I am schizophrenic every Christmas. And I am determined to stay this way. No medications accepted! In fact I cannot think of a healthier way to celebrate Christ’s birth.
Christmas excites joyful anticipation every year in me. And it should.
That God would love a sinner such as I so much that he would come into my world to make a way for a personal relationship with God, well, “how wonderful a love like this!” Now that’s a perfect gift.
I am ecstatic that God isn’t Santa who checks his “Naughty and Nice” list twice to determine who gets the lump of coal instead of a precious gift. God knows I have been naughty! I don’t deserve anything good from him. Yet by his grace I have been saved rather than by my own merit. “Joy to the world!” Pull out all the organ stops and let the sound reverberate until the Christmas Eve crowd can’t stand the volume. Then quietly sing “Silent Night” as candlelight spreads through the congregation and we bask in the glow of the spreading hope Jesus brought with him.
Sometime during the preparation season of Advent, something usually stirs in my spirit, like a strange chemical reaction. It transforms a joyous man into a brooding one. Dr. Jekkyll becomes Mr. Hyde. The potion that produces the unpleasant change? It spills from the pages of Matthew and Luke.
There is a dark side to Christmas that we fail to celebrate at great risk to the experience of God’s work in us and in the world. So I welcome Mr. Hyde and celebrate an unsung and little recognized triad of Christmas qualities.
Christmas exalts personal sacrifice and loss. Yes, Jesus left heaven, not considering equality with God something to be grasped. But he did not accomplish this great humiliation except through Mary’s own significant loss. Lost dreams of what life would hold for her and Joseph. Lost respect from neighbors who knew better than to believe a teenager claiming to be pregnant and a virgin. We could discuss Joseph’s losses when he agreed to proceed with the marriage. And what of the losses to both sets of parents?
Very often God only accomplishes his work in the world through the willing sacrifice and personal loss of devoted people. No carol celebrates this holy calling of sacrifice. Yet we must celebrate it. Emanuel came not to fulfill our dreams but his. Without this realization Christmas becomes only another occasion for self-amusement or self-pity. Christmas can become a time when we ask ourselves, “Is my Christian life all about me or all about God?”
Christmas, fully told, heaps suffering onto sacrifice. Imagine Mary’s late term donkey ride to Bethlehem and her giving birth attended by sheep and rodents. Now imagine the agony Bethlehem’s parents soon suffered at King Herod’s hand. The Magi visit and the presence of an infant king precipitated the slaughter of their youngest sons. Then came the difficult refugee years in Egypt.
A fellowship rooted in suffering describes the first Christmas context. All year Christians seek God for the elimination of suffering. And we should. It’s biblical. Yet, Christmas offers a time to celebrate the fellowship of suffering that comes to God’s people. Here is wonderful opportunity to meditate on the value of suffering, even its necessity to God’s Kingdom. Paul claimed a desire to “know…the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.” Christmas is an ideal time to ask “What suffering do you need me to experience in order to advance your Kingdom plans?”
Who has not experienced the connection between loss and suffering, and vulnerability? Who of us has not built strong defenses even offenses as a result? We work hard to become invulnerable as persons and as groups.
Christmas flies in the opposite direction. Here an all-powerful God nurses in total vulnerability at Mary’s milky breast. Martin Luther reminded us that we have not begun to grasp the mystery of the incarnation until we have bent close enough to the manger to smell Jesus’ dirty diapers. And God chooses to enter the world through two vulnerable nobodies who must flee to Egypt for their lives.
Dare we celebrate vulnerability at Christmas? What assumptions might the Spirit of Christ begin to unravel if we shift from operating out of strong defenses to risky vulnerability? Dare we celebrate a God who hangs on a breast?
I don’t like my Mr. Hyde Christmas. But I need it. I need the whole truth. Even when I don’t fully understand it or know how to practice it, I need to celebrate it. Only this way can I open my spirit to God’s Spirit and experience the gradual transformation of my life in his image.
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