The
Auburn/Alabama game a week ago Saturday contained not only the most amazing final minutes
of football I have ever seen, but it has also given me a lot to think about
this week.
In case you
missed it, Alabama went into this game as favored contenders for the BCS
Championship. They were one of three
teams with perfect seasons, and based on the strength of their schedule, ranked
as the top team in the country.
All they
had to do was play up to their usual standards for the next two weeks, and they
would be looking at a trip to the ultimate game in college football.
A chance at fame and glory! So close they could smell it!
I will spare
you the details, but let's just say that instead of wrapping it up, they were handed a dramatic
defeat by their perennial rivals, the Auburn Tigers.
You
really should take a minute and watch the final play on You Tube.
More
importantly, watch the faces of the Alabama players as they realize what has
happened, because in them you will get a glimpse of what loss does to the human
soul.
It is
heartbreak, infused with dismay and disbelief, mixed with incredulity, sprinkled with pain and anger, and then served on a bed of regret.
So hard to watch.
When
you really think about it, loss makes up a vast portion of our lives.
We worry about it when it isn't there, build frantic hedges against it when it threatens, and pick up the pieces in sorrow after it strikes.
It's why we buy insurance and why we work out.
It is in the embarrassment we feel over not meeting expectations and the pressure we feel when we exceed them.
It is why there is a market for sunscreen and fish oil and Doctor Oz.
The fear of loss can be paralyzing, keeping us from saying the things we ought to say, doing the things we ought to do, and going the places we ought to go--destroying the life we want to live.
The fear of loss can be paralyzing, keeping us from saying the things we ought to say, doing the things we ought to do, and going the places we ought to go--destroying the life we want to live.
It is the cause of our worst days and the root of our deepest fears.
In fact, it is difficult to think of a circumstance in this life that doesn't involve loss on some level.
Even the good things are tainted.
Have you ever watched a child sleeping, or witnessed a perfect sunrise, or stroked a tiny cheek, or gazed into the eyes of your true love and been overwhelmed with the sad realization that the beauty of that
moment cannot be held?
That bitter in the sweet is loss, tugging every good thing out of your grasp and into the hazy insubstantiality of memory.
Losing was born of the curse that pushed us from the garden--loss of innocence, loss of fellowship, loss of perfection, loss of protection from pain, sickness, sadness, and selfishness. Loss of life.
Sin is shot through with loss, but we are not abandoned!
Even in the curse is a promise: The evil one will inflict pain for a time, but ultimately Christ will crush him. (Genesis 3:15)
And so for now we live in loss, actually in labor the Bible says in Romans 8:22. "For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now."
In NO WAY is labor the funnest part of the parenthood gig. I think we can all agree on that.
It's the part you grit your teeth through and try to forget about as soon as you are engaged in the actual wonders of parenting.
In the same way, because of Christ and his sacrifice, this life of loss has at its end the promise of joy unfolding into joy.
It is the beginning of the second week of Advent, and I am soaking up the redemption story again. How appropriate that it began with labor and pain because at its heart, the gospel has everything to do with loss.
His loss for our gain.
From Christ's perspective, a voluntary loss of position, honor, and power, and from our perspective, the chance to be rid of loss for good.
In Eden, we were given the necessary gift of death--a merciful end to a broken life of laboring and loss.
In Bethlehem, Jesus removed the sting and gave us the promise of His death and the only hope we have to escape our brokenness.
This is the meaning of Christmas.
Jesus wasn't just a cute addition to the redemption story. He was a lightning bolt, the Lord of the Universe folded into mortal flesh. Hope incarnate.
The "Spirit of Christmas" and all the warm fuzzies and holiday specials and family gatherings are nice, but they are the shadow, not the substance.
The trappings of the season hold out the promise of fulfillment because they speak to a need in all of us that we may not even fully understand--the burning desire to fill an empty space, to find what is lost, to heal what hurts...
...but then comes January, and a rise in depression and suicide, and unnamed sadness, and dissatisfaction that must be either confronted, denied, or distracted.
