Merry Christmas
When I was a kid my grandmother asked me what my favorite holiday was and, unsurprisingly, I answered, "Christmas!" Christmas had everything I loved: family, decorations, great food, gifts galore. But my grandmother frowned. "That's not good," she told me. "It should be Easter! Easter is the most important holiday because it's when Jesus rose from the dead! It is what being a Christian is all about."
Since I've grown, I have come to appreciate much more about Easter and the fullness it holds for our life in Christ. There is nothing like the heart swell of victory, incredulity, and awakening that comes with the Easter resurrection. I would imagine that it feels something like an unexpected win for your claimed sports team, only greatly amplified. (I imagine because I have no loyalty to any team, or any sport for that matter.) I agree with N.T. Wright that Easter should begin with champagne and continue in utter celebration, and tears never fail to fall down my face as we open the church service with singing, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today."
But there is nothing, nothing, that gives my heart tender warmth and comfort like the Incarnation. In some ways, Christmas still wins out in my soul as the most personal act of God's love on display. In the ultimate act of solidarity, God came down to us. Left heaven and power and glory and put on human skin and subjected himself to all manner of pain. There is something about the Incarnation that speaks to me in the holed-up parts of myself, it meets me in my shame and uncovers the lies. Because Jesus came to us then, in history, we can trust and have hope that he does the same today. I am thankful that Jesus always meets us right where we are. We are never far from him, despite how desolate we may feel.
This year I have been pondering on how unbelievable it is that God sent a baby to save the world. A baby. A being that is totally dependent upon the care of others to survive. A being that has to learn, to grow. A baby does not come into the world with any power. What an unlikely beginning for any savior.
In her podcast, The Next Right Thing, Emily P. Freeman talks about how so many in the first century missed the birth of Christ because they were looking for the wrong things:
"They were looking for a king to sit on a throne,
but God sent a baby to lay in a manger.
They were looking for a warrior with a weapon,
but God sent a son to a cross.
They were looking for power,
but God sent humility."
And then she asks her listeners if maybe we, too, are looking for the wrong things?
How often do I miss it?
How often do I trust that God's affirmation will come in the form of success or rest or pleasure?
How often do I miss him in the suffering? The pain? The waiting--oh, the waiting feels constant sometimes. I overlook him there, right next to me, waiting too.
I miss him so many times, overcome with my anxiety, preoccupied with planning, assessing my situations and adapting my reactions.
I am looking for an easy answer,
but God gives me a question: "Who will you trust?"
I am looking for a way forward,
but God holds me right where I am.
I am looking for an ally,
but God carries us all together, the whole earth, the little flock, in need of him.
Christmas with its gifts and decorations and food is still fun to me. But more than that, it is the pointed reminder that God does not leave us as orphans.
Emmanuel, God with us. Nothing could be greater than the truth that we are not alone.
Since I've grown, I have come to appreciate much more about Easter and the fullness it holds for our life in Christ. There is nothing like the heart swell of victory, incredulity, and awakening that comes with the Easter resurrection. I would imagine that it feels something like an unexpected win for your claimed sports team, only greatly amplified. (I imagine because I have no loyalty to any team, or any sport for that matter.) I agree with N.T. Wright that Easter should begin with champagne and continue in utter celebration, and tears never fail to fall down my face as we open the church service with singing, "Christ the Lord is Risen Today."
But there is nothing, nothing, that gives my heart tender warmth and comfort like the Incarnation. In some ways, Christmas still wins out in my soul as the most personal act of God's love on display. In the ultimate act of solidarity, God came down to us. Left heaven and power and glory and put on human skin and subjected himself to all manner of pain. There is something about the Incarnation that speaks to me in the holed-up parts of myself, it meets me in my shame and uncovers the lies. Because Jesus came to us then, in history, we can trust and have hope that he does the same today. I am thankful that Jesus always meets us right where we are. We are never far from him, despite how desolate we may feel.
This year I have been pondering on how unbelievable it is that God sent a baby to save the world. A baby. A being that is totally dependent upon the care of others to survive. A being that has to learn, to grow. A baby does not come into the world with any power. What an unlikely beginning for any savior.
In her podcast, The Next Right Thing, Emily P. Freeman talks about how so many in the first century missed the birth of Christ because they were looking for the wrong things:
"They were looking for a king to sit on a throne,
but God sent a baby to lay in a manger.
They were looking for a warrior with a weapon,
but God sent a son to a cross.
They were looking for power,
but God sent humility."
And then she asks her listeners if maybe we, too, are looking for the wrong things?
How often do I miss it?
How often do I trust that God's affirmation will come in the form of success or rest or pleasure?
How often do I miss him in the suffering? The pain? The waiting--oh, the waiting feels constant sometimes. I overlook him there, right next to me, waiting too.
I miss him so many times, overcome with my anxiety, preoccupied with planning, assessing my situations and adapting my reactions.
I am looking for an easy answer,
but God gives me a question: "Who will you trust?"
I am looking for a way forward,
but God holds me right where I am.
I am looking for an ally,
but God carries us all together, the whole earth, the little flock, in need of him.
Christmas with its gifts and decorations and food is still fun to me. But more than that, it is the pointed reminder that God does not leave us as orphans.
Emmanuel, God with us. Nothing could be greater than the truth that we are not alone.
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