Joy and Sorrow at Christmas

Different views of Christmas

Words to a Christmas carol, as I remember them from my childhood:

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat.
Please put a penny in the old man's hat.
If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do.
If you haven’t got a ha’penny, then God bless you!

My impression of our expectations of the Christmas season today: Get excited! Be happy! Put up flashy decorations. Enjoy the great American pleasure of shopping. Eat holiday foods. Drink holiday drinks. Party. Escape from the hardships of life.

But then I look at the thoughts in the old carol. First joyful anticipation—looking forward to the birth of Christ and a fat goose to feast on. Next a poor old man. A prayer (expressing hope and compassion) for God’s blessing if you’re so broke you can’t even give away half a penny. All enfolded in an upbeat melody. Real joy in the presence of real suffering. A joy that opens the heart to give to those in need.

Which of these two images is more consistent with the first Christmas?

The up side

There were many happy moments surrounding Jesus’ birth. When Mary visited Elizabeth during both of their pregnancies, they praised God and celebrated together. (Luke 1:39-56)

An angel of the Lord appeared to lowly shepherds, bringing good news of great joy. A great company of the heavenly host suddenly joined them, praising God. (Luke 2:8-20)

Wise men from the east followed a bright star to Bethlehem to worship Jesus and present Him with precious gifts. (Matthew 2:1-12)

It’s good and right for us to celebrate His birth with joy and thanksgiving. God living among us in the flesh was the greatest gift the world had ever been given. The very idea that He would live a human life, with its roughness and dirt and hungers, leaves me in awe of His undeserved love and compassion. How can I help smiling and laughing and feasting and giving generously?

But what about those who are experiencing sorrow and pain at this time of year? Are they supposed to just ignore the aching, plaster on a fake smile, and join the celebrations? Should they feel guilty if they’re unable to pump up the enthusiasm that the season seems to demand?

The down side

There was another side to the months surrounding the first Christmas. A solemn side. A dark side. A painful side.

Mary and Joseph faced the unjust judgment of all their friends and neighbors when she became pregnant before they were married (Luke 1:26-38). They were required by a decree of Caesar to make a difficult journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem shortly before Jesus was born. When they arrived in that overcrowded little town, the only lodging they could find was in a stable. That’s where she had her baby. (Luke 2:1-7)

I have a tendency to romanticize their lives at this point. Look how they loved each other, if they were willing to go through so much together. Look how strong their faith was, as they obeyed God every time an angel gave them new instructions.

It seems almost blasphemous to think that they might have questioned God or complained or even just felt weary and discouraged. And yet they were human. And young. They didn’t fully understand what God was doing through them (Luke 2:33). They probably weren’t the perfect pair that I’ve always imagined.

When the Magi came, King Herod was so alarmed by their statement that they were seeking the king of the Jews, that he ordered all the baby boys in and around Bethlehem to be killed. Mothers were helpless as their precious children were murdered. Joseph and his little family fled to Egypt for safety. Another uncomfortable journey. (Matthew 2:1-18)

We could easily make Christmas a time of mourning and sorrow if we chose to look only at the dark side of the times. That obviously wouldn’t be appropriate.

But I think it would be okay to grieve even as we rejoice. To recognize that, as long as Satan is active on this earth, he will attack most viciously when God is pouring out His greatest blessings. And as long as we live on a planet broken by the Fall, pain will always hover around even our most joyful days.

Being both up and down

In spite of my caricature above, in some ways we Americans do experience both joy and sorrow at this Christmas season. We’re more aware of the needs around us now than at any other time of the year.

People give more generously. Organizations provide holiday meals. Children with impoverished or imprisoned parents receive special gifts. We recognize certain kinds of suffering and our obligation to help reduce it.

But do we allow those who are hurting in other ways to feel their pain? Or do we subtly pressure them to get with the program and rejoice?

A Christian friend shared a recent experience with me. Her husband’s health is declining. When she went to an event at church (alone, as her husband was too sick to attend), her heart was heavy with the sorrow of watching him suffer and of knowing that their marriage of more than fifty years was coming to an end. Her pain was intensified as she noticed other women in similar positions laughing and joking.

Her conclusion as she was telling me the story was that she’d had a bad attitude. She should’ve been able to put her grief aside, as those other women were apparently doing, and rejoice in our Savior.

Why can’t we do both? Both grieve and rejoice. Feel the very real pain, as many of the writers of the Bible did. (Especially the prophets and psalmists.) Even Jesus wept. Even when He knew that great rejoicing was only a moment away. (John 11:1-44)

This is the Christian life. It hurts. We suffer. We can’t and shouldn’t downplay that suffering. But the rejoicing is so much fuller than the sorrow. Jesus was born and walked among us. He died to give us eternal life. He rose from the dead. There is now no condemnation for those who follow Him. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. (Romans 8:1, 38-39)

But the pain still lingers. We can get through it because, as one who lived life in the flesh, Jesus is with us in that pain.

