The Parable of the Ugly Christmas Ornament

Posted on December 24, 2024 by Jason

In the Bybee family, we have a tradition of decorating for Christmas on the day after Thanksgiving. The boys and I get in the attic and bring down all of the Christmas boxes and while Sunny puts out all of the decorations, we set up the Christmas tree. And once the tree is up, I have this weird thing where I have to be the person to put the ornaments on the tree. To be honest, I’m kind of obsessive about it. I lay out all of the ornaments on the kitchen table and then I strategically place them where I want them to go. And I won’t let anyone else help.

There are a few reasons for this. For one, you have to consider the aesthetics when it comes to the placing of these ornaments. For example, we have quite a few St. Louis Cardinals ornaments we’ve collected over the years. So I have a very particular way of spreading out these ornaments around the tree. You don’t want them all clumped up together in one spot: some need to go on one side, some on the other side. It’s about balance.

Then there are sentimental reasons for the ornament placement. There are certain ornaments I want to feature prominently on the front of the tree, at eye level where everyone can see. These are ornaments we bought on family trips over the years or ornaments given to us by our friends or ornaments the kids made when they were little. These have sentimental meaning to us and I want them to be front and center on the tree.

But the final reason I’m so obsessive about the ornaments is because I also want to make sure that some of them always go on the back of the Christmas tree. Because honestly, I don’t like looking at them. I think these ornaments are kind of ugly but Sunny doesn’t want to get rid of them. She wants them on the tree but I don’t want to look at them. So every year, I make sure to put them on the back of the tree where I don’t have to see them.

Here’s an example of one of these ornaments:

Sunny has had this ornament since childhood. There’s no sentimental backstory to this ornament, at least not one that she can remember. She has no idea how she ended up with this ornament, but she’s always had it. I think he’s supposed to be Santa — except for the fact that he’s wearing a green hat and he’s carrying a yoga mat on his back or something. Others say he’s a gnome. Either way, I think he’s ugly.

And Sunny agrees that he’s ugly, although as we were talking about it, she also said, “He’s so ugly, he’s kinda cute.” We’re guessing somebody gave him to Sunny in 1981 since that’s the year written on his hat. But she would’ve been three years old that Christmas, so she has no idea where it came from. So she’s kept it all these years and she always wants me to put it on the tree — but every year, I take Ugly Green Hat Yoga Santa Gnome and hide him back there on the backside of the tree where he belongs.

I’m telling you this because it reveals something about us. The impulse which drives us to hide certain ornaments on the backside of the Christmas tree is the same one that compels us to hide certain parts of our lives from view. The fact that I tuck away these ornaments back there where no one can see them reminds me that there are certain parts of my life I’d just as soon not see, parts I hide from others or even from myself. And you do the same thing.

It could be a mistake from the distant past: some moment of indiscretion when you did something or said something that was really out of character for you. And even though it was significant, rather than dealing with it, you just hid it back there where no one could see and you just hoped it would go away.

It could be an ongoing addiction, a struggle you’ve had for a long time, one that continues to this day.

Maybe there’s a part of your life nobody else even knows about and you’ve worked so hard to keep it tucked away but you’re finding out just how exhausting that can be. That’s one thing Satan will never tell you: how exhausting it is when you have to maintain the lie: to remember the last lie you told and to make sure your story remains consistent. You have to expend SO MUCH energy trying to keep things hidden — that’s why it eventually comes out. Your sin will find you out, according to the Bible. You can only do this for so long.

You and I have shameful parts of our stories that make our faces turn as red as Rudolph’s nose. And those are the parts of our lives we want to hide away like the ornaments on the back of the Christmas tree.

And all of this points beyond itself to the reason Jesus was born. Our impulse to hide those parts of our lives is the reason Jesus came to earth.

