The God Who Heals

Blue Christmas Service Meditation

Isaiah 40:1-5, 28-31

John 14:26-27

Have you ever had one of those family photo sessions where there’s one kid who’s bent out of shape?  There’s one kid throwing a fit and won’t smile?  So everybody coaxes him and bribes him to try to get him to smile.  But he is actually winning the battle.  And so finally someone just loses it and screams, “You better get a smile on your face and look like you’re happy or else!!!!”

In some ways, that’s what we do to each other during the Christmas season.

Every year we come to this season of the year and we talk about joy.  We sing about joy.  We have parties.  We say it’s our favorite time of year.  All the celebration and gift-giving and being together. 

But that doesn’t quite capture all that we need, does it?  That approach doesn’t quite capture all of the different things we’re feeling emotionally?

 

For one thing, we may not feel very jolly right now.  We might not feel like celebrating with everyone else.  And so that puts us out of sync with everything going on around us.

And all these events that are supposed to fill us with joy can in fact do the opposite for us.  They might intensify our loneliness and depression, our sense of sadness and loss.  Because if everybody’s happy, then it looks like there’s no room for me to be who I am.  There’s no permission for me to bring my sadness before God and others.

And all the holiday get togethers are especially tough if you’ve lost someone you love.  Because more than any other feeling you have, the primary feeling is, I wish my loved one was here.

Stephanie’s father Bob Batchelor died unexpectedly this past Spring.  I cannot describe to you how much we miss him.  But if you’ve lost a loved one, you know exactly what I mean.  So this has been a hard year, a year of grief.  Grief for Stephanie, and me, and our kids, but for her mother as well.  So we had to change things around, do things differently this Thanksgiving, our first one without Bob.  And we know that this Christmas simply can’t be the same.

Because of that loss, our family brings a heavy heart into this Christmas season.  It’s not that we’re not excited, or that we won’t have any fun.  It’s just that part of us wants to grieve, needs to grieve.  We need permission to grieve.  To be sad.  We want to have the freedom to not have to be cheery all month long!

I don’t know what makes your heart heavy this season.  But tonight you get to feel however you want to feel.  And it’s probably a mixture of things.  Joy, yes, gratitude, yes, but probably also some combination of fear, regret, sadness, confusion, stress, and loneliness.  Well, whatever it is – that’s just where you are right now.  And the best news of Christmas is that God has come to dwell with us right where we are.  God has come to share our heaviness.  To be present with us, beside us in our loss. 

Comfort, comfort my people – cries Isaiah the prophet.  Do not be anxious or afraid, says Jesus.

Calling each other to rejoice that God has come to us in Jesus Christ is part of the life of faith.  But it’s only part.  It’s not the whole story.  Because the God who comes to us in Jesus Christ is primarily a God who heals our wounds.  A God who brings comfort when we’re in pain.  A God who stays with us and calms our fears when we are worried or anxious. 

For thousands of years, people have practiced the lighting of candles as a simple sign that God’s light shines in our darkness.  So we invite you to light a candle tonight.  And let it be an opening of yourself to God’s light, even in the midst of pain and loss.  You can light a candle for yourself.  You can light one for someone you love.  What we’ll create together is a kind of visual prayer, a piece of beautiful artwork of light, offered to the God who is healing us.