“The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen.” (Luke 2:20 MSG)
“When they saw the star, they were overjoyed.” (Matthew 2:10 MSG)
“Herod, when he realized that the scholars had tricked him, flew into a rage. He commanded the murder of every little boy two years old and under who lived in Bethlehem and it’s surrounding hills… A sound was heard in Ramah, weeping and much lament. Rachel weeping for her children and refusing all solace. Her children are gone, dead and buried.” (Matthew 2:16, 18 MSG)
We had a different Christmas this year; a thousand miles from family in an unfamiliar town and a few days early because our adult son had additional plans. It was quiet and it was sweet. We were each deeply grateful to be together and to have finally finished out a troubled 2019. Christmas day came and went without much fanfare. Our son boarded a plane in Austin and the rest of us slept in because Christmas Eve service had kept us out late. We did laundry and laid about. We went for a scoot and a matinee showing of Little Women. We enjoyed leftover Christmas dinner and each other’s company. I had a lot of time to read and reflect.
I also spent some time on Facebook, intentionally greeting friends and family across the globe. Facebook lets us see that not everyone’s Christmas is the same: some folks have full houses and others empty tables. Some people can’t hardly contain their joy at Christmas and others can’t hardly stop up their sorrow. It is a strange thing, how a date on a calendar can cause such emotional upheaval.
Honestly, I’ve been both people: the absolutely overjoyed and the one too sad to sing the carols. Twenty-two years ago, we got engaged five days before Christmas. I can vividly recall sitting in church, new ring sparkling in the twinkling lights, heart ready to burst. In my youthful bliss, I could not imagine anyone feeling anything other than wildest joy at Christmas. Almost two decades later, my mom passed away just six days before Christmas. Again, I sat in church, this time with leaking eyes, thinking that Christmas could also be the saddest time of the year.
It occurred to me about halfway through our different Christmas how joy and despair have coexisted since the very first Christmas. The shepherds and the wisemen experience greatest joy. But the townspeople of Bethlehem experienced deepest despair. Yes, a Messiah was born, but their sons were lost. I suspect that Christmas will include equal parts joy and despair until Jesus comes again.
Look around, pay attention, and you’ll see what I mean. For every caroler, you’ll find a counterpart shut-in. Beside every full table and full house stands an empty one. Every child coming home reminds someone of a child who won’t come home this year, or maybe ever.
I could clearly feel it in my own heart this season: the dichotomy of Christmas. Our son drove in and family of four was complete again: JOY! My parents were absent in our festivities, my siblings separated by more than just miles: DESPAIR! This entire Christmas season I have vacillated between joy and sorrow, between praise and lament, between together and alone.
Eventually, I am grateful for this insight. It deepens empathy and strengthens muscles for ministry. As I pondered the dichotomy of Christmas, I came to this conclusion:
Don’t let the heartache of what you do not have this Christmas distract from the joy of what you do have this Christmas.
While these thoughts could apply to a beautiful home or piled up presents or a sense of belonging, for me it’s about people. This time of year it’s especially tempting to is sit at my table and mourn for the people who used to be there, but miles or misunderstanding or untimely passing has rendered them absent. I can get stuck there, mired in grief about what could have been. Or I can choose to extravagantly love the people within my reach. I can be grateful that they are still seated with me and I can be sure of the full restoration of Christmas one day.
What do I mean by that?
I can’t imagine heaven without Christmas, can you?
Doesn’t it make sense that all of heaven will come together to celebrate the initiation of salvation? Let’s look forward to that day, when every soul we’ve ever loved will gather at a great table and we’ll laugh and feast and tell stories and despair will slip away forever.
Lord, help us this holiday, to make peace with the joy and despair that dwell side by side at Christmas. Make us aware of the grieving. Give us grace for the overjoyed. May we speak thanks for what we have today rather than staying distracted by our losses. Reign in our hearts this Christmas as we await Your return and full restoration. Amen.