The angel appeared to Joseph in those days and said unto him:

“Joseph, son of David, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for that which is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Matthew 1:21

God tells Joseph that something holy is happening here. This child will be named Jesus, which means “the Lord saves.” And Jesus will live up to this name because He will save us from our sins. The word for “sin” in the Bible simply means to miss the mark. It’s a term that was often used in archery circles to describe missing the target. So all of these parts of our lives which bring us shame — all of those sinful choices we’ve made, each time we’ve missed the mark — Jesus came to save us from those sins.

That means He doesn’t view you the way I spoke of these ornaments on the back of the tree — ugly, needing to be hidden away. That’s not how Jesus sees you. No, He sees you as possessing great inherent value. You are precious to Him, so precious that He chose to die to reconcile you back to God.

This is the heart of the Good News: Jesus comes to save.

And Matthew frames this story in a unique way. Just a few verses earlier, he begins his Gospel with the family tree of Jesus. This might seem like an odd way to begin this story, but Matthew is very purposefully recording the lineage that led up to Christ’s birth. He mentions all of these generations from Abraham to David to Joseph, generations who lived and died with the hope that God would one day fulfill all that He had promised to Israel.

I want to show you just a portion of this family tree, highlighting a few names in particular:

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Ram, and Ram the father of Amminadab, and Amminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of David the king. And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah…

Matthew 1:2-6

This is the lineage of Jesus from Abraham to David. I just want to point out a few things about some of Jesus’s ancestors:

Let’s start with Abraham, who is called the father of faith. Paul says he is an example of how we are justified by faith apart from the law. But Abraham’s story was not perfect. He had some ornaments on the back of his tree. As you read his story, you see that he has a hard time telling the truth. It seems like he’s always lying to somebody about Sarah, his wife, telling people that she’s his sister instead. Abraham also agrees to Sarah’s plan to take her handmaiden as his wife, which is an attempt to “help” God fulfill His promise to give them a son. These parts of Abraham’s story would have been the things he would have wanted to cover up, but they’re right there in the Bible.

Then there’s Jacob. If Abraham had a hard time telling the truth, Jacob takes this to a whole new level. He’s a swindler and a cheat, a lying son and a lousy brother and a father who plays favorites with his children.

There’s Rahab, a former prostitute. She’s the great-great-great grandmother of Jesus? Really? That ornament definitely goes on the back of this family tree! Same goes for Ruth, who was originally from Moab, Israel’s longtime enemy.

Jesus is descended from David, which sounds good except for the scandal involving Bathsheba. Do you remember the story? David takes Bathsheba into his bed and then he has her husband killed. Just to make sure we don’t forget, Matthew doesn’t include Bathsheba’s name in this genealogy, referring to her instead as “Uriah’s wife.” I don’t think he means to slight Bathsheba. I honestly think he’s calling to mind David’s scandalous actions by mentioning Bathsheba’s murdered husband by name. Even this “man after God’s own heart” has some ornaments on the back of the tree.

And then there’s Judah and Tamar, which is one of the most risque and sordid stories in the whole Bible. Go read it sometime (Genesis 38) and let it sink in that this story is part of the lineage of Christ.

These parts of the story are scandalous and shameful. These are the stories we would want to cover up, to hide away on the backside of the family tree. We would NEVER tell these kinds of stories in our families! But these names are right there in the opening chapter of Matthew’s Gospel. It’s as if Matthew is saying that these people and their stories are essential to understand why Jesus was born.

These are real people with real stories of real sin and real consequences.

And with this family tree, Jesus is saying to us, “These are my people.”

“These are the people from whom I have come.”

“And these are also the people for whom I have come.”

People like you and me.

People with sin in their lives.

People living with the baggage of bad decisions.

People who are heavy laden with guilt and shame and regret.

People who need to be saved from their sins.

And he shall be called Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.

This is the reason He was born.

