Content Note: This post contains a discussion of child loss. Discretion is advised for readers who are sensitive to topics of this nature.
For unto us a Child is born,
Isaiah 6:6 (NKJV)
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
It is the most wonderful time of the year.
The briskness of the impending winter season, the bright and colorful lights and ornaments on neighborhood houses, and the rush of holiday shopping for exactly the right gift is enough to put a smile on the grinchiest of bah-humbuggers among us. Many don’t know what is making them so giddy. They attribute it to the joyful music that makes hectic commutes bearable, at least until the year-long awaited time off from work and school arrives. Then there’s the food – the mounds of food we’ll consume, and the jolly good time spent with friends and family. Strangers even seem nicer at this time of year.
Christmas time is here.
The seasonal excitement is equally uncontained in churches world-wide. Preparations for holy worship services, enchanted pageants, serene concerts, and innocent children’s plays are the highlight of every congregation. It’s not merely Christmas, it’s more than that. The Advent season is upon us. Advent is widely considered the first season on the Western church calendar. It marks the celebration of the anticipated arrival of the prophesied Messiah. Christians faithfully celebrate the Child that Isaiah announced in that familiar verse.
The spirit of Advent is contagious. Lawn nativity scenes remind us of the preciousness of the little baby, born and laid in an animal feeding trough because His teenaged mother was not permitted to labor and rest in the warmth of the Bethlehem inn. Against the odds, without the nursing hands of a midwife, His mother gave birth to Him alive. By all standards, this birth was and continues to be one to celebrate. Knowing that this baby would be the Savior of the world, given by God that people would not die but have access to eternal life makes celebrating the annual commemoration of His birth easy.
Yet, the year my baby boy died I faced the contagion of Advent with trepidation. Celebrating was anything but easy. I could not imagine celebrating Christmas. I wondered how I could commemorate the birth of the baby Jesus while tearfully beseeching the resurrected Christ to help me breathe through my grief. Unlike Mary, mine wasn’t a risky teenaged pregnancy that ended in eternal joy, but a high-risk, mid-thirties pregnancy that deferred all prospect of motherhood. Unlike Mary, my following days were not filled with angel-led shepherds following the star to witness my dear, wanted child with praise. Instead, the few people who ventured to visit tried to convince me that this too shall pass. They left hoping that my deep sadness was not, like Advent, contagious.
so Christ was offered once to bear the
Hebrews 9:28 (NKJV)
sins of many. To those who eagerly wait for Him
He will appear a second time,
apart from sin, for salvation.
That year, however, amid the darkness in my windows that for the first time were devoid of light from beautifully divine, welcoming candles and my incessant prayers, eerily silent December nights slowly transformed into the holiest of holy nights when the Holy Spirit softly harkened me back to what I had forgotten about Advent – that this season equally signals the anticipation of the birth of the Messiah as it signals the anticipation of the return of the Lamb of God. It was this recollection that warmed my soul and coaxed me to look to the future. Though still lamenting the unexpected emptiness that filled my mother’s arms amid the building expectancy of the retelling of the sensational birth of Mary’s special baby, it at once became expedient that I commune with the soon returning Son of God.
Advent contagion caught me and has never let me go. This season has become an annual time of personal reflection and a sacred time of remembering how Jesus Christ wonderfully embraced my mournfulness by His gracious counsel. He gently ushered me into the everlasting peace that comes with seeking the anticipated, soon coming Lord who holds salvation in His hands, and the chance to behold the Christ, the Lamb of God. My previously limited understanding of Advent gave way to a surrendered acceptance that my baby was safe in the bosom of Mary’s baby who will one day return to rescue and take me to the place where we will all celebrate together, eternally.
It’s that contagious, sorrow-breaking, future-seeking, salvation assurance that this season of Advent brings to the willing heart. I call that: Advent-agious.
Photo by Sixteen Miles Out for Unsplash.
Leave a Reply