A Nativity Story

A dimly lit stable with a thatched roof. A trough filled with hay. A young woman in her 20’s gazes down at a peaceful, sleeping baby, while her husband looks on in adoration. Shepherds in cloaks gather around the new parents. The sheep stand completely still and silent as the animals look on in amazement. Three strangers from a far off land stand across from the shepherds holding gifts to present to the newborn infant.

A familiar scene.

Almost picturesque in its simplicity and tradition.

However, I would venture that our understanding of this timeless story is based less on the actual Biblical texts and more on a combination of cultural retellings and vague childhood church memories. I revisited the Biblical texts of the story this afternoon to once again delineate in my mind fact from fiction; to remind myself of the magnitude of this historical event; and to allow the clay figures sitting on my dresser to have a greater purpose and meaning this holiday season.

An Engagement

“The angel said to her, ‘Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus…”

“How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” – Luke 1:26

The age of Mary is not mentioned in either Gospel account of the birth of Christ (Matthew or Luke). However, Jewish tradition would place Mary somewhere between the ages of 12 and 14. It was customary in that era for Jewish marriages to be arranged by the parents of the bride and the groom. This typically occurred when girls entered adolescence. For legal purposes, the contract was considered binding upon the arrangement, though the wedding ceremony and consummation of the marriage would often occur much later. During the engagement period, the young bride would remain living in her parents’ home. If the bride became pregnant prior to the official wedding ceremony and consummation, she would face public disgrace and possibly even death.  

It was during this time of engagement that an angel, Gabriel, visited Mary who was engaged to be married to a carpenter named Joseph. The angel told Mary that she would bear a child, Jesus, and that this child would be the Son of God.

Pause.

Imagine a young girl, a child, tasked by God with carrying the promised Messiah that had been foretold for thousands of years prior to the visit of the angel. Mary’s concerns were great. She had much to fear. How would her parents react? How would Joseph, the man she was engaged to marry, respond? What would the townspeople say? Would she be stoned, beaten, or worse, put to death? Why had God chosen her? How would she even become pregnant? What did all of this mean? How would she raise the Son of God? Would Joseph leave her? Would she raise the child alone?

Upon hearing the news of Mary’s pregnancy, Joseph made plans to divorce Mary quietly to avoid exposing her to public disgrace. The Gospel of Matthew says that as Joseph was considering the divorce an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream. The angel told Joseph that he should not fear taking Mary home as his wife and that what was conceived in her was from God.

Again, this visit from the angel must have sparked more questions than answers. However, with grace, Mary trusted God and with integrity, Joseph obeyed God and stood by Mary despite public shame and outcry.

A Census

“In those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be registered.  This was the first registration when Quirinius was governor of Syria.  And all went to be registered, each to his own town. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the town of Nazareth, to Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child.” – Luke 2

The road from Nazareth to Bethlehem was an arduous one.  Matthew and Luke provide little detail regarding the roughly 80 mile journey, as early readers of the text would have been familiar with such journeys and terrains. Our modern minds require more context. The route to Bethlehem was anything but simple. At times, Mary and Joseph would have been faced with steep, rocky, hills and embankments interrupted only by stretches of dry desert flatland. The couple would have been exposed to all of the elements: rain, wind, temperature drops at night, and wild animals common to the Judean desert.  Additionally, robbers and thieves often waited along the trade routes for unsuspecting travelers.  

Many renditions of the Nativity story place Mary on the back of a donkey. This may very well have been the case, given cultural norms, however the Bible never specifically mentions a donkey. We do know that Mary was likely far along in her pregnancy during the difficult journey. Most versions of the Nativity story show Mary and Joseph arriving in Bethlehem on the night of her delivery frantically looking for a place to stay, however, the couple may have been in Bethlehem a few days prior to the delivery if not longer. The Bible only says, “While they were there (Bethlehem), the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.” (Luke 2:6)

A Manger

Jesus was born in a stable outside of Bethlehem, because there was no room for Mary and Joseph in the inn. Right? Enter adorable Pig-Pen playing the role of innkeeper in A Charlie Brown Christmas.

If you’re anything like me, growing up, I thought of this “inn” as an ancient Marriott. I was always quite appalled at the Bethlehem townspeople for not making room for a pregnant Mary. Surely there was an extra room or at the very least a sister hotel chain down the road. The Greek word for “inn” used in the Biblical texts is commonly translated as “guest room.” Given cultural norms of the day, upon arriving in Joseph’s ancestral hometown, Mary and Joseph would have likely attempted to stay with family. However, there may not have been room in the living quarters or guest rooms given that all of Joseph’s family members were required to be in town for the census. At that point, Mary and Joseph may have elected to stay in a lower level room of the family home where animals were often kept inside for safe keeping at night. It was not uncommon in that era for mangers and troughs to be located inside the house for that reason, particularly on the ground level. The words “stable” and “cave” are not mentioned in either Biblical account of the birth of Christ. The idea that Jesus was born in a stable outside of Bethlehem has become part of our tradition likely because the Bible mentions the baby being placed in the manger. The exact location of the delivery within Bethlehem is unknown.

However, we do know that shepherds visited Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus following the delivery. As evidenced by the fact that modern day women do not invite odorous, loud cattle and sheep into their hospital rooms during delivery, it is safe to assume that this created quite the scene on that miraculous night in Bethlehem.

A Visit

“Now after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying ‘Where is He who has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have come to worship Him.’”

Growing up, I never thought to question the three random men in fancy gold robes standing beside Mary on the night of her delivery. Who were these men? What was their purpose? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I enjoyed saying the words “frankincense” and “myrrh.”

Though the Bible does not state how many wise men visited the baby Jesus, Nativity scenes traditionally depict three men as there were three gifts presented to the child: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The Bible offers very little detail regarding these men, except to say that they were from “the East,” most likely Persia.  The word “magi,” used interchangeably with the term “wise men” in the Biblical texts, originally referred to a line of Persian priests who were interested in signs and astrology.

