Christmas hurts. “The most wonderful time of the year” is not for many people. And all the sentiment and smiles we can muster do nothing to dull the pain; they merely mask it.
So many have pain in their families. A marriage is tied in knots leaving both spouses twisted and rung out. Children abandon parents and resent them. Parents abuse and harm children.
So many are ill and ailing. The cancer returned. The arthritis aches so constantly what room is left for happiness? They’ll never recover from the accident.
So many have lost so much: jobs or homes or life’s savings. Or maybe they never had it in the first place. Their whole life has been one of destitution, and they don’t know what it is like to buy and give gifts. They simply try to keep the lights on and food on the table.
So many face injustice. So many have been wronged by others: neighbors, family, friends, governments, employers. The injustices of racism and classism insidiously infect our country. Look around and see the injustice rampant in the world. More people are in slavery now than ever in hostory. Children are the toys of perverts. Poor people are exploited. Pain is everywhere.
So many have seen death take away one they love. From stillborn infants to beloved grandparents it is always too soon. Whether they have lived four breaths or four million their life was not full enough. Death is a thief and steals the happiness of millions.
It is no merry Christmas for these, and they are all around us. They are us. We mask it well because, after all, Christmas cheer is the name of the game. But our rote renditions of carols, festooned homes, softly lit trees, delightful baked goods offer no solace. They are reminders of happiness that the hurting cannot feel.
And yet. And yet . . .
His law is love and His gospel is peace
Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother
And in His name all oppression shall cease
No more let sins and sorrows grow nor thorns infest the ground.
He comes to make his blessings flow far as the curse is found.
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
What promise is this? One of smiles and parties and lights and carols and gifts and festivities? Good will and giving? Tiny Tim’s magic of Christmas? No, something more, something deeper, something akin to the “deep magic” Aslan spoke of. The magic of Christmas is that of promise come and promise yet fulfilled.
In Christmas there comes healing of hurts, retribution for wrongs, filling of emptiness, and reparation of brokenness. That which is indebted can be redeemed. That which is lost can be found. That is the magic of Christmas.
And his name is Jesus, that tiny one there, wrapped in rough cloth and lying in some hay. He is a king and a sacrifice, perfect at both. He knows all our pain for he lived our life, yet perfectly. He knows our pain because he died our death, yet innocently. And he promises life because death did not, could not, hold Him. And one day he will undo its bonds on us as well, along with all other pain. That is deep magic.
“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea no longer existed. I also saw the Holy City, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared like a bride adorned for her husband. Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look! God’s dwelling is with humanity, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will no longer exist; grief, crying, and pain will exist no longer, because the previous things have passed away. Then the One seated on the throne said, “Look! I am making everything new.” Revelation 21:1-7 HCSB
Christmas hurts because a time of celebration is tainted or stolen or unattainable, a reminder of what isn’t. But the magic, the deep magic, of Christmas is what it promises, that which has come and that which will come. That baby king will make all things new.
Article originally posted at Vyrso.com.
photo credit: Ian Aberle via photopin cc
