When Christmas Leaves You Longing

I’m going to make a confession that I’m not even sure I’m ready for.

A large part of me is extremely glad that Christmas is over. Because Christmas is hard.

There, I said it.

Now before you mutter Bah humbug or label me a Scrooge, please read on.

For me, Christmas presents a bit of a paradox, and perhaps the same is true for you.

There are few things in life which build more anticipation, involve more preparation and carry more expectation than Christmas. And this year was no different.

I decorated the house — inside and out.
I hung the stockings.
I sent the cards.
I made the cookies.
I bought the gifts.
I wrapped the gifts.
I played the music.
I attended the parties.

I counted the days and begged time to slow down so I would have more time to do more things so that I could be more prepared.

All the while, searching for the magic of the season, waiting for that perfect Christmas moment to come, wanting to savor this “most wonderful time of the year” in the hope that by the time Christmas arrived, I’d have done it all so I could feel completely fulfilled and satisfied by the holiday.

In addition to the list above, I also attempted to prepare my heart for the coming Christ Child.

I attended the Advent services.
I read my own (almost) daily Advent devotions.
I engaged my kids in a (almost) daily family Advent devotion.
I read a chapter of Luke (almost) every day of December leading up to Christmas.

And I told myself that these things in particular would most certainly guarantee a Christmas that didn’t pass me by.

Then the long-awaited 48-hour stretch arrived: Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

And besides the fact that we got together with family, maybe wearing nicer clothes or eating fancier food than was typical, maybe exchanging some gifts and maybe attending an out of the ordinary church service, the days felt the same as any others. And I wondered what I had done wrong, what I had missed. What I could have added to my list of preparations — physical or spiritual — which would’ve made the special time feel more, well…special.

And by the time the clock struck midnight on December 26th, I was ready for it all to be over, for life to go back to normal so I could stop wishing it felt more abnormal. So the pressure and the expectation would cease to exist. So I could stop wondering what was wrong with me for not feeling more particularly “merry and bright”. After all, I kept telling myself, we were celebrating the Savior of the world coming to earth as a baby! Armed with that Truth and so much preparation, shouldn’t it feel at least a little bit magical?

But there is no feeling of magic when the pressures of family get-togethers bring tension and strained relationships to the forefront.

There is no feeling of magic when the empty chair at the table serves as a reminder of the person so dearly missed.

There is no feeling of magic when the look on a child’s face as she opens a gift shows evidence of an ungrateful heart.

There is no feeling of magic when the cookies which were oh-so delicious leave behind the familiar aftertaste of guilt and fear of the scale.

There is no feeling of magic when the amount of money spent exceeds the amount planned for, posing financial challenges in the months ahead.

There is no feeling of magic when the aftermath of full days and late night culminates in impatience and crabbiness in both children and adults.

Because you see, there is one important truth about Christmas which I tend to overlook every single year: the reason Jesus came to earth is the exact reason Christmas will never live up to the expectations.

The hard realization that no amount of earthly preparation — physical or spiritual — will ever result in a perfect, magical Christmas is exactly what makes Jesus’s birth so necessary. For when sin entered the world, life surely changed forever. Gone were the perfect days of satisfaction and complete fulfillment, Adam and Eve walking with the Creator in the garden as they would a close friend. Our days would now be filled with longing, conflict and dissatisfaction (Genesis 3:17-24). Yet this toil would point us heavenward, serving as a constant reminder that we were not made for this broken world.

The fact that, despite our many deliberate preparations, our modern-day Christmases begin and end the same as any other day, bearing disappointments and revealing earthly struggles in between, is actually quite fitting. For the Savior Himself was born on a night like any other, in the middle of a small town, on the floor of a stable, surrounded by animals and a completely unprepared and inexperienced set of parents. Talk about less than magical circumstances. Yet that night still changed the world and fulfilled the promise given in the garden all of those years prior (Genesis 3:15).

The Truth that Jesus came to earth that first Christmas to live the perfect life which we couldn’t, to die the awful death so that we didn’t have to, and to rise again so that we would one day also, did not depend on the readiness of the world or the magic of the moment.

Nor does it now.

So if Christmas has left you longing for more, my friend, I know how you feel. Thank God with me that there is still so much more to come and that it will far exceed any earthly expectation you or I could have ever held.

Therefore, we do not lose heart.
Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.
For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.
So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
— 2 Corinthians 4:16-18