I came face to face with this last year dealing with my father's death in the midst of the holidays. I couldn't stomach much Holiday music because I felt like they were all lies. It wasn't the Most Wonderful Time of the Year. I wasn't having a Holly Jolly Christmas. My days weren't Merry and Bright. And social media didn't help. Seeing people's awesome family vacations, family pictures, shopping adventures, and Holiday parties was all too much. Life was terrible, thanks for reminding me.
I say the word Holiday instead of Christmas because it was the superficial aspect of the Holidays that made me depressed, not Christ. When Christmas was about Christ and his coming to redeem what what broken, then I was hopeful. I remember being in church during one of the Advent Sundays, pacing back and forth with Felicity in her Ergo carrier, and having tears well up in my eyes because Christmas had become real to me. Hope was birthed in me because I had tasted the bitterness of death. Christmas wasn't about being merry and bright because we're baking cookies, playing in the snow, and singing silly songs. Christmas is about hope. And with that hope in mind, I can enjoy the time spent family and friends eating good food, giving gifts, singing carols, and celebrating what Christmas means.
"A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices"
This was certainly true in my case. Never have I been more thankful that Christ had come to our world, born a baby, died on the cross, to conquer sin and death, and restore all that is lost.
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