Family Pictures

They first caught my eye this year. I’m not sure why this is the first year I noticed them. They have been there year after year. Every Christmas you see them in the most famous family portrait. Mary is kneeling by the manger and Joseph is standing over her, together they are witnessing a miracle.

Mary was young. Joseph was older. I imagine neither of them ever thought they would be chosen to be the parents of Jesus.   Their dreams were probably simple dreams. They wanted a warm house. They wanted a prosperous life. They wanted to live a comfortable life.  They thought they had everything in place to have that comfortable, normal life. Then the angel came.

The angel just dropped in on Mary one day and told her the world was about to be changed.  Mary must have been such a faithful woman. She said “ok, let it be as you have said”. She didn’t put out a fleece. She didn’t argue. She just said ok. Then, she went and lived out the “ok”.

I can imagine Joseph’s face as Mary tells him what happened. I don’t know what kind of relationship they had prior to that conversation. Maybe they knew each other. Maybe they were in love and had those long rambling conversations of new love. Maybe they just had a passing relationship, the type where conversations were kept to the point.  I don’t know. I can see this conversation going down though.

Joseph is trying to process what Mary has said. I imagine sleep came hard for him that night. Then the angel came. The angel came and explained that Mary wasn’t crazy. So they entered together into a new type of relationship. A relationship built on faith that what God said would be.

It is easy sometimes to be faithful for a minute. To grab hold of faith and stand firm knowing that in a day or two the crisis will pass. This faith journey they were on was a lifetime journey.   As Mary’s belly grew, so did the whispers. Did they run to each other or did they drift apart, Joseph blaming Mary for this problem and Mary feeling so alone? I like to think that there were days of each, days of running to each other and days of running away from each other.  There were days when the faith jar was empty. Days when Mary’s body hurt and the girls she had grown up with were rude. There were days when Joseph’s buddy said one too many “funny” comments.

Then there was the journey to Bethlehem. Mary was ready to deliver. Joseph was worried about money and the baby and Mary.  What kind of father couldn't find a decent place for this baby to be born? What kind of a husband made his wife walk 70 miles at the end of her term? What kind of a God would send an angel to mess up a life plan like this?

The night passed and the baby came.  Mary, still weak but in awe, looks at the baby and then at Joseph.  Joseph looks down at Mary. Their faith has been made flesh. It still doesn't make any sense but they feel something different in the air. God is there. God is with them. Despite their doubts, even though they had such weak faith, God chose them and God was there wrapped in swaddling clothes.

After the family picture was made, the one where they are posed in silhouette-Mary kneeling, Jesus in the manger, Joseph looking down on them- did Joseph gather the weary Mary in his arms and hold her? Did Mary cry all the tears she had held back so long? As all the fears of new parents washed over them, did they become one flesh joined forever in the miracle of this birth?

The light of the baby Jesus, the light of love wrapped them in joy. There must have been some special delight in caring for Jesus something sweeter even than the routine sweetness of a beloved child.   One day, maybe I will ask them. I will ask Mary what her day to day life was like. I will ask Joseph if he ever fully trusted Mary and the angels.

For now, I will look at the family picture and imagine the conversations between the virgin and the carpenter as they prepared for our Emmanuel. 

Defiant and Joyous

My chest is tight and breath is hard to move but move it must.  Breath cannot stay in one place. Breath is by definition an action. Breath is an in and an out. When breath stops death comes.

So in and out the breath is forced. The breath is forced as life sometimes is forced. Sometimes life is easy. Sometimes days flow with the beauty of a spring in Idaho cascading joyfully down the mountain side framed in bright green from the trees and the grass. Some days flow with the joy of a runner meeting and exceeding her goal, feet slapping the ground in a rhythm only she can hear and see.

And then there are some days-some days when the breath must be forced. Breath must be forced first through the nose and then deep into the lungs because if it was not forced deep, the breath would stay just above the lungs and do no good.  If the breath does no good, the body dies.

My chest is tight and the breath seems to hover just above my lungs. I breathe in as deep as I can, expanding my lungs all the way into my back until I can almost hear the ribs pop. I breathe as an act of defiance. I breathe as an act of worship. I will live and I will breathe and I will take joy in the day the Lord has given me, even if the day is full of pain and my chest is tight and breath is hard to move.

