Lamenting at Christmas by Kyleigh Dunn
From music in the malls to the smiles on church-goers’ faces, everything around me told me I should be happy. It was Christmas, after all. Lights and presents were everywhere, the family was coming, and my two-year-old could not wait. Joy to the World was what I was supposed to be singing, but Psalm 42 was more fitting for my mood:
“My tears have been my food
day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
“Where is your God?”
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?”
(Psalm 42:3, 5a, ESV)
God felt absent from my life—how could I celebrate Christ’s coming? Had he forgotten me, even as I thirsted for him?
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.
Christmas, according to the carols and decorations, was about silent nights, tearless babes, and painless birth, but my baby was crying in the middle of the night after a sixteen-hour time change. I often cried with her, PTSD from a birth with blood and sweat filling my mind. Sickness, an international move, and the recent deaths of two relatives made postpartum depression spiral ever deeper.
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night.
Fat, jolly, bearded men and shiny baubles were supposed to draw my attention, but I could not tear my eyes away from the news. Across the world, in the Levant that has long held my heart, Aleppo was under devastating siege. Broken bodies lay under broken buildings, while the world did nothing to stop it.
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
The mood of “the most wonderful time of the year” just did not fit with my pain or the suffering in Syria. Nor did it mirror the state of Israel at the time Jesus arrived, but it seemed that only a veneer of Christmas merriment was allowed. There was no room for any sorrow.
Cheer us by Thine Advent here.
CHRISTMAS JOY FOR THE HEAVY-HEARTED
Christmas is what brings joy to the world. The good news of God’s Son coming to save us from our sins is the antidote to all of our troubles. We proclaim this hope in our carols. It’s talked about in sermons and mentioned in prayers before Christmas dinner.
Rejoice, rejoice.
But to those with heavy hearts, even songs about a weary world rejoicing can be like vinegar on a wound (Prov. 25:20).
We usually respond by stuffing our grief and faking a smile.
Emmanuel has come to thee, O Israel.
Jesus took on full humanity in his incarnation. He became like us, weak and vulnerable. His birth included blood, sweat, and tears. He cried—in fact, he wept. He came to an oppressed people. Christ’s coming shattered the line of despair formed by the sin that kept us from God. Jesus demonstrates God’s love, faithfulness, and desire to be present with us and glorified among us in the messes of our suffering. He reveals that God has neither abandoned nor forgotten us.
O come, Thou Key of David, come, and open wide our heavenly home!
Christmas cheer centers not on our lives being wonderful, but on Christ entering our world to save us. It’s about God making all things new, hearing our cries for deliverance and initiating the rescue. Deep, abiding Christmas joy comes from God reaching out to sinners through Christ. Make safe the way that leads on high, and close the path to misery,
CHRISTMAS AND LAMENT CAN CO-EXIST
Since Christmas tells us that everything will be alright, it’s easy to think we ought to hide everything that isn’t fine now. But we don’t have to. Our tears and laments are valid, even at Christmas. Jesus’ birth is surrounded by people whose pain is not hidden: A barren old woman. A nation oppressed by Rome. Anna and Simeon fasting and waiting for the Consolation of Israel. Mary, facing shame and birth, and one day, a sword piercing her heart. Then comes the weeping and mourning of mothers refusing to be comforted after Herod’s massacre of their sons.
Come, Thou long-expected Jesus, born to set Thy people free.
The Messiah’s arrival and the subsequent call to rejoice come not from an instant fix to all of our problems, but from God with us. We know we can have hope because if God is present with us, we have protection, help, and comfort. But the disconnect between who God is, what he is doing in history, and how we are suffering right now is why we can and should lament.
Rather than forcing optimism, Christmas assures us that we can trust God with our pain. It makes it possible to believe God’s goodness even in dark days. He kept his promises to send the Messiah; he will keep them to make all things new and wipe away every tear. Even as we rejoice in Jesus’ first coming, we await his second coming, and while we wait, we face the realities of life in a fallen world every day. We can’t and shouldn’t ignore them. But we can and should talk with him and his people about them, even and especially at Christmas.
From our fears and sins release us, let us find our strength in Thee.
If your heart feels heavy this Christmas, you’re not alone. But rather than seeking relief in cookies, shopping, and presents, take your sorrows to God. Take comfort in Christ’s intercession (Hebrews 7:25) and empathy (Hebrews 4:14-16).
Lament, because the world is broken, and rejoice, because Emmanuel has come.
Kyleigh Dunn is wife to Ezra and mother to three young girls. She reads obsessively, enjoys playing oboe and piano, and seeks to spread awareness of perinatal mood and anxiety disorders in the church and apply theology and biblical encouragement to moms experiencing them. Kyleigh blogs at www.thesojourningdunns.wordpress.com and can be found on Instagram @kyleighrdunn or Facebook @thesojourningdunns.