— Christmas Eve 2024

Posted in Christmas, Devotional, Faith, Family, Gospel, Hope, Jesus, Love of Christ, Missiology, Preaching, Scripture, Sunny | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Best Albums of 2024

Posted on December 18, 2024 by Jason

The association between music and memory is strong for me. I can hear a song from years ago — from high school or when the kids were young — and it will immediately take me back. I can remember details — key moments in my life when this song by so-and-so was the soundtrack in the background. As a result, one of my favorite things to do each year is to look back on the music I found to be the most meaningful these past twelve months. (If you’d like to look at my complete list of favorite albums, you can find it here.)

2024 was a good year for music. Some of my favorite artists released new music and I really enjoyed a lot of it. Here are my five favorite albums of this year. When I look back on 2024, these are the songs I’ll remember.

Best Albums of 2024

  1. Vampire Weekend, Only God Was Above Us
  2. Johnny Blue Skies (Sturgill Simpson), Passage du Desir
  3. Jackson Bybee, Ataraxia
  4. The Secret Sisters, Mind, Man, Medicine
  5. Waxahatchee, Tigers Blood

Vampire Weekend, Only God Was Above Us

This record has been in my heavy rotation ever since it was released back in April. According to my Spotify “Wrapped,” Capricorn was my most played song of 2024 (which checks out; it’s a fantastic song). I’ve followed Vampire Weekend since their debut but I didn’t think they could ever put out anything that would top 2013’s Modern Vampires of the City. But I think Only God Was Above Us is their masterpiece.

For starters, the music is beautiful and melodic. I’ve spent most of the year with these choruses playing in my head — always an essential feature. The soundscape here is both diverse and self-referential at the same time, a fresh expression of some of their most iconic sounds. But I love that this is also a record about looking back, especially given that Vampire Weekend isn’t a fresh-faced indie band these days. These guys are about my age and this is when nostalgia begins to become more meaningful. Take the refrain on Mary Boone:

Oh, my love, was it all in vain?

We always wanted money, now the money’s not the same

In a quiet moment at the theater, I could hear the train

Deep inside the city, your memory remains

There’s also this haunting line from Gen-X Cops which speaks to the slow erosion of youthful idealism:

It wasn’t built for me

It’s your academy

But in my time, you taught me how to see

Each generation makes its own apology

I think this line from Capricorn is a profound expression of life in your forties:

Too old for dyin’ young, too young to live alone

Sifting through centuries, for moments of your own

My favorite song on this album is also my favorite song of the year: Hope, with the constant refrain: I hope you let it go. Cynicism is the great threat as we age into these middle years. But that’s precisely why Hope is such a great finale to this record. It is beautiful and stirring, a presciently optimistic counter to the album’s bleak opening. Moments like this are harder to find when you reach a certain age, but Vampire Weekend have stitched together several of them here. That’s why it’s my favorite album of 2024.

The Reinvention of Sturgill Simpson

Fans were understandably concerned that Sturgill Simpson would follow through on his promise that he would no longer record any music under the “Sturgill” moniker. But all that really meant was that he would reinvent himself under the banner of “Johnny Blue Skies,” which is really just code for “Sturgill’s new band.” I really love this music, almost as much as Only God Was Above Us, and for a couple of months, I thought this one might be my Album of the Year. If the Sun Never Rises Again sounds like something straight out of a 70s AM radio playlist. Mint Tea, One For the Road, and Jupiter’s Faerie rank right up there with the best songs Sturgill has ever recorded. The best news is that we have reason to believe that we’ll continue to hear more of his signature sound in years to come.

Jackson Bybee’s “Ambient Era”

It should come as no surprise that Jackson is the artist I listened to more than any other this year. He released two albums this year, Ataraxia in the spring and the 25-song Vagaries later in the summer. While I love all of his music, Ataraxia stands out for me. Beneath the Surface, Haven, Overflow of Emotion, and The Passage of Time are excellent tracks, great companion pieces for studying or resting. But Reverie is my favorite song Jackson produced this year. In fact, it ranks as my second-favorite song he’s ever done, trailing only Cash from 2022’s evergreen project.

