Testimony Tuesday {Waiting in Hope}

I have lived two Christmases in the shadow of loss. First we lost our son during birth on his due date at the end of October. With two healthy toddlers I couldn’t just skip that holiday season. Then six years later with three growing boys at home we were surprised with another pregnancy and almost as quickly learned we would lose it. Our baby went to heaven during the end of September. My natural reaction would have been to hold my breath until the holiday season was over. What was there in joy and festivity for me? I was grieving—how could I hang lights, play music, or bake cookies? But each time there were little boys with expectant hearts, and I couldn’t disappoint their hope.

So I spent time during the beginning of Advent sitting with the Christmas story. My mind traced Mary’s path as she rode to Bethlehem on a donkey, her body full to bursting with the Christ Child. I thought of the shame and fear of the virgin conception and her and Joseph’s flight to Egypt so soon after having their first child. I thought of all the Jewish babes who lost their lives at Herod’s decree. I gazed at my children’s storybooks, replacing golden halos with the stench of stable animals. I brought everything I know of birth to the Christmas story—the fear, pain, blood and mess—the uncertainty, hope and finally relieved joy when a baby’s first cry is heard.

I realized that Advent is not just a season of shining stars and joyful carols. The first Christmas was as full of fear, pain and grieving as I have been—and this is what eternal life was born from. No birth is easy, and it is the same with the hope of our new birth. God wrapped His Son in human frailty so that He could save us. He smuggled Him into a hostile world. Jesus didn’t come amidst fanfare and perfect Christmas card scenery, He arrived hidden away in a stable, but he filled it with hope. He has arrived hidden amidst my grief and pain, often the greatest closeness and comfort I have felt from Him has been during my times of deepest loss.

On a chilly winter morning, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea, I studied my daily devotional and found this verse… “And this is the testimony: God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son” (1 John 5:11).

I had heard this simple but powerful verse before, but as I was searching for my place in the Advent story these words of Scripture reached into my heart. He gave us life and that life was given through human birth, through uncertainty and discomfort, through pain and eventually death. Our Maker has given eternal life, true life, and He gave it through coming Himself into this broken world and living the same glorious and heartbreaking human life that we struggle through. He is not a God who looks at our pain and loss unknowing. He has lost His son. He has walked with us and He weeps with us. He has been broken as we are and He offers hope.

We wouldn’t need life eternal if there wasn’t death; we wouldn’t need redeeming if there wasn’t sin. We wouldn’t need hope if this world wasn’t broken. So if it’s hard for you to light a candle, lift your eyes or let a song fill your heart this season—know that you’re not alone. As you greet the Son of God, you are joining with the angels and all who have cried out through the ages for the hope of eternal life. If you are in the valley of the shadow of death, if you are hurting, then you know Advent truly and deeply for it is the season of waiting in a broken world—of waiting in hope.

This year I am pregnant again and I am hoping for a Christmas filled with newborn snuggles and joy, but no matter what happens God will sustain me just as He did Mary on that first Christmas, just as He has done for my family as we have lived through seasons filled with loss, and just as He does my children who He holds alive and well beyond this world. Our Creator has given us life—rich, glorious, heartbreaking life here on earth. And He has given hope of even truer life to come where we will hold those we have lost. What a day it will be when we meet the children we carried within but never knew here on earth. That is cause for rejoicing.

I hold my little boys round the Christmas tree and we gaze at twinkling lights shining out of the darkness. I breathe prayers of gratitude and I wait in hope—for the safe arrival of the little one wiggling within, but most of all for the life He has given us that can’t be taken away.

 

– Sharon

Hope Mom to Joshua, Beacon and Blessing

[Photo credit: Sharon McKeeman]

 

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