This year, I’ve had a hard time
getting into the Christmas spirit. While in previous years, I worked hard to
make my own decorations, even if it meant a Christmas tree made out of
t-shirts, this year my house isn’t even decorated for Christmas. My stocking
hangs from my door, but it’s not even bright red or green, it’s a dull grey and
brown. The only other hint of Christmas is two ornaments hanging above my bed;
the one is a cinnamon-scented blue and silver ornament, and the other is a
sparkly penguin in a Santa hat. But considering they’ve been hanging there
since I moved in at the end of August, they do little to signal the arrival of
Christmas.
Every year I’ve spent Christmas
away from home, it’s been hard. The first year I spent Christmas away from
home, I cried many nights as Christmas approached. Some nights I cried because
I wouldn’t be home for Christmas, but many other nights I cried because I was
caring for children who would never go home for Christmas. Children who had
been abused, abandoned, mistreated by their parents, the very people who should
love them most. Tonight, I again feel the weight of sin instead of the joy this
season is supposed to bring. At first, I was angry because I have to work
tomorrow even though I’m so sick I can no longer speak. To top it off, my boss
subtly accused me of lying about being sick when he has no reason to believe
that I would lie. Then I received a text from a friend. She’s staying with
relatives for Christmas and a man four times her age is hitting on her, and not
subtly either. My heart grew heavy when I heard that.
Why can I feel so poignantly the
injustices of the world at a time when I should most see the hope of the world?
Why must sin continue? Why can’t Jesus just come back and make this all better?
Why are there creepy old men who hit on girls a fourth their age? Why are there
evil parents who abuse there children? Why are there uncaring bosses who make
you work when you’re sick? Why isn’t Jesus here?
As I wondered over these things,
angry at the injustice of it all, I began to rebuke myself, saying that we are
all sinners and we don’t deserve better. But before my rebuttal had even
finished being formed, I stopped myself. What a lie if ever there was one! God
never approves of sin, even if a sinner will receive the consequences. All sin
is an abomination to him, from the relatively small injustice of me working
when I’m sick to the hugely atrocious sin of abuse. Sin is sin, and God hates
all of it. God did not roll his eyes when I cried tonight because I would have
to work tomorrow. He felt the weight too.
So why, then, does it continue? Didn’t
Jesus come to right all of this? Where is my hope today?
I only have answers to some of my
questions because God has not given me the insight to know all. Tonight, God
told me where my hope lies. My hope lies in Christmas. But not in the holly
jolly, bright red and green Christmas so familiar to us all. My hope lies in a
dull grey and brown manger. Christmas was not an end to suffering; it was the
beginning of lifelong suffering for my Savior. My hope lies in the one
injustice that God ever approved: Jesus suffered and died for all sin once and
for all on the cross and rose again. That is the truest injustice because Jesus
never sinned. He endured unjust treatment, but not once did he return the evil.
Because he died in my place without sin, I can draw near to God.
And that injustice gives me hope. If
God committed the most egregious injustice for my good to give me hope, I can
only assume that any smaller injustice he allows is working toward the same
purpose. My boss’ mistreatment of me has not gone unnoticed by him. The harassment
my friend is enduring is not unforeseen. The scars left on those children by
their parents are not irredeemable. It seems crazy to say, impossible to
believe. But if God can conquer the grave, the ultimate symbol of sin, then he
can conquer sin. If God is powerful enough to conquer sin, then he is powerful
enough to dominate sin and use it for his purposes. If God is good enough to
make his purpose saving a sinner like me, then he is good enough to care for a
sinner like me, day in and day out. That’s my hope.
Jesus suffered to end my suffering.
My suffering hasn’t ended, but it’s been changed. Before Jesus saved me, I
suffered because sin brought me suffering. Today, Jesus asks me to suffer so
that I might proclaim Jesus’ suffering through mine so that others like me
might have their suffering transformed so that the world may know the good news
of Jesus’ suffering. And one day, one beautiful day when God has accomplished
his purposes, God will end all suffering.
The angels sang because Jesus would
suffer and by suffering bring healing to the world. I guess, then, it is
appropriate that God would let me feel the weight of sin at this time of year. Without
the weight of sin, Christmas has no meaning. True Christmas spirit is not the
end of pain; it is the use of pain for everlasting glory.
