Christmas from the Outside

Christmas celebrations, at least in America, are glazed with fuzzy feelings. Lights deck out dark windows, sugary drinks abound at Starbucks, songs about cherubs and snuggling and pumpkin pie flood the radio. Even most Christian carols are exclusively about Joy to the World and Peace on Earth at this time of year, sweeping the rest under the rug ‘til January. But that glitzy window display of sentimentalism divides people. Either you’re rockin’ around the Christmas tree, or you’re fogging the glass from the outside, wondering why you can’t hear the music.
Christmas has a way of dredging up life’s most intense sorrows as well as its joys. Landing at the end of the calendar year, it offers opportunities for reflection. Achievements, gains, successes, new opportunities become cause for celebration. But job loss, unwanted moves, illness, addiction, regret, missed opportunities—how do you celebrate those?
As a time when families traditionally gather together, Christmas can also exacerbate the awareness when they’re not. The sentimentalism of the season doesn’t have room for divorce, miscarriage, divisive arguments, breakups, estrangement, or death—leaving those with these relational wounds to carry them around like dirty little secrets under our Christmas sweaters. I lost someone at Christmas when I was very young, and to this day, songs about cozy sleigh rides, Daddy chopping firewood, or even Mary and Joseph cooing over baby Jesus can leave me rubbing my hands on the cold side of the window. At a time of year when mommies traditionally take their little girls to The Nutcracker and couples kiss under the mistletoe, that secret pain can feel illicit at the “most wonderful time of the year.” You wonder if you’re a Scrooge for not feeling the “Christmas spirit”—especially when you know you’re supposed to be celebrating the Lord Jesus Christ’s birth into the world. 
The birth of Christ, though, wasn’t as sugary as the wooden nativity scenes make it out to be—not if you look at it from God the Father’s perspective, anyway. Maybe it isn’t orthodox, but I imagine that He felt very conflicted on that first Christmas. I know He overflowed with joy because He stood to regain relationship with a world full of His beloved children. But—but—at the same time, as the heav’nly hosts sang Alleluia and a teenage girl lovingly cradled her new baby, I think the Father pressed His nose to the glass and wept.
Because that baby, separated from Him by a veil of flesh, was His son, His only son.
And he was going to die.
Perhaps a true celebration of Christmas has room for mixed feelings. It’s a time for rejoicing; for singing Christ the Savior is born and investing in our relationships, whatever they may be. But it’s a holiday of loss, too; a commemoration of the grief that goes hand-in-hand with joy. Christmas is more than tinsel and gift cards, but it’s also more than singing shepherds and a haloed Baby. Because even as we celebrate advent, incarnation, and nativity, we are remembering one Father’s suffering, sacrifice, and separation from his son—something many of us understand very personally at this time of year. With joy in our hearts and tears in our eyes, we celebrate that God, who gave up all He had to welcome us inside—even those of us who have been fogging the glass a long time.
Hallelujah. What a Savior. 

12 thoughts on “Christmas from the Outside

  1. Very dear bittersweet insights…not often spoken, all too often felt…I’m grateful for the last part of the sequence: birth – life – death – resurrection! It is so good to be reminded what EVERYTHING is all about…Thanks for having the courage to say it!


  2. Thank you, Mama (and Anonymous, whoever you are :)). I think that sometimes by focusing exclusively on what’s fluffy and happy about this season, we miss the full magnitude of what it has to teach us.


  3. Alina, I can truly relate. As one enters the Later years, there is much time to reflect on the past–those who are no longer with us.Even tho we have the assurance that they are in the Father’s arms, there is a sadness mixed with warm memories that can make you smile. God has given you the wonderful gift of expressing yourself through beautiful words. Thanks and may God give you a little warmth to dispell the foggy windows. Carole Swain


  4. Thank you, Adelle and Carole–I really appreciate your comments and understanding of this topic. God does give warmth, especially when you know other people are standing alongside you.


  5. Beautifully put. If we keep in mind that Christ was born in order to die and the pain the Father must have felt, it helps add reverence to the season as well. As much as we feel joy, we can also feel pain that our sins necessitated Christ’s death in the first place. I needed this reminder to stay grateful and to be sensitive that this season isn’t always joyful for everyone. Thank you 🙂


  6. Thank you, Marcy, for your thoughtful comment. I like your word choice–“reverence.” It’s an attitude that doesn’t always make it into the Christmas carols, but such a key part of the season.


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