On the day when Jesus died, Mary’s breath did not come easy. All hope it seemed was lost to her. Her beloved child, the child of promise, the child whose birth occasioned angel decrees and visits from afar was being killed. They didn’t even have the courtesy to kill him in private. No, this death was out loud, broadcast through the neighborhood. Just like her pregnancy with the same child, this was public and her chest hurt and breath came hard and she had no choice but to stand and to breath.  Humiliated again, she stood in the crowd. Humiliated despite knowing her son was special, was beloved, was the Lord. How then would she continue to breath? Would she rush back to her home and sink in despair? A curled mass of heartbroken woman praying between sobs with none to offer her comfort.  Where were the angels now? She saw them before he came. She spoke with them and was encouraged. Where were they now and was it all just a hideous sad mistake?

Even though her chest burned, I believed she breathed. This was the woman who when told she would bear the child of God said “So be it”. She was strong enough to walk the roads with her pregnant, unwed belly. She was strong enough to obey God’s plan. She was strong enough that even in her weakest moments when she was laid out in a crumpled mass with the vision of her beloved wrapped in death, she breathed. Some days our chest is tight and breath is hard. Some days when the spirit is floating just above seemingly unwilling to enter we have to breathe deep, breathe deep and force the breath in until our ribs pop, until the hard shell that has grown around our heart breaks open.

My chest is tight and the breath is hard to move. The breath is harder to move than even my knees. My knees that refuse to bend and seek forgiveness. My head that refuses to bow because to admit my mistakes is to be weak. Then I think of Mary’s chest and the breath she took over and over again. I breathe deeper and deeper until finally the ribs pop and my knees bend and my head bows and I beg forgiveness.  And in forgiveness my breath becomes worship, my breath becomes joy just like Mary’s breath when in that moment she became light seeing her son risen again, unscarred by death. She became light when she saw that faith had been made reality.  And I, like Mary, will breathe-defiant and joyous until that day when I see faith made reality.

Not Everyone Will Like Me

Not everyone is going to like you. Some folks are not going to like you. They just aren’t and really that is more about them than it is about you. We know this. We know that it doesn’t matter sometimes how hard you fight to love. Sometimes the other person’s heart is just…well, sometimes their heart is just hardened.

I think of Saul. Saul was king of Israel. He was the boss. When he spoke, the world trembled.  But he was unhappy and his heart was hurt. He ranted and raved and sulked. Somehow a young man became the focus of his madness. David, who sat for hours in Saul’s chambers playing music to calm the madness, was a frequent target of Saul’s spear. David showed time and time again that he held no ill will toward Saul but none of those examples of love were enough for Saul. Saul never did believe that David really really loved him.

Saul’s heart was hardened against David. That is just how it was.

Some time ago I adopted a way of being. This way of being said that if someone appeared not to like me or approve of me, I would try to love them even more. This is radically different from my normal way of responding. The normal me would run scared if someone didn’t like me. I’m not easy to like for some people. I’m a little colorful and passionate and distractible. I walk in the center of a tornado full of people and books and thoughts and rants and shoes that never find their way home.

But, I thought maybe, maybe if I can somehow show these people that I love them, maybe they will be compelled to at least respond to me. If I smile, most people will smile back at me. If I join them in laughter, most people will laugh with me. If I tell them all the wonderful things I’ve noticed about them, most people will see that I am truly in love with them.

Most people will open themselves and respond.

Not everyone though is going to like me. They won’t like me even if I pray for them day after day. They won’t like me even if I’ve seen so many beautiful pieces of their heart. They won’t like me even if I smile and laugh and play with them. Some people will not like me…and that is ok.

I am called to love like Jesus loved. Jesus loved those who despised him. Jesus loved those who ridiculed him. Jesus loved those who would not smile with him. Jesus loved those who thought him a fool.

I cannot love like that in myself. The only hope I have of coming close to that kind of love is to practice deliberate kindness through the power of the Spirit.  I will continue to smile at the ones who refuse to smile at me. I will continue to lift up in prayer those who hurt me. I will forget and mess up and say awful mean things and I will beg forgiveness and I will smile at the ones who refuse to smile at me.

And not everyone will like me and that is ok.