Just like in the Christmas carol. We can enjoy the feast without ignoring the sorrow. An old man stands on a street corner begging. Others are so poor they can’t help him out. But Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat, we have the privilege of praying to a compassionate God to bless the needy, and the overall melody is upbeat.

 

 

Binding up the Wounded

Healing and binding up

According to Psalm 147:3, the Lord “heals the brokenhearted . . .”

That’s what I want. When my heart is broken, when I’m suffering from the pains of this life, I want to be healed. Instantly.

“. . . and binds up their wounds.”

But that’s not what usually happens. Most of the time, God begins the healing process by binding up my wounds. He cleanses the area, applies medication, and covers it to protect it from infection. But the cleansing and the medication can sting. The injury can still ache. And a complete recovery can take days or weeks or even months.

How thankful am I for that binding up? Am I on my knees in gratitude for the cleansing, the medication, and the protection? Or do I resent the sting, pick at the scab, and hold back my praise until I’m completely whole again?

The world tells me I don’t have to go through a long messy process to feel better. I can distract myself through mindless entertainment or busyness or shopping. I can dull the pain with physical pleasure or alcohol or drugs.

But that would be providing a bandaid and temporary painkiller where a more thorough treatment is needed. It would be letting the numbed and hidden wound fester and deepen, rather than healing it.

Next steps

After the doctor has done all he can to treat my illness or injury, my body goes to work to continue the process. In the same way, when I’m emotionally and spiritually bruised and broken and bleeding there are things I can do to contribute to my own recovery.

Trust God. Rest in His everlasting arms. (Deuteronomy 33:27)

Worship Him. Both privately and in my church.

Read the Bible, especially the books that soothe my soul.

Pray. Pour out my heavy heart to Him (Psalm 62:8). But also counteract my toxic self-centeredness by expressing my concern for others and my gratitude and praise to God.

Seek fellowship with my sisters and brothers in Christ for their support. And for their teaching and correction.

Confess and turn from my sin. Obey God’s commands.

He’s the One who enables me to do all this. Just as He created my body to be capable of fighting off infection and recovering from injuries, His Holy Spirit provides me with access to the desire and the wisdom and the self-control to foster my emotional and spiritual well-being.

How thankful am I for that desire and wisdom and self-control? How often do I fight it instead?

It can be so hard to trust Him. And to find time to worship and read and pray and seek out other Christians. It’s hard to overcome my pride enough to confess my sin. And to turn away from it and obey His commands. I want the blessing of wholeness without the effort that it takes to get there. Even when God offers me all I need to succeed.

A slow process

Isaiah speaks of binding up the brokenhearted (61:1), not of immediate wholeness. And he’s talking about Jesus (Luke 4:16-21). I always think of Jesus’ earthly ministry as one of instant, miraculous physical healings. No binding up. Just a few words and touches, and everything is fine again. That’s what usually happened.

But maybe that physical healing was just the binding up of wounds, not a complete cure. Maybe the real healing was spiritual, a slower process occurring over time.

Jesus’ miracles were signs intended as a witness to help people see that He’s the Son of God. The miracles performed by the early Christians were given to support their message. Since that time, instant cures have become rarer. The slow process is much more common now. How thankful am I for that slow process?

I can look back and see how God has grown me through gradual healing, and praise Him after the fact. But do I thank Him as it’s occurring, knowing that the testing of my faith develops perseverance, so that I will become mature and complete, not lacking anything (James 1:2-4)? Am I ever thankful for a process that will lead to my not lacking anything at all? Why not?

Brokenness and binding up

Sometimes our brokenness is a direct result of our sin. Psalm 51 was written by David after the prophet Nathan confronted him with seducing Bathsheba and having her husband, Uriah, killed (2 Samuel 12). David says that a broken spirit (in this case, broken by the conviction of sin) is a sacrifice to God. Sacrificing hurts. Facing our brokenness and offering it to God hurts.

Amazingly, though, even after we’ve committed loathsome acts of pride and greed and lust in the presence of our holy God, He binds up our brokenness when we simply repent. And that binding up, that forgiveness, comes quickly. David says to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Immediately, Nathan replies, “The Lord has taken away your sin.”

But it’s only a binding up, not a complete cure. David suffers the consequences of his rebellion when the child that he and Bathsheba conceived dies several days later.

God uses our brokenness over sin, including the physical results, to draw us back to Him. How thankful am I for that brokenness? Without it, I’d continue on my merry way, ignoring and defying Him. I’d reach the end of my life having missed the greatest blessings that come from walking with Him in increasing intimacy.

Dear God of grace and mercy, help me to be more thankful for Your hand in my life, knowing that Your binding up of my wounds is the best means of obtaining the deepest kind of healing. Even though the treatment often stings. Even though the pain lingers for a while. And even though it’s just the beginning of my cure.