I am gravely robbing myself of God’s Grace.
I place the last dish in the dishwasher and wipe down the sink from the splashed water. I turn around from facing the sink and see Brett sitting on the floor with his back up against the refrigerator. Moments before, he was racing cars across the kitchen floor with the twins. He notices I am finished and pats the floor next to himself. “Come sit.”
I sit down and lean my head on his shoulder to see his point of view. The day is almost over celebrating our Christmas with only the six of us. Toys are dispersed all over the floors, coffee table, and kitchen table. Damon says, “The tree threw up!” repeating his father’s words from earlier that day.
Joy and happiness are deep within me, something I have been fighting for at Christmastime the last several years. It’s been a tug of war between “merry” and sadness around the holidays. These times were filled with grief from the death of our sons and other loved ones who weren’t with us, shame that my children had only a few gifts under the tree because of financial strain, and fear of what the next year would or would not bring as Brett’s career was uncertain.
Yet this year as we watch our four children, Brett softly tells me how thankful to the Lord he is for all the blessings He has given us. He lists them off one by one. He finishes by snuggling his face next to my head and says, “I love you so much.”
I repeat the sentiment back to him, feeling my heart about to burst. I finally allow myself to be happy. To experience all the joy without guilt, shame, or fear. To overflow with gratitude for all that the Lord has done and redeemed both spiritually and physically. I do not want to get up from this posture on the kitchen floor. The floor that never stays clean no matter how many times I sweep and scrub. I choose to be still, watching our children scurry with laughter from one toy to another, snuggling next to Brett where my heart is completely anchored to his.
Furthermore, I do not want to leave this posture of joy, happiness, and gratitude. I have been holding back until now because of guilt. Guilt that I am happy when many others are in deep grief, sorrow, and suffering right now. I hear myself respond, “I cannot be happy when others are not in this same place.”
Why? Why do I believe that I cannot experience joy and happiness? Why do I not allow myself to feel it all no matter the emotion? When I am suffering, I minimize it because it’s not as bad as someone else’s suffering. When I am happy, I minimize it because I am not permitted to be happier than others.
I compare myself to others in my grief. I compare myself to others in my happiness. This is faulty because my standard is based on others. And I will lose every time. I won’t feel the deep sorrow if I don’t allow myself to go deep; I won’t feel the happiness if I don’t allow myself to fly.
I have also been holding back from fear of more suffering. I hear myself respond, “The next wave will hit. It always has. It always will. Just wait.” I fear that the higher I am on the mountain, the more painful it will be in the fall. Staying numb is better. Easier. No commitment either way; therefore, no drastic effects.
In all of these, I am gravely robbing myself of God’s Grace. The very gift that He brought when He came to this earth: His Grace and His Presence that is throughout the lowest of lows and the highest of highs.
Maybe you are bursting with joy over a pregnancy you have prayed fervently for, the birth, adoption, or fostering of a new child, an engagement ring with a dream wedding to plan, or the news of more time with a loved one.
Rejoice, for God is near.
Maybe your marriage is hanging on by a thread, that friend won’t talk to you, you’re alone when all your friends are married, your doctor gave you news you never wanted to hear, or you are in deep grief over the death of someone close to you.
Lament, for God is near.
Maybe you fall somewhere in between.
There is no room for guilt. There is no room for shame. There is no room for fear of what is to come. There was no room for Jesus in the inn, because He came to fill us instead.
Therefore, I choose God’s Grace of joy and happiness and gratitude in this moment, this Christmastime, and come what may. Because it comes not from my own or other people’s circumstances. If joy is found in Jesus, and happiness is found in being happy in God, then I can allow Him to fill me until I’m overflowing. I have met my Jesus in the lowest of lows, the highest of highs, and everywhere in between.
This is our Emmanuel, God with us.
*****
In Living Hope: Giving Birth to Death Brought Life, you will read my struggle with guilt in grief, and how I found the Lord in my lowest of lows.
Never miss a blog post. Sign up to receive directly to your inbox.