Relationships – SparrowSong

Christmas is a season of hope and celebration, of joy and connection. People of faith celebrate the peace brought by the coming of the Messiah and wonder in the miraculous time when God the Father and His Son, Jesus, endured a painful separation from one another so that Love could come down and meet each one of us.

On the surface, all is celebration as we decorate our homes, attend gatherings, prepare and exchange gifts. But isn’t it also a time where many of us feel the darkness of winter, confront the unsatisfied longings of our hearts, face relational losses or conflicts within our families, and encounter the sin in our own hearts?

Ultimately, we must turn to Jesus as the only one who can truly bring us light and peace, for Jesus first came into such a place, a people longing for relief from oppression, to a world that was dark and lifeless. The prophet Isaiah foretold that life would come from such a place: “A shoot will come out from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit” (Isaiah 11:1). From something that appeared dead, God brought forth the greatest gift imaginable–the “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the government and of peace there will be no end (Isaiah 9:6-7a)….”

The past several years have held quite a bit of darkness for me. Although there are certainly those who have suffered far more, if I look at my life’s trajectory and compare it to those of many others, it’s easy to question why mine has contained so much sorrow and why circumstances still remain so challenging. For a long time, I’ve been spinning my wheels–griving necessarily, but also stuck in that grief and lost in questioning why. A good friend has been working with me on releasing the questions, working towards radical acceptance, and rewriting my story. I still have a long way to go, but it is quite freeing to begin letting go of the old narratives and imagine what I want the new story to be–to work with what is in my control. And isn’t this just what Jesus came to do–to rewrite our stories?

As I do this work, I’m struck by all that God has been doing in the dark all along. One day, as my friend wrote for me, I’ll be able to say, “Her past is a garden she has weeded and watered. The pain is compost now, it feeds the roses.” Winter eventually gives way to spring. The plants that were dormant for a season come to life with newfound beauty. The unfathomable pain of the cross brought about the inconceivable promise of the resurrection. And God is renewing each of us every day.

As Episcopal Bishop Steven Charleston once wrote:

“The truth of any sorrow is that it makes us new. We have no choice but to start again. To be born again. And because we are so new, so young, so fragile, we cannot do that alone. Therefore God, through mercy and love, sends a miracle to enter the darkness with us, to bring us the healing and the peace we need to replace the loss and the fear.

Where you are right now is a manger. It may be poor in the eyes of the world but it is holy ground. It is the place God has chosen…a starting place…a sacred place…. Right there, with you, underground, in the kiva, so safe, so warm, so full of light.”

In whatever condition we find ourselves, we must cling to the hope promised us in Psalm 138:8 (NASB): “The LORD will accomplish what concerns me; Your faithfulness, LORD, is everlasting; Do not abandon the works of Your hands.” In the 1872 hymn “In the Bleak Midwinter”, Christina Rossetti wrote:

“Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him nor earth sustain

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign

In the bleak midwinter, a stable place sufficed,

The LORD GOD ALMIGHTY, Jesus Christ.”

Grace…what a beautiful word! Which one of hasn’t longed to find a way to redeem our mistakes, to have an encounter that would make us whole, to accept light and love for ourselves, and to extend this full life to others? Merriam-Webster defines grace as: “unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification; a virtue coming from God; a state of sanctification enjoyed through divine assistance.” Sometimes it’s so hard to extend grace to others; mostly, it seems insurmountable to really accept it for ourselves. I think this is why the Apostle Paul said it over and over in his letters: “Grace and peace to you through Christ.” It takes many experiences to show us our need, many reminders it is ours for the taking, many encounters to truly transform. Although it’s freely offered, it wasn’t cheap, for it was purchased for us through the precious blood of Christ. It waits for us always, needs only be accepted, is relentless in its pursuit, and brings us true and lasting peace,. Ann Voskamp says it this way: “Grace is like the wind. It finds us as we are, but it does not leave us as we have been….ALL is grace.” All is grace.

If we can remain open enough to receive the unmerited favor that always awaits us, then perhaps our experiences will ultimately be woven into something beautiful? If we long to redo different steps in our journeys, then perhaps we’ve ventured out enough to risk mistakes, and to know the value of forgiveness? Grace involves acceptance of the beauty of what IS, but it also entails the willingness to risk. As André Gide once said, “One cannot see new lands, unless he is prepared to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.” To truly find the wind in our sails, we might indeed lose sight of the shore, but we can never escape the endless ocean of God’s gracious love.

“Maybe wholeness is not reaching for perfection in your life; maybe wholeness is embracing brokenness as part of your life….Maybe life always tastes a bit like regret. Whatever you do or don’t do, there is no way to never taste it. And though you may have to taste regret, you don’t have to believe in it, you don’t have to live in it, like rowing a boat that only goes backward, trying to find something that’s been washed out to sea. It’s god’s sea. And that means all is grace” (The Broken Way, Ann Voskamp).

A good friend…a fellow teacher and blogger, a beautiful woman and mom, in trysting with her pen, reflected: