The Most Meaningful Christmas
Few times of year offer as much nostalgia as Christmas. When I hear the sounds of Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, Mariah Carey, or the Vince Guaraldi Trio’s “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” the memories flow back. When I was 5, maybe 6, I remember a sound awakening us on Christmas Eve. It turns out my mom and dad were “testing” the new Atari with a game of Space Invaders. A couple of years later, I remember opening up the Ewok Village beside a real Christmas tree covered in big multicolored lights, like the ones from “Stranger Things.” I can’t forget the Christmas when Dad surprised us with a Go-Cart. I often think back to the first Christmas with my new blended stepfamily when one of my younger brothers got a Golden Retriever puppy. Years later, my first Christmas married was extra special, just like the first Christmas for each of my daughters. All of those memories bring a smile to my face.
But Christmas feels different this year. As I glance at my calendar, I’ve never had a December this barren. Parties cancelled. Outings cancelled. Gatherings cancelled. In-person worship cancelled. It will be a Christmas unlike any I’ve experienced, and as I reflect on that, I’ve come to this conclusion. Christmas 2020 will possibly be the most significant and meaningful Christmas of my life. Most fun, probably not. Most entertaining, no way. But most important, very likely.
Why? It will be the most similar Christmas I’ve ever had in comparison to the original. Admittedly, the abundance of my normal holiday experience proves very different than the first. We all walk around with that realization. To wake us up to that, we surround ourselves with cliché reminders like “Jesus is the reason for the season” or “Keep Christ in Christmas.” Throughout history, many have not needed that reminder, but we often do. Why? Our extravagant and opulent celebrations can serve as major distractions from what actually took place on that night in Bethlehem. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of parties and gift giving. Yet, like many things, the allure of excess shows up often. On most Christmases, I have to be vigilant to remember what it’s all about.
I remember a particular Christmas Day, probably around age 8-10. It was one of the years after my mother’s death but before my dad remarried. That morning, we excitedly ripped open our gifts and set about putting toys together and playing Nintendo. After an hour or so, my father called me and my older brother into his bedroom. He sat us down and shared his gentle concern that the materialism of the day might distract from truly appreciating the gift of Jesus. To bring this point home, I remember him reading a story, which I think was a modern retelling of sorts of Matthew 25 (whatever you did for the least of these you did for me). After a few minutes, we went back to playing. Still, that message stuck. The truth hovered around me, even as I recognized that remembering that truth would be a lifelong challenge. Now as a father, it’s my turn to watch holiday movies, exchange gifts, and hang Christmas lights with my kids and then pull them aside every now and then to say, “remember who this is all about.” The distractions continue to prove powerful.
But this year, of all the Christmases I’ve experienced, may be the perfect year for us all to understand the birth of Jesus in a deeper way. This year, I feel a sense of disconnection. So many get togethers have been cancelled. My family will not assemble all together this year. I won’t get to see my mom reenact the nativity story with my daughters and their cousins. I won’t get to crack jokes and laugh with my brothers. We won’t have the Family Christmas Eve Talent Show. My church will not assemble all together this year. We won’t have the annual Candlelight service. When the kids sing Silent Night at the close of the service with lit candles in the dark, it’s one of the top 5 moments of the year. It won’t happen this year. We did our church Dirty Santa party on Zoom. It was fun, but not the same. My church is my second family, and it hurts to know I won’t be able to look them in the eye and say, “Merry Christmas”, and to hear it back from them. I feel disconnected.
I feel a sense of loss. I’m grateful I’m healthy and have a job, yet I know so many who don’t.
I feel a sense of exhaustion. Nine months of a pandemic. A year of challenging but necessary conversations. An emotional political cycle.
I long for good news. As daily headlines roll out the COVID numbers alongside continued signs of distrust and angst, I long for better news.
Amidst all of that, I go to the nativity. I go to the manger. And more than any other Christmas of my life, I get it. Mary and Joseph feel disconnected, away from home with no room in the inn. Mary undergoes the throes of labor in an unsanitary setting surrounded by livestock. They are lonely and isolated. They are pushed out and immersed in the unfamiliar. Why are they far from home? The ego and oppressive hand of the emperor has demanded a census. An occupied and oppressed people, they have little choice but to obey. It’s a dark, anxious, and alienated time.
Yet, in the face of all that trauma, an audacious truth rose from Bethlehem. God is with us. Depleted and exhausted, I imagine Mary lying there with a deep sense of joy, as if she’s in on a secret. Because she was. The light had come. Good had come into the world, and someday, that good would triumph over evil.
God is with us. We are not alone in this world, in this universe. Better days are coming. God shows solidarity in our suffering and will someday redeem it all. Hope rises despite the pain. In the midst of all the heavy sadness, good news has come. While I continue to live an incredibly blessed life, the stark reality of this Christmas helps me understand the birth of Jesus more than ever before. It’s easier to see the light when it’s surrounded by darkness. In this Christmas season, when simple has replaced elaborate and small seems wiser than big, perhaps we can understand this truth.
The other day, a friend of mine called the coming vaccine the “light at the end of the tunnel.” I share her enthusiasm, and I’m grateful for the gifted, hardworking researchers and doctors who have developed the vaccines. I believe the vaccines represent a blessing from God. Even more than that, the healing foreshadows a time when Jesus will heal and reconcile all things. And that makes me smile, like I’m in on a secret. So, let’s encourage each other. Let’s bundle up for an outside driveway visit. Let’s send Christmas cards. Let’s text and call each other. God is with us.
Christmas 2020. Not the most fun. Not the most exciting. But perhaps, it will be the most meaningful of our lives, an opportunity to understand the first Christmas like never before.
