Emmanuel, God with Us!
As a preschooler, my father was stationed in Vilseck, Germany, an hour from Nuremberg, home to the original Christkindl, open-air markets. On the last day of school each year before winter break, students and teachers alike loaded onto buses to spend the day engrossed in the season’s varied festivities. On the evening of my school-wide field trip, I remember the phone ringing only to be followed by a loud gasp, and then an arresting shriek from my mother. Little did I know at the time, but the characteristically merry time of year for our family would take a different turn. Within days, previously steady memories of nutcrackers, nesting dolls (also known as tea dolls), and pure chocolate statues of Saint Nicholas were exchanged for a cushioned, pearl colored coffin, giant and plentiful flower arrangements, funeral fans, and a bunch of macaroni and cheese dishes to mourn my maternal grandmother’s passing.
About Jesus, we know that “though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.” (John 1:10) “He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.” (John 1:11) With Jesus being born fully human and fully divine, Christmas is a miracle. The King of humanity began life in the most unlikely of places for modern and Western sensitivities to comprehend. The Bright Morning Star though he was, he laid down his head in a filthy manager, was rebuffed from his hometown by force, and hung on an old, rugged cross. “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” (John 1:46) Today, many people raise the same question, as the earth is shaken with infection and rage. Feeling battered by mystery, injustice, and suffering, there is angst about if anything good can ever possibly arise from such great loss and devastation.
Let the people of God say, “Yes” and “Amen!” (2 Corinthians 1:20) Like the message to the shepherds, the Lord’s glory shines brightly in the darkness. If you have eyes to see, you will find it. In the places we least expect—that which is harsh or hellish, or hurtful and giving way to heartbreak—God pursues us, and we are given the gift of heavenly perspective on earthly matters, emboldened by grace and mercy abounding from our Savior. Jesus, the Messiah, who came, is here and has a return trip planned, although the day and the hour we do not know.
Emmanuel is here with us.
Celebrating Jesus’ birthday cannot be detached from the consequence of his crucifixion and resurrection. He is both the Lamb of God and the Lion of Judah. Our salvation bears the weight of him, the unrivaled King of Kings, forfeiting his life for the sins of the world. From the comforts of heaven, he entered a broken world to once and for all erase the sting of death. The grave has no claim to him or us, if we trust in him. There is no exchanging the exclusivity of the Gospel in trying to appease an inclusive narrative that is “fake news.” This is not entertainment—it is a matter of life and death, truth versus lies.
Exclaiming “peace on earth, goodwill toward men” is incomplete minus the genuine ills of suffering. At the interment, God was with my family through weeping and wailing. He is in the silent nights spent far, far away from family and dear friends. And he will continue to be there in the days and decades to come, however many of them there are and whatever they bring. In Christ, all his disciples are assured of his caring presence in facing personal and communal traumas, labor pains, and last breaths.