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.