Falling Over the (Christmas) Finish Line
An exhausted parent's confession of relief in finally making it to Christmas and wondering if that is how God intended it to be
Greetings Glory Carriers!
Well, the week of Christmas is finally here. In the Philippines, Christmas begins in September (known as the ‘ber’ months), so it is all the more finally here. And in all of our humble efforts to create a meaningful journey for our family through Advent, I must confess I often feel that getting to this week is like reaching the proverbial “finish line” - aptly portrayed in the runner’s face above!
Is anyone with me?
As a (former) runner in my (former) glory days, nothing was more relieving and exhilarating than seeing that finish line in sight.
Except for the holiday season, our race does not entail running (well, for most of us). Instead… we baked, crafted, created, cooked, decorated, delivered, hosted, helped, hoped, hugged, gave, gabbed, grubbed, shopped, shouted (only a little in super stressful moments), wrapped, worked, waited, lit candles, laughed, sang and celebrated…phew! I think I need a nap after typing all of that out, let alone living it.
Is it the ministry life? The modern life? The mom life? All of life that demands all of these so-called ‘wonderful’ things each year?
And they are wonderful. But by golly if it doesn’t take everything you’ve got to ‘pull it off’ each year. It’s a funny thing really, isn’t it? On one hand there is a deep sense of pride and satisfaction of all that was done and accomplished with and for my four children over the last month, while on the other hand I notice some nagging questions rising to the surface of my weary soul (despite my attempts to ignore them or stuff them down never to see the light of day):
What are we doing all this for again? Is all of this really necessary? Is this really what God had in mind in celebrating the birth of his Son?
I don’t think those are questions with easy answers, but I would be remiss if I didn’t at least share the honest rumblings and tensions that inevitably flare up in my own soul year after year as we drink the cultural kool-aid of commercialism, chaos and consumption. They are rumblings and tensions that invite us to sit and ponder, and pay them some holy attention.
What are yours? Your rumblings and tensions, I mean. That are eagerly trying to push their way to the forefront of your soul? If you’ll let them. The wild and unruly things that they are.;)
For me, this year, the question bubbling up in my exhaustion is…
Is This Really What God Had in Mind?
We did and do all these things with gusto, in the lead up to and in the name of our Savior’s birth. But when we step back, I can’t help but wonder, was this what God has in mind? And by ‘this’ I mean the busyness, the fanfare, the endless (and in the Philippines, it is endless!) parties and gifts. The God who sent His Son to make a humble and simple and quiet and peaceful entry into the world?
As I am falling over the finish line for yet another year, I can’t help but wonder what God actually intended for our celebration of Christmas - and how much of it is merely our cultural import. Gulp.
His arrival could have been anywhere and in any setting, and God sovereignly chose the place of a smelly, dark and dirty stable. Not only that but Jesus, the Savior was born to an unknown and unmarried teenage mother. Not insignificant details.
In the strangeness yet sacredness of the story, God was communicating something extraordinary in the utterly ordinary. He was screaming an almost insane and counter-intuitive message of His shiniest glory showing up in the un-shiny, the un-imaginable, the un-impressive and the un-magnificent details… of the mundane. Bordering, in appearance, even the profane.
It was in the humble, simple, quiet, peaceful and oh so ordinary, where the mystery of the glory of the God of the universe chose to dwell and manifest for all time. Crazy. Mind-blowing. Yet beautiful.
Then this further question wrestles its way to the surface of my soul: Is my approach to the season reflecting that simple and quiet and humble and peaceful way of our Savior’s entry into the world?
And I am dismayed by the slowness of my soul’s answer.1
At the dawn of Christmas week 2024, something within me is churning. But what is it? Though words have yet to form fully, I am being drawn to pay attention to these stirrings of ‘holy discontent.’
It is as if, even amidst the joy and light and laughter and fullness of it all, I long to change something fundamental about how my family and I are approaching the season and celebration of Christmas, of Christ’s humble birth.
I don’t know what that something is, but there is a yearning there. A yearning for the humble, simple, quiet and peaceful of that earliest stable setting. So with no concrete answers yet, I lift up my yearning as an offering and turn it into a prayer, that perhaps you might want to pray too as your own soul churns and yearns as you fall across your own finish line:
Lord, I lift this yearning for a more simple way of celebrating your birth as a true reflection of why and how you came. Speak Lord, for your servant is listening. Help me to grow as I seek to reflect - and bring my family along in reflecting - the humble, simple, quiet and peaceful attitudes and actions of your earthly arrival all those years ago. Amen.
There are no short or straightforward answers to the thoughts and questions posed here. But this I do know…
We Are Invited into a Life of Rest, Not Stress
The verse that continually ministers to my soul and whispers fresh invitation year after year is when Jesus says to the crowds living fearful, fretful and frenzied lives,
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matt 11:28-30)
Our Savior’s birth is meant to draw us into his divine rest, not stress. I know this is a tough balance to strike when we are serving those we love (the Martha vs Mary paradigm) and desire to create special memories for and with our families. The festivities, the food and the fun are part and parcel of the season. And our pouring ourselves out for those we love is the ultimate act of self-giving love that does surely delight our Father and reflect the love of our Savior, no doubt.
But if our pouring out and giving, giving, giving of ourselves as parents isn’t from that place of divine rest Jesus promises, then what are we even doing? Isn’t our (holiday) labor in vain? I am reminded of the Psalmist who wrote,
“Unless the LORD builds the house, the builders labor in vain.” (Psalm 127:1)
Unless we build and establish and create our holiday rhythms from God and His rest, how easily the things we do can cross over into vain striving and stress. I’m embarrassed to admit, I know this first hand.
So as we fall over the finish line this week, reveling in all that has been ‘built’ to create yet another special Christmas for our family (hallelujah), let us not forget in whose arms we are falling. Jesus, the one for and in whom we do all the (million and one) things, is ironically the one who is there to catch us as we fall (revisit the facial expression in the photo of the runner at the top of the page). Stop and imagine that for a moment - yourself with that face, falling into his arms. Then hear him say while giving you that piercing look straight in your eyes:
Well done good and faithful parent. You’ve poured yourself out. You’ve given all you can give. And in that you glorified Me. Now take a moment to exhale. Come, fall into my arms. And rest a while, my dear child. I see you. I love you. I’m so very proud of you. Now let me carry your load, so that you may feel light once again. Let me carry… you.
We made it, my friends. Now, let’s celebrate and relish in the coming of our King.
Merry Christmas from My Home of Glory to Yours,
Ali
Fun Family Photos of the Week
Movie of the Week
I borrowed this phrase from my dear friend and author, Sarah Clarkson, in her excellent book, Reclaiming Quiet, as she notices her soul’s response to her own reflective questions.