The Perfect Christmas

A couple of weeks ago I attended a Women's Christmas Tea at TCBC, my home church in Champaign-Urbana. Katie Hubbard spoke about the "Perfect Christmas" and whatever that may mean and how we have captured the idea of Christmas and tried to turn it into something "perfect." I've been thinking about this notion since the tea and God has brought it to my mind time and time again in the week leading up to Christmas. The following is simply a mix of Katie's talk, my thoughts and other reflections...

We really do expect Christmastime to be perfect... the season is supposed to be magical. And why shouldn't it be? We have gifts, food, family, friends, music, and the holiday cheer... or at least most of us do. It's easy to spend time planning the "Perfect Christmas" and making sure that will happen... whatever that means.

But for some people, Christmas isn't only full of laughter, smiles and warm memories. For some, there are painful anniverseries that are relived, others spend holidays far away from family. Though it isn't a crisis by any means, this is the first Christmas I spend without my brother. I miss him terribly and I couldn't help thinking Christmas could have been "a little bit better" if he had been here.

And as quickly as that thought crosses my mind, it comes to a screeching halt. Christmas could be "better" if... Fill in the blank. I don't think it really matters what replaces the ellipses. Christmas isn't about the family or the friends or the food or the trips or the gifts... it's not about having a perfect Christmas and orchestrating a perfect family reunion.

This morning I was overwhelmed... simply overwhelmed by Jesus' enormous sacrifice. He really did come from heaven to Earth-- stripped himself of glory and clothed himself with human flesh. Though his hands belonged to those of a king, he touched no gold. These majestic hands would touch the rotting flesh of lepers; they would wipe away the tears of sinners. His eyes-- glorious eyes-- would look upon our broken state and pierce our heart. How did it feel to walk this broken shell of an Earth? What was it like to know what it should have been like and only see remnants... only see the mess we had made it?

Jesus didn't come for perfection.

No, he came for the broken, the sick, the lonely, the lost, the ugly... the sinners. He didn't come for the righteous and religious. He didn't come for those who have it together or try to have it together. He came for those who cannot stand and simply fall on him.

As I prayed this morning and thanked Jesus for his enormous sacrifice, I was burdened by my own sin. I felt smothered by the weight of my own selfishness, pride and stubborness. I struggled to whisper prayers of gratitude because I was so aware of my own depravity. My need for him felt abysmal-- a gap seemingly impossible to fill. My shame wanted to push Jesus away... I wanted to clean myself up before he saw me. I wanted to fix my broken desires and align my flawed will to his. I wanted to do it all... and then come to the precious and holy feet of Jesus.

But in the stillness of the morning he quieted my weary and anxious soul once again. He reminded me that grace finds me right where I am. Grace doesn't hand me the soap and then ask me to wash up. Grace is Jesus washing me with his blood. Glory!

The perfect Christmas is spent on those who are in desperate need of a savior... on those who can't save themselves-- and on those who don't try to. It is perfect because his blood perfectly washes our sin. It is perfect because it perfectly completes our weaknesses. It is perfect because it perfectly redeems us.

It is perfect.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today is my mom’s birthday…

I never know how to surprise her enough, get her a good enough gift, make her enough “coupons,” spend enough time with her, write her enough letters to express how much I love her. Oh, my beautiful, beautiful mom.

I know she’s not perfect and she’d be the first to humbly admit this. But for some reason, as I was growing up, I found it impossible to find a flaw in her. Well, sometimes she lost her patience when my brother and I would fight. And then there was that one time she responded coldly, hurting my feelings. I’m sure that at some point she has offended someone, somewhere. I know that she is all too aware of her own sin and seeks to put it to death every morning. She has a holy discontent that compels her to seek Christ more diligently. Her incredible humility encourages her to seek constructive criticism and grow from it. Integrity marks her heart and stability in Christ holds her life—and the lives of those around her—together.

This incredible woman reminds me of the Proverbs 31 woman. She really is worth far more than rubies—her noble character a rarity. I am blown away time and time again by how holiness guides her life. Her dedication and supreme love for Christ pushes her into a deeper relationship, resulting in more sanctification. I have never doubted Christ’s primary place in her heart, knowing that all else she holds dear isn’t even a close second. Her godly character has stood as a beacon in my life. I’ve seen her righteousness shine and have found myself asking, “What would my mom do?” more than once.

Her love for our family is so evident. Like the Proverbs 31 woman, “she sets about her work vigorously; her arms are strong for her tasks” (v17). She diligently and affectionately works hard to care for our family well. If I am ever to even be half the mother and wife that she is, I would consider that an accomplishment. I remember how she’d wake up early to prepare a big breakfast every day so that we would enjoy eating meals together as a family. I remember many long nights where she would help me fill out applications, edit papers, pack for trips or plan crazy ideas. She acknowledged differences between my brother and I and loved us the same. Her kind words and wise heart guided me time and time again.

But her compassion and seemingly endless love don’t end with our family. “She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy” (v20). Does she ever! My mother is also one of the most generous people I know. She isn’t put off by poverty, but seeks to find solutions that will benefit the people in the long run. When I came home sobbing from an orphanage, my mom would comfort me, pray with me and then brainstorm ideas with me. I remember walking past beggars, knowing my mom would buy them food on the way back.

One verse in particular sends goose bumps down my spine is verse 25: “She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” She truly is clothed with strength and dignity. My mother is one of the strongest people I know; quiet strength leaks out of her pores. She walks with dignity, covered in humility.

A couple verses down, it reads, “She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue” (v26). Perhaps one of the things that I have enjoyed most about getting older is enjoying this fruitful friendship with my precious mother. I enjoy bouncing ideas off her. I love having her ask me questions that I normally wouldn’t have thought of. I appreciate her kind words and her profoundly wise heart. I have asked for her advice and prayers more than once.

She is a woman who fears the LORD and because of that, I want to praise her—to honor her. And so, “Her children arise and call her blessed” (v28).

Happy Birthday, Mom.