Christmas is not Over

Yesterday I began to take down the Christmas decorations around our house.  I lugged all the storage boxes out of the basement, took ornaments off of the tree and put them carefully in their own little boxes, unwrapped the strings of lights from the dry tree branches, took down the stockings from the dusty mantle, emptied the centerpiece bowls of the colorful little glass ball ornaments that had filled them, and stacked all the Christmas dishes on the dining room table ready to be put back into storage until next Christmas.  I have yet to tackle the greenery and lights on the outside of the house.  And the dry, brittle tree still stands, naked and dark, in my sunroom, waiting to be dragged to the curb.

Most years we get our tree up in early December and the undecorating takes place fairly close to the first of January.  This year, however, the pace of life prevented us from getting the tree up and decorated until the 23rd of December.  It felt like we had just gotten done decorating, and already it was time to take it down.

The process of decorating is fun and festive, with lively Christmas music, little helpers, and sometimes even hot cocoa and cookies.  There is a sense of excitement and anticipation. 

Un-decorating, however, has something bittersweet about it.  Some years I am ready to get the dry pine needles out of my house and off of my carpet, ready to have more counterspace with less clutter from containers of cookies and extra dishes, ready to have my house freshened up for whatever a new year might bring.  And some years--this year--the undecorating seems a little depressing, like that feeling as a kid when you realize you just opened your last present.  It feels like something exciting has *ended* and is *over*.

And yet, when I paused recently to reflect on this feeling, the obvious dawned on me: Christmas is never over.  Christmas is every day.

While the decorations may be taken down to sit in a dark rubbermaid bin in the part of my basement that I have dubbed "the dungeon," the truth is that, despite the best efforts of our world prompted by the enemy of our souls, Christmas--the gift of Emanuel, God with us--can not be "put away." 

Each day, because of Christmas--because Jesus gave up any trappings of His deity, came to earth as a humble little naked infant, lived a perfect life, died the horrific death that all along, in love, God had planned, and then, by God's awesome power and might, rose from the grave victorious over sin and death, reconciling us to our holy God--those who have embraced Jesus as Lord can experience life abundant.

Each day--the days that hold joys and triumphs and laughter--we receive undeserved abundant blessings because of Christmas, because he allows us to live as beloved children of God rather than as the enemies of God that, left in our natural state, we were.

Each day--the days that hold sorrows unforeseen, tragedies that suffocate, disappointments and failures and brokenness and heartache and hurt--we can trust that because of Christmas, our forever home is a place far different from here and now.  We can trust that hard circumstances have purposes that are for our good and His glory.  We can even acknowledge that sometimes the greatest gift is the hardest trial, because it draws us into--and ultimately helps us become more like--Him.

Because of Christmas, because God loved the world enough to send His son, we can view our world as temporal yet--as God's amazing creation--still worthy of our attention and time and input and dominion.  We can view the affairs of man--the interaction among nations, the wars and conflicts and negotiations, the politics and debates--as under God's sovereign hand yet lovingly delegated to the authority of man.  We can view other people as God's precious creatures worthy of love and respect. 

Because of Christmas--and the chance to see what a perfect man, who lived perfectly in harmony with God the Father, chose to do with his time, his energy, his gifts, his words, and the people with whom He engaged--we can strive to live in a way that is countercultural and--truth be told--unnatural, with humility and grace and love.  We can choose to serve freely--without thought of what we receive in return.  We can choose to speak words that are kind and gracious when a situation might seem--to our sinful hearts--to justify harshness.   We can choose to put up with little annoyances that come from living with other sinners without a critical word or hard heart, but instead offer prayers of gratitude for companionship and the gift of family.  We can choose to pour ourselves out even for the most unlovable in our lives with the same love and power that held Jesus on that rough cross. 

So, while December 25th has passed, the Christmas clearance sales are all picked over, and the decorations all packed up, still the awesome, miraculous results of the first Christmas endure.

Blessed Christmas to each of us today and everyday.