Advent Reflections 2024 - December 15

Messy Christmas

Scripture focus: Matthew 1-2; Luke 1-2

Like photos and Christmas newsletters, family histories are often heavily edited to make things “pretty.” As an adult I’ve heard family stories I didn’t hear growing up, about things like financial mismanagement, promiscuity, and insanity.   

So why isn’t the family history of Jesus in Matthew “pretty”? There are plenty of gossipy tidbits. Jewish genealogies focus on men, but here women are included, warts and all. Rahab the prostitute who protects spies before the conquest of Canaan. Tamar, the wronged young widow who seduces her father-in-law to continue the family line. Ruth, the foreigner who follows the God of Israel and becomes the great-grandmother of King David. Bathsheba, whose beauty motivates King David to commit adultery and murder. It’s almost as if God wants to feature the warts as we begin the story of the Messiah’s birth. God’s messy family.

So what about the childhood home where Jesus grew up? Saintly mother, perfect oldest child. Yet I picture more messiness. Joseph likely died before Jesus reached maturity. His brothers didn’t believe in his ministry and mocked him (John 7). In Mark 3, as his ministry unfolds at a fevered pace, they come to see Jesus. They bring his mother—to pull at his heartstrings? They may be genuinely concerned for his welfare, but the timing is suspicious. Just above in the chapter, critics say, “Jesus is insane,” and “filled with a devil.” It’s likely that the brothers had walk-on parts in a script written by Jewish leaders, designed to destroy his work. In his answer, Jesus firmly puts Kingdom ministry first. Yet there is hope for these brothers. In Acts 1, as believers gather in prayer before Pentecost, there they are. James became a leader in the church at Jerusalem. Tradition says he went on to write an epistle and become a martyr.

Sibling rivalry is a bear. Having two or more adult children almost guarantees learning more about their childhood conflicts than you want to know. Now imagine growing up in the shadow of an older brother who actually WAS perfect! Is it surprising that his very human brothers needed an attitude adjustment? So how did Jesus maintain loving relationships with his family, until the time came when they worshiped him as the Messiah? Don’t we wish we could ask him for wisdom? Maybe we can.

Like all of us, I have a messy family. Unlike Jesus, I am imperfect. Often I don’t react well. In conversations about family issues, I may feel frustrated (this is unjust!), helpless (can’t someone do something?), irritated (we’re talking about this AGAIN?), and—I confess—bored (better check my email) and distracted (a mindless onscreen game, because I’ve “seen this episode before and know the script”). Even if it’s a new situation, my reactions aren’t always better. I can’t change things and I feel cranky and sad.

Recently I have had some new thoughts. First, God does not give us a timeline on when he will answer prayer. Scripture exhorts us to pray persistently and love fervently. So how can I draw away instead of drawing near to pray and love? Then—another important thought—how often am I on the other end of a conversation, sharing a burden that weighs on me? In those moments, I am so grateful for listening ears and loving empathy. Mercy me. MESSY me.

What if I mentally move these conversations to God’s throne, where we can kneel together? What if God is prompting me to slow down, listen well, and [continue to] bear another’s burden? What if this process is, in fact, an intentional part of his plan to bring me to maturity? Can I flex my flabby spiritual muscles, cling in faith to hope, and extend mercy? What if I am called to willingly and gladly offer the gift of my full attention and presence? Could that be the way to walk in the steps of the Christ Child who came “full of grace and truth?”

Lord Jesus, THANK YOU for families. Thank you that in Scripture, the warts are still in the picture, not edited out. Thank you that your Holy Spirit can give us eyes to see ourselves and those we love more clearly, and that we can draw on your resources when we feel empty. Through the Spirit, give us the same wisdom you had when you walked on earth.

Andrea Herling