the other eleven months

                Aahhhh……back to rhythm and routine.  My kids may not have been ready to head back to school, but I welcomed our entrance back into the real world after a couple of weeks off.  For many people, Christmas is not an easy time of the year.  I even know a couple of people who flat out hate it – and until recently I didn't really understand how that could be.  I certainly don’t hate Christmas, but this year felt hard, a touch more bitter than sweet.   My to-do lists felt more like chores than happy traditions, and I crossed some items off the lists without even completing them – I just wanted to get rid of them!  Preparations that I enjoyed in the past felt like work this year, and more than once I was aware of this pressure.  

               Pressure to create amazing moments, to fulfill desires and exceed 

expectations, to make this the hap-happiest season of all – I even felt pressure

 to have profound quiet times in front of my Christmas tree.  

A couple of times the thought crossed my mind, So much effort

 is put into everything at Christmas, but what about

 the other eleven months of the year?

  

                I understand why some people struggle with the pressures and expectations, with the feelings stirred up by memories of times and people that are no longer with us.  Yes, at times this Christmas felt hard.

                Hard because I was tired, from outside stressors and struggles within.  Hard because I miss my Mom and everything about Christmas reminds me of her.  Our family went to Shedd Aquarium the weekend before Christmas with my niece, her husband, and their two young children.  The kids were so excited to see the dolphins, and I was having a wonderful time with our family, totally wrapped up in the moment.  The aquatic show was adapted for the holidays, and this fantastic folk trio walked out strumming guitars and caroling.  It felt magical, and when they started singing Frosty the Snowman, Frosty himself came out and was dancing all ‘round, and before I knew what was happening I was crying.  I couldn’t stop the tears.  Frosty made me think of my mom and how much she loved Christmas, and I could hear her singing thumpity-thump-thump, thumpity-thump-thump, look at Frosty go…

                 I began to remember all sorts of things from when I was younger. 

 How she convinced me one night as we were leaving my grandmother’s house

 that we had actually seen Santa, his sleigh, and his reindeer flying across the night sky. 

 I saw it with my own eyes!  Or the time she showed us animal tracks in the snow 

and was certain they belonged to Rudolph.  Or the thud we heard on the roof on Christmas Eve – surely it was the reindeer touching down, and we’d better get to bed!  

Sweetness and sadness dance together when I remember.  

My heart aches, but I am comforted and filled with hope and joy 

as I come to the manger, 

open my heart, 

and receive my King.

                It’s a question worth asking again.  What about the rest of the year?  We've packed up our nativity sets and stored them away, but what do we do with the Christ we celebrated and worshipped at Christmas?  As we head into 2015 everyone is talking about how we can start anew.  Resolutions are being made, and while it is good to set goals, make necessary changes, and strive for wellness in every area of our lives, here is that nagging pressure again, seeking to inch its way into my soul.  Be better.  Get better.  Do better.

    

                This year I am seeking one thing above all else: 

 I have worshipped at the manger, now I want to follow and walk 

with the God who became flesh, the One who gave His life for me so I could truly live.  

 I want to abide and remain in Him, every day.

                
                   There is this notion that we need to leave behind all the pain and sadness of 2014 as we move into the new year.  As if we could just shut the door and instantly be transported to somewhere we are not.  But if we are to really walk with Christ, then we come as we are.  We don’t have to pretty it up, get rid of our limp, or pretend.  Why should I despise my tears if God says they are precious to Him and He stores them in His bottle? (Psalm 56:8) Why should I resist trials that come my way when James says to count them all joy, because they shape me and make me mature and complete in Christ? (James 1:2-4)  I want to walk with Jesus, Emmanuel, the Man of Sorrows, Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace.  The Way, the Truth, and the Life.  When I open myself to His love and peace, when I surrender to His will for me in 2015, it doesn't really matter what may or may not happen, and it's not at all about me doing better, or being better.  I am secure and complete in Him.

                Are you limping into the New Year?  It’s OK.  Jesus wants you to walk with Him.  Can you trust that He will continue the good work He began in you, and will transform your pain into something beautiful?   