Posted in Family, Kids, Music | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Half Marathon #3

Posted on December 15, 2024 by Jason

Today Jackson ran his third half-marathon. He continues to blow my mind — there’s not much he can’t do. He shaved five minutes off his previous PR for a time of 1:42:14. Super proud of this guy!

Posted in Exercise, Family, Kids, Running, Sports | Leave a comment

Christmas Concert Solo

Posted on December 11, 2024 by Jason

Jackson’s school choir performs a Christmas concert every year. At this year’s show, Jackson had a solo during the song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” which happens to be his favorite Christmas song. I am incredibly proud of him — he crushed it, as you can see in the video below!

Posted in Blessings, Christmas, Family, Kids, Music, Video | Leave a comment

True Faithfulness

Posted on December 7, 2024 by Jason

One of the distinctive marks of the Kingdom of God is the way success is measured. This is one of the primary clashes between the Kingdom of God and the kingdoms of the world.

In worldly kingdoms, success is about getting ahead; it’s about winning. Tom Brady and Michael Jordan are considered the G.O.A.T.s (Greatest of All-Time) because they have the championship rings to prove it. Nevermind the fact that they both play team sports; they both benefitted from other Hall of Fame caliber teammates; and they were coached by some of the greatest coaches in their respective sports. It’s far easier to reduce their greatness down to their W-L record and their postseason achievements. Not that this is without merit — not at all. In fact, that’s precisely my point: worldly success is almost 100% merit based — at least on one level. Just win, baby.

But this is one of the most telling features of the Kingdom of God inaugurated by Jesus, preached by the Apostles, and which lives today in His followers: Success in God’s Kingdom is determined by faithfulness, not by outcomes.

According to Jesus, success doesn’t mean dominating your competitors.

Jesus says Kingdom success means turning the other cheek in love, even when you’re staring at the enemy who just gave you a black eye.

Jesus doesn’t advocate for success that looks like triumphalism.

Sometimes success looks like losing…

…looks like dying…

…looks like a cross.

John the Baptist is an example of this. As his movement loses people to the swelling throngs surrounding Jesus, John says, “He must become more important while I become less important,” (John 3:30).

What humility!

In this, John is my hero.

I am convinced that John could have made proclamations about himself. When they asked, he could have said that he was, in fact, the Messiah and the crowd would’ve marched him straight to Jerusalem and crowned him. Here was a desert prophet like Moses, a fiery truth-teller like Elijah, the voice in the wilderness long anticipated by Isaiah.

I picture John being aware of this. He had to know that all he had to do was say the word and the crown would be put on his head. For all I know, Satan might have even offered it to him if / when he went through the same period of desert trial and temptation that Jesus endured.

But John refused.

He knew the part he was called to play.

He understood that he was part of the mission but not the mission itself.

“Behold,” he cried, “the Lamb of God.”

And when he pointed to Jesus, people left his movement and began to follow the true Messiah. John’s success was one of faithfulness, even when the outcome looked like “losing” in the eyes of a world blinded by triumphalism.

“I am not the Christ,” he said.

This is true faithfulness.

Posted in Culture, Devotional, Eschatology, Faith, God, Jesus, Kingdom Values, Scripture, Sports | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Not Knowing

Posted on November 27, 2024 by Jason

I wrote this a few years ago about going and not knowing, which is the essence of faith.

Going and not knowing
Posted in Blogging, Devotional, Disappointment, Faith, God, Hope, Scripture, Theology | Leave a comment

Surprised I Can Still Do This

Posted on November 11, 2024 by Jason
Posted in Blessings, Family, Humor, Kids | Leave a comment

On Despair and Hope

Posted on November 8, 2024 by Jason

In the wake of Donald Trump’s re-election this week, many people I know are exuberant. That’s probably not surprising, given that I live in a military town in a “red” state. Folks around here are generally conservative by nature, both politically and morally. There tends to be a fairly deep alignment with Republican candidates on the issues that matter the most to many of the people I know and love.

