The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel (which means “God is with us”). Matthew 1:23 NIV
I took a break from blogging for several weeks last December.
One of the reasons was the San Bernardino attack of December 2, 2015. I didn’t feel that posting about my personal journey seemed appropriate during such a time, so I shared my thoughts on that instead.
Then, in the following weeks, a series of painful events struck in the life of my community:
- A friend’s father passed away unexpectedly a week before Christmas 2015.
- A member of our church suddenly fell ill with cancer and passed away three days before Christmas, leaving behind her husband and 13-year old daughter.
- Some friends of ours had a miscarriage on Christmas Day, over twenty weeks into a difficult pregnancy.
These were all dedicated followers of Jesus. How would they ever see the Christmas season the same way again? Holiday music 24/7, snowflake decorations, and the ubiquitous red-and-green color scheme could trigger more pain than mirth in the years to come.
In the midst of all this, I just couldn’t bring myself to wish anyone a “Merry Christmas” anymore.
Am I a Scrooge? A Grinch? Or worse- a Starbucks-swigging apostate waging some “war on Christmas”?
It’s just that the more I learn about Jesus, the more discontent I’ve grown with the fluffed-up, commercialized, politicized, feel-good brand of self-help that tries to pass itself off as Christianity these days.
Going to Northeastern Japan in the aftermath of one of the biggest earthquakes and tsunamis in history drastically shifted my views on faith. Being in a land where people have suffered so much loss and devastation caused me to question what I thought I knew about ministry.
First, I realized how much of my ministry was based on talk, and talk can be cheap.
God sent me to a land where I was disarmed of my primary weapon: words.
I was used to listening to people, then offering them advice, but in Japan, unable to master the language, I couldn’t preach to anyone or assuage their pain with the normal clichés.
This might have been a good thing– after all, how could you sit in front of someone who has lost loved ones, their homes, and their livelihoods to a natural disaster and say something like “It’s all part of God’s plan” or “God is giving you a chance to repent?” Even if these statements contain truth, how would they sound to someone struggling with the question, “Why?”
The second thing I realized was how damaging the prosperity gospel is, preaching that if you follow Jesus and do all the right things, you’ll be blessed and your life will be happier.
There are best-selling books claiming that God wants you to have a better life, a better job, a better house.
This is B.S.
The Bible says that if you follow Jesus, you’ll be persecuted and hated (Matt. 24:9), deny yourself and bear a cross daily (Lk. 9:23), and engage in spiritual battles (Eph. 6:12).
As one author put it, the Christian life is no cruise on a luxury liner; it’s a tour of duty aboard a battle ship.
So why would anyone agree to sign up for this?
Because once you meet Jesus and know who He is, He is all that matters, and when we turn to Him, He gives us the peace that transcends all understanding (Phil. 4:7).
Above all, we are reconciled to God through Jesus Christ, and this alone is reason to rejoice.
When people base their faith on the notion that God’s role is to keep us fulfilled, they build a house on sand, not stone, and the foundations wash away when life happens and tough questions arise.
In Japan, stripped of my ability to speak and unable to make promises that the Bible doesn’t offer, the most I felt I could do for tsunami survivors was to simply be present and let them know I was there for them.
I laughed with those who laughed and cried with those who cried (Rom. 12:15).
Did I share the Gospel with them? Yes, eventually, with the aid of a translator, but do you think anyone would have listened if I hadn’t first communicated love by simply being there with them?
The ministry of presence reminded me that Jesus Himself is the Incarnation, or God fully present among humankind, as a human being.
In the Christmas account in Matthew chapter 1, Jesus is the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophesied Immanuel, which means “God is with us.”
God is with us.
Immanuel.
No matter how challenging the circumstances swirling around us might be, God is with us.
Immanuel.
This is, in my opinion, much more appropriate than saying “Merry Christmas,” a phrase that was popularized on greeting cards in the 19th century. “Merry” means “cheerful and lively,” and while the birth of Christ should be a reason to celebrate, the phrase “Merry Christmas” seems to have more to do with Santa Claus and peppermint lattes than it does with the birth of Jesus these days.
Plus, it glosses over the pain that so many people face this time of the year.
This is why I couldn’t bring myself to say “Merry Christmas” very much this year. Instead, to the families of the victims of the San Bernardino attack:
Immanuel.
To the friend who lost his father two weeks ago:
Immanuel.
To the family that lost their wife/mother/sister/daughter to cancer three days before Christmas:
Immanuel.
To our friends who lost their baby on Christmas Day:
Immanuel.
God is with us.
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” (Deut. 31:8 NIV)
