Merry Christmas

Today is the day that Jesus was born. This is the season when Christ came onto Earth. This is the time of year that... Oh, heck, I guess all I can really say is that the calendar says today is Christmas, and that is when Christians these days traditionally celebrate the birth of Christ. It also seems like a good occasion to set some thoughts down on this blog. 

As you can probably tell from the intro, Christmas and I have a long and challenging history together. Please don’t get me wrong, it’s not the miraculous story I struggle with – the why behind Christmas - but the when and how that are tough to reconcile for me.  I was a faithful and enchanted celebrant as a child, but the tinsel lost its glitter when I became a young adult, and I spent several years avoiding the holiday and everything associated with it entirely, much to the chagrin and heartache of my friends and family. Eventually I came around to seeing that causing them pain and confusion and missing out on the chance to exalt Christ with my fellow believers was at least equally as unchristian as participating in traditions that I knew were not Biblical and were a troubling mix of different faiths. So, we once again began to partake of the good things that Christmas has to offer, despite the fact that it has become so incredibly commercialized and I still believe that many of its trappings (time of year, tree, decorations, etc) do undeniably have their roots in pagan religious habits. This is where the problem lies for me.

Deuteronomy 12:29-32, Jeremiah 10:1-5, and Colossians 2:8 (among many, many other places) are a warning to us about not mingling our faith in Christ with the faith and traditions of other religions. On the other hand, Romans 14 (among many, many other places) tells us to chill out, pray and think for ourselves, and do everything as a celebration to Jesus. Thanks, Bible, for leaving things just a wee bit ambiguous once again. When I sought the Lord for answers, I couldn’t help but be struck by the dichotomy that we’re not supposed to get religious and legalistic about our faith, but we’re also supposed to be pure about how we live it out. Hmmm…

So, I always find myself a bit uncomfortable this time of year as I try to negotiate the best path forward. I need to honor my God above all else, but in order to be a good witness I have to consider the needs of the people and culture (micro and macro) around me as well. It’s not an easy balance to find, so I always approach Christmas with a bit of confusion and dread as well as excitement. Then again, maybe that’s an integral part of the story of Christ coming to Earth, after all – discomfort. 

Don’t get me wrong, even as I write I am safe, full, comfortable, and looking forward to a big bowl of chili and a slice of pecan pie for supper. (Yum!) However, I’m also uncomfortable as well. It’s not easy to be away from my friends and family. Even though we love, love, love our new country (and new house, since we just moved 5 days ago), I feel further from home than ever during this time of year. I know I was called here. It’s where I belong. I understand that its many discomforts will be temporary (even if they last my whole lifetime), but I’m not even sure exactly what God will do through our mission work, though He’s revealed glimpses of it to me. There are promises I believe He’s given regarding our ministry that are bigger than what I can imagine happening, but I hold on to them with awe and wonder nonetheless, though I don’t know how they’ll come to pass. 

I guess that’s a bit like how Mary must have felt - far from home, carrying the savior of the world, and not even given an easy place to bring Him forth. Yet, the Bible tells us in Luke 2:19 that she treasured up the promises God had given her and pondered them in her heart. There’s a great degree of discomfort in that picture – a young girl, away from everyone she knows, surrounded by the unfamiliar, experiencing great physical and emotional challenges, but holding on to the promises of God anyway. If Christmas is  when we celebrate the story of Christ being born, then I guess that’s what Christmas looks like.

The wise men, too, knew what it was to be uncomfortable. In the whole Christmas story, they are the figures that are often viewed as the most mysterious. Not much is written about them except that they came from the East, brought interesting and expensive gifts to the Christ child, and knew enough to not trust Herod. (After all – they were wise men, remember?) I’ve heard a lot of preaching about this subject, and the nearest I can tell is that the Magi were probably part of an exclusive Babylonian/Persian/Median priesthood, meaning their predecessors (by a lot of years) would have known Daniel – the same one from the lion’s den, and all that – and would have had access to his and other Jewish writings, including prophecies about the coming messiah. (You know, stuff like Daniel 9:24-27.) Their physical journey would have been arduous. They would have been away from home for a long time, surrounded by strangers, facing dangers and discomfort, and they would have done it all because of promises God gave long before that they chose to hold on to and pursue. Sound familiar?