There is no evidence to suggest that these wise men were present on the night of the delivery. In fact, based on the timeline laid out in the remaining chapters of Matthew and Luke, the wise men may have visited Jesus as late as age 2. “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi from the east came to Jerusalem.” –Matthew 2:1

A Question

There is a great deal of mystery surrounding the birth of Christ. Though it is fascinating to further study and corroborate the varying interpretations of the many peripheral facts, only one seems to truly matter, Jesus was born.

It was an event of historical significance. In fact, for centuries we have measured time itself by the birth of Christ. However, the person of Jesus is not unique to Christianity alone. Many people, even other world religions, affirm that a man named Jesus was born, lived, and died over 2,000 years ago. There is, however, a vital fork in the road. Though many believe Jesus was born and walked the earth, there are widely differing perspectives on his deity and what He came to accomplish.

These are questions worth asking: Who is Jesus? Why was the birth of one child so significant?

There are many answers to these questions. Tonight, I share mine.

This coming Wednesday night at candlelight Christmas Eve services across the country and around the world masses will sing the songs of the season. We are all guilty of mindlessly reciting the century-old lyrics, but have you considered the words?

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining, ‘till he appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.” – O Holy Night

“No more let sins and sorrows grow, nor thorns infest the ground. He comes to make His blessings flow, far the curse is found” – Joy to the World

“Radiant beams from thy holy face, with the dawn of redeeming grace.” – Silent Night

“Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled!” –Hark! The Herald Angels Sing

God and sinners reconciled? The dawn of redeeming grace? Yonder breaks a new and glorious morn? Thorns and cursed ground? Huh?

What does this have to do with a baby in a manger?

Everything.

Just as I could not convey the meaning of the Lord of the Rings trilogy by describing the first 30 seconds of the first movie, it would be impossible to explain the significance of Jesus by only describing His birth.

The Christmas story begins in Genesis. The very first chapter, the very first verse. God created a perfect, sinless world. He created man in His image. Only a few chapters in, sin enters the picture. God tells Adam and Eve that because of their disobedience, the ground is now cursed.

“He comes to make His blessings flow, far the curse is found”

God tells Adam and Even that there will now be struggle. There will now be sin.  

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining”

There will now be separation between a perfect God and sinful man.

"God and sinners reconciled!"

The Old Testament is filled with prophecies of a coming Messiah, a Savior, a Lord, from the line of David, who would become a mediator between God and man. A solution to the problem of sin.

“Joy to the world! The Lord is come!”

He would reign with grace. Man would no longer require the sacrifice of animals to atone for sin, rather, God Himself would become flesh, walk among us for 33 years, and become a final sacrifice through an excruciating death on a cross. He would be our redeemer.

“With the dawn of redeeming grace”

The Christmas story does not end there, on a cross or in a tomb. After three days, Jesus would raise from the dead, conquering death and the grave, and opening the door for all who put their faith and trust in Him to find forgiveness of sin.  Perhaps the greatest Christmas verse in the Bible is not found in the accounts of the birth of Christ, but in the Gospel of John where it is written, “For God so loved the world, that He sent His only son, that whoever believes in Him would never perish, but have eternal life.”

A Reminder

The shepherds

The wise men

Mary & Joseph

All central figures in the Nativity story.

However, there were other characters along the way. We never met them, but common sense would tell us that in the course of 9 months of pregnancy, 80 miles of travel, and months spent in Bethlehem, Mary and Joseph would have interacted with a large number of individuals. Some may have scoffed and yet others may have been of great help and assistance to the couple. However, one thing is certain. No one, not even the central figures in the story could have possibly fathomed the magnitude of that moment in history.

They were ordinary people in an extraordinary moment.

The miraculous was taking place. History was unfolding before them. God was intervening on earth.

Many were completely unaware.

On a much lesser scale, we also often find ourselves in the presence of the miraculous and remain completely oblivious to the magnitude of the moment.

After all, God is Emmanuel. He is with us; that is the great gift of Christmas. He is not a silent, distant, God who does not concern Himself in the affairs of men. His joy, His peace, His love, everything that He came to earth to bring can be seen all around: in a stranger helping an elderly woman across the street; a neighbor shoveling the driveway of a single mother next door; a soldier giving his life for those he fights alongside; a kind word that touches a heart or motivates a life; a thoughtful gift that reminds us we are known and loved.

Let us not be caught unaware this Christmas season of the extraordinary moments taking place all around us. Where possible, let us do all within our power to create these moments for others. Let us share the joy, peace, love, and grace that the birth of Jesus brings and most of all, let us not limit it to a season.

Listen

As a child, my concept of listening was simple and concrete. To listen was to not speak, to be silent.

When a teacher raised their hand in school, demanding the attention of the class, I responded by being silent. Their raised hand meant that I was not allowed to speak, not that I was required to listen to what they were about to say.

Consider the amount of time spent in our childhood and adolescent years developing the art of speaking. As toddlers we are repeatedly taught words and phrases as speaking skills are considered a vital milestone in a child’s growth and development. As school children, we are taught to expand our vocabulary and even take on second languages. In comparison, very little time is spent developing effective listening skills.

This lack of development is further complicated by our technology driven culture. Distractions are always readily available. We likely spend more time in front of screens than we do in front of people. Even our social interactions have become increasingly screen-based with the rise of social media. Interestingly enough, one of the primary drivers behind social media seems to be the desire of people to be seen and heard. And yet, it seems that social media can often prevent us from truly seeing or hearing those around us.

These potential obstacles to good listening are not insurmountable. They can and should be overcome. There is great value in listening. Good listeners can be as powerful and magnetic, if not more so, than great orators.

My view of what it means to listen has changed significantly since childhood. I have learned that listening is much more than silence. And yet, no matter how much knowledge and experience I obtain in the art of effective listening, I still find that at times I am a terrible listener. Perhaps you feel the same. Like many skills in life, I find that listening requires discipline.

I have an accounting degree, so I am certainly not qualified to conduct research or provide concrete answers regarding human behavior and communication skills. However, that which I have seen and experienced in my own life, I gladly share.