On the other hand, I also have many friends whose opposition to Trump runs deep. For some, this is largely due to his rhetoric; for others, it has more to do with certain policy positions he holds; for others still, January 6th was a deal-breaker and they voted accordingly. I also have many friends whose values align more closely with the policies championed by the Democrats during this election cycle and that was the determining factor in their vote.

I don’t mean any of this to be a critique of either side — not in the least. I’m simply trying to carefully describe my perception of what my friends are feeling.

But one thing I have noticed is the sense of despair many of my fellow citizens seem to be experiencing in these days. That was probably inevitable in an election that was as contentious and as accusatory as this one. We’re exposed to an incredible amount of propaganda during these campaigns and no matter the outcome of the election, many of us were bound to feel this way.

But I also believe that the level of despair some are feeling reveals the absence of a greater, more meaningful narrative in their lives. (If you’re reading this, you probably know that I’m a preacher, so I’m about to preach — you’ve been warned.)

I believe that, at our core, we are spiritual beings. I believe we are creatures — meaning we have been created, intimately and lovingly designed by a divine Creator in whom we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). I believe we were made in the image and likeness of this Creator (Genesis 1:26-27) and that this image is most fully expressed in loving community. I believe that our Creator has set eternity in our hearts (Ecclesiastes 3:11), which is the animating impulse behind our quest for meaning and purpose. But I also believe that this purpose is only understood in light of the purposes of the Creator God. My faith tradition is not “creedal” per se, but the Westminster Confession pretty much nails it, in my view: “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him, forever.” Or maybe you prefer the words of another preacher, from Ecclesiastes again: “The end of the matter; all has been heard. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man,” (Eccl. 12:13). This is our telos, the purpose for which we were created.

So what happens when we reject this “chief end?” What happens when we deny the claim that the Creator has appointed and purposed our lives down to the level of living and moving and being?

In the absence of God’s grand narrative of eternal purpose, we seek to create these for ourselves. We ascribe outsized meaning to some lesser ideals. We will try like mad to make the finite infinite. We find some other purpose for which to live and we devote every ounce of our moving and being toward this aim.

And inevitably, this aim proves unsatisfactory.

In the end, we are met with the grim reality of our idolatry (yes, it is idolatry). We are forced to reckon with the truth that our self-created telos falls woefully short of satiating the deepest desires of a heart set on eternity.

When you buy the lie that the sum of life is to “eat, drink, and be merry,” you reach a point when you realize that wall-to-wall hedonism isn’t a grand enough purpose for a human life. And then you despair. Why is it that we’re never satisfied with indulgence? It’s because we were made for more.

Or when you convince yourself that “he who dies with the most toys wins,” you eventually reach a point when you realize that death comes for us all. Materialism is wholly unsatisfying as well — because we were made for more. Your heart ultimately rejects this as an unworthy telos.

And when you believe that activism is your highest purpose — when you succumb to the siren song of the ultimacy of the political process — you reach a point when you begin to question whether the utopia you’re striving for is even possible in this broken world. And when this happens, despair follows quickly thereafter. And I think that’s what some are feeling and expressing right now.

This simply reveals the truth of our lives, the bold claim of our Creator whose song is strange and gentle and gracious: you were made for more.

When we accept any claim other than this, we set ourselves up for despair. But even in the despair, there is hope — the hope that in our dissatisfaction we will continue the quest for eternal significance.

This is my theological interpretation of the despair some of us are feeling in this moment.

The despair itself is evidence of the false narrative we have consumed. And this false narrative manifests itself in a number of unhelpful ways.

Take, for example, the claim that we’re hearing from many on the left in the wake of the election: Donald Trump’s victory is proof that Americans are racists and sexists.

