Nine ways to keep the Holidays Holy
Written by Dr. Wayne Brouwer /
January 20, 2022
Written by Dr. Wayne Brouwer /
January 20, 2022
A young girl went with her pastor father when he led a Christmas afternoon worship service at a retirement home. His exuberance while telling the story and implications of Jesus’ coming was palpable, and Christmas carols were sung with enthusiasm by a delighted crowd of residents and visiting family members.
One nurse, however, obviously not pleased to be working the holiday, growled and grimaced as she shuttled wheel chairs in and out. When the worshippers shouted, “Joy to the World,” the mission-minded girl whispered to her, “Did you ever hear this story before?”
“Of course!” snapped the nurse at this impertinence. “I’m a Christian!”
“Well you should tell your face!” said the wee one.
Emotions run rampant during the holidays, many bright, and probably just as many dark and malignant. For busy church leaders, rushing, overwork, and then loneliness and fatigue often claw the innards. Sometimes we realize what is happening to us, but often we push things down, knowing we don’t have the time to deal with stuff right now.
How might we move through Advent and the holiday season with more of holy buoyancy and less of ulcerating stress?
Here are some Advent thoughts, gleaned from my own years in ministry leadership:
In 1944, a Canadian soldier came home to Halifax, Nova Scotia, bringing tuberculosis home along with other war wounds. His 3-year-old son remained healthy, but his wife soon was heading for death, infected by bacteria he transferred. Hospitalized, doctors sought every way to treat her, but a new medicine from Johns Hopkins made her nauseous, and other treatments failed. By late fall, all knew death was imminent. Weakened to exhaustion, the woman was determined to live at least until Christmas. She even begged her doctor to be given leave to go home for a few hours on Christmas day, should she survive that long. Knowing that it would not happen, the doctor smiled and nodded.
But last, she did. And on Christmas Day, against all medical warnings, the doctor reluctantly allowed her to go home for the afternoon, reminding her to keep a mask in place for the protection of her young child. He watched nurses lifting her feeble body into the car with her husband, fully expecting that the efforts would kill her, and she would not return.
Yet she came back Christmas night, with a bit of a smile. And she did not die. She lingered and remained, hovering over Sheol and mercilessly dancing with Death. Through New Year’s. Through January. She hung on beyond all possible human strength and expectation. In fact, during February, she began to sit up again, and eat a bit. Some color even returned to her cheeks. The medical staff was astounded, and her doctor could claim no part in her progress.
Then the nausea hit. Worse than before. This was a-typical. There were no medical histories that included nausea this late in the ravages of tuberculosis. The doctor ordered a blood test, and it revealed the cause. The wasted woman was pregnant! During the few Christmas hours with her husband and child, she had come to be with child!
Her doctor was perturbed, the nursing staff incredulous. But she was alive, and so was a tiny Christmas baby in her womb. And that was when the miracle began to happen. For as the Christmas child grew, its body expanded in the cavity of her womb, and pushed her diaphragm up against her leaking, tuberculoid lungs. The pressure closed some holes, and the flow of protective hormones accelerated healing and strengthening.
By March, it was clear that this woman would live and not die. By April she was able to go home. And by summer, she was strong enough to return to full and healthy living. In September, child of Christmas was born, the baby that saved its mother.
Every birth is a miracle.
But the birth of the Christmas baby saves us in unexpected and surprising ways. And “holyday” season remains holy only when that wonder remains at the center.
Written by Wayne Brower
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