Listening: Ping Pong

"Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply."
-Stephen R. Covey

We have all been guilty of this. Another person is speaking and rather than focusing on their words and ideas with the intent of understanding, our mind is spinning. We are trying to construct and formulate the perfect response, the witty response, the clever response, the crushing response, or whatever the case may be. We see this on full display in political debates. One side speaks, while the other side plans a rebuttal.

Good listeners seek to understand before seeking to be understood. They are engaged and focused on what the other person is saying. For illustration purposes, imagine for a moment two colleagues engaged in a conversation around politics or a relevant news story.

In the first scenario, the conversation moves back and forth across the table like a ping pong game. Neither side listens to the other. Rather, as one person speaks, the other uses that opportunity to build a response. The listener sits there almost shaking in anticipation, waiting for that moment where words stop coming out of the speaker’s mouth so words can start coming out of their own. Both sides walk away from the conversation completely unheard and completely unchanged. 

Imagine a second scenario where instead of simply taking turns exchanging noise, the listener uses the time the speaker is talking to process, understand, and formulate clarifying questions. “You mentioned ________, could you elaborate? I want to make sure I understand.” “I’d be curious to hear more of your thoughts on ________.” “Why do you think that is?” Perhaps the willingness to listen on one side would be contagious and cause the speaker to respond in kind. Or perhaps only one side would choose to listen and the other side would retain the primary role as speaker. Either way, the listener would walk away from the conversation with a much greater understanding of the speaker’s viewpoint. The speaker would feel more validated and heard and both sides would at least allow themselves the opportunity to be impacted and changed.

Even in a less heated exchange, we have all been guilty of waiting for someone to stop speaking not so we could respond/react to their words, but rather so we could deliver a joke, story, or even unrelated comment that we were developing as they spoke.

Good listeners seek to understand, not to reply.

Listening: Squirrel!

"You cannot truly listen to anyone and do anything else at the same time." -M. Scott Peck

There is a profound difference between listening and hearing. Most of us have experienced a conversation with someone who is clearly distracted. Upon pausing or acknowledging their distraction, they attempt to prove to us that they are listening by reciting our words back to us, “I’m listening. You were talking about your weekend and your hiking trip.” The only thing this proves is that they heard us, not that they were listening to us.

Admittedly, we live in an age of distraction. It is practically inescapable. The reality is, there will be times where we either need to or choose to check our phones, respond to texts, or read emails during conversations. There are times we will allow ourselves to be distracted by a TV show, a sports game, or the environment around us. After all, we are only human. Most of us do not have the capacity to be fully focused on our present conversation or present company at all times.

Though it may be impossible to completely eliminate distractions, good listening often requires minimizing these distractions. We have all struggled to hold a conversation with someone who clearly wanted to be somewhere else. It can leave a bad and bitter taste. Granted our view of self should not rise and fall based on the way others respond to us. We have just as much value and worth regardless of whether the person we are speaking to acknowledges or appreciates that or not. However, as stated earlier, we are only human and are not immune to hurt and disappointment. I have left conversations feeling like the least captivating/interesting person on earth. I have left conversations feeling incapable of holding someone’s attention. Sadly, I am sure that I have caused others to feel this same way at times, which is an upsetting thought to say the least.

Good listeners minimize distractions. They understand that the person speaking is more important than other things that would compete for their attention in that moment. They understand that sometimes the greatest gift we can give someone is our attention. Good listeners recognize the difference between hearing and truly listening.

I have learned over the years to be open and honest when I find myself distracted. It can be as simple as:

“Let me send this text before we start talking.”

“I’m going to check the game score quickly as we walk.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t really listening, can you please start again? I really want to hear.”

I am never upset by someone saying these things to me and I find that others respond similarly. Everyone understands the temptation of distraction. Pausing and admitting distraction shows your intent to truly listen and is typically well-received by the speaker. 

Listening: Empathy

"Empathy takes time, and efficiency is for things, not people." Stephen Covey

Empathetic listening is crucial, and yet very difficult to employ on a regular basis. Empathy is commonly defined as, “An ability to imagine oneself in another's place and understand the other's feelings, desires, ideas, and actions.”

Imagine a friend shares with me, “My boss asked me to travel to Florida this week to speak at a conference….” I casually respond with, “That’s great! The weather will be so nice there this time of year! Have fun!” A harmless response at first glance. However, what I have done is project my own personal response onto the speaker. I have projected how I would feel if I had been asked to go to Florida. The empathetic listener thinks…

They mentioned last time that they don’t like traveling because they miss their children

Their mother is really sick, it will probably be hard for them to get away

They hate public speaking, this is probably a stressful trip for them

The empathetic listener does not project their own thoughts and feelings onto the speaker, but rather stands in the speaker’s shoes. Empathetic listening requires a great deal of effort for this reason. An empathetic listener uses their heart, mind, and memory to hear what is being said, not just their ears.

Listen: Magnet

"Friends are those rare people who ask how we are, and then wait to hear the answer." -Ed Cunningham

The art of listening is inseparable from the art of effective question-asking. Good listeners tend to be inquisitive. Asking someone “How was your holiday?” will likely initiate a conversation and provide an opportunity to listen that may not have otherwise been provided. However oftentimes, there is an even better question to ask. A close friend may open up with such a general, broad question. However, others may require more encouragement. For example, “Did your sister make it home for the holiday weekend?” This moves the conversation past a response of, “The holiday went well” and begins to offer the other person a place to start and a foundation to build the conversation on. This is a specific question which will likely lead to a specific answer and open the door for further questions. Perhaps an even better question if you know the individual is, “Did Sarah (“sister” in this case) make it home for the holiday weekend? She just had a baby, right?” This personalizes the question and shows a history of listening and understanding.

Practically speaking, I attempt to construct meaningful questions through my cell phone. On a somewhat regular basis, I glance through my text messages and list of contacts. As I see a name, I think back to the last time I spoke with that person and what was said in the exchange. Did they mention an upcoming vacation, doctor’s appointment, or wedding? Did they share something personal with me that I have yet to follow up on? Did they share exciting news I could ask more about? This allows me to construct thoughtful follow up questions for our next encounter or reminds me to send an email/text/card to follow up more immediately. After all, I genuinely care and want to know, but in the midst of busyness, knowing can often require some intentionality.

