The Beautiful (and tricky) Incarnation

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.

John 1:14

The incarnation.  

I don’t know if there has ever been a Christmas where the fact that God left heaven where there was no conflict or lost tempers or grudges harbored or disobedient children or expectations unmet or too many people under one roof or burnt bacon or gifts that don’t fit or nights of no sleep and came to this world that is all of those things and more has been so precious to me.  Can you imagine?  Would you ever leave a place where the people you were with were always complimentary and in perfect union with you?  Where there were entire fleets of angels worshiping you? And to leave this to go live with people who would kill you?

No thank you.

This Christmas was hard.  Not just because the brokenness of the world is so apparent, but because the brokenness of my heart is.  The stress of visiting both sets of family over the weekend returned back to Richmond with Sloan and me. And we, well, we were less than our best selves today.  Tempers were lost.  Tears were shed.  Feet were stomped.

Happy birthday Jesus, sorry your party was so lame.

As we left my sister’s house this afternoon from Christmas dinner, Sloan and I reconciled to one another and laughing, I started crying.  Not because my feelings had been hurt or my expectations unmet, but because I was overwhelmed with what Christmas really is about.

Incarnation.  Willingly entering into vulnerability and conflict for the love of another.  For the sake of another.  Bearing with and for another.  It's beautiful and tricky at the same time.

It is only fitting that we get stressed out about visiting family and it sometimes gets ugly.  That’s incarnation.  That’s what Christmas is.  It’s about a young girl, 9 months pregnant, having to go to her in-laws and there not being enough room so they stick her and her husband in a barn to have her baby.  (Can you imagine that conversation?  It was a census.  It’s not like Joseph’s kin didn’t know they were coming.  And convention would’ve had them staying with family, not looking for a Motel 6 like we often think.  But they were stuck in a barn.) It was into this smelly family quagmire that Jesus came.  God put on flesh.  Flesh that can hurt and bleed.  He chose to enter into conflict so that we could be re­conciled to Him and to one another.  He dwelt among us so that we could see and partake in His glory, grace, and truth.

In the dark, Henry remarked, “Daddy, Mommy is crying.  Again.” 

I said, “Henry, I’m crying because sometimes Daddy and I fight and I get my feelings hurt and I say mean things, but Jesus still came for me.  As a baby born on Christmas, he entered this difficult world so that Daddy and I could say we are sorry and forgive one another and really, really mean it.  Even though we are still sad a bit and hurting.  But we know that Jesus loves us and forgave us and forgives us still.  That is why we celebrate Christmas.  Because God is with us.”

And in typical 5 year old fashion, my darling son said, “Yeah, yeah. Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday Jesus.  Is Santa going to come again tonight?  Because I REALLY want to get some more Skylander guys.”

Oh, come, our Dayspring from on high,
And cheer us by your drawing nigh,
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Oh, come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Oh, bid our sad divisions cease,
And be yourself our King of Peace.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!

Long Lay the World in Sin and Error Pining

A couple of people have asked my thoughts on where to turn and what to do in light of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary.  And there’s one part of me that wants to say “I don’t know” and another part that wants to say “Turn to Jesus.”  I pray the parents who lost their children reach out to the One who knows what it is like to lose a child in a violent murder.  Because I’m certain only He knows what to say.

We are in the season of Advent.  We are waiting for Him to appear so our soul’s can feel their worth.  It is for these very heartbreaks and tragedies that God took on human flesh and bore the brokenness of the world.  And many folks who know a lot more than me have written very profound reactions.  I’m quite certain your Facebook feed is littered with links of prayers written by pastors and yes, we should be like Mr. Rogers and “Look for the helpers.”  In fact, I propose we seek ways to be those helpers in our own communities.  But for those of you who want to read some things that may help you put words to your grief, anger, and confusion, may I suggest:

laurakassner.wordpress.com/2012/12/14/dealing-with-crisis-resources-for-parents-and-teachers/

www.nicoleunice.com/blog/kneel-and-pray-for-newtown/

www.examiner.com/article/morgan-freeman-on-adam-lanza

But I’ve also wrestled with the truth that yesterday’s tragedy was not an anomaly.  Half of my kids live in a country where kids being gunned down is the norm.  Where kindergartners are stolen from their families, handed automatic guns, and brainwashed to believe that if they even think of running or not fighting, they will be killed.  Thousands of children die every day from starvation and malnutrition related illness.  So there’s part of me that wants to scream out “Who is crying for these kids?”  We live in a fallen world.  If you are just now figuring this out, I welcome you to reality.  It's scary and frightening, but there is also hope, and love, and faith.

I spent yesterday in a fog of tears.  Trying to alternate reading news on my phone with wanting to be with my kids.  We didn’t watch any television news.  And we still haven’t.  It’s not that I don’t care.  I do.  It’s just that I’m not sure how much help diving headlong into the details will help our collective grieving selves.  I also don’t want to be a part of a public yelling match about what needs to happen next in our culture.  Yes, let’s discuss issues regarding mental health and gun control.  But let’s discuss it.  Not shout it in ALL CAPS or in photos of hand guns on our facebook walls.  Because to my dear friends who are NRA members, your grip on your 2^nd Amendment rights probably rings a little hollow to the parents who have no one to tuck in tonight.  And the example I have in Jesus is one of giving up rights for the sake of another.  And to my dear friends who are picketing for a ban on all guns, the law has never been nor will it ever be our salvation.  Knowing right from wrong is not our problem.  It is the follow through we all struggle with every day.

 

So where do we go from here?  I think we attempt a new normal.  Last night I sang and rocked Gracie long after she had fallen asleep on my chest.  When it came time to check on Henry before Sloan and I went to bed, I scooped him up and brought him in to snuggle with us.  This morning I let the kids eat cereal in baggies in their jammies in front of the TV.  But at some point, we have to enforce bedtimes and not eat chocolate ice cream for dinner.   

A friend of mine commented on Facebook that she was praying for the moms who snapped at their kids for doddling before school.  So I’m hoping my new normal includes more patience.  I’m hoping my new normal includes setting my phone down a lot more.  Letting texts sit because I’m in the middle of a tea party.   

I posted the following yesterday on facebook.  This is my heart.  This is my prayer.

While squeezing my 5 yr old a little too tight, he asked why I was crying.
Me: Because a bad man did a bad thing.
Henry: What did the bad guy do?
Me: He shot some people with a gun.
Henry: (shaken) Were they bad guys too?
Me: No. They were little kids. Like you.
Henry: (lips quivering) But why?
Me: I don't know. I guess he had a lot of sin and anger in his heart.
Henry: But didn't he know that Jesus loves him?

Father, we are hurting. It is for this very thing that you sent your son. You forewent your rights as God to grant me rights as a daughter. You, not the law, are our salvation. Be near the broken hearted. Be near those whose arms will be empty tonight. And for those of us who struggle with doubt and anger and fear, remind us that You love us. Remind us that Joy, indeed, has come to the world and that He came to make His blessings known far as the curse is found. Amen.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus.  Come quickly.