A couple days ago, a pure white blanket of fresh fallen snow covered the
earth, or at least my little corner of it. Today, rain has washed it all
away, leaving behind a muddy mess. What a picture of facing Christmas after
losing someone you love, or when your world for whatever reason, doesn’t
match up with the picture-perfect Christmas we envision. Facing Christmas
after your world has been torn apart, and the beautiful innocence
disappears like the pure fallen snow, washed away with a painful goodbye.
You are left with the muddy mess.
The heaviness weighs down on your heart, stealing joy. You watch others
rush around swept into the inertia of the swirling tornado of celebration
and preparation. You may even join in as well. But, your heart weighs heavy
with the burden of how. How to celebrate the holiday when all ideals are
held in front of us – picture perfect families and gifts, decorated homes, a
season of joy and laughter while deep in your soul the lonely ache howls
deep, and a pained smile is hard to muster.
You may wonder about this Jesus. This Jesus we celebrate, the One who was
born in a manger to the virgin and the carpenter. Where was He when the
rains of death came and washed your innocence away? And, where is He now?
My own heart weighed with the daily heaviness of the pain others endure
mixed with my own missing, wondered how. How do I speak of the beloved
Christmas storythe coming of our Savior, in the midst of a mothers broken?
How does the celebration of His coming mesh with the pain that keeps a
weary heart from lifting her head?
Who is the Jesus? And, does He see? Does He know of her broken? Did He see
her stand beside the tiny, cold grave? Does He see her now, navigating life
without her own mother, and a trail of broken from the generations before?
People want to speak for Him everyday, to paint a picture of this Jesus. If
we are known as Christians by our love, then we are often failing to allow
our Jesus to be shown the way He is. He is the One that loves us so much,
He will hunt us down in the deepest, darkest pit of despair.
Christmas isn’t found in the hustle and bustle, in the gifts, in the busy,
in the lights, in the merry-making, or in the perfect picture of all the
ideals we hold up as a standard. It isn’t in the perfect family or the
perfect memory or the perfect red dress.
The broken aren’t meant to hide pain behind a strained smile, wondering
what they are supposed to do with the pieces of life shattered and
scattered about.
Christmas is for the broken.
If you want to know my Jesus. This is my Jesus. This is why He came. He
came for you.:
“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,
Because the Lord has anointed Me
To preach good tidings to the poor;
He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;
To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,
And the day of vengeance of our God;
To comfort all who mourn,
To console those who mourn in Zion,
To give them beauty for ashes,
The oil of joy for mourning,
The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
That they may be called trees of righteousness,
The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”
And they shall rebuild the old ruins,
They shall raise up the former desolations,
And they shall repair the ruined cities,
The desolations of many generations.
From Isaiah 61
He sees your broken. He saw it before you were knit together in your
mother’s womb. He saw it before He left Heaven’s glory to make a journey to
the cross He bore to rescue you. He saw your ruins, your former
desolations, the ruined cities, the desolations of many generations. He
saw. And He came. To comfort all who mourn, to make beauty from your
ashes, to offer you one day the oil of joy in place of your mourning and a
garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness that cloaks you in this
season of grief. He saw. He sees. And He came. To heal your broken heart.
To set you free.
He saw. He sees. He came.