It is important to use discernment in the area of question-asking. Some questions can serve to initiate and further the conversation while other questions can serve to derail the conversation and even stifle it completely. For example, imagine two friends catching up over drinks. One friend is eager to share about an unsettling conversation she had with her mother after a weekend spent at home. She begins setting the stage for her story and shares that her family spent Friday night at a restaurant downtown and casually mentions that they bumped into one of their mutual college friends while at the restaurant. At this point, the conversation moves towards:

“Oh really? How is so-and-so?”
“Oh, she’s fine I think, we didn’t really get a chance to catch up. Like I said, we just bumped into her briefly.”
“Do you remember that trip we took with her in college? Did she end up marrying that guy she was seeing?”

The conversation has now turned towards something the speaker never intended to focus on. If this is a casual conversation, these twists and turns are natural and expected. However, when you observe that something is troubling the person speaking, the only questions that should be asked are clarifying questions. Other points can be revisited later. A good listener allows the speaker to voice their thoughts, concerns, and story fully, asking questions only to better understand what is being said. Good listeners do not interrupt or interject their own agenda.

Questions show interest. People are drawn to those who take an interest in them. Good listeners and good question-askers are often magnetic individuals for this reason.

Listening: Not Right Now

If people truly care about me, they will give me their full, undivided attention whenever I require it, right? Well, not exactly. This is an important point and one worth ending on. Listening is a powerful skill to develop for reasons mentioned above and countless others. However, we will never be perfect listeners and we need to be patient with each other in this regard. I often chuckle when my parents talk over each other or one fails to realize the other is speaking. Do they love each other? More than you could imagine. Do they listen to each other? Yes, they value each other’s thoughts and words above all others. However, they also spend countless hours together during any given week. There is a comfort level there. And while they seek to listen to each other well, there are many times where they fail to do so. And I would argue, that’s okay. Part of the joy of friendship, love, and relationships is bearing with one another; it’s loving people as they are and not as you might like them to be in any given moment.

When I was a child, my parents taught me that what I had to say was valuable. I learned that I was worth listening to. However, they also taught me that I was not the center of their universe. I was not the center of anyone’s universe. There were times I was told, “Not right now” “Don’t interrupt” “I am talking to someone else, you can tell me later.” That was a healthy thing for me to hear as a child and is a beneficial thing for me to remember as an adult. Perhaps the best time to demand someone’s attention isn’t after they return from a stressful day at the office. Perhaps the conversation can wait until after the football game is over. Perhaps the car ride home isn’t an ideal time for an intense debate.

All of that being said:

Who listens to you?

Who values and respects your thoughts, ideas, and opinions?

Are you a good listener?

Who are you failing to listen to and in what ways?

I challenge you as I have challenged myself to take time to listen this week and have grace for yourself and others when you fail to do so perfectly.

 

Party Napkins

PARTY NAPKINS

I grew up in a party house.

Everything was a cause for celebration.

Well beyond the typical celebratory events, such as birthdays and holidays, I found myself invited to daily parties and celebrations in honor of the most common life occurrences: the first snowfall of the year, a beautiful summer day, a new movie release, a good grade, a concert, a sporting event, a new job, a new bike, or even a visit from a friend.

I am quite convinced that my mother would often plan an entire party and only later dream up a reason for it. In fact, my mother added the word “party” to the end of just about everything we did. Some kids went to the pool. Not us. We had pool parties. What constituted a pool party? In our case it was shark fruit snacks, capri suns, our favorite cartoon beach towels, and a much anticipated trip to the pool at our Texas apartment complex. Some kids would watch football on Sunday afternoons. Not us. We had football parties. We would buy bread, meat, and cheese from the local grocery store and then stand behind the kitchen counter laughing uncontrollably as my dad pretended to be a Subway employee piecing together our sandwich orders as we shouted out our preferences. My mother would inevitably comment that we forgot napkins at the store. My father would remind her that we had plenty of napkins. Without hesitation, she would answer back, “But those are normal napkins, we need Cowboys playoff napkins.”

Herein lies an important truth regarding our celebrations: our parties were never about excess. A $3 package of party napkins and contagious enthusiasm were the only tools my mother needed to throw a good party. Underlying everything she did was a simple belief that there was always, always, always something to celebrate; a belief she still holds today.

My mother draws attention to the good in life. She talks about the good. She dwells on the good. She notices the good. She appreciates the good. She rants and raves about the good. She, more than anyone else I have ever encountered, celebrates the good.

In fact, constantly, without any prompting, my mother will comment on the good in her life, “I have the best life. It’s just so good. It’s almost embarrassing, Leah.” Now, anyone who knows my mother, knows that her life has not been without hardship. She has endured family, financial, and health struggles that might paralyze the average person. It is the lens through which she chooses to view her life that makes it seem so extraordinary. It is the good she chooses to see in life that leads her towards celebration over pity.

COMMON COLD

It is a basic life principle: what we feed inevitably grows. The things we give our thoughts and attention to flourish, while the things we ignore and neglect fade. The question then becomes, what are you feeding?

Do you devote more time to dwelling on and thinking about your problems and struggles or your joys and blessings?

When you talk about others, do you spend more time voicing frustrations and concerns or raving about their strengths and additions to your life?

When you come home from work does your spouse/significant other/roommate/parent hear more about the frustrations of the day or the joys of the day?

In general, is it easier to ruin your day or to make your day?

I find these points most easily illustrated through something as universal as the common cold. The common cold typically takes 10 days to complete a full cycle.

Day one: can you describe it? 

Though a considerable amount of time has passed since my last cold, I still find that I am able to describe day one in a great deal of detail. That initial moment when you wake up with a scratchy throat and think, "No... I can't be getting a cold. Maybe it will pass. Maybe the air is just dry or I slept with my mouth open. I'll just drink a lot of water this morning."

