Christmas is for losers.
Seriously. It’s for people like you and me.
Now, I know that sometimes we lose
- a parking space,
- a couple of bucks,
- phone numbers,
- a grocery list in the middle of the store,
- or the keys to the car.
It’s irritating. Downright inconvenient.
But, that kind of loss has nothing to do with Christmas. It’s the major heartaches and disappointments that shove it’s meaning right in our face.
I remember my first major loss as clearly as if it happened this morning.
It was a cold winter’s eve. I had just gone to sleep when the phone rang. Mom told me that Dad had a heart attack. The paramedics worked on him even as she spoke.
By the time we followed the ambulance to the hospital, he was gone.
For the next few weeks, my mind played funny tricks on me.
- After church one Sunday, I thought I saw Dad was standing at the back door.
- Once I thought I glimpsed him walking ahead of me at the mall.
- A few months after he died, I dreamed my family spent the whole day with him at the park. When I woke up I remembered all over again that he was gone.
A shredding of relationship that leaves you empty. Alone. Without hope.
If you don’t believe me, ask Adam and Eve.
They had an achingly beautiful relationship with almighty God and then they tore it apart. From the moment those two fled the garden, our existence has been defined by this loss.
- we are nothing,
- have nothing,
- and know nothing of deep worship and unbridled joy.
That’s why Christmas is for losers.
We hunger like beggars for significance. For meaning beyond decorations, a few carols and presents under the tree.
Typical losers. That’s you and me. Gathering at the manger, our pain pushing us up against the cradle of the Christ child. Our loneliness forcing us linger there far into the cold, dark night.
We need God.
And, He has come to us.