O come, o come, Emmanuel // And ransom captive Israel // That mourns in lonely exile here // Until the son of God appear // Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel // Shall come to thee, o Israel.
I see December nights adorned by light: they glisten in the main streets and along the rooftops of neighboring homes. I feel a collective anticipation of something greater, a striving for cheer, a realization that the world is not as it should be. Light amidst darkness sparks joy; it seems we instinctively long for darkness not to last. Even though a deep chasm lays between the purpose of celebration, the shared longing for something greater should point us to a lasting Light.
Christmas is a celebration of that light, of longing fulfilled. Jesus, the son of God appear, is the fulfillment of everything God has promised us, the climax of our history. My heart is challenged as I think of God’s people waiting through the ages, their longing for the Messiah, and the hope it infused. Through seasons of peace and those of exile, a string of hope threaded their story. As advent brings us to meditate on the world waiting for her Savior, I see the same thread in my own story. Living on this side of history, we carry an already-fulfilled promise. Friends, our Light is here: Emmanuel has come. God’s faithfulness of a baby born means that every single thing which breaks our heart will not mark us forever.
It means the death I have seen – watching my grandfather hold my grandmother during her final breaths is not their last embrace. It means holding my grandfather’s hand, so soon after she died, as he left us to join her, is not the last time I will feel his weathered, loving hands. It means the pang of sadness through my core each time I comfort strangers in death – this is not something to get used to. At this moment in history, we continue the thread – our lives are still waiting for the final restoration of the world. We have certainty – through Jesus – that he defeated death, and now we wait for his final return.
In this waiting, God continues to use you and me. As he has done throughout the ages, he works through unexpected and broken people – through our loneliness, fear, and inadequacy. We are characters in his continued redemptive story, and he is with us.
“God is in the manger, wealth in poverty, light in darkness, succor in abandonment. No evil can befall us; whatever men may do to us, they cannot but serve the God who is secretly revealed as love and rules the world and our lives.”
– Dietrich Bonhoeffer
I string lights and remember a baby – the life that brought all life to the world; the light in the darkness. An evergreen garland covers my door and I think of Augustine’s words that Jesus is victor because victim; his giving of himself in our place to defeat death and secure everlasting life. I am moved to give – to give freely of myself as Christ because I have received the greatest gift: being reconciled to God and the promise to reside in his presence forever – where his work in us is completed and where he ensured freedom from every sorrow. What greater reasons to rejoice?
O come, thou day-spring, come and cheer // Our spirits by Thine advent here // Disperse the gloomy clouds of night // And death’s dark shadows put to flight // Rejoice! rejoice! Emmanuel ~
Seeing our baby on ultrasound is as clear in my mind today as in the moment. The detail of his brain, his small mouth – opening to suck his thumb – the perfection of his little fingers and toes, struck unprecedented awe in my heart and praise to God for this miracle. Having this joy to the backdrop of smoke and ash – reminding us of the forest fires and every other chaotic event happening in our world – made my heart even more thankful that God would give us this gift. Through this, he reminded me of his blessings, his goodness, and that he cares for every aspect of our lives.
Dear mothers, I am beginning to see on a new level that much love is often accompanied by many worries. Even nestled in my womb, I am aware of what can go wrong for my baby. The one concerning/abnormal finding on the ultrasound has seized my heart and threatens my sleep and rest.
And you mammas – who have children running about have more concerns than their physical wellbeing. They are not nestled in your womb or always in your home, but amidst the world projecting its values which are far from centered on Christ. I see the myriad of avenues for children to be exposed to so many horrors the world shamelessly embraces. I imagine the anxiety to protect children from what they might see or hear.
I am finding that as the love for my unborn child grows, I can cling more desperately to what I want for his future more than I cling to Christ. Elisabeth Elliot simply puts what our response should be:
“Faith does not eliminate questions. But faith knows where to take them.”
Reading Psalm 139:13-16 has reminded me that nothing is hidden from God. He knows my deepest fears and the chasm that is often between the truth I know and what I feel. He reminds me that there is no area on this earth or in my mind where he is not. He details the care of our lives:
“For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.”
He not only oversees our development in utero, he knows our days before our birth. And he knows this for our children.
This should encourage us. Our struggles and worries for our children are not a surprise to God. And if we want good things for our children – people who are imperfect and learning to love well, God will certainly give what is best: “how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!” (Matthew 7:11).
When my worries and lack of faith feel overwhelming, I am reminded that “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
When we feel overtaken with concern, God asks us to place those fears on him. He has shown us throughout scripture his goodness and faithfulness. And amidst the chaos around us, he reminds us of his goodness by giving unspeakable joy in everyday beauty; he allows us to see tiny toes and babes sucking their thumbs.
My prayer is that we seek God’s word, bring to him our worries, and cling to Christ above all else.
“Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock. Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell—and great was its fall.” ~Matthew 7:24-27
I am struck by how eerie our town’s main street has become. I still anticipate cars cruising past and the aroma of fine food and coffee, even though shops have been shuttered for weeks. I miss stopping at the local bookstore and seeing people smiling over meals. The bustling life is now confined to individual homes, where anxiety is stifling and loneliness rampant. Emotions flux with the reported cases, the new deaths; possible hopes of new medications or plasma of recovered patients; but followed by the lack of ventilators and other supplies. The media strives to highlight chaos and concern, to provide the greatest shock, to draw the most attention, to sell their product of daily novelty.
