The first Christmas after I received the baptism in the Holy Spirit fell one month after my father died. It was the worst holiday ever. Our family was in grief and none of us felt like celebrating. I cried everyday. During this time, I was under the delusion that my new experience with God had failed to reward my "faith" with a gift of healing for my father. I found myself questioning the very roots of my faith. I angrily told God that He could forget about me serving Him. If He couldn't see how hard I had tried to believe for my father's healing, how could I trust Him for anything else?
Something inside me kept going in the direction of God anyway. I decided to make handmade Christmas cards. Instead of the usual tribute to Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus, I drew a picture of Jesus on the cross on each card. I deckled the edges and burned them with a candle. I chose an anonymous quotation from a teaching I had recently heard, "Christmas is the invisible God becoming visible in such a way that we may behold His glory; Christ, the far away God, becoming Immanuel. As Immanuel, Jesus is light coming to our darkness, life coming to our death, health coming to our disease and all the fullness of God coming to our emptiness."
I made envelopes for the cards, sealed them and sent them on their way. Nothing of what I quoted in that card seemed to be true. My father's death when he was only 58 had drowned out any "heavenly " choir, and I couldn't feel anything but the gloom of a future without my Pop.
He had been a bright spot in my life, always showing me unconditional love. He had a down-to-earth sense of humor. I remember him cooking chili in the fall and doing silly dances by the stove just to make me laugh. He never walked through the living room where I was sitting without pinching my cheeks and saying, "Your daddy loves you." Recovery from his death seemed impossible. I had always loved Christmas, but I could not imagine celebrating it again.
The harsh and beautiful terrain of life here on this earth is designed to teach the disciple to trust. Every single person meets the same challenges in diverse circumstances. We all suffer loss, change, illness, deaths of those around us and the helpless feelings of being unable to change horrible situations into favorable outcomes.
The only way to survive in these times is by learning to celebrate the goodness of God in the small and hidden places. While God was changing the hearts of the children of Israel in their wilderness season, He taught them to celebrate with feasts. Slaves did not feast; those days had been another day of cruel labor for them. On days of feasting, you were not allowed to do anything but rest, eat and enjoy the company of friends and loved ones. Everyone HAD to, no exceptions, no calling in sick. All excuses were cancelled. No one was allowed to be absent. It was the Law.
God knew something about them that they didn't, that imposing feasts would cause them to remember His miraculous intrusions into their lives. They would remember the times that they submitted to the feasts with heavy, grieving hearts and the times where celebrations were acts of pure joy. The celebrations would trigger memories of both, and they would gradually learn that throughout a life of fluctuating circumstances, He was always there, and He could be trusted, no matter what.
I hadn't realized it then, but sending out those handmade cards that Christmas in the face of my father's death was a desperate act of feeble trust. I didn't believe in myself, but He saw that I believed in Him. He saw a tiny shoot of frail faith that He had planted in me peeking above the soil of my grief. He knew then that it would eventually grow into "all the fullness of God" as He nurtured the gift of Himself in me.
Every year when I take out the boxes of ornaments for the Christmas tree, I wonder if our family will all be together again next year. But I also remember that God, my Father, has caused everything in my life to enhance my relationship with Him. He is trustworthy. What He is "going for" in my life can only happen with all the necessary ingredients of human experience wrapped in God's love. In a lifetime of Christmases, He remains the faithful, constant center.
ReplyDeleteExcellent Melinda!!!