What about days 2 and 3? The days where each breath becomes more and more laborious as congestion sets in and a hacking cough develops.

Or days 4 and 5 where you sit buried in piles of kleenex and with each blow of the nose begin to look less like yourself and more like that most famous reindeer of all.

And then...

There are the rest of the days. The days that seem to blur together. You return to all of your normal activities, but not necessarily at 100%. Days 1, 2, and 3 become a distant memory and your symptoms are now just a minor disturbance in your daily life. In fact, it would be nearly impossible for you to pinpoint the exact moment when you experience your last symptom; your very last cough; your last sneeze; your last sense of fatigue. Your cold, which appeared suddenly and without much warning, leaves with a gradual ease, almost unnoticed.

I would propose that we are able to remember and explain the first five days of a cold in greater detail than the last five days of a cold because we have given more thought and attention to the struggle than to the relief. When our throats scratch, when our noses run, and when we struggle to breath, we think about it. We talk about it. People ask about it. We dwell on it. We lie awake at night because the cold symptoms demand our attention.

On the recovery side, we might devote a few moments to celebrating relief (the standard, “it feels good to be back to normal”), but in reality, its likely nothing more than a passing thought. It’s as though we feel entitled to recovery, so it does not seem an undeserved blessing worth celebrating when we find ourselves returned to full health. We expect to be healthy, not sick. We expect our cars to run, not to break down. We expect our family members and friends to remain living, not die. Therefore celebrating something we fully expect, such as health, a working car, or friends and family seems unnecessary and even somewhat excessive. However, when these things are taken from us, they instantaneously command our full and undivided attention.

For example, we might find it odd if a colleague entered the office and exclaimed, “My car started! What a good day!” On the contrary, it would seem very normal for someone to enter the office and exclaim, “My car wouldn’t start this morning! Now I have to take it in and probably pay a ton of money. What a hassle.”  

Following my most recent cold, my mother was overjoyed to hear that my voice had returned to full strength. For ten minutes during our respective commutes home, she talked about how happy she was that my cold was gone. She went as far as to say, “We should grab dinner and celebrate your good health!” This seemed an absurd notion at the time. What a silly reason to have a dinner. What a silly thing to spend even one more moment talking about. I was clearly over a very routine cold, moving on…

But no sooner had these thoughts crossed my mind, then I felt a great sense of conviction sweep over me. I was forgetting to celebrate the good. I was neglecting the lesson she had always taught me: Give just as much, if not more attention to the good in your life than you do the bad/hard/sad. The story found in the Gospel of Luke came to mind as I continued my drive. Jesus was traveling to Jerusalem and along the path encountered ten men with leprosy. He spoke to them and sent them on their way, and while they walked, they were all healed of their disease. Only one of the ten men returned to thank Jesus and celebrate his healing. The other nine men, who only moments prior, had been in terrible suffering, begging for relief, moved on as though the healing had never even occurred. I find this to be one of those special Bible stories where I self-righteously think, “I would never be like the other nine men” only to get sick with a common cold and realize, “Oh great, I’m exactly like them, and I don’t even have something as severe as leprosy.”

In order to celebrate the good, we must first recognize the good. Oftentimes, learning to identify the good takes discipline. Throughout our childhood, my mother always made one request of us when we arrived home from school, “Tell me something good that happened today.” My mother wanted to hear our frustrations. She wanted to be a listening ear and a safe place for us to vent. After all, struggles should never be ignored. There is certainly not wisdom or maturity in denying hardship or refusing to share it with the people around you. In fact, there can be great folly in that. But my mother was trying to instill in us a discipline that we would carry with us for the rest of our lives: Before we give our thoughts and attention to our frustrations, we must first acknowledge and celebrate the good. There were days when this was easier than others; and so she would guide us, “Did you see your friends at lunch? Was it fun?” “Did you have a good soccer practice?” “Did you get any good grades back?”

I still find myself doing this today. I often spend my commute home re-living the very best moments of my day. A mental highlight reel. I allow the little and simple joys of the day to bring my heart and mind disproportionately great happiness. A free coffee, a funny text from a friend, or even relief from a work deadline. The more I look for the good, the more I find it. The more I think about the good, the less severe the bad seems. The more I feed the good, the more it grows.  

BE OUR GUEST

Beyond the daily parties of my childhood, nothing was a greater cause for celebration than people. Guests came and stayed at our home for hours, days, weeks, and even months. As a guest, upon your arrival, my mother and father would greet you at the front door like you were a foreign dignitary arriving from a long journey (when in reality you could have been a neighbor arriving from next door).

It was always clear that your visit had been thought about, planned for, and highly anticipated. You might even find yourself slightly overwhelmed as my mother reached out to embrace you and my father simultaneously tried to remove all of the bags from your shoulders. You would be escorted to your room where you would find towels, shampoos and soaps, and gifts waiting. If we were taking you to a sporting event, the local team’s hat and shirt would be waiting on your bed. Your favorite snacks, books, and a few trinkets from around the city would be in a basket for your enjoyment. You would leave your bag behind and meander downstairs where you would find a feast of food and drink sprawled out across the kitchen counter. You would silently wonder to yourself if 20 other people would be coming over to help consume everything. Finally, you would be offered the coveted leather chair in the living room where my father and mother would sit with you, eating, drinking, and laughing while they inquired about your job, your family, your new dog, your fun vacation… fill in the blank. My mother would sit on the edge of her seat as you spoke, overjoyed by each word and story. Your joys would be her joys. Your heartaches would be her heartaches. If her reactions were any indication, it was clear that you had the most interesting life of any living person. You would leave feeling celebrated.

The example my parents set forth in this exchange was simple: Become a person who celebrates other people well.

I have to constantly ask myself: How well am I celebrating other people? Am I celebrating their successes, their joys, who they are, what they’ve accomplished, and their lives in general? Are the happiest days of other people’s lives the happiest days of mine as well? As Paul writes in the book of Romans, do I mourn with those who are mourning and rejoice with those who are rejoicing? Do I put my life on hold to acknowledge the lives of others? Do I remember in my own busyness to send cards, gifts, prayers, thoughts, and encouraging words when others get a new job, buy a new home, have a baby, get married, etc.?