In his book, Disruptive Witness, Alan Noble writes:
“…death comes for us all, and all around us we see its work in decay, violence, evil, sickness, and suffering. The weight of this cross pressure is too much for most of us to bear, so we have outsourced the burden of death to specialists: doctors, nurses, paramedics, law enforcement, fire departments, soldiers, and the like. We obsessively fight death, we push the sick and elderly to the margins of society, we quarantine the dying, we turn our fear of death into a quasicosmic war against global suffering.”
Not only is our distracted busyness failing to deny the reality of death, but healthcare workers – no stranger to death – confront the fact they are not impervious to illness themselves. And for many, we have no place to outsource the burden.
In contradiction to expectations for modern medicine, local and national leaders are foregoing current policies and creating new ones – not out of proven outcomes but to ration of a lack of supplies. It takes me back to my experiences in clinics set up in third-world countries. All supplies are donated, resources limited and creativity – to address needs with available supplies – a necessity.
Caring for patients with infectious, life-threatening conditions is not a new requirement for healthcare workers. We enter rooms without a second thought because evidence has shown that following the correct personal protective equipment (PPE) will protect us from contracting a disease. But now the reality is that our allowance of PPE is inadequate. These changes make bedside staff vulnerable to patient’s wounds of resistant bacteria, flu, and the plethora of other respiratory viruses.
These changes also add concern for other patients who do not require contact precautions. There is a weight wondering if bedside staff are now a vector for infection to the immunocompromised. Suddenly a sneeze or a slight post nasal drip is a symptom of grave concern. Is this allergies or a seasonal cold? Or am I a carrier of a virus that might threaten the life I am assigned to steward?
The work of task forces and clinical engineering is continuous; the questions are weighty and the lack of knowledge looms; the disruption to routine has triggered fear, anxiety, frustration, and sadness. But these throbbing emotions have opened my eyes to an unquestionable realization – these feelings are a result of misplaced hope.
This virus has simply unveiled hopes that are vulnerable to storms.
COVID-19 has exposed the hope I have put in my country. In our response, we face a man-made problem of little PPE due to hoarders, budget choices, and a reliance on global trade. Even the most developed and progressive nations cannot provide us with the security and protection we desire. This hope is a sandcastle.
COVID-19 has exposed the hope I put in knowledge. Hospitals are, by nature, chaotic, but controlled by evidence-based practice and set protocols to ensure the best outcomes. But with the introduction of something unexpected, the threat of limited equipment and too little staff, we see how control was a mere delusion. Our knowledge is not omniscient and our plans are not infallible – hope in these alone is a sandcastle.
We see the stark limitations of human intellect and infrastructure; we see its failure. But friends, Christ has not failed us. The world spins in its chaos, but – in all of his love and power – God sees us. He sees the corruption, suffering and sickness and he does not leave us alone.
Our God today was king during the bubonic plague, Spanish influenza, and ebola outbreak. He sees the AIDs problem and Zika epidemic. He sees persons plagued by failing organs and festering wounds. His heart is broken by the earth’s state and he actively intervenes. Jesus came to satisfy justice – to pay the penalty for sin.
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
John 3:16-17
He asks that we believe, trust, and follow him, that we love him above our comfort and our plans, that we cast our anxieties on him and know that he is sovereign. We are to trust God, whose character is perfect, who is unchanging and who is good. He does not mean for us to carry the weight of this world or outsource it to someone else. We are called to rest in his arms, to cast our anxieties on him, and to press on with his strength.
The sufferings we are experiencing are momentary. God promises that he will restore creation to his perfect design and includes us in the process of redemption. We are not meant to simply survive or endure life. He gives our suffering meaning and our work lasting value.
The world is put on hold, but this should never prevent but rather propel us to what God calls us to – share the good news of his salvation. Our lives can be a witness of the assurance we have in both life and in death because of Jesus.
“By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers. But if anyone has the world’s goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God’s love abide in him? Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.”
1 John 3:16-18
We demonstrate his peace by how we care for our neighbors, love our children, and serve others in our workplaces. We are called to act on his certain promises.
God does not promise me my health; he promises me something greater. And I must go where he calls. I can enter a COVID-19 room with inadequate PPE and be the hands and feet of Christ to a loved creation of God. I can touch and comfort patients when their family members cannot. I can trust my life to God on this momentary blip because he has promised me forever.
God does not promise me my health; he promises me something greater.
In a time where coworkers and neighbors are uneasy, I can work in such a way that holds nothing back because God has held nothing back from me.
God is giving me peace as I press into his word. He is blessing me with friends who remind me to pray as I enter each patient’s room and perform each task. My nerves are calmed because I know that I am not in control and never was; someone who is much wiser, more powerful, and exponentially more loving is reigning today and will tomorrow.
Friends, we entrust the reality of death and illness to a God who has already had victory over it. I pray that we will press on to how he is calling each of us with his strength. We do not have the answers, and we don’t need to if our faith is not in sandcastles but rather on the rock Himself.
Reflections of Terror and Beauty 