Do Not Be Afraid
Does it feel like Christmas to you? I know it’s not Christmas yet, technically. In church time it’s still Advent. And perhaps there’s something not wholly religiously-sanctioned about it, but that’s what I start asking myself this time of year.
Does it feel like Christmas yet? Do you know what I mean? Maybe you define it a little differently. Maybe you have a special tradition that allows you to summon the “Christmas” feeling on demand. But for me, I’m talking about a moment of deep wonder that sweeps me up and reminds me of my smallness in the vastness of creation. It’s an awe-filled reminder that despite my smallness, I’m connected to all that eternal infiniteness by an unbreakable love.
It’s a strange warming of the heart that usually catches me unaware and plunges me to the depths of what I understand Christmas to be about – holy, eternal, infinite God, made vulnerable infant flesh and come right down here to where we are then, now, and forever.
I’ve met that moment while lighting candles and singing Silent Night. I’ve met that moment while staying up too late and breaking too many rules with dear siblings with whom I may quarrel but who I’d also protect with my life. I’ve met it while rocking a sleepless child. I’ve met it while rocking my sleepless grief.
It’s not an assurance that nothing is wrong. It’s the realization that while things are very wrong in very many places, that holy, eternal love and my mercifully sweet connection to it prevails.
It doesn’t always show up when I’d like. But it usually shows. It doesn’t always look like a picture perfect Christmas card. In fact, it usually looks a lot more like a haphazard band of shepherds who’ve been watching their flocks by night for so long that they’ve started to look and smell a lot like the sheep they’re tending. That’s when the wonder shows up. That’s when the angels light the sky.
To simple, wild, lowly places, God still sends God’s messengers to fill us with wonder and awe. Those angels tell us, “Do not be afraid,” which I hope you can see from the children’s story is both an utterly necessary and an utterly ridiculous thing for them to say.
Angels are truly scary. In the Bible they don’t usually show up to deliver fast food or to tell you about their favorite new Netflix show. They usually show up to let you know everything is different now and you are about to be asked to be very, very brave. To Sara, Isaiah, Zechariah, Mary, and the shepherds the angels bring good news of great joy, comfort, and the admonition to believe them and to take courage for the road ahead. “Do not be afraid,” they say.
But maybe it helps to know they probably mean, “I know you’re really afraid. That’s okay. Be afraid for a while, if you need. But I’m asking you not to let your fear control the decisions you make. I’m asking you to be brave.”
We can’t exactly see the future but we’re about to experience another surge of COVID19 in the US. Scientists are telling us it could be bad. It could overwhelm hospitals again in scary ways. It’s a good idea to be careful–to do what you feel you need to do to protect yourself, to slow spread, and to help others. And it’s important to be brave. To remember what’s really important to you--what and who you love--and to give yourself merciful permission to bravely act on that love in your heart.
Is it time to forgive someone? Is it time to apologize? Is it time to make amends? Is it time to do something new? Is it time to quit something else? Is it time to let yourself experience mercy and grace?
If this pandemic has anything to teach us, maybe one of those things is that we may not have as much time as we think we do and that things may not be as set in stone as we thought they were. Therefore, more than ever, the time is now to be brave.
Fear makes us close down, tighten up, and keep everything to ourselves. Overcoming our fear, we can open, dream, forgive, and share. Those sound so soft and fluffy but in my experience, those are the very things that take real bravery.
The good news of great joy the angels bring the shepherds is that a savior has been born. It is a reassurance that their people are not forgotten. God is in their midst and cares deeply for each one. Despite the harshness and suffering of their world, God is with them.
And we, too, are not alone. Knowing that doesn’t solve all our problems. But it can make it possible for us to find the courage we need in the face of trouble. It’s why a simple card, phone call, or little text message of support can mean so much. It’s why a meal shared can seem like holy manna. It’s why it matters to address the systems–not just the symptoms–of suffering in our world.
It may not house all the children, clothe all the naked, and feed all the hungry at once. But every time someone reaches out to us and we reach out to another we join in that holy work of being with each other. And as Mary who treasured and pondered all these things in her heart knows, it changes things. The shepherds knew it, too. They left praising God and sharing the good news. We are not alone. God is with us. And because of that we need not be controlled by our fears.
I don’t know if they looked or smelled like sheep. But I hear that there’s a story behind the excessively decorated house on Monroe Street that goes back to a time when the owner suffered a devastating injury. It’s said his friends knew how much he loved Christmas lights and wanted him so much to feel not alone in his suffering that they did the lights for him and hung those big balls of lights in the tree so that he would know they were there, they were rooting for him, and it was okay to be brave. Every year the tree gains another of those big balls of light, celebrating one more year from that anniversary and one more year that he can return the favor to the rest of us in the neighborhood in lights that are as loud as shepherds shouting in the night.
We are not alone. We need not be ruled by our fear. We are held in love forever. Thanks be to God.
May the wonder, awe, and mercy of that Christmas feeling find you this season wherever you may be.
May it be so. Amen.