We recently lost a dear family friend. Anyone who has experienced this loss, knows the feeling I am about to describe: the morning after someone’s death where you actually wake up crying. Reality does not even pay you the courtesy of waiting until you are fully awake before bombarding you with its unwelcomed presence. The person you care for so deeply is no longer here. That was it. Their time on earth is complete.

In a single instance, every good memory, thought, and emotion you felt for that person overtakes you and floods your mind. Immediately, any thoughts of, “Well, let’s not forget that they could be frustrating at times” or “I can’t believe they said that to me yesterday” flee your mind forever. You see only the good. Because of that, you also feel great loss. Nothing more can be said. Nothing more can be done. Their book is now closed, you may no longer write in it or contribute to its plot.

We are all so seemingly busy and important these days. But life waits for no one. We are never promised tomorrow. Life is worth celebrating today. People are worth celebrating always. There is good that daily goes unrecognized and uncelebrated. As odd as it may sound, we should all become more disciplined in the practice of celebrating and partying. We should all set aside more time to think about, dwell on, and celebrate the good all around us. My childhood was one big party. I am determined that the same will be said of my life. That like my mother’s home, my home will be a place of constant celebration, where life is enjoyed, people are treasured, and all of God’s blessings from the very greatest to the very smallest are daily acknowledged, appreciated, and celebrated.

 

 

 

The Gap

JUST LIKE THE MOVIES

It’s that moment in Jerry Maguire, where Tom Cruise looks at Renee Zellweger and utters the words forever memorialized in cinematic history, “You complete me.”

After all, two halves make a whole and true love will complete you, right?

Growing up, most of us were fed a steady diet of fairy tales. Cinderella did little more than meekly survive before her prince arrived to rescue her. Poor Snow White and Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), they were actually unconscious until their princes arrived. Ugh, that’s the worst. It’s the storyline of every great romantic comedy. Life is falling fantastically apart, until one day, when least expected, “the one” shows up and in the span of 120 minutes, all of life’s problems are resolved and the screen fades to black.

Unfortunately/fortunately, I am no Snow White. I will admit that occasionally I sing songs to birds, raccoons, and chipmunks about awaiting my true love’s kiss, but that’s where our similarities end. Despite having grand notions of love growing up, I never viewed myself as a half waiting to be made whole. I never felt the need to be completed or to complete anyone else.  

After all, it seems an unfair request; a burden too great to place on another human being. For in order for two halves to be consistently whole, each half would need to be in a constant state of perfection. Relationship expectations would be high as the two halves would rely solely on each other for a sense of meaning, purpose, and completeness. Neither half would thrive alone.  If one half pulled away or became distant, the other half would suffer great emptiness and rejection.  The value of each half would become inseparable from the whole.

I would venture that great love occurs when two complete and whole (albeit, very imperfect) individuals unite.  Neither individual enters into the relationship expecting the other to fulfill, complete, or bring purpose to their life.  Rather they invite the other person to come alongside them in a life already in progress. They look to love to enhance their life, not mark the start of it. Their value is not tied solely to the other person, but exists apart from the relationship. Two individuals join their ambitions, dreams, and interests and work to build a life together. They also knowingly join their insecurities, struggles, and fears, not expecting the other person to resolve these things completely, but to partner alongside them in the fight.

Now, I certainly do not wish to diminish love or romance in any way. Love, romantic or otherwise, can be one of the most entrancing, powerful, and transformative experiences on earth. Perhaps it is this high opinion of love that leads me to contend with the prevailing views propagated by mainstream culture.

30 YEARS

With each passing year, I become more convinced that my upbringing was not a happy accident.

My childhood home was filled with love, laughter, and silliness. However, when it came to the outcome of my (and my brother’s) life, faith, and character, my parents were incredibly serious and intentional. When they wanted to teach us about money management, they required us to complete a series of chores for a modest weekly allowance. When we received the money, they would then guide us as we divided our money between three jars labeled: “Spending,” “Savings,” and “Giving.” As we did so, they would explain the significance of each jar and then further model this allocation in their own finances. They knew and understood that seeds sown throughout our childhood would yield a harvest of results in our adulthood. And so, they planted, cultivated, and watered in good faith.

However, their greatest parenting tool proved to be their marriage.

Though not fully conscious of it as children, my brother and I were slowly shaping our views on love, relationships, and marriage as we watched my parents’ marriage unfold. I am thankful for three things in this regard:

My parents raised us to esteem marriage highly and encouraged us to desire and pursue it in our own lives.

My parents taught us about Jesus. He was to be our ultimate measure of worth, purpose, and value. Therefore, we would never need to put unnecessary pressure on another human being to do what only God was meant to do in our lives. I grew up knowing I was worthy of love and sacrifice, not because a boyfriend/husband told me so, but because God showed me so over 2,000 years ago.

My parents did not shield us from the difficulties and struggles of marriage, but rather ensured that we had appropriate expectations and views regarding married life. After all, their marriage of 30 years is worthy of many words of praise, but ‘perfect’ is certainly not one of them.

My parents were open and transparent with their frustrations where appropriate. My brother and I never operated under the assumption that mom and dad were always happy and agreed on everything. However, that being said, in all of my years living under their roof, I never once heard them speak ill of one another in front of us or in front of others. They certainly had a great deal of fun at each other’s expense (we were a household of wannabe comedians who enjoyed giving each other a hard time). However, at the end of the day, I knew my father deeply loved, respected, and remained committed to my mother, and vice versa. I knew it because I heard it and I saw it. Imagine the impact for a child growing up, constantly hearing things like: “Your father is an amazing man. We are so lucky to have him.” “That’s just like your mother. She has always been so forgiving and gracious. You should learn from her.”

Admittedly, there are a number of different views on marriage, relationships, and love. This is merely a glimpse into mine. It was shaped by a number of forces and is far from set in stone. The things I have yet to learn in regards to love and marriage far outweigh the little I know. However, I do know that marriage is something I desire and respect.

