But for others, Christmas looks very different. There are no traditions to celebrate and, often, the memories surrounding the holiday season are not beautiful at all, but messy and even painful. In their past, Christmas included family bickering, not happy laughter. The shadows of loss or neglect or some other kind of grief obscure their joy of Advent.
On my first Christmas as a single mom, my tears fell into every batch of Christmas cookies and onto every gift-wrapped package. I would take notice of the blinking lights and the holiday bustle that I have always loved but, inside, my heart was crushed and I did not know how Christmas could ever be redeemed. Odd as it may sound, there is often simultaneous thrill and sorrow surrounding Christmas.
When we think of the little town of Bethlehem, our minds usually think of a picturesque night with stars glistening in the black sky. We picture small hills covered with sheep and the shepherds keeping watch over them, and a blazing star perched right above the stable. We envision the black sky coming to life with the sound of heaven’s angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest!” I always seem to imagine the manger scene as serene and peaceful with soft, warm hay and the low bleating of the sheep and the quiet rustling of the donkey.
But if we were to be realistic, that holy night was also filled with smells, sounds, thoughts, and basic human bodily functions that are not so pleasant or serene. That holy night included Mary’s strong labor pains, her intense cries of travail, and the gritting of her teeth that finally culminated in the wailing of a newborn. It contained the smell of afterbirth mingled with the refuse of animals in the stable. That night held the weakness of humanity and the majesty of heaven simultaneously.
I love to think about Mary cradling her baby in her arms and staring down into the face of Elohim as He quietly tugged at her breast. I cannot fathom the wonder she surely felt looking into the tiny face of the Godhead wrapped in swaddling cloths, His body still warm and wet. But as I reread the account each year, it is hard for me to separate the joyful birth from the harsh journey to Egypt as King Herod’s soldiers tore into Bethlehem killing every little boy under the age of two years old. It is very possible that Mary looked back on that first Christmas with an equal mixture of gratefulness and grief – and that gives us hope that we can too.
If something in this broken world has you in a place where you are dreading Christmas, let me encourage you. Christmas, my friends, is all about redemption.
You may have witnessed violent family fights during the holidays or have experienced the overwhelming sorrow of death as the Christmas season has begun, but that does not have to mar the beauty of Advent. You may be irritated and cynical with the commercialism and selfishness of price tags, but that does not have to overshadow the miracle in the manger.
Think about the scandal of an unwed pregnant young girl and the social isolation it caused. Think about the burden of more and more taxes on an already oppressed people. Think about the filth and stench of a barn. Think about the constant, wearying system of daily sacrificing that only temporarily atoned for sins. Think about the hours of labor. Think about the sweat and the fear and the blood and the dirt.
Christ did not come into the world when everything was polished and bright with the whiff of ginger cookies in the air. No, He came as His mother yelled in pain and was born on a dirty stable floor. If you, dear friend, are wrestling with bad memories, be comforted in this: Christ was born to redeem all that is broken and spoiled. He came to restore. He came to enter into, not only our world, but into our pain as well. Let this Christmas season draw your heart ever closer to Emmanuel – God with us – and watch as His love and grace redeems once again.