“It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” Or so they say. After all these years in pastoral ministry, I can tell you that the holiday season is a bona fide rough patch for many of the people with whom we interact on a daily basis. Said differently, “Merry” is not the universal mood as Christmas fast approaches.
And you and I, within the smorgasbord of emotions that mark these holidays that are upon us, have been called to love. We’ve been called to love deeply. We’ve been called to love like Jesus.
Colder and darker days are a contributing factor. So are unrealistic and unmet Norman Rockwellian expectations. Add to that enhanced awareness of loneliness and isolation. Then mix in financial pressure and insecurity. And we can all expect a heaping holiday helping of stress. For many, it becomes the perfect recipe for a pervasive sense of loss.
So here we are. Will we love? Christ has shown us the way. Our Messiah was “moved with compassion” when He encountered the harassed, the helpless, the lost, the sick, the hungry, the outcast, and the sorrowful (e.g., Matthew 9:36; 14:14; 15:32; 20:34; Mark 1:41; Luke 7:13). Lord, stir our hearts to love in action!
This will require us to sacrifice our own comfort. It’s much easier to pretend that everybody’s happy this time of year. But that’s not love. To love will mean that we, as best we can, choose to enter into the pain of our sisters and brothers and fellow image-bearers. We’ll have to ask some gracious questions. We’ll have to listen intently. We’ll have to dial down the judgment, and we’ll have to dial up the mercy. We may have to learn how to be a real friend.
Recently I’ve been captivated by a quote from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: “Every heart has its secret sorrows, which the world knows not, and oftentimes we call a man cold, when he is only sad.” Wow. That thought arrests me. I’ve studied Longfellow enough to know that he arrived at that knowledge, as do we all, via his own particular journey of loss and grief. In our affliction, God’s Spirit comforts us so that we learn to comfort others (2 Corinthians 1:3-7).
The distance between a person’s life and what I know about that person’s life may be a million miles. When I look out across my congregation, it would be wise of me to assume that there’s some pain in every pew. Within your sphere of influence, the same goes for you. The season of Christmas is our opportunity to love those whose sense of loss is so debilitating that they can’t even give voice to their sorrows.
Sometimes Merry meets Malaise. Sometimes Merry mingles with Malaise. Sometimes Malaise sends Merry packing. Sometimes Malaise drives Merry to the train station and whisks her far, far away.
But our high calling remains unchanged. We’re to love in an incarnational kind of way – moving right into the messiness of the human condition that is all around us. After all, we serve the Christ who – moved by infinite love – stepped right into our broken world.
Pastor Charles
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