DARREL CARSON | Off the grid and loving Jesus |
The Christmas season is my favorite time of year. Really it is. I love the lights, the trees and the snowmen. I love the crisp, cold air and the ice on my windshield. I love giving gifts, and yes, I will admit it, I love receiving them too. I love saying “Merry Christmas” to my friends and hearing them return the greeting. I love seeing the nativity displays with the Baby in the manger.
So, if I love Christmas so much, why are my eyes filled with tears? Why this nagging pain in my heart that never goes away? And why does it always hurt a little more at this time of year? And every year when I feel the ache in my heart start to grow, why do I push it down, why do I ignore it, why do I put a smile on my face and pretend it doesn’t exist? Well, I’m not going to do it this year; I’m not going to ignore the pain any longer. I’m going to share that pain this year. I’m going to let you look into places deep in my heart where few have ever seen, and it is my desire that when you see the pain that has lived in my heart for nearly sixty years, you will also find the same hope that I have found.
I see a little boy there, huddled in the cold; he knows what is coming and hates it with every ounce of his being…
I will tell you first of the Civil Air Patrol shack by the little airport on a dark foggy night. I remember the light of the beacon passing through the window every few seconds, one time white, one time green. I see a little boy there, huddled in the cold; he knows what is coming and hates it with every ounce of his being, but he has accepted it because he has no options. And of the horrors that happened there at the hand of one I loved, I had no one to tell except my little Chihuahua dog who cried with me and licked away my tears.
I will tell you of the grown men, friends in my support group, who cry on a regular basis and daily deal with feelings of shame and self-doubt. Daily they endure pain that makes a kidney stone feel like a picnic. The memory will not fade; the wound will not heal. No, I have never seen their tears in person, but I have felt their pain and cried with them as I read what they post online where anybody can see them, so desperate is their need to he heard and to find love and acceptance.
I will tell you of the kids that have spilled their guts to me in the wee hours of the morning, crying on my shoulder as they told of the horrors they had endured at home and at church. Also, I must mention Andrew (not his real name) who showed me a piece of shot from the 12 gauge that had killed his mother. She had died at his father’s hand, taking at point-blank range a blast intended for him.
God Sent the Baby
I will tell you of a Baby born to experience the death that is ours and the pain associated with it. He was not born in a pretty nativity scene like the one down at the church. No, it was an old barn where he was born, complete with all the filth and stench one would expect to find there. While He did not physically feel each act of abuse done to us, He did somehow feel our pain. Jesus said in Matthew 5:40, “And the King will answer and say to them, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did it to one of the least of these My brethren, you did it to Me.’” It is my belief that Jesus knew what it felt like to have sin done to him. He knew the sorrow and grief that accompanies abuse.
Where was God when I went through hell in that shack by the airport and every pain-filled day thereafter? I’ll tell you where He was. He was in the very same place He was when His very own Son, Jesus, lived in this world. He was right there beside me just like He was with His Son. The Passion of Christ was not the only time Christ suffered; rather it was the culmination of a lifetime of pain, sorrow and abuse.
Jesus came to this world to bring good news to the poor; He came to heal the broken hearted…
I can’t comprehend how it works, but somehow, someway, because of the pain God went through in the person of Jesus Christ, I can experience healing. Jesus came to this world to bring good news to the poor; He came to heal the broken hearted, to give deliverance to the captives, the recovering of sight to the blind. He came to set at liberty those who are bruised.
One day every evil and ugly thing that has ever happened to every one of God’s children will be made right. The perpetrators of this evil will get their just reward, but what brings me the most joy is the knowledge that one day there will be no more pain, there will be no more tears. Abuse in all its ugly forms will be no more. In spite of the fact that I feel the pain more keenly during the Christmas season, my heart truly is filled with joy because of the Baby born in Bethlehem. Yes, it is only at the foot of the Cross of Jesus that all our wounds are healed. And even though we still live in this world where pain is part of life, we can rest in His completed atonement for us, knowing that He cares, knows, and understands our plight—because He lived here.
Yes, I do believe I have found the true meaning of Christmas! †
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