The last few months of my journey have been hard.

My son with autism entered one of his more difficult seasons and everything in life had simply become overwhelming.

The words from Philippians 4:13 that I have diligently been teaching my son were constantly on my lips as I walked through each day …

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

But as a deep anxiety riddled through me day and night and a depth of sadness and grief pervaded my being, I questioned whether I really could do all things … even with the Christ who offers strength in every moment.

Through it all, I have come to understand the depth of my Savior’s love as never before.  He has faithfully walked with me on each step of this difficult journey — allowing patience to do its perfecting work (James 1:3,4) as He leads me into a new place of obedience and trust.

It is with all this in mind, that I share with you another lesson from the garden … (You may want to read these first -> Lessons in the Garden and More lessons from the Garden … ) This time it is  A Lesson from the Christmas Garden.

When I was a little girl, Christmas was a simple, yet magical and delightful time of year.  We did not have Christmas parties, attend candlelight Christmas Eve services, or spend massive amounts of money, but we did have our family traditions. The Christmas season for us began the two weeks before Christmas, which is when we would make the yearly pilgrimage to the attic and bring down the boxes and boxes of decorations to adorn our home.   It was a family ritual as we placed each item in its designated spot every year.  There was such a sense of comfort and security in this tradition.

Then, the week before Christmas, we would head out to find our Christmas tree.  I don’t remember if we had a traditional place to get our tree but we certainly had a traditional kind of tree we searched for … the fatter the tree, the better.  Once we cut down and brought our tree home in the back of my Dad’s pick up truck, it had to stand in the garage for a day while Dad would perfect its appearance.  More than once I remember him drilling holes into the trunk where there were bare spots so he could fill them in with branches he had cut from the bottom.  When the tree was just right, he carried it in, set it in the same spot as the year before, methodically placed the lights around it, and then stepped back as the rest of us rushed in with our favorite ornaments.  Our Christmas tree looked the same every year of my childhood and I loved it.

As a youngster, I think I loved Christmas Eve best of all.  I would get in my pajamas (no special Christmas PJs needed), the tree would be glowing in the darkened house,  Johnny Mathis, Jim Reeves, and Andy Williams crooned my favorite Christmas classics as the records would play on the old record player, and my Mom would set out all the delightful Christmas treats she had spent days preparing.  My Dad would often make a fire in the fireplace and I would spend the evening going back and forth between the crackling fire in the front room and the Christmas tree in the living room, all the while anxiously anticipating the presents that I knew would be under the tree in the morning.

I never believed in Santa Claus, we certainly did not have Elf on the Shelf, I didn’t know you could make gingerbread houses, and ugly Christmas sweaters weren’t a thing.

My Dad would sometimes read to us the Christmas story from the Bible and then I would go to bed, almost bursting with excitement.  It seemed I would never fall asleep, but soon enough, my sister would be shaking me awake saying, “Wake up, Tanya … it’s Christmas!”  She and I would quietly sneak down the stairs where my eyes immediately went to the bulging Christmas stockings hanging at the fireplace.  I knew they would be filled with all sorts of candy that we only saw this time of year but I never thought to dump it without permission from my parents.  As I gazed at the stockings, my sister would turn on all the red and green lights around the house,  bringing it to life with a festive glow.  Then we would go into the living room and when she plugged in the tree lights, my eyes would widen in wonder as I looked at the presents neatly piled around the tree.  My brother’s presents were usually on the left … my sister’s on the right … and mine were always directly in the center.  My Mom always chose wrapping paper specific for each of us (mine often featured kittens) and my Dad used his technical skills to perfectly wrap each gift using a minimal amount of tape.  I remember feeling so content as I sat on the couch in the darkness, watching the lovely lights on the tree flicker onto the wrapped presents below.  As much as I wanted to open those gifts, I think I enjoyed this early morning time of anticipation most of all.

As a young child, Christmas was a time of tradition, family, and love … I was mostly oblivious to difficulty or grief and I am most grateful to have these memories.

But, while I was still quite young, my family experienced a Christmas that was completely different from all the ones I knew before.  Heartache and trouble had hit our family in an unexpected way that year and everything in my world changed … even Christmas.

In the 35-plus years since that last magical Christmas, I have been, rather unknowingly, in pursuit of finding my childhood Christmas again.  The Christmas steeped in tradition, family, and my greatest wish of all … security, belonging, and love.

Sometimes we can long for something so deeply that it takes a preeminent position in our lives.  Our thoughts, actions, and emotions are all geared towards pursuing this ‘holy grail’ before us, even as we live out the day to day of our lives.  On the outside, our work appears noble and loving, but on the inside, there is a sense of desperation as we drive ourselves to distraction in our search.

Essentially, the very thing we long for, becomes an idol.

Something that takes the place of Christ in our hearts and lives.

For me … that has been the sense of security, belonging, and love like I used to know at Christmas.

The unexpected beauty of trial and difficulty is that the Lord can use them to refine us — to essentially strip away the very things that we may long for, but which serve as a distraction from living a life honoring to Him.

As long as we can ‘do’ something in our circumstances, we don’t need Him.  If I can surround myself with activity, chase every tradition, and give gifts, I can generate and even create the sense of the belonging, security, and love that I crave.

On this most beloved of holidays, we, as Christians and followers of Christ, celebrate the birth of our Savior — Emmanuel, God with us.  It is a season that has become steeped in tradition, family, activities, and gifts galore and, while I find all of this delightful, let us not forget this most important truth.

Christmas is when we remember the birth of a baby — the baby who is the Son of God and who came to this earth to redeem us from the wretchedness of our sin.

In Him we find forgiveness for our sin.  In Him we find freedom from tradition and vain pursuits of our own righteousness.  In Him is life more abundant.

I sat in the Garden of Gethsemane this week as I contemplated my pursuit of Christmas and all my vain striving to find my own sense of security and belonging, not just at Christmas, but in all of life.  I thought on my Savior as He prayed in that garden in desperation before acquiescing to the will of the Father.

I knelt at the foot of the cross and considered His suffering as he battled the very darkness and evil  that seeks to destroy us.  Then I remembered His cry … “It is Finished!”  as He completed the work God had given to Him to do forever defeating sin and its hold on us.

I stepped into the tomb that now stands empty and remembered that death could not hold Him and that this very baby that we observe in a manger during this season, now reigns in heaven and in my heart.

In His birth, we are offered hope.

In His death, we are offered freedom through His sacrifice.

In His resurrection and ascension to glory, we are offered comfort and help.

 

Jesus came to this earth because this was part of God’s redemptive plan for humanity.  He is the Light in this sin-darkened world — a Light that will always shine brightly through every circumstance of life and throughout eternity.

This Christmas how can I do any less than to give Christ the preeminent place in my heart, my thoughts, and my life?

Our Christmas tree died almost immediately after we set it up this year and even though it is still standing, I have not been able to enjoy the delicate beauty of its lights.  Our church had its annual Christmas cantata but because my son was having an especially difficult day, I was unable to attend, as has been the case for many church services lately.  Even the smallest of traditions have not been available to me this year and these last two seemed the final blow to my heart.

But then Jesus met me in the garden — the Christmas garden.  He reminded me that in Him, I have been given the greatest gift of all … Himself and the unparalleled wonder and joy that entails for all eternity.

For the one who may also know a sense of sadness this Christmas season, this little piece of writing is my gift to you — the reminder of the greatest gift of all.  Jesus.

 Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.”
John 8:12

 

‘Tis a Merry Christmas indeed.