A Hard and Holy Christmas

I wish for life to be like a Hallmark movie where love and contentment always win. The ending is tidy and sealed in a pretty package accentuated with a red bow, but that is entertainment and far removed from reality. These movies lead me off course every year around the holidays. They provide a magical escape from the tender truths that are indigenous to what many profess to be the happiest time of the year. There is a not-so-jolly presence that we cannot escape, though. Suffering. The Christmas season is prone to hold a magnifying glass up to an unfair world.

The shattered fragments of people’s pain wear many faces, hold no prejudices, and do not adhere to calendars or circumstances. Maybe the agony shows up in the loss of health, a job, a relationship; a loved one, or the incredible heartache that settles in when we hear someone has to bury their child. Broken people, broken families, broken worlds; may all present differently, but fractured hearts are inherent to us all. The holidays, as merry and bright as they are for many, are equally melancholy for others.

Life is incongruent with my desire for everyone to be happy, but I have learned this difficult lesson: happiness is a circumstantial frailty, not a gospel actuality. Without the assurance of our eternal inheritance, we stand here poor, hopeless, and lost.

Hope is hard and holy, yet both were the backdrop for the birth of our Savior. Nothing in this world lacks the melodic marriage of beauty and brutality. That is not easy, but when we focus on the tenants of the first, it fosters gratitude despite the latter.

In his last words, a 1700s French writer captured something very tragic yet significant. “And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead.” ~ Nicolas Chamfort

Sometimes our greatest challenge as we go about living in this world that is remarkable one moment and ruthless the next is continuing to engage. It is tempting to check out, but we are called to check-in. Numbing our hearts feels like safety, but it dims love and light in a world that desperately needs them. Is leaning into life straightforward in our climate of unparalleled death, destruction, and hatred? No, it is not effortless, but it is essential.

I know many of you are facing unspeakable burdens. My heart aches for you. Right now, pressing in may feel overwhelming. That is understandable. Take the next smallest step in the right direction, and your stamina will increase over time if you keep your hand to the plow. We, unfortunately, have to drink from the cup of hurt before we can be quenched by the hand of The Healer; but God will not forsake His children. One way He manifests himself is through community. I pray wherever you find yourself today, the love of those around you warms, even if just slightly, the weeping heart inside you. Your internal song may never be the same, but I know your soul will sing again. The lessons grief teaches will remain with you and be the balm for the next hurting heart that crosses your path. At the intersection of someone else’s pain, yours will find purpose, and that makes all the difference!