The only way to come out of Advent truly satisfied is to come in honest.
Hungry.
Empty.
Needy.
If this describes you this year, then you are just where you need to be--in good company, with shepherds and kings, kneeling before a fragile infant.
They saw past the wrapping--past appearances--and brought their hearts to Messiah--master, judge, redeemer, creator, savior, restorer of all that has been or ever will be lost.
"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost" (Luke 19:10)
"I came that they might have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10)
So when I say "Merry Christmas" I am wishing you more than warm times with people you love.
I am wishing for the dawning realization of what you have lost and what you could gain.
I am wishing for you to stand with the shepherds in the cold air of your need with the light of angels reflected in your tears.
I am wishing for you to throw off your light honors and worldly knowledge like the wise men and fix your eyes on the star.
And follow.
That bitter in the sweet is loss, tugging every good thing out of your grasp and into the hazy insubstantiality of memory.
Losing was born of the curse that pushed us from the garden--loss of innocence, loss of fellowship, loss of perfection, loss of protection from pain, sickness, sadness, and selfishness. Loss of life.
Sin is shot through with loss, but we are not abandoned!
Even in the curse is a promise: The evil one will inflict pain for a time, but ultimately Christ will crush him. (Genesis 3:15)
And so for now we live in loss, actually in labor the Bible says in Romans 8:22. "For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now."
In NO WAY is labor the funnest part of the parenthood gig. I think we can all agree on that.
It's the part you grit your teeth through and try to forget about as soon as you are engaged in the actual wonders of parenting.
In the same way, because of Christ and his sacrifice, this life of loss has at its end the promise of joy unfolding into joy.
It is the beginning of the second week of Advent, and I am soaking up the redemption story again. How appropriate that it began with labor and pain because at its heart, the gospel has everything to do with loss.
His loss for our gain.
From Christ's perspective, a voluntary loss of position, honor, and power, and from our perspective, the chance to be rid of loss for good.
In Eden, we were given the necessary gift of death--a merciful end to a broken life of laboring and loss.
In Bethlehem, Jesus removed the sting and gave us the promise of His death and the only hope we have to escape our brokenness.
This is the meaning of Christmas.
Jesus wasn't just a cute addition to the redemption story. He was a lightning bolt, the Lord of the Universe folded into mortal flesh. Hope incarnate.
The "Spirit of Christmas" and all the warm fuzzies and holiday specials and family gatherings are nice, but they are the shadow, not the substance.
The trappings of the season hold out the promise of fulfillment because they speak to a need in all of us that we may not even fully understand--the burning desire to fill an empty space, to find what is lost, to heal what hurts...
...but then comes January, and a rise in depression and suicide, and unnamed sadness, and dissatisfaction that must be either confronted, denied, or distracted.
The only way to come out of Advent truly satisfied is to come in honest.
Hungry.
Empty.
Needy.
If this describes you this year, then you are just where you need to be--in good company, with shepherds and kings, kneeling before a fragile infant.
They saw past the wrapping--past appearances--and brought their hearts to Messiah--master, judge, redeemer, creator, savior, restorer of all that has been or ever will be lost.
"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost" (Luke 19:10)
"I came that they might have life and have it abundantly." (John 10:10)
So when I say "Merry Christmas" I am wishing you more than warm times with people you love.
I am wishing for the dawning realization of what you have lost and what you could gain.
I am wishing for you to stand with the shepherds in the cold air of your need with the light of angels reflected in your tears.
I am wishing for you to throw off your light honors and worldly knowledge like the wise men and fix your eyes on the star.
And follow.
*******************
"Christmas is an indictment before it becomes a delight. It will not have its intended effect until we feel desperately the need for a Savior."
--John Piper
"Advent can only be celebrated by those whose souls give them no peace, who know that they are poor and incomplete, and who sense something of the greatness that is to come, before which they can only bow in humble timidity, waiting until He inclines Himself toward us."
--Deitrich Bonhoeffer
"When the fullness of the time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law of sin and death."
Galatians 4:4
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