Then again, the whole reason for the season (as repeated by bumper stickers and wall hangings) is the Messiah himself. This was the ultimate example of discomfort (to say the least) regarding Christmas. It couldn’t have been easy for Jesus Christ to set aside his deity to become Emmanuel – God with us, and all of the messiness that entailed. After all, who would want to be restrained to being a tiny, helpless baby, complete with soggy cloth diapers and the inability to communicate? More seriously, though, Jesus knew what He was coming to do. He knows the whole end from the beginning, not just the painful end of his physical life on Earth that awaited Him, and He came anyway. For the sake of humanity, for the sake of people who would make His life hard and reject Him, for the sake of the fallen and imperfect, He was willing to face physical, emotional, and spiritual discomfort for 33 long years. For the sake of the salvation of the very people who would cause him that discomfort, He was willing to suffer it. It’s easy to recognize the suffering on the cross as a part of His story, but what about all the discomfort that came from the moment he stepped into human flesh? That’s part of the Christmas story as well.

I guess, in the end, Christmas still doesn’t look any easier or less confusing than it ever did to me, but that’s ok  Now, at least, I know more authentically what celebrating the birth of Christ should look like –whether you celebrate and honor it on December 25^th or every single day of the year. It looks like entering in. It looks like making the effort and taking the long trips and wading into the messiness and confusion of life for the sake of bringing forth the Messiah, sharing Him with others, and giving Him all of your gifts. It looks like doing things that may seem crazy to the world around you, but that you somehow know are right because of promises from an eternally faithful God that you’re holding on to. It looks like taking the opportunities you’re given – whatever they may be – to bring Christ ever more into the world around you. It looks messy. It looks uncomfortable. It looks, in its own small measure, like the story and life of Jesus Himself, and I can totally get on board with that!

People Are a Blessing

Over the last three years, I have been writing about the things that challenge us living in Guatemala - the hard things.  For the most part, we knew most of those things would happen. We had read books and talked to other missionaries, so we were prepared. But, there is one happening now that I had not foreseen and I didn't realize it would be so hard.

The picture above is from my birthday last year. Those are all our friends that we invited who could make it that night.  As of December 20th, every one of them will have moved from Guatemala.

I have never needed friends as much as I do here.  In the States, I was kind of a loner. Sure, I might call my dad, see people at church, and occasionally have someone over, but for the most part my evenings were spent with my kids and family.

Here, though, because you are living outside your own culture, it is good to have people to talk to and to be able to express your excitement and your anxieties to.  While we have made some very dear Guatemalan friends, talking with them is not the same as communicating the struggles and joys of being a missionary. For that, you really need others who have lived the missionary life and understand.

Most people here are not lifers. They may serve five, ten, twenty, or even thirty years, but most are at least open to the idea of going home. In fact, in many conversations I have had with missionaries, this question comes up, "do you think you'll ever go home?"  We all know what is meant by home; it is the United States.  Some people do say, "I am home," but it is rare.

Most of us moved down here because we felt a call to serve, so we are also open to the call of moving somewhere else.  In fact, the last people from that picture who will be leaving later this month are moving to the Middle East.

Being a missionary is like being in a club, and the other people in the club become family.  No one I know does it alone on the mission field, and when people leave, it is like losing a brother or sister. We lose people who go back to the states.  We lose people who move to serve in other places.  And, we never know where we will end up, either.  Will we be lifers in Guatemala? Will we decide we have served enough and go back to the States? Will we be called to another country?  Someday will that picture be just a memory of people who were here in Guatemala and have moved on?

I don't know the answer to those questions, but I know two things right now: 1.)  I am supposed to be here in Guatemala right now.  2.) I miss those people in the picture a lot.