I’m no political science major, but I know enough to know that people have myriad reasons for why they choose to vote (or NOT vote) for a particular candidate. Almost everyone I know weighs their vote with great solemnity, examining the policies and positions of a candidate before they cast their vote. It is both simplistic and insulting to reduce those reasons down to a simple line like, “If you voted for Donald Trump, you’re a racist / misogynist / fascist / fill-in-the-blank slur.”

The great irony I see is that many who are making these accusations are actually guilty of racism and sexism themselves. If you voted for Kamala Harris solely on the basis of her gender, this is sexism. Likewise, if you voted for Kamala Harris solely on the basis of her race, this smacks of racism. Of course, as I just said, I understand that people have myriad reasons for why they vote for certain candidates. But it just seems incredibly hypocritical to accuse one side of the most egregious sins of humanity without also taking a look in the mirror to see if you might be guilty of the same thing.

All of this is in conflict with our telos, the purpose for which we were created. God is comprised of an eternally loving relationship of persons: Father and Son and Spirit. That is why God is most fully imaged in the context of loving community: persons committed to God and to one another in mutual understanding and self-giving, sacrificial love.

Anything short of this leads to despair.

But when we align ourselves most fully with the purposed will of our Creator and live in love with Him and our fellow image-bearers, we live with hope — a hope in a Kingdom which cannot be shaken (Heb. 12:28), a hope in an eternal inheritance which can never perish, spoil, or fade (1 Pet. 1:4-7); for those who hope in the Lord will have their strength renewed — they will soar on wings like eagles, running but not growing weary, walking but never growing faint (Isa. 40:31).

Sermon over.

Don’t give in to despair.

The Good News of Jesus is a word of hope.

Posted in Anxiety, Blessings, Culture, Disappointment, Eschatology, Faith, God, Gospel, Hope, Jesus, Kingdom Values, Politics, Race, Scripture, Social Issues, Theology | 1 Comment

Essential

Posted on November 1, 2024 by Jason

We’re days away from the most important election of our lives.

At least that’s what we’re told.

On Election Day, I’ll be 48 years old. By my count, this is about the 7th or 8th time in my adult life that I’ve been told, “This is the most important election of your lifetime.” I guess it’s at least theoretically possible that I’m living in a time of escalating political importance and each vote I cast is indeed the most important one so far.

But I also can’t help but think that all of this propaganda is destroying our souls.

Look, I have some strong feelings about this election. I’m probably a lot like you: I have a couple of issues that are really important to me and those issues will determine the direction of my vote on Tuesday. I’m of the opinion that we have been given some tremendous freedoms in this country and I feel an obligation to steward my vote in a way that reflects my personal values as a citizen of the United States and, more importantly, as a follower of Christ. I also think of my mother, nine months pregnant and a couple of days past her due date on November 2, 1976. She fulfilled her civic duty by voting early that morning — and by that evening, she had given birth to a healthy baby boy (yours truly). If my Mom could go out and vote before giving birth to me, I’m thinking I want to follow in her footsteps and steward my vote responsibly as well.

So with that being said, I find myself returning to a simple thought in these final days before the election. It’s a thought that helps with the pervading anxiety accompanying this election, one that cuts through all the gloom and doom prognosticating that corresponds to a high-stakes election. What will happen if he / she wins? How will the country survive? How will we make it through his / her administration? Such thoughts are surely dominating our minds these days.

The thought I return to is really a question: What do I consider to be essential?

Is it essential for my candidate to win?

Is it absolutely essential for my side to prevail, for my views to carry the day?

Is victory for my side essential to stave off the end of democracy? To preserve the republic? To stem the tide of the inevitable apocalyptic meltdown if the other side wins the day?

I’m thinking it’s not.

As I try to follow Jesus in these days, I’m reminded of what Paul says repeatedly throughout his letters: the matters of first importance — Christ crucified, buried, and raised — are truly essential. Everything else — and I mean everything — is ordered around this principle.

