Hidden Hopes at Christmastime

To all celebrating Christmas this year,

To those overwhelmed with preparations and gifts and travel and anything and everything else,

To those for whom joy feels impossible right now,

Christmas is an idealized time of year – maybe even an over-idealized one. We build up all sorts of assumptions and desires around the season. The tree, the music, the eggnog, the holly. The friends and the family. And then pandemics and winter storms have to come in and smash it all to pieces. (Indeed, speaking from personal experience).

Disappointment is everywhere in the holiday season, whether it’s logistical or relational. The blizzard traps your brother on the wrong coast. The pandemic keeps your mother trapped in her room. Your sister, who you love, makes a comment about your career that stings just a little bit too much. It’s inevitable – anything that carries great hopes (hopes for laughter, for family, for joy) also carries the potential for great disappointment.

But that’s the thing about Christmas: it’s all about the unlikely joys. The beautiful revolution that starts in a manger-crib. The angels announcing the birth of a King to shepherds. The teen mom changing God’s diapers. The impossible glory hidden deep under layer after layer after layer of disappointment.

Israel waited for a Messiah – the one who would free them from the oppressors, be they Babylon, Assyria, or Rome – for centuries. And he kept not coming. They were promised peace on Earth. And it kept not happening.

Until it did. And it was like nothing they expected.

Perhaps it is exactly right that the holiday for Christ’s birth is so full of both hope and disappointment. Jesus was a disappointment to many. He was also supposed to be a warring king that saved them from Roman oppression. And He didn’t. 

Yet something world-shattering was taking place – God was taking His first steps towards reconciliation with humanity. Shouldering the unbearable weight of our brokenness. Tearing down every barrier we had placed between ourselves and Him.

This is the magic of Christmas: that no matter how disappointing life feels, no matter how hopeless your circumstances look, God is working. Remember that though the sky was bursting with glory that Christmas night, most of the world didn’t get to see it. There is glory brewing in unlikely places, even if you cannot see it.

So rejoice, beloveds. Even if storms and pandemics and all the rest have “ruined” things. And rejoice too if there is pain beyond such disappointments– if the season has brought up excruciating memories of those who have passed on or required you to engage with family who has hurt you deeply. 

I know rejoicing can feel impossible. When joy seems out of reach, seek it out in unlikely places. When you find it, hold on to it tightly and don’t you dare let go. Be stubborn with your joy. The angels that announced the birth of Christ are dancing too in your giggles. 

God loves you.

P.S.

If you simply cannot rejoice, you are no less beloved. God is with you in your tears. He weeps alongside you. The Holy Spirit feels the pain that pierces every sob and is praying over you, groaning over your pain. And I am praying for you too, that you might find some joy, no matter how small.