That being said, I am clearly not married. So what about ‘in the meanwhile’? This seems to be the prevailing topic of conversation amongst my single friends…

MIND THE GAP

According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the average age of marriage for males and females respectively, has increased from 22 and 20 in 1960 to 29 and 27 in 2013. These statistics tell the story of our generation. We are the Friends generation. While our parents grew up watching family based TV sitcoms where couples married early, had children, and then raised families in the suburbs, our generation watched as a group of attractive twenty and thirty-somethings searched endlessly for love in New York City.

The Census figures would suggest that young people (on average) are now experiencing a significant gap between finishing school/working and finding love. For women in particular, this can feel like lost time. As a candid single friend once stated, “It is a time where I have to pretend to care about things besides getting married so someone will actually want to marry me.”

These are not lost years.

These are beautiful years of life, none of which are promised, all of which are full of possibility. I would venture to say that if I do get married, my husband will benefit greatly from my years as a single woman. My twenties thus far have been marked by unique and rich experiences, people, and places. I have traveled to new cities, states, and countries, gaining valuable experiences and stories along the way. I have met new friends who have enriched my life in countless ways that I may not fully understand on this side of Heaven. I have developed myself professionally and pursued goals that will aid me well as I continue to pursue my dreams and ambitions for the future. Perhaps most importantly, God has continued to grow and refine my faith and character, as I continue to develop into the woman He intended me to be.

Not a day of my life has been wasted. I am not waiting for life to start. It is always tempting to believe the lie: When I get _________________, then I will be happy/fulfilled/ready to begin, etc. That blank is too often filled with “a relationship,” or “married.” This can lead to incredible disappointment and unmet expectations when relationships and marriages finally do come to fruition.

I truly believe it is possible to desire something, such as marriage, while still being happy and finding fulfillment in your current state. Like the couple that looks forward to children one day, even while enjoying married life.

RECESS

I spent every recess during first grade training intensely for what I believed would be my future career as a professional teatherball player. By second grade, I had moved on entirely to organizing double dutch jump rope competitions. For those who may not be familiar with double dutch, it consists of two long jump ropes swinging in opposite directions. After the jump ropes start swinging, one or two players jump in and continue jumping until someone makes a mistake.

…I never waited for a second player to start jumping.

I just jumped.

I distinctly remember singing loudly as I jumped. I would mess up from time to time and launch into a full-on giggle fit. I would typically jump for a while alone. However, in time, inevitably someone else would walk by and want to join in on the fun.

In many ways, this is how I view single life. I like to jump. I don’t want to wait to start jumping. I don’t want to put my life on hold until someone agrees to jump with me. I just want to jump and perhaps in time someone will walk by and want to join in on the fun (Keeping in mind that sometimes you may need to move your jump rope closer to the crowd – a lesson I continue to learn). However, in the meanwhile, I jump for the sheer joy of jumping.

It beats the alternative of sitting on the playground alone, jump rope in hand, refusing to jump until someone jumps with you; growing increasingly pouty with each passing rejection. After all, it seems you would be far less likely to attract a crowd that way.

Purposeful Pain

Pain (difficulty, struggle, or hardship) is an inescapable part of the human experience. It is the great equalizer among people. It touches both rich and poor alike. Pain crosses borders and spans both time and history.

The question before us is never if pain will come, but rather when pain does come, how will we respond? Or as I began to ask myself this past year, will my pain have purpose?

I cannot write about pain without first establishing that some of the pain we experience in life is completely self-induced. We reap what we sow; there are consequences to our actions. On the contrary, other pain we experience is completely out of our control, at times even brought on by the actions and choices of others. Regardless of whether we have control over causing the struggle, we must remember that we always have control over our response to the struggle. We can choose to give our pain purpose. I feel more resolute regarding this point than ever before. I refuse to let my pain be meaningless. I refuse to waste my struggle. If I must at times endure difficulty, then I will fight through, and I will walk out on the other side victorious, taking with me every possible ounce of good I could salvage from the darkness.

 

I view purposeful pain through two primary lenses:

Helping Others

 

"He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” -1 Corinthians

“Close your eyes and pull this cord if you need anything.”
The technician’s voice slowly disappeared as my body was pulled into the MRI scanner. One question remained, “How did I even get here?” Only a few months prior, I felt invincible. I spent my days full of energy, running, biking, and kickboxing. Yet, that all seemed a distant memory as I shuffled slowly down the hospital corridor. My legs trembled beneath me as I reached out to the wall for support. That initial scan in early 2013 would serve as the launching point for an entire year of medical testing, unexplained symptoms, and physical pain.

It was and continues to be the greatest personal struggle I have ever faced.  I wish I were writing from the other side of this struggle. I wish I could share a story of resolution, health, and strength. I have great hope that someday very soon, I will. But today, I share a different story. It is a story of weakness and pain. It is also a story of profound and lasting joy. I share something deeply personal because I know that every person reading this blog has suffered, is suffering, or will suffer at some point.

As humans, we have a tendency to hide weakness. We are not quick to share stories of personal struggle, heartache, and pain. We often spend our time trying to carefully construct how others perceive us and then spend even more time trying to manage that perception. We falsely assume that in order to find love, connection, and a sense of belonging, we must offer only the very best of who we are; an edited version of ourselves.

True connection comes through vulnerability. People connect to what is honest and real. Author and speaker Brene Brown proposed that in order for real connection to happen, we must allow ourselves to truly be seen. We must have the courage to be imperfect. Vulnerability, therefore, requires a certain level of self-acceptance. It requires us to embrace our entire story, not just certain chapters. It challenges us to believe that we are worthy of love and connection simply as we are, not as we would like to be.

