I have spent many years longing for a “calm” Christmas. For as long as my children can remember, there has been some form of chaos cutting through the magic of the holiday season. In many ways, this year is no different. As I sit with this longing, I try to focus on the purpose and reasons for why we celebrate. And I was struck by a truth I know, but somehow, it resonated differently this week. There was nothing calm about the first Christmas. A teenage girl, who no doubt had her own struggles long before she found herself pregnant. The story the Bible tells, whether you believe it or not, does not call Mary perfect. It doesn’t say that she was pristine, or TikTok famous, or polished. It says she had found favor. It’s actually a Greek word that means “much grace” or “to endow with grace.”
And I’ve been thinking about how highly and favorably we view that first young couple. The storybooks don’t talk about the fact that both Mary and Joseph were human. Whether an angel came or not, they were undoubtedly ostracized. Were they really telling the truth? Whose baby was Jesus? Did Joseph really want to marry someone like that? Could he trust her? Did Mary really still believe that she and Joseph could have a healthy life if he was going to leave her?
Imagine a space where being “endowed” with grace means you are put in a position to be questioned, potentially lose everything, travel cross-country, and end up in the least likely environment, only to find yourself in labor, with no family, no friends, and the man by your side who, at one point, had considered leaving you to try to protect you.
And then time stopped. All that chaos, and time stopped. Life began anew. Not devoid of struggle, but filled with hope. The tension of the two was momentarily resolved, even if only briefly.
And so, I’ve been wondering why I think life in this season should be different than it was that first year. Because no matter the turmoil, there is still good. There are still moments when someone or something intercedes to bring reminders of truth, if I am willing to listen. Amidst it all, there can be peace, and there is hope. There can be a simplicity in knowing that no matter the circumstances, the Lord hasn’t forgotten where you are headed. New beginnings aren’t a surprise, and the unexpected endings aren’t a shock.
And when it hurts, when you take a breath, and sometimes you keep walking, and sometimes you sit a little longer—I think we get the idea that being strong and steadfast requires a lack of struggle, or the ability to ignore its presence. The reality is, you and I will never have the right tools to walk the road if we don’t first acknowledge that we need them.
Mary asked questions. Undoubtedly more than we will ever know. She was fully human. She worried, she got scared, and she was given the grace needed to walk an impossible road. And so, while calm would be nice, I am reminded that the chaos provides the most beautiful contrast to the peace and hope to come—when the road I don’t understand meets the destination I could have never found. And there is still good.
leave a comment