And that eternal truth changes my perspective. It affords me a reprieve from the anxiety-inducing talking heads. It offers language which transcends the divisiveness of our political discourse precisely because it is grounded in an eternal kingdom of peace. If I believe what I say I believe, then that peace serves as a guide. That peace controls my response when one side labels the other as “fascist” or “garbage” or this or that. The promise of an eternal kingdom offers an unshakeable hope whenever the siren song of despair fills my ear and my heart. And that hope floods my heart like light from a far distant shore, permeating the darkness and her seductive cries of death.

And I believe that whenever this is modeled, the world takes notice, because the world has always taken notice of this hopeful witness which points to a kingdom not of this world. This is just as true today as it was two thousand years ago when the gospel began to turn the world upside down.

Acts 17:6-8

And when they could not find them, they dragged Jason and some of the brothers before the city authorities, shouting, “These men who have turned the world upside down have come here also, and Jason has received them, and they are all acting against the decrees of Caesar, saying that there is another king, Jesus.” And the people and the city authorities were disturbed when they heard these things.

The great irony is that the truth that disturbs the world is the same truth that gives us eternal peace.

There is another king.

Not Caesar.

But Jesus.

This — and nothing else — is essential.

May God be with us all.

Posted in Anxiety, Culture, Devotional, Eschatology, Faith, Gospel, Jesus, Kingdom Values, Mom, Politics, Scripture, Social Issues, Stewardship, Theology | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Carrying the Grief

Posted on October 20, 2024 by Jason

I read a poem the other day by a writer named Liz Newman. She talks about missing someone as an experience of simultaneously carrying both grief and love. When you think about it, grief and love come from the same place. You only grieve the loss of that which you loved. To that end, Newman opens her poem with the line, “I carry the grief with me.” I know what Newman means; grief is hauled, not easily laid down, always brimming just beneath the surface. I know because I am carrying some grief of my own.

Today is the 37th anniversary of my father’s death. In so many ways, it seems like another lifetime ago, almost as if losing him happened to someone else, not me. But then again, I’ve been carrying around this grief for as long as I can remember. Probably always will.

This is the only digital picture I have of my Dad and me. All the others are tucked away in photo albums and have yet to be scanned for posterity. I think I was nine years old here. If my memory serves, we took a trip to the Smoky Mountains prior to my sister’s wedding and I think that’s when somebody took this picture of the two of us. I love this picture, but it also makes me incredibly sad. We didn’t know it at the time, but the cancer that would eventually take my dad’s life was already beginning to grow in his body. When I look at the child in this photo, I see a young boy full of joy and optimism, unacquainted with the terrors of the world. Which is to say, I see a person I don’t much recognize. I look at this picture and I grieve for what both of us have lost since this photo was taken. In a matter of months, his strength would be sapped and his voice would grow quiet while I would come to the grim reality from which we try to shield all children: that this world can be dark, cold, and harsh.

I find solace in my faith, in the promise of reconciliation with my father on the other side — the hope of glory as Paul says. But in that waiting, when grief seems overwhelming, it also helps me to recognize that my grief and my love come from the same place. And as I continue to carry my grief — even if my grief swells to the surface from time to time — this is simply evidence that my love for my Dad abides within me to this day. Maybe that’s why it feels good to remember, even if it’s painful — because getting in touch with the grief is one of the only ways I can get in touch with that love. This is why Newman continues her poem with a matching stanza, “I carry the love with me.” To carry grief is not simply evidence of that which you have loved; it is also evidence of that which you continue to love. And this is one of the only things I’ve found that actually helps when I find myself in the throes of sorrow. This recognition allows me to be gracious with myself as I grieve, for in that grief is love.

To carry the grief is to continue carrying the love.

And so tonight, I grieve.

Love you, Dad.

Posted in Dad, Disappointment, Eschatology, Faith, Family, Hope, Poetry | Leave a comment