It’s almost Christmas, and here I am thinking about Easter.
I guess that’s not so terrible—people of faith cannot believe in Life without also believing in Death. It’s just our definitions that are different, and the bridge between the two is Hope. And who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8:25) So first things first, allow me to cut myself some slack (and you can have a piece too–I made enough for all of us).
A week ago, when I was on an accidental 12-mile walk, God revealed something new to me about the Lazarus story (John 11), and from that, I wrote “The Brother of My Dreams” (you can read that here). My dreams–teaching abroad, this longing I feel to adventure, and a thousand other things I would be remiss to try to articulate here. For a while now after COVID (and other things) interrupted their fulfillment, I have strained to keep these things alive, not actually knowing if they are destined for life. It’s quite exhausting to try to be the ruach for something I am not sure I created in the first place. And during that long walk on an unseasonably warm November afternoon, I felt God’s gentle touch tell me that I do not have to play that part—he has not abandoned his role as Reviver and Rapha, and even if he had, I am not called to be his understudy. So, as the poem says, for a proverbial four days, it is time to seal the tomb.
During that quarter-speed half marathon, I realized that Advent and the Saturday after Good Friday have an astounding similarity. Yes, they have massive differences as well, not the least of which being one is characterized by expectation and hope, and the other by grief and hopelessness, though both reflect the twin stars of faith and doubt. (If you can’t have Life without Death, neither can you have Faith without Doubt.) But I digress. I don’t want to talk about how they’re different; I want to talk about how the time before Easter and the time before Christmas are similar. And that means returning to the parallel drawn above between grief and expectation, and the double-sided coin of what if.
Let’s start with expectation—it feels too glib to call it a “feeling,” but permit me to do so for the sake of transmitting the message. The “feeling” of expectation comes with it a sense of hope and joy at the potential of new life. When a baby is born, there is a delight of expectation as parents and families consider the blooming possibilities before them. As they begin (in ideal circumstances) the joyful sacrifice of adapting their lives to fit the blossoming new one, they hold in their arms the most fragile-yet-strong incarnation of what if—the unfurling of a life that will take on its own what ifs, potential birthing potential with its own set of hopes, dreams, and outpouring of love. (Of course, there is only so close I can get to understanding this—which is to say, not very–not being a mother myself.)
But there is another not-a-feeling-but-a-journey that confronts the frightening what if, and that is grief. However, unlike expectation, grief’s what ifs are not up ahead. If expectation hopes for a life, grief mourns a death—the death of a potential. The death of a what if. And somehow, the what if remains, but it is saturated in sorrow because unlike the what if that characterizes expectation, the what if of grief is no longer unfurling. It is a what if no longer possible to realize on this side of heaven. When a loved one passes, or a hope is dashed, or a dream dies, our expectation shifts to grief, and the what if coin flips…but it’s still the same coin.
Thank God it flips. And it does flip, sometimes shiny and resplendent as we wait in expectation, other times dulled and darkened as we wait in grief. But because we are people of faith, we know that the waiting is never in vain—that Death is not the end of the story anymore. It used to be, but it is no longer. In moments of darkness, we have to remember this: the coin will always flip: But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep. (1 Thess. 4:13-15)
That’s why, as people of faith, we cannot have Easter without Christmas. Our Holy Saturday becomes more like our Advent, because we wait with a certainty: No longer are grief and expectation painful reminders of each other as they operate in separate spheres; rather, they are united in a common purpose, to point us to a greater glory: the reality of Hope in the midst of the unknown. Again: And who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8:25)
Our Advent is unlike the thousands-of-years-long advent that the people of God experienced so long ago, waiting for the Messiah that would rescue them once and for all (though we would do well to remember that the Israelites did not know who they were waiting for, and many did not recognize him when he came). The Messiah has come. We have said, “He is born!” …and, more than that, we have also said “He is risen!” We have seen the promise fulfilled.
And yet, as we sit in Advent, we are still filled with great expectation and hope like the Israelites of old, because we know that although “It is finished,” God is not finished yet. Both are somehow true, and so our Christmas is interwoven with our Easter—Hope was born, Hope has died, Hope has risen, and Hope will come again. The yearly celebration of our Savior’s birth is our reminder that God is bringing new life even still, that he is always fulfilling his promises, and there will come a day when our what ifs are forever satisfied, Creation itself no longer groans, and everything from our flesh to our spirits is at complete rest, unburdened by the duality of now and not yet, because eternity is fully upon us. For that, we wait in expectation.
Again and again in this season, I am reminded: There cannot be Life without Death. We have to believe in both—but equally important is remembering which wraps up the story, and who has the ability to move us from chapter to chapter. Sometimes, it is faithful to cling to life. But sometimes, a greater act of faith is letting something die for the purpose of seeing it raised up again–if God wills it so. That which is meant for Life will live—we know this because of Easter. But it takes great faith to place the possibility of resurrection in God’s hands. I’m not perfect at it, but as I’m learning to entrust the life of my dreams to God, I’ll keep on saying, Your will, not mine, be done, Lord. And I will wait—the Advent of Christmas teaches me how.
As I have said elsewhere on this site, what is new will spring up again / it always does / for that is / the way of things. Christmas is our reminder of birth—Easter is our reminder of rebirth. We cannot have one without the other. So, it seems entirely appropriate to be contemplating what to let die as I wait for the birth of Jesus. And even as I witness death, I can make room for new life, always.
I’m definitely eager for Easter. I am hopeful for the resurrection of a thousand little lazari in my life (that’s plural for Lazarus, by the way): for dreams to be revived, for passions to resurge…if God wills it. But Christmas is about new life right now, here upon us: I am doing a new thing, do you not perceive it? (Is. 43:19)
Is your manger ready for him? Are you waiting with (both) palms turned up? God is bringing a Savior to earth. It is finished, and yet God is not. What are you waiting for? A promise to be fulfilled? God’s plan to be made known to you? Wait with expectation; wait with hope—hope never disappoints us. It didn’t disappoint after thousands of years of waiting without a glimpse of tangible fulfillment. It won’t disappoint you, ever, because the one who gave us hope is faithful, and he is here with us, Emmanuel, always. Knowing this, I will let my lazari rest for a while—Easter is surely coming. But Christmas is here!
The pipeline by my forever home - ft. the "Sugar Shack" - a great place to advent :)
Comments