The tree sparkles with lights. The ornaments from Christmases past remind me I am home. I am safe with my familiar rabbit angel and my little brass bell. When I feel the inclination, I open my music box egg and listen to the plinking sounds of “Joy to the World.” The candy canes dangle delightfully. They look perfect from a distance, red and white striped. They are a sweet treat for a cold winter’s night. But the sad truth we recently discovered is that once you begin to unwrap them, they fall into pieces. This is especially frustrating for my young son who was expecting a solid piece of candy to hold in his hands. Instead he ends up with a heap of shards. I suppose someone dropped the box while in the delivery stage but it was not noticeable when I purchased them—something my boy reminds me every time he approaches the tree.
I was talking to a friend recently. She is a jolly old soul whose quick wit and joyful demeanor have done much to brighten my life over the years. She was the first to encourage me when my son enlisted in the Marines. Her husband was a Marine in his younger days and she empathizes. She is steady like a rudder, always guiding the conversation to cheer and support. She affectionately calls me “Kiddo” and is fast with a grin. She was wishing me a Happy Holiday when she said, “My family’s spirits are a bit dampened this year. My brother has bladder cancer.” She said it as an aside and I suppose I could have brushed it off but for my sincere affection for her. I considered what I should say in that moment and my words failed me.
She is not unlike that candy cane—so pretty and sweet in her simple way, but once you remove the wrapper, the cracks emerge. And I begin to wonder. Why do I expect a “happy holiday?” Is it the years of Hallmark Holiday specials that have primed me for the great happy ending? Is it the knowledge that gifts are coming on December 25th—as if a trifling present can wipe away the tears brewing in my heart? Not to say that I’m sad. I’m not. But many people are. When the words “peace, hope, and joy” are being thrown around like a strand of popcorn garland, do we somehow become so desensitized to them that we forget the meaning behind the syntax?
Another friend is single and in the golden years of life. She does not have children but takes great delight in giving gifts to others. She never complains, and is in fact, the first to encourage. So when she recently said to me, “I just don’t feel the holiday spirit this year,” I paused. What is this holiday spirit we are supposed to feel? And if lacking, where is the magic dust I can buy to sprinkle around my heart to make it feel more, well, whatever it is I’m supposed to be feeling?
My son is home for Christmas and has proudly graduated from Marine Boot Camp. It is such a happy time in my home. He tells us story after story of all the wonders of his experience over the past few months. He grunts like the drill instructors, leading me to wonder if he should occupy that position one day. And in serious moments he says things like, “My drill instructor said something that I really took to heart. He was right. And it made me want to try harder.” And in those moments I see the fruit of my ceaseless prayers, and I feel this swell of pride and love such as I have never experienced before. But even then I feel the parting. The moment is not far off when I will wish him goodbye, and my heart cracks, just like those candy canes on my tree.
This past Sunday our pastor was ill at the last minute. In what I assume to be a frantic moment, he called a member of our church to step in and preach. This young man stood before our little congregation and very humbly said, “This is probably not a proper sermon, but rather, let’s call it a devotional because I’ve had very little time to prepare.” And then he began to read Isaiah 9:6.
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
He began to talk about his experiences as a father. It was truly delightful to hear him speak about his young children and his “parental failures”. But not one time in the message did he mention the child who is not present; the little girl they lost a few short years ago when all of the light drained out of their lives. But his words held special meaning for me because I know about the anguish they experienced. So when he spoke about our great hope made flesh in the form of baby Jesus, it meant something. It’s not an old wives tale or a magic dust I can sprinkle around my heart. This hope is real. It is tangible. It is present, even amongst the pain of my life and those around me.
I suppose we could get into a debate about Santa Claus and Jesus, and why people celebrate Christmas with the giving of gifts. Even my young son asked me the other day, “Why does Santa bring presents but Jesus doesn’t?” It caught me off guard and I didn’t know what to say. Talk about epic parental fails. But I remember now… The reason Jesus doesn’t “give us presents” is because he IS the present. He is the great gift—the promised one of old, the beautiful Prince of Peace, the one who will one day wipe all of the tears from our eyes and erase all of our boo boos. He will eradicate bladder cancer and “lack of holiday spirit” and even the loss of our loved ones. It is this “hope” to which I cling and which gives me an abundance of “joy.”
So today if you are hurting, if you feel the loss of that person you loved, if the physical pain is overwhelming, if your emotional burdens threaten to drown you, take heart. There is hope for you too. His name is Jesus. He was born in a manger. He grew up and gave up his life on a cross. And then he rose again from the dead so you could be saved from eternity without God. That’s hope I can believe in and I hope you will too.
Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. – Isaiah 9:7
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