The other side of Christmas

YHWH is close to the brokenhearted,

And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

- Psalm 34:18

It was seven years ago, and Christmas was not normal. Not by any means. My dear mother had just passed from this life 12 days earlier, and it was there second year in a row where pain seemed to cast a shadow over the joyous holiday. The previous Christmas had been one of trying to find joy in the midst of her very serious illness. And now she was gone.

It was not the first or only time that I had to dig deep beneath the tinsel and bright lights to find the joy of Christmas. There was 1996 after my sister had been taken and my niece was gravely ill. There was Christmas Eve 1995 when I was inexplicably sad - for no reason I could think of. There have been less severe bouts with loneliness, in short bursts between truly joyous times with family.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? If you're human, I'm guessing it does. Especially if you have your mind saturated with the expectation that the lights, the trees, the presents, the music, and the whole extravaganza will be happy, no matter what.

Well, I've got good news for you. These emotions you struggle with - they are exactly why God took on flesh and entered this world. He knew that, left on our own, we were empty, lonely, and prone to base our happiness on our circumstances. He knew that there would be times where we would be brokenhearted. Poor. Blind.

And that's why he came. He told us so when, some 30 years after that remarkable night in Bethlehem, he began his ministry by quoting from Isaiah 61, saying,

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; he has appointed me to preach Good News to the poor; he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted and to announce that captives shall be released and the blind shall see, that the downtrodden shall be freed from their oppressors, and that God is ready to give blessings to all who come to him." (Luke 4:18-19, Living Bible)

And then, after a long dramatic pause, he declared that this passage was about him and his mission.

So if you're down this Christmas, if you are brokenhearted, God has good news for you. If you are dealing with sickness, death, uncertainty, loneliness, divorce, work problems, or a dozen other reasons that it might be tough to put on a smiley face and say Merry Christmas, take heart. THIS is exactly why Jesus came. This is why he was born to humble parents in a dingy corner of the world and was only visited that night by the poorest of the poor - shepherds. (The Magi came much later.) Because he came to ease our pain. He came to bring life in the midst of death.

Christmas is no cherry on top on of an already happy life. It is the basis for any true joy that we might have in the midst of our pain. Jesus came because we are a hurting people.

That's life. Not a counterfeit brought by Santa and his elves. But real life, from the one who made us. He will bring light to our darkness. If we'll just let him.

I've seen some dark Christmases. Thank God for the light of the Messiah. And that is why we celebrate.

Merry Christmas.

No more night

No more night, no more pain

No more tears, never crying again.

Praises to the great I AM

We will live in the light of the risen Lamb.

- No More Night, words and music by Walt Harrah

Easter 1996 - our family, including Kim, Holly, and Mom

There is nothing that can shake your world to the core like the death of someone you love. Especially when you have no time to prepare for it. Seventeen years ago tonight, like this year on a Thursday, it happened. I don't remember ever experiencing uncontrollable sobbing before that. Or eyes that were burning because when trying to cry, there was nothing left in the tear ducts. Or being awake for almost 48 hours straight. It was terrible.

As I wrote two years ago, this anniversary has progressed from a day of pure mourning to a day of honer and celebration. And it has turned into a day to remember not only Kim, but my mother, my niece, and other people I love who have passed on. Today has been a great day of reflection, thankfulness, and sweet memories.

But in this world wracked by sin and death, the pain is still there. 

Which is why last night was so sweet.

Our choir was rehearsing for this Sunday, and it just so happened that the anthem for this Sunday is No More Night. Wait, no. "It just so happened...?" No, it was from God. I went expecting to prepare for leading worship, but instead I worshipped on the spot. Chill bumps, teary eyes, and a sense of God's presence. Because as I sang, I saw a glimpse of the future. I thought about how inconsolable I have been after death left its ugly fingerprints on our lives, and I was filled with awe at the thought of "no more tears, never crying again."

But even greater was the truth that we will be praising the great I AM, the Lord of everything, forever. And that the light will come from the light of the world, the risen Lamb of God...Jesus.

Listen for yourself:

I still believe I have plenty of work to do here, living out the resurrection in my daily life to make the reign of Jesus a reality in today's world. But it is good to know that there is a day coming when all the pain will be a thing of the past. Jesus will come to unite heaven and earth in a glorious culmination of the work that he began in Bethlehem.

And as we sing the anthem this Sunday, all that will be pulsating from every lyric and every note.

