Because you exist

As I write this, it’s the 4th day of the season of Christmas on the Christian calendar, or the 28th of December, in the way we humans calculate things. Our house is still festooned in lights, with a wreath on the door and Christmas cards from friends displayed on the mantle. Our refrigerator is still full of leftovers from the meals shared with family and friends.

Growing up as I did in a low-church household, where we did not celebrate any but the first day of Christmas, or December 25th, we took all our decorations down on the 1st of January – an arbitrary date determined by the calendar we got from the bank that held our mortgage. My Catholic friends took theirs down six days later, on the 12th Day of Christmas, or the celebration of Epiphany. 

We had another friend who was a bit lazy, who usually took his lights down sometime in March, after his wife had yelled at him about it. 

Regardless of how we mark time, eventually, the lights come down, the decorations are packed away, and we move from this time of feasting and rest back to the so-called “normal” rhythm of work. 

It is popular for people to examine their lives during this slower period of the year and to choose new ways they want to show up in the year to come. Maybe this is the year you want to have a healthier relationship with food, or want to learn how to paint, or desire to pick up an exercise habit. It’s a natural time of introspection over the year that has passed: What worked, what didn’t, and what should we let go of, and what should we do more of? 

This is natural, and in and of itself, there is nothing wrong with New Year’s Resolutions, and this is as good a time as any. We must constantly change and adapt. But it is very easy to slip from thinking, “I want to change this thing I do” into “If I do this thing, I will be more deserving of love.” 

And that is not true. 

You need not do anything to deserve to be loved. You are loveable as you are, right now. You are valuable as you are, right now. You are loved by God as you are, right now. 

You matter because you exist. 

God delights in your existence. There is nothing you can do, no change you can make, no habit you can pick up, that will make God love you more.  

It may be that you need to change things in order to be healthy, in order to enjoy life more, in order to have more money or to reach goals you may have. But none of that is necessary for you to be valuable, or to be more loveable, or to matter to God.

And if you find yourself surrounded by people who do not believe that, people to whom you will only be acceptable if you change the way you look or the way your body is shaped, who can only love you if you meet their criterion for productivity, who have their own dreams for how you show up in the world – Well, may I humbly suggest that one place to start to change is to find a new group of people to surround yourself with? 

Something in the air

Last week, Open Door held our first ever Fall Festival. There were games and a bounce house and hot dogs and Pam brought her big 18-wheeler and we had door prizes. We weren’t sure who would come, but there were more than 75 folks there. Our small church was filled with people we had never met before, and there were other people we had not seen in ages, and the people who were there were excited.

“It feels like a change is in the air, Pastor,” one woman told me. “This feels good, like good things are about to happen!”

That expectation that something is on the way is the key idea behind the Christian season of Advent. The four Sundays before Christmas, Advent is a time of waiting, of expectancy, of waiting for something good to happen.

The scriptures tell us that God made a good world, but then we messed it up. The birth of Jesus – the coming of the Christ child – was God’s rescue plan for the earth. It was God’s plan to make things right, to fix what we had broken, to restore shalom.

Things seem tense right now. Wars, inflation, political unrest. Vulnerable populations are at risk, and we seem so very divided as a nation. We feel like a people in desperate need of saving, and quickly. We need a rescue plan. We need to be fixed. We need some of that shalom.

So, like the ancient Palestinians, we are caught in a time of waiting for the one who will rescue us from this domination system we find ourselves in, and who will show us the way home. That is what Advent is all about really – a time of waiting, yes, but also a time of hope that tomorrow can be better than today, that we are not forgotten, that God is not yet done with us. God is faithful, and the God who loved us into being has not given up on us – will not give up on us – and that God sent Jesus to show us the way to live.