CN: war, general discussion of suffering including brief mentions of death and mental health issues- again, loads of hope too!
Each December, houses along our street in Cambridge club together to create an Advent calendar of decorated windows. New houses open their curtains day by day to reveal intricate Christmas scenes, like snowflakes, gingerbread houses, sleighs and stars- it’s magical.
Of course, being massive fans of Christmas, my house had to contribute. Last year, we wowed our street (so we like to think) with a Nativity scene featuring baby Jesus, teeny tiny wise men and a GIGANTIC sheep (turns out that sizing is actually quite hard when 5 people are cutting and sticking at the same time!) This year, we went for a slightly different take on the Christmas story. We cut out Jesus and a stable and put it slap bang in the middle of a row of houses, writing above it:
“Emmanuel, God with Us”.
This comes from the gospel writer Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth:
“All this took place to fulfil what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”).” - Matthew 1:22-23.
Why did we put “Emmanuel” on our window? Well, as much as I love Christmas, I know that it can be one of the hardest times of year, a season where the pain of loneliness, lost loved ones, messy families, mental and physical illness, is felt all the more keenly because of all the talk of comfort and joy. On top of that, this year has brought with it yet more devastating world events, from horrific wars to unstable leaders, that make it hard for many to even imagine celebrating.
In light of all this, we wanted to bring to our street some hope that’s made of stronger stuff than twinkling lights and shiny decorations. Because we’re convinced that “God with us” is precisely the news that our weary, hurting world needs to hear this Christmas, speaking hope into both the loneliness of our hearts and the desperation of our world.
The story of Christmas, of God coming to live with us as a tiny baby, has been told so many times that it feels like a fairy tale, far removed from the reality our daily lives. But Jesus wasn’t born in Oz, or Neverland, but Bethlehem, a very real city in what is now the West Bank of Palestine. (More on this later). The gospel accounts are peppered with real historical details like the census by Caesar Augustus, and feature people and situations that feel very recognisable today.
Jesus was born amid family scandal, as a young unmarried woman suddenly became pregnant, to the shock of her fiancé. His first visitors were farm workers, shepherds, the lowest on the social ladder. His family narrowly escaped the might of a power hungry leader, and lived as homeless refugees in Egypt. Jesus came to live with real people, with real, messy lives.
Even more astonishingly, the Bible claims that Jesus wasn't just a prophet or a good teacher sent from God, but God Himself, Creator of everything, taken on human flesh. And this God goes to extraordinary depths to dwell with broken human beings.
Just think about it. The One who made every atom in the universe, who designed mountains, and supernovas, and ecosystems, and platypuses, shrunk himself down to the size of a foetus, to be born as a helpless baby. He wasn’t born in a a palace to wealthy family, but chose to be born to two nobodies in a stable, laid in a feeding trough (which probably stunk and was full of flies!)
The all powerful God Himself willingly submitted himself to the messiness and pain of human life. Why? Because He wants to meet us in our messy, painful lives. He knows us intimately and wants to have a relationship with us. He became nothing in order to give us everything.
As the gospel writer John puts it, in some of the most extraordinary words ever written:
The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those which believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God… The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. - John 1:9-14 (my emphasis)
Throughout his adult life, Jesus continued to live with broken humans, and experienced the wonder and messiness of human life to the full. He made friends with social outcasts, prostitutes, tax collectors, lepers, meeting them with a love and recognition no-one else ever had and coming to transform their lives. He underwent loss, weeping bitterly over the death of His friend Lazarus before raising him from the dead, and losing his own father Joseph too. He experienced rejection, as religious leaders refused to recognise him and labelled him a blasphemer, and even his closest friend Peter betrayed him on the night of his death. And he experienced ultimate agony when executed by the very people he came to save on a brutal cross, enduring both physical pain and unbearable spiritual anguish.
Jesus knows intimately what it’s like to suffer, which is wonderfully good news for us. When we pray, we pray to a God who knows exactly it’s like, who really cares and who really can help.
Not only does God on Earth understand suffering, he comes to bring us the most amazing offer - adoption into his own family. In dying on the cross, Jesus paid the price for every wrong thing we’ve ever said, thought and done, enduring the unbearable pain of separation from God that is the rightful consequence of rejecting him. He took our separation and our brokenness on himself, and offers his perfect relationship with his Father God instead to all who would put their trust in him- the same God who is the source of all joy, and love, and comfort.
All we need to do is ask Jesus to forgive us, and come into our lives, and he welcomes us with open arms and the tightest embrace into his family.
I can think of no better news for our lonely hearts this Christmas.
But Jesus as Emmanuel doesn’t just offer hope to us as individuals, but our desperate world too. To give just one example, for the second Christmas in a row, while we sing carols like “O Little Town of Bethlehem“, the modern day Bethlehem lies anything but still, as Gaza is mercilessly bombed. There are no words to describe the scale of the suffering inflicted, and it makes us cry out to God to do something, anything, to help.
Does He even care? Is He even there?
Last Christmas, images of a nativity scene set up by Reverend Munther Isaac in Bethlehem’s Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church went viral across the world. The scene depicted the baby Jesus buried in rubble, as his stable and the surrounding houses have been destroyed by missiles; if he was born today, he would be born under the rubble. In a sermon crying out to the Western church to break its silence, Isaac movingly spoke about the nativity scene, highlighting the incredible solidarity of Jesus as Emmanuel:
“Jesus is under the rubble. This is his manger. He is at home with the marginalised, the suffering, the oppressed and the displaced. This is the incarnation. Messy, bloody, poverty.” - Reverend Munther Isaac.
Isaac’s words floor me every time I read them. And he’s absolutely right. For Christians in Palestine, Jesus- God with us- offers hope in the most horrendous of circumstances because he has experienced the deepest possible suffering and knows their grief and pain better than anyone else. Jesus - God with us - is still with them today, and will one day bring perfect justice, perfect peace and victory over death. And this must cause us to use our voices and our resources to cry out alongside him for a ceasefire, and for justice here and now. Because God is there, not just in Gaza, but everywhere around the world where there is pain, always identifying with those who are suffering, promising to hold the powerful to account.
We might still have plenty of questions for Him- I know I certainly do. But one thing is certain. He is not the distant God of our imagination. He has come closer than we could possibly imagine.
This Christmas, as I think about our house advent window, there are actually a few things I would change. Right now, the baby Jesus looks just a bit too clean, and the houses too perfect. Because Emmanuel doesn’t look like God sitting pretty in the middle of a pristine row of houses, detached from the reality of life inside.
It looks like him entering right in the middle of the mess himself.
If I had more time, I’d love to draw Jesus putting his arm around a stressed single mother, and sleeping outside supermarkets alongside homeless people. I can picture him playing in the snow with children, and sitting at the bedside of the boy who’s too anxious to go outside.
Because when our hurting hearts feel the mess and pain of human life, Jesus is God with us - close, extraordinarily loving, there to strengthen and help us through each moment. When our weary world feels irrevocably broken, Jesus is God with us- identifying with the marginalised and oppressed.
Jesus is our Emmanuel, even now.
However able to rejoice we feel, may our weary world and hurting hearts find true rest in Him this Christmas.
Sources and Links:
Gospel accounts of Jesus’ birth:
Matthew 1 NIV - The Genealogy of Jesus the Messiah - Bible Gateway
Luke 1 NIV - Introduction - Many have undertaken to - Bible Gateway
Ceasefire petitions and donation links (please click):
Donate to Embrace — Embrace the Middle East (Christian charity)
Reverend Munther Isaac’s Christmas sermon:
Christmas carols for weary hearts: