Joyeux Noel

Once again, I get to celebrate the birth of the Savior with family. Sometimes, that just means Mark and me. But this year, it means my immediate family: parents-in-law, siblings-in-law, and nephews; soon I will be able to celebrate with my parents and most of my siblings. Because Christmas means God extended so many blessings to our most treasured relationships—peace, love, forgiveness, and an assurance of the permanency of those relationships—it carries an additional depth of meaning to be able to be near loved ones.

But this Christmas morning, as I listen to music joyously proclaiming Christ’s divinity, power, and love, I am grateful for the quiet before others wake. I get to have, in a sense, one-on-one time with Heaven. I get to feel His love for me personally, and I get to feel the thrill of God’s triumph over sadness, pain, and death.

That doesn’t mean I don’t have any sadness or pain. At the moment, I am acutely aware of my smashed-in-the-door finger, of a now-chronic low-back pain, and of occasional pricks of discomfort in my brain. I can still feel the stress of starting a new job in a new city, or the stumbling of my efforts to make new friends; I know the isolation that comes with helping a loved one fight debilitating depression and anxiety, and I sense the hateful rift that recent politics have brought to our country.

But the blessing of Christ’s coming is that, at this moment, these struggles are more like a knowledge than a true ‘pain’. They exist, but they are pushed back behind an all-consuming glory that Jesus really and truly was born, that He really and truly conquered mortality, and that He has helped, does help, and will help us prevail over wrongs and sins, hates and pains. He will reign, and righteousness will win.

And while we wait for that, we can still be happy in the now. Which is a downright miracle.

Gloria Deo