No more night.

Amen.

"Wax on, wax off"

Pain. Discouragement. Grief. Failure. Numbness.

Adversity.

We all face it, in one form or another. For some, it seems to be their entire life. For others, it hits them occasionally. For all of us, there are probably extended periods when we stare into the face of death, disease, losing a job, bankruptcy, or divorce.

Why isn't life easy? Why do we have to go through pain?

The more I think and read about this question (including study of the Scriptures), the more I believe that "why?" is the wrong question. The better question is, "How will God use it to shape us into what we were meant to be?"

There are lots of Bible passages where we see this. We see that Job, possibly the most afflicted man in history, never learns why; but, he does come through it with a better understanding of God's character. We see in Hebrews and James that adversity is used to shape us and produce godly character. We see in Romans that everything - everything - is designed to conform us into the image of Jesus.

And years ago I saw a great example in a classic movie: The Karate Kid (1984).

In this movie (the original, not the 2010 retelling), young Daniel is being picked on at his high school by some bullies. To defend himself, he begins to learn from an elderly man who knows the martial arts. He asks for lessons but gets something much different from Mr. Miyagi: task after task that makes him feel like he's being used as a personal handyman. Sand the floor. Wax the car. Paint the walls. The frustration builds until...



So, he learns that it all did have a point. As he went through hours and hours of manual labor - seemingly pointless except as a way for Miyagi to get his chores done - he was learning. His body was developing muscle memory that would help him defend himself.
_______________________

Whatever we are going through this very day, whatever struggles we have, may seem incredibly pointless. Why is work so hard? What doesn't she love me anymore? Why did she have to die? Why did I have to get sick? Why am I going through this?

I don't know why. I suspect I never will in this life, and neither will you. But I do know that God can use it to strengthen me, to build character, and to conform me to what he wants me to be. And if I let him, he will.

When pain comes next, I pray that I will have the strength to trust him and let it happen.

(For more on this topic, I recommend Trusting God: Even When Life Hurts by Jerry Bridges.)

Only a moment

So I sat in the chair, waiting for the doctor to come in. This medical procedure was not going to be pleasant. No, you don't know want to know any more, trust me. And it's not important.

What does matter is that I knew it was going to be full of, as doctors like to say, "discomfort". A lot of discomfort.

As the time passed, I got philosophical, trying to psyche myself up for it. I reminded myself of some great truths.

• Compared to all of eternity, it was only going to be a moment. I could take that.
• It was going to be nothing compared to the pain endured by the great saints as they were tortured for their faith.
• It is only physical pain. Physical pain is a warning system for a house that is temporary anyway. Physical pain is minor compared to spiritual or emotional wounds.

And so on.

The time came, and it was not fun. But it's over now, the results were good, and life goes on.

And so now I am reflecting on the waiting time. You know, the perspectives I reflected on are just as true about the sufferings of this life. If our hope is in the Messiah Jesus, anything the world throws at us is only temporary. There is a surpassing joy not only in the future, but now, that overshadows the difficulties of life. Stress at work. Grief. Arguments at home. All of those things are only a moment.

And so I can not only survive, but thrive. Because my joy is from another Kingdom, not this one.

Bring it on.

3 am and thankful

I have never been more thankful for the mercy of God. I am unbelievably grateful that Jesus came to bear the penalty for my sin.

And why now? Well, it's simple. It's because I've never felt more keenly what the agony of hell must be like. As I lay here in my bed for the last three hours, my tooth has been throbbing with pain. I have taken as much pain medication as safety permits, and it still hurts. Bad. I really can't remember experiencing anything like this. And so of course I can't sleep.

I normally wouldn't burden you guys with this - and that's not my intent. Rather, I want to share what I have been thinking about while trying to sleep. So here it is: I started thinking about whether I could bear this until Monday, when my dentist can see me. And my next thought was, well, of course I can - 'cause what if it wasn't 'til Monday, but forever? What if there were no dentist, no remedy, nothing but pain, pain pain? Forever?

Of course, a throbbing tooth is only a fraction of what hell would be like. And 36 hours is only a fraction of eternity. But it's enough to get my attention. More than enough.

And so I am doing my best to turn this agony into a positive. Instead of dwelling on how long it is 'til Monday, I'm focusing on how soon Monday is compared to eternity. And I am thankful that because of Christ, I don't have to worry about that.

Thank you, Father!