Devotion:  Something Worth Celebrating this Christmas

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. ~Jesus

 Do you know which song elicits the most tears from a roomful of teens? If you had asked me this question a year and a half ago, I wouldn’t have known the answer.

A year and a half ago, our family came to a church in West Michigan. My husband, Josh, took a job as the worship leader and youth pastor. We have a mix of kids from all different family situations who show up on Wednesday nights for youth group.

One Wednesday this past fall, I came into the room to find my husband leading the teens in worship with the song, “Good, Good Father.” This wasn’t the first time that song made several teens cry. Every single time we sing that song (no exaggeration here) at least one of the teens will rush out to the bathroom or cry on someone’s shoulder.

The song ended. My husband asked the teens how many had a father who had walked out on their family or who was present at home but never really “there.” The number of teens who raised their hands squeezed my heart. Over half the room had one hand in the air. I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes.

We broke into small groups. Josh asked the teens to share how their own fathers have let them down and maybe how they could trust their heavenly Father to fill in the holes their own dads had left.

There were about four teens in our small group. I asked the first girl if her father had ever let her down. She smiled awkwardly and looked down. She looked around the group. She looked back at me and reluctantly spoke. The statement came out with so much trembling that her voice missed the timing of the words, but we all heard her.

“I don’t know who my father is.”

Wrecked. Tears came to my eyes as fast as they came to hers.

What do you say in such a moment?

The group was silent, and the air was so thick with emotion that my insides ache all over again as I remember it now. She wasn’t angry, and I think that’s why her expression was so unnerving. A lot of teens get sad/angry or sad/bitter or sad/hopeless. But she wasn’t any of those things. Her expression was sad/lost.

We were frozen together in a moment of intense loss, and then she looked down to allow her tears to freefall to the ground. It was all I could do to hold it together.

That moment, as I said, happened a couple of months ago.

This week I’ve been studying the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). It goes like this:

There are two sons. One leaves his father to buy all the treasure he ever wanted. He gives up a relationship with his dad to live the life he always wanted–one rich with good food and wild living. He eventually loses everything, realizes his foolishness, and returns home. His dad kisses him, forgives him, clothes him, and throws a feast to celebrate his return. The other brother, the one who stayed home, gets mad and tells the dad how he wishes he could celebrate with his friends and have a feast.

As I looked at this story over and over again, I thought about this girl who doesn’t know her dad. I also thought about Christmas. I saw one theme emerge as I considered all of this, and it was:

The greatest treasures any of us have are relationships. The treasure is “us.” The celebration is “us.”

In the parable of the prodigal son, each character had a different story of celebration. The prodigal son’s was, “I left my dad to find the celebration.” The story of the son who stayed home was, “I worked hard and I want the celebration I should have coming to me.” The dad’s was “Being with you, son, is the celebration.”

Do you know what that girl from youth group knows that many of us miss? That simply knowing your Father is a gift.

My wish this Christmas is that you would walk back into someone’s life. Maybe that person is a sibling, parent, friend or coworker.

Maybe it’s your heavenly Father.

Maybe it’s time to come home.

Someone has been looking out on the horizon, hoping for your return, or maybe for you to show up for the very first time.

Back to that dear girl who doesn’t know her dad. I shared with her the only thing I could muster at the time:

“You can know your heavenly Father, and he will never walk out on you.”

We can’t fix every relationship, and in some cases it is too late for reconciliation. However, as long as it’s today, you have the ability to get the most important relationship right.

Whether you return home in confession or open your arms to receive someone estranged, I wish you the courage and grace to celebrate the “us” that you’ve missed out on all this time.

Dear heavenly Father, give us all the wisdom, strength, and love to restore relationships that have been lost. Help us to return to you, first and foremost. Then help us to come back and make things right with those we’ve left. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Scripture for Reflection

“So he got up and went to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate.” (Luke 15:20-24 NIV)

Reach for More

 This week’s challenge is to take one step toward restoring a relationship with someone.

Please, come back and leave a comment telling us about how God spoke to you this week, or share your progress on social media using the hashtag #tgtreachformore. We would love to hear from you!

Lindsey Feldpausch is a creative writer, graphic design enthusiast, social media coordinator, and sinner saved by grace who lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Her worship leader/youth pastor husband and four delightful kiddos fill life with unbelievably amusing quotes and sweet snuggles. She thinks God is awesome and that the best adventure starts with saying yes to that still, small voice.