If life were like a Hallmark Christmas movie, this time of year would be idyllic.  Fluffy snow would fall, but it would never be accompanied by howling winds.  People would stroll together as it wafted gently down on them.  No one would fall and break a hip on the ice.  Each of us would be happily united with the love of our life (after some dramatic moments where things looked a little iffy).  We would settle down for a warm and happy Christmas celebration surrounded by all the people who love us most.  And we would live happily ever after.  The end.

In Hallmark-land no one spends Christmas in a nursing home or a hospital or making arrangements with the funeral director for a loved one.  No one spends the holidays standing in line to get a hot meal or to receive a donated tarp to help fend off the elements because they live on the street.  No one is living in a war zone, or in a tent by the border, waiting to apply for asylum or crammed into a refugee camp.  No one is so far down that they can’t see where up is.  Of course not; who wants to think about that stuff at Christmas?

But you know the story of the first Christmas makes a lot more sense for those who are poor and hungry, downtrodden and forgotten than it does for those who have it all going for them.

So that means the Christmas story is for all of us.

Clearly, we are not (by and large) the suffering and down-trodden – not by a long shot.  But neither are we completely whole, happy and satisfied either.  We know well that full bellies and warm houses are not enough to make us complete.

At Christmas time, we’re expected to put on a happy face and exhibit Christmas cheer. That’s the polite thing to do, but it doesn’t mean that we are as happy inside as we look from the outside.  If you’re not feeling particularly jolly this Christmas, don’t beat yourself up for feeling blue.  Instead, let your Christmas blues lead you into a deeper experience of Advent. 

Christmas is best appreciated from a place that is in touch with our emptiness and longing for completion, for wholeness, for peace.  Mary knew what God’s radical visitation meant.  It meant that powerful and self-satisfied ‘masters of the universe’ would have to reckon with submitting to the real Master.  And it meant great good news to those who, in their emptiness, longed to be filled.  So, she proclaimed:

He has shown the strength of his arm,
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones,
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things,
and the rich he has sent away empty.   (Luke 1:51-53)

If this message reaches you in a place of brokenness and emptiness, in the cold of your soul’s winter, let the promise of Christ’s Advent ignite a flame of holy longing within you.

Prayer:  Emmanuel, come to the place in my heart that is empty and yearning to be filled with the joy of your presence.  Make your home in me.  Amen.