Photo by Mariana B. via Upsplash.
I found myself desperate for stability during the Christmas season.
My usual stubbornness was amplified. I craved tradition. I wanted our family to experience as much Christmas spirit as we possibly could.
As a child, I spent the holidays bouncing between my divorced parents. They traded every other Thanksgiving. We were with Mom on Christmas Eve and Dad on Christmas Day. New Years Eve or New Years Day varied simply based on how the calendar lined up with the custody agreement.
Strangely enough, this instability prepared me for ministry in an unstable area. We experienced our first “temporary, strategic relocation” just three months following our initial allocation, due to political unrest. We continue to travel in and out of our area regularly, because supplies are scarce. It’s exhausting. Yet strangely familiar.
But when I found out our organizational meetings requiring our attendance would be in December, and therefore we would have to travel around the holidays, I wanted to scream. The little girl that wanted to stop the chaos decades earlier was crying out.
I never wanted my boys to experience chaotic holidays being bounced around the same way I was. But somehow we found ourselves experiencing our seventh Christmas season in a different home. I did everything in my power to bring tradition to our chaotic life. We lit candles for Advent. We hung our Jesse Tree ornaments each day. We drew Christmas dragons (because Revelation 12). We hung paper snowflakes.
But still, I mourned.
Then, in the midst of grief and chaos, came this: there is stability in the Christmas stable.
Traditions are beautiful and grounding. The desire to be in one place long enough to breath is normal. Wanting your children to experience the wonder of the season is good.
But Christmas is not about the things we do to remember – it is about the event we are meant to remember.
It’s about a tiny baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger: Immanuel – God with us.
We know the rest of the story – that tiny baby grew into a man, lived a perfect life, willingly died on a cross, and rose again. He brought unimaginable peace by reconciling the world back to the Father (Col. 1:20). And He brings the stability we are desperate for, because “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever,” (Heb. 13:8, NIV).
Christmas invites us to remember. We remember Jesus came and that He will do it again.
Friend, I invite you to meditate on Luke 2:1-21 and celebrate the coming of Jesus with a heart of worship. I invite you to find stability in the Christmas stable.
Faithfully,
P.S. Something tells me Mary and Joseph would have some humbling words to share about chaos, interrupted traditions, and frustrating travel plans…
Joy From Fear 