Christmas, or Celebrating the Closing of the Gap

Last Christmas was a bust in every way. I was too sick to enjoy gift exchanges, attend holiday services, or detect the slightest hint of the Christmas spirit in the air. I wasn’t the only Grinch in the house, either. My big kids couldn’t be bothered to look up from their phones for even a moment to interact with our company, who’d traveled from afar only to watch me sleep and be ignored by my teenagers. I was mortified. And relieved when these days, which were supposed to be special and meaningful, were finally behind me.

My youngest daughter’s birthday is just a few days after Christmas. I was also too sick to plan or prepare for her long-sought-after Frozen-themed birthday party. Instead, a dear friend attended to every detail. I tried to feel excited about having someone to do this for me, but I mostly felt like a failure. So, like most folks I know around the holidays, I had a total meltdown.

Standing in the kitchen, struggling to wash just one bowl, I scanned my surroundings, seeing everything I hadn’t done. Everywhere I looked, my eyes fell upon the evidence of all I lacked. The forlorn Christmas tree was still up in the corner of our living room. I couldn’t wait for it to come down, for the visual representation of our epically pitiful holiday season to be banished once and for all. Dirty dishes covered the counter, and yet I was falling apart after just one icing-covered bowl.

And.

I.

Lost.

It.

In my mind, this was solid evidence that I was the worst Christian, the worst mom, the very worst everything in the history of human time. Really, what Christian wants Christmas to hurry up and be over?

Oh, and my dear friend had witnessed my meltdown and been left in the kitchen to wonder if she was the cause. So we can add worst imaginable friend to the list as well.

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!

I called my friend into the other room, where I’d flung myself across the bed and surrendered to my woes. I told her how sorry I was that she was stuck in the middle of my mess. Surprisingly, she said she was thrilled to be there. She was happy to be using her gifts on my behalf. It wasn’t a burden to her but a joy. Huh.

I told Jesus how sorry I was that he, too, was stuck in the middle of my mess—that he was stuck with me as a kid. He must have been so disappointed to come to earth and end up with me, right?

Then I heard the voice of my beloved, tender but sure, saying, I couldn’t wait to get to you.

And.

I.

Was.

Wrecked.

He couldn’t wait to get to me. He couldn’t wait to step into my humanity, into my mess. He didn’t care what I was doing or what it looked like, he just wanted to be where I was. He wanted to close the gap.

How magical the holidays felt to me in that very moment, how holy to honor the fact that my beloved chose to put on the uniform of humanity and close the gap between us, to step into my mess because he couldn’t wait to get to me. Truly, I will never see the holiday season the same way. [Tweet “Christmas will forever be imprinted on my heart as the season to celebrate the closing of the gap.”]

Whatever you do this holiday season, may I encourage you to take some time to celebrate the closing of the gap? The coming near of a holy God who couldn’t wait to get to you even in your messy, human, total meltdown state? He doesn’t care what it looks like. He just wants to be with you.

Stacey Philpot is wife to Ryan and mother to Hayden, Julie, and Avery. She is a writer, goofball, and avid reader. Stacey has ministered for over 15 years to youth and women in her community in order to equip them to go deeper in Christ. She blogs at aliferepaired.com and chronicallywhole.com.

 

Photograph by Hans Braxmeier.