Admittedly, if I alone wrote the story of my life, my pen would never write a chapter where I battle for my health. My lead character would be strong and independent, not weak and dependent on others. However, I am learning to love my story in its entirety. I was uniquely created by a loving God who designed this life with me in mind. My life is beautiful and I wouldn’t want anyone else’s. As I learn to fully embrace my life, I continue to find the strength to be weak. I find the strength to allow others to enter into the beautiful chaos that is this season of my life. I share my story openly, with the hope that people will learn from my struggle as I have learned from the struggles of others. Finally, grounded in the belief that pain can be isolating, I share my story with the hope that others will feel less alone in their own fight.  

Every day brave men and women share their personal battles with cancer and in doing so, encourage others to go in for a prostate exam, colonoscopy, or mammogram. Think of  the lives that have been saved through the simple act of sharing a personal story. Men and women courageously share their personal battles with eating disorders, attempted suicides, and substance abuse to help others find victory in similar struggles. Friends, colleagues, and neighbors confide in each other and find comfort in shared experiences. Imagine the unique and knowing bond between two women who have both faced the heartache of miscarriage. Imagine the shared understanding between two men who are both looking for work after losing their respective jobs.

We bring purpose to our pain by sharing it. We bring purpose to our pain by allowing others to benefit from our experiences. If we must suffer, let us at least use that suffering to ease the suffering of others. Let us use our pain to bring hope and comfort.

 Personal Growth

“More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame…” - Romans

Enduring a difficult struggle is not an automatic impetus for personal growth. Too often we assume that when we endure a great struggle (a messy break-up, an illness, financial difficulty, or personal loss) we naturally arrive on the other side of our situation stronger. However, I would argue that we can also arrive on the other side of our situation bitter, cynical, fearful and more self-involved. My father has always countered the old adage “With age comes wisdom” by saying, “With age can come wisdom, but that is an active choice, not a guarantee.” Just as you do not automatically grow wiser with each passing year, you do not automatically grow stronger with each passing struggle. Growth requires intention. 

Adversity is a reliable mirror. It often reveals our true character. After all, when life is good, even fair, most of us are able to summon strength, offer love, consider the needs of others, exhibit patience, and remain hopeful. Yet, when life circumstances change and our daily load feels a little heavier, we often see our true propensity towards love, patience, strength, and hope.

During moments of prayer and reflection this past year, significant character deficiencies were revealed in my heart. I can imagine that some of my prayers were the spiritual equivalent of a 5-year-old crying about receiving vanilla ice cream instead of chocolate ice cream with their birthday cake. Yes God, I know you have given me a roof over my head, loving family and friends, a great job, and the gift of your Son, but I want perfect health and I want it NOW!  Too bad Psalms has already been published. What a beautiful contribution my prayers would have been...

 

I obviously exaggerate for the purpose of illustration, but the point still stands. At times throughout my struggle, I came face to face with the true state of my character and was greatly disappointed with what I found. In that sense, I have learned to rejoice in my pain; not for the pain itself of course, but for the character this pain is producing in my life.

 “What do you want to be when you grow up?” This question, first posed to us as children, follows us throughout our adolescence, becoming increasingly urgent with each passing year. My parents always seemed to change the conversation by changing a single word, “Who do you want to be when you grow up?” They understood that if I figured out the who, I could be successful at almost any what.

It is a question I still ask myself today. Who do I want to be? What do I want to be true of me? What kind of woman, daughter, sister, friend, and someday wife and mother do I want to be? Pain will surely find me again, and even worse, pain will find those that I love. What will my response be in those moments? Who will I be?

"She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.”-Proverbs 31

I want to be a woman marked by joy.  True joy, not a volatile joy which comes and goes like a wave of the sea, rising and falling in line with my emotions and life circumstances. I want a joy which cannot be broken, a joy rooted in Jesus. I want to look ahead to life’s uncertainties and laugh, because my foundation is secure and my joy is already complete.

 "Her husband has full confidence in her and lacks nothing of value. She brings him good, not harm, all the days of her life.” – Proverbs 31

I want to be a woman who brings good to those around her. I want to be a pillar of comfort, peace, and rest for the people in my life; a woman who will point others to truth, hope, and faith.  I want to be quick with a smile and a comforting word.

“She opens her arms to the poor and extends her hands to the needy” –Proverbs 31

I want to be a woman who considers the needs of others before her own. A woman who looks beyond her own life to the lives of others and responds with compassion and mercy.

 

Well that's all very nice, isn't it? Can I get a collective awwww? What wonderful things to want. However, the harsh reality is that without struggle and pain, very few of us would become the person we truly want to be. How do you develop perserverance without going through a situation in which you must persevere? How do you develop patience without being forced to wait? How do you learn to forgive without first being offended? How do you learn the importance of honesty without seeing the painful impact of betrayal?

 

We bring purpose to our pain by allowing it to produce within us character and growth.

 

Conclusion: A Little Perspective

Perspective is often key to enduring struggle. We may be frustrated with a dent in our car, while others are struggling to find food today. We may grow impatient for a health diagnosis, while others die without health care. We may struggle to finish college, while others enter adulthood completely illiterate. The reality is, people would have to look pretty long and hard in my life to find even the smallest reason to feel sorry for me. I imagine the same is true for you. Every time I am even remotely tempted towards self-pity, I think of an incredible man I have never met before. He has brought more purpose to his pain than I could ever dream of.

A few years ago I came across the story of Nick Vujicic. Nick has tetra-amelia syndrome, a very rare congenital disorder characterized by the absence of all four limbs. Nick has no arms and no legs. Despite his very obvious physical disability, Nick graduated from college with a double major in accountancy and financial planning. He learned to golf, swim, and eventually married and became a father. He now travels the world as a motivational speaker, sharing his story of hope, life, and faith in Jesus. He shares openly about his early struggles with depression and suicide. He makes no claims that his life is easy.

Five minutes into Nick’s story I became less captivated by his lack of limbs and more captivated by his happiness and passion for life, God, and others. He is described by those around him as full of joy and zeal. Nick brings purpose to his pain by sharing it with others. He brings purpose to his pain by using it as a catalyst for personal growth. He lives a life grounded in true joy. Nick cannot control his struggle. But he has taken control of his response.

By the grace of God, we will all learn to bring such great purpose to our pain.