There’s something I want to tell you that I think some of us need to hear right now.
One night, years ago, one of our kids said, “It doesn’t feel like Christmas.” I think she meant it in passing, but it became a tearful lament as she talked about how we had done all the festive things – the lights were lit, the tree was up, the Christmas music was playing, we had gathered with friends and feasted together – but it still didn’t feel like Christmas.
She couldn’t put her finger on it. Maybe it was because we were moving, maybe it was because Vince and I had both been sick recently, but the feeling of Christmas was missing for her.
Maybe you are also sick. Maybe you are grieving. Maybe you are dealing with conflict, or loss, or transition, or some other hard issue, and it doesn’t feel like Christmas.
Here’s what I want you to hear. It’s what I told her, it’s what I’ve told myself, and it’s what He told me as we began a very hard season several years ago:
Our feelings do not define reality.
Our feelings, especially when they seem contrary to the reality around us and the truth we know, are often the result of attacks from the enemy who seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.
Our feelings are the results of our thoughts, and sometimes our thoughts are not our thoughts at all. Sometimes they are attacks planted by someone who wants to strip your season of joy and strip your identity of truth.
We go through hard things; that is reality. But those things do not define us. Grief does not defeat us, uncertainty does not derail us, and bodily weakness does not make us a failure.
Christmas was never meant to be polished and perfect. Christmas was meant to point us to the Savior who said, “For this purpose I was born and for this purpose I have come into the world – to bear witness to the truth.” He is the Savior who meets us in the middle of our mess. He was born for this.
So Christmas doesn’t have to feel the same way every year to still be Christmas.
Many people are doing different things and are in different situations this year. It feels new and uncomfortable. A little awkward. Maybe it’s deeply painful.
If that’s you, you’re not doing Christmas “wrong.”
Pull back a little, if you can. Don’t look too closely at the pain; don’t give the enemy’s work all your attention. God is at work even more, always more, and He is always taking the enemy’s measly attempts and turning them on their head in triumph for your good and for His glory.
And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
— Romans 8:28
The Lord is moving in this season and all its weirdness. Watch closely for that; you don’t want to miss it.
Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
— Isaiah 43:19
Here’s the thing I have to remember in this season, and maybe it’ll help you, too: Jesus was born in a manger to show us that life will be messy. It doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong when the unpredictable happens. It means we’re human and authentic and always needing Him.
Our need is where He meets us. The sooner we recognize it, the sooner we recognize He’s already here with us.
We think that it would be a perfect Christmas, if only. If only everyone was healthy. If only that person weren’t in the hospital. If only the prodigal would come home. If only that relationship or injury were healed. If only that special need wasn’t so, you know, special.
Here’s what I’m learning and reminding myself, and telling you too, if you need it: Jesus’ birth was a damper, too.
If only they hadn’t had to travel at that time. If only the census wasn’t required. If only there was room at the inn. If only they had been a few days earlier. If only they had a real bed to lay down in. If only…all the things.
And here is where we celebrate His birth. In the imperfect. In the serving. In the waiting and postponing and rescheduling. In the running up and down the stairs with treatments and herbs and broth. In running back and forth from the hospital, or the friends’ house, or the church. In praying for the sick, the wounded, and broken, and in recognizing ourselves among them.
This is where we remember that we need Jesus.
This is why He came.
He knew that the sick and wounded and broken needed a Savior to heal them. He knew we needed help to crush the enemy who harasses us.
And so He came, imperfectly, in terrible circumstances, to be our perfect Savior — the One who took the dirt and the mess and the clawing pain of devastation, and put it all under His feet.
He’s the rescuer who wasn’t afraid to get His hands dirty. He’s the one who ran into the burning building, who never gave up searching until we were safe. He’s the warrior who had no mercy on the enemy for our sake, turning the tables and bringing the whip against those who tried to defeat and destroy us. And He’s the healer who put His hand on our foreheads, and released light and truth and wholeness.
That’s the King we celebrate and emulate on Christmas and every day. He’s the one who became like us to save us, and to show us who we’re really meant to be: The ones who reflect Him, shattering darkness and scattering light in every situation, just like He showed us.
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