broken relationships, pain from past sin, and a deep longing for peace that transcends the commercialized plastic packaging full of empty promises and fleeting joy, this is not the moment to condemn our hearts for desperately wanting more.
In perhaps His most famous sermon, Jesus describes how He defines the state of blessedness.
In Matthew 5, the first thing He says is “blessed are the poor in Spirit.” These are the humble, those who are experiencing the opposite of pride. Those who feel “less.” Who are grieving over sin and the impact of it in their lives and the lives of those around them. But, Jesus says, blessed are these. “Blessed are the poor in Spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”
Jesus seeks the humble. He elevates those who are low. He lifts up the brokenhearted. In the middle of the mess, He draws near. He says, these are mine. These are those whom I seek to give the kingdom of heaven.
Second, He says “blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” When loneliness and pain and loss leaves you desperately wishing and wanting for more, Jesus sees you. He scans the room looking for those who are looking for Him. You can not receive comfort from Jesus or the people He has placed in your life to care for you without the courage to acknowledge your pain and allow yourself to mourn, even when it hurts unbearably, even when it doesn’t feel convenient. Even when it’s in the middle of Christmas.
Third, Jesus says “blessed are the meek, for these will inherit the earth.” Not the jolly, exuberant, carefree faces on social media or the big personalities in the limelight at that exclusive Christmas gathering that make you feel like you are less and don’t belong. Jesus looks for those who come forward with raw honesty and humility, those willing to acknowledge their need, their broken stories and imperfect hearts.
In Isaiah 40, God speaks about His coming Salvation:
“Comfort, yes, comfort My people!”
Says your God.
“Speak comfort to Jerusalem, and cry out to her,
That her warfare is ended,
That her iniquity is pardoned;
For she has received from the Lord’s hand
Double for all her sins.”
God sent Jesus to comfort His people, to provide for those whose hearts were broken and who were carrying heavy burdens, to care for them as a shepherd finds and cares for a lost sheep. To love them abundantly.
Jesus didn’t come to join the party. He came to rescue us, to show us His love and to bring us hope. Healing. A promise for the future. He came to say there is a seat at His table reserved just for you.
Jesus came in darkness, poverty, and humility to save and bless the poor in spirit, the humble, and the meek.
He came with heavenly lights, as angels declared, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.”
Jesus didn’t come to join the party. He came to rescue us, to show us His love and to bring us hope. Healing. A promise for the future. He came to say there is a seat at His table reserved just for you.
To those on whom His favor rests.
This season, don’t let the brokenness and the pain of this world darken the light and the truth that longs to burst forth from within you.
Jesus came in darkness, poverty, and humility to save and bless the poor in spirit, the humble, and the meek.
Nothing you can see and taste and touch and feel in this world is capable of filling the place in your soul that is God-sized and God-shaped. Don’t let the world tell you what will fulfill you, because the world will always fall short. The only One who can satisfy the depths of your longing and bring you peace that truly transcends understanding is the one who comes bearing the greatest gift. Himself. His presence. His love. And, a sure promise that declares your freedom, your future, and from this – your unshakeable joy.
In a world that shudders still under the weight of evil and shadows of darkness, cling to the divine light of the promise that still stands. He came, and He is coming again.
And, remember that in stark contrast to the world that looks at fleeting beauty, fading wealth, and superficial joy, Jesus defines the true state of blessing. The glorious spirit of Christmas is ushered in not by those who seem to have it all but by those who come humbly to the foot of the manager, their hands open and empty, on their knees in humble adoration of the God who humbled Himself to bring them comfort and hope.
Jesus came not to stand on the sidelines of our holiday fellowship but to be the whole focus of our love, the light of our soul, and the bread of our life. Jesus came with great love and pleasure to those on whom His favor rests. He endured the cross for the joy set before Him, a joy not without pain but filled with hope and the promise of a better future – with you.
The glorious spirit of Christmas is ushered in not by those who seem to have it all but by those who come humbly to the foot of the manager, their hands open and empty, on their knees in humble adoration of the God who humbled Himself to bring them comfort and hope.
This season, may you define yourself and your value only in His divine light, as one whose heart matters and who is loved deeply, not for what has happened to you but for who you are – one on whom the favor of the Lord rests.
This is Christmas.
The world says you are not enough.
Jesus says, the kingdom is yours.
Friend, are you letting God love you, first?
Ask yourself these three questions, and ask Jesus how to take your next step towards joining Him in binding up broken hearts - including your own!
1
Am I willing to honor and bless my brokenness like Jesus?
2
Do I believe that I am loved and favored by God?
3
Am I seeking to give myself and others comfort and grace in this season?
One more thing…
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