God With Us – A Christmas Reflection
I don’t know how you’ll summarize 2024, but it’s been a mixed bag for Jessica and me.
Like most people, we start each New Year hoping for good health, security, meaningful work, growing friendships, and a sense of connectedness—to God, others, and ourselves.
Jess and I have been married for almost 30 years and have certainly enjoyed our fair share of those experiences and reflections. However, life is rarely that straightforward.
2024 brought chronic illness, unanswered questions, many uncertainties, the unexpected passing of a few friends, and many long days and nights. Our family has experienced highs and lows, joys and sorrows, moments of peace, and moments of heart-wrenching tension. I suspect you have as well.
I’m American, which means I attempt to solve, delay, pay for, or numb every manner of pain and suffering that finds its way into our home. And, like most people who have at least some vague concept of God, I ask to be delivered from life’s hardships. For reasons I don’t expect to understand, sometimes He delivers us, and sometimes He doesn’t.
This past week, a friend reminded me of a quote (I think it’s by Skye Jathani) that the three most powerful words in the life of someone following Jesus are, “I don’t know.”
For Westerners, this is a disconcerting statement. We live in a world where we put great faith in what’s visible, provable, and verified. We fear not knowing, and we certainly fear admitting as such at work, in our homes, or in our faith gatherings. The last thing we want to hear from our leaders is, “I don’t know.” To be confused or ignorant is a sign of inner weakness. Right?
Additionally, Dallas Willard once wrote that there are various levels of trust. I always thought it was black and white—we trust or don’t. But I admit, particularly in 2024, that he was right.
I trust God that I will be with Him forever. But I don’t trust Him to provide my daily bread. I trust God that He reveals Himself in both of His books (the Bible and creation). I don’t trust that everything actually works out for my good. I trust that He loves me. I don’t always trust that He likes me.
Part of my “trust issues” stems from my desperate need to know and control. This is understandable: when our hearts are bruised and battered, we attempt to control people and situations as a means of self-protection. These attempts inevitably end in disaster, but we do it anyhow.
For all my attempts to control or know, I’m discovering something deeper, more critical, and more sustaining than control or information.
Its presence.
One of Jesus’ names is Immanuel – God with us.
While some conclude that God is distant, harsh, demanding, demeaning, and restrictive, I marinate in both His books and marvel at how passionately and intentionally He longs to be with us. Even when we repeatedly and forcefully tell Him to get lost, He goes to extraordinary lengths to love us, consistently inviting us to sit with Him.
Even when I’m frustrated, or I don’t know the answers, or my trust is low, God still longs to be with me. He seems to have created the universe so that we can be together.
He doesn’t promise me control, answers, prosperity, health, or relational bliss with myself or others. He promises me Him.
I follow Jesus and seek to be His apprentice for many reasons. He is, after all, the most intelligent, winsome, self-sacrificing, profound person to have walked the planet. But, at least for me, a primary reason I follow Him is that He is Immanuel. He came to be with me. He knows me. He pursues me. He delights to be near me, even when I would rather not be near myself.
There is something magical and mystical about “presence.” If you have ever experienced soul-crushing grief or been confused at a guttural level, you know the peace and power of a committed friend. They offer no insightful answers. In fact, they speak very little. They are simply there. And their constant presence brings more calm and freedom than trite sayings or supposedly easy solutions.
There’s a touching scene toward the end of the movie Lars and the Real Girl that embodies this reality so well.
Lars, who is grieving the impending death of his love, Bianca, is visited by several older ladies from his church while everyone waits for her passing. They bring casseroles to his house and sit knitting in his living room.
Lars: “Um, is there something I should be doing right now?”
Mrs. Gruner: “No, dear. You eat.”
Sally: “We came over to sit.”
Hazel: “That’s what people do when tragedy strikes.”
Sally: “They come over and sit.”
When we have no control, when we admit we don’t know, our hearts desperately long for someone to come and sit with us. Our hearts long for the presence of Someone who wants to know us and who will be with us no matter what.
Immanuel. God with us. Christmas reminds us that when we have few answers and struggle to trust, there is no empty chair. He is here.