                 

faith

Not long ago, I heard a song on Christian radio, and the chorus says this about faith:

It’s gotta be

More like falling in love

Than something to believe in

More like losing my heart

Than giving my allegiance

        My kids were in the room when the song came on, and my knee-jerk reaction was to tell them that this is not true.  Faith in God - living the Christian life - is not a feeling.  It is most definitely not like falling in love. I thought about Paul being knocked off his horse and blinded for three days when he encountered Christ.  I thought about the disciples – most of them were martyred for their devotion to Jesus.  And I’m thinking about the situation in North Korea where Kim Jong-un has ordered the execution of thirty-three Christians.  Faith is most definitely something - Someone - to believe in, and it is absolutely about giving your allegiance.

        I think it is misguided and even dangerous to compare or equate our faith to falling in love, and it tells me that our Hollywood culture (which is obsessed with falling in love) has shaped our faith life in profound ways.  I am not saying that we cannot or should not feel intense love for Christ, or that we will not have amazing experiences where we feel God’s presence and feel intimately connected with Him.  But real faith is not based on those feelings or experiences.

  

Here is what the bible says about faith:

Hebrews 11:1

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
the evidence of things not seen.

 (King James Version)

        My husband, Bernie, and I attended a funeral on December 30th that truly broke our hearts.  A couple that we have known for several years lost their adult son – he took his life on Christmas morning.

        This couple is now attending the same grief support workshop that I am, and Bernie and I walked into church with them not long ago.  I asked them if the workshop was helping them at all, and the man, who was walking in front of me, threw his arms up in the air and just kept walking.  His wife, who was walking beside me, said, “You know, maybe it helps some to talk to other parents whose children have taken their lives - we are just here because it is the next step we know how to take.”

        We walked together into the worship service; they went to sit with their group, and Bernie and I grabbed a couple of seats near an aisle.  From where we were, I had a straight line of vision to where they were seated in the auditorium.  The music started, and as we sang about our God being a God who saves, I couldn't take my eyes off of them.  They were on their feet, singing in full voice, and I could see the intensity of both their pain and their conviction in their bodies as they worshiped their God.  In their unspeakable grief they were singing to the God who saves.  The God who saves them, the God who saves their son.  And I thought, this is what faith looks like.

Now faith is assurance of things hoped for, a conviction of things not seen. 

(American Standard Version)

        I am studying the book of Job in my community bible study, and my small group was discussing the theme of Job.  He was an upright man, and yet God allowed Satan to take everything from him: his children; his wealth; even his health.  Some say this story is about suffering – particularly unjust suffering.  Others say that it is about God’s sovereignty – He created the universe and His ways and thoughts are higher than ours.  He doesn't owe us an explanation – He is God.

        And yet when I read about Job scratching his sores with broken pottery, listening to his friends go on and on about how there must be some unconfessed sin in his life, listening to his wife tell him to curse God and die already, I am moved beyond words to hear Job say, “Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble? The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” In his humanity, Job questioned and struggled.  And I can’t help but think, this is what faith looks like.

Faith makes us sure of what we hope for 
and gives us proof of what we cannot see. 
(Contemporary English Version)

        When my mom was diagnosed with terminal cancer, she was believing God for a miracle.  But she told us early on, “Either way, though, I’m in a win-win situation.  If I live through this I win more time with my family.  If I die, I know I am going to be with the Lord.”  She put her faith and trust in God, not in an outcome.  This is what deep, abiding faith looks like.

The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, 

is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. 

It’s our handle on what we can’t see. The act of faith is what 

distinguished our ancestors, set them above the crowd. 

(The Message)

All of these people are examples to me of what it looks like to walk by faith, not by sight: 

• Taking one step forward even when you can’t see where you are going

• Believing in God’s unfailing love and goodness even through life’s darkest trials 

• Worshiping God in the midst of crushing grief and loss

• Holding on to the promise that He will see us through, and that heaven waits for us

  Ahora bien, la fe es la certeza de lo que se espera, 

la convicción de lo que no se ve. 

(La Biblia de las Américas)

Let us walk by faith, not by sight, and may our children see in us examples of real, abiding faith.