Christmas: What I Didn't Get and What I Want

I didn't get it then. Why we would light those candles every week leading up to Christmas. Why, when gifts were waiting to be opened, some even conspicuously peeking out from stockings, we had to listen to my dad read Luke Chapter two. We had woken up, lined ourselves in the hallway youngest to oldest, not allowed to simply tear into our gifts as we imagined other children did. No, we must wait for that infamous Christmas morning picture of the five of us standing there in the hallway in our pajamas, puffy-eyed and messy-haired, feeling as though every delay of our delight was a cruel torture. Why did our family have to be so weird?

And then, to finally be allowed into the living room, sit down in front of the hearth next to our stockings and “hearth gifts” (in addition to our stockings, we each received one gift from our parents which we called a “hearth gift” because of where it was placed. Creative, I know), only to wait more. This was the part of the morning where my dad would read the Christmas story and pray a prayer that seemed like it would never end. I remember even as a child feeling vaguely guilty that I really didn't care about listening to the story at all. I knew that it had some importance, but it could wait, couldn't it?

I didn't get it then.

And I don't know if I get it fully now. But I'm learning, I think. I definitely have learned that the euphoria of new gifts wears off quite quickly. I know that usually when I'm expecting Christmas (or anything else, for that matter) to satisfy some deep longing in my heart, I am usually disappointed. I felt things deeply as a child and I remember the feeling of hollowness that would sometimes engulf me as I cleaned up all the wrapping paper in the living room and took my little pile of gifts to my room. Even then I felt the ache for something more.

The words of a Jon Foreman song keep coming to mind:

My mind is dull and shattered
From these years of buy and sell
My mind has seen the glory
Of this hollow, modern shell
Sex is a grand production
But I'm bored with that as well
Ahh-ahh-ahh
Lord save me from myself.

Now I get what my parents were trying to do, in their small but intentional way. They were pointing us to something more. And maybe those traditions and all the waiting weren't just for the child-versions of ourselves. Maybe they were planting seeds in our little hearts so that one day, when we were older, we would remember. One day the story that often bored us as children would come back to us and stop us in our tracks and it would hit us. Wait, God came to us? To earth? God. Came. To. Earth. And maybe we would look at the child-versions of ourselves and see that in many ways, we haven't changed all that much. That we still grasp for things and for the ever elusive ideal circumstances or accomplishments that will make our life just right. That we still struggle to wait and to quiet our hearts before a holy God. That we still struggle to be satisfied with the gift of Jesus right before us, often coveting gifts that are not ours or wanting to tear into others before the proper time.

And I find myself saying, “Lord, save me from myself.”

And He does. And He did. Because He came and is Immanuel, God with us. Because He died for us and rose again and said that His kingdom, a new way of life with Him as King, is here, And He is still with us. And He said that He came that we might have life and have it more abundantly. And when we do the things He said to do, like love our enemies, feed the hungry, visit the sick and lonely, move towards the people who irritate us, and choose forgiveness over bitterness, we find abundance breaking into our hollowness. We find life. And we don't have to dread December 26^th because we know that He'll be with us then too, and we don't have to live at the mercy of the highs and lows of our calendar or our emotions because we are secure as His children, living in His kingdom, and finding the rest that He offers as we learn from Him.

Jesus, You were the real gift all along. Thank you for being patient with me all these years when I've wanted things more than you. Thank you that life in your kingdom is the life that truly satisfies. Save me from myself, and teach me how to truly live.