We typically think of Christmas as “the happiest season of all.” With family gatherings, presents, time off, and the food (my goodness…the food!!), it’s easy to characterize Christmas like this.

But what happens when Christmas is not a cheerful time?

What happens when the family gathering is a reminder of who is not there as opposed to who is?

What happens when the gifts lose their luster because we do not have the one thing we wish we did? 

What happens when you have no appetite because no amount of delicious food can take away the nagging feeling of loss in your gut?

What do we do when there is simply no cheer for us in Christmas?

#1- Don’t pretend everything is ok. 

Solomon wrote this in Ecclesiastes:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens… a time to weep and a time to laugh,  a time to mourn and a time to dance…-Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

We’re often great at brushing things under the rug when life is not ok. When people ask us how we are, we often say “Fine”, even when we know deep down inside that we are anything but fine. In fact, we are a wreck in every way.

Guess what? It’s ok to feel that way- and it’s healthy to admit it.

When we don’t live in the season we are in- when we fail to grieve, mourn, or weep and try to gloss over it and pretend things are fine- we eventually become numb to the feeling. That becomes a problem because we often mistake numbness for “I’m over it.” However, just because you don’t feel the pain doesn’t mean the wound has healed- on an emotional level, it more likely means that the nerves and tissue have died.

If it’s a season to mourn and weep- do so. And you don’t have to pretend things are ok. You can be honest and you should be honest. However…

#2- Have a “safe” person to talk to. 

We need to be honest about our pain. However, it’s probably not wise to be fully transparent with everyone.

Some- in fact, probably MOST- people are not equipped to walk with you through your pain. Some of them are hurting like you are, and you opening up about your pain may place a weight on them they cannot bear. Others lack the patience and empathy to listen and “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). And still others, while they may appear empathetic and willing to listen, end up simply compounding your sense of hopelessness by sharing their own horror stories or end up preaching at you in a way that often comes across as “Sure, it’s sad…but get over it because you have so much to be thankful for.”

You need to be honest- fully honest. However, you need a person who is safe to be transparent with. Someone who will simply listen and empathize. Someone who will not try to fix you. Someone who gives genuine encouragement that gives true hope. Someone who will pray for you in your time of need.

This is one of the primary reasons we need authentic relationships with people- because all of us will go through seasons just like this- and it’s so much easier when we have a friend who is there who will simply listen and encourage.

#3- Realize this, too, is a season. 

Let’s go back to the passage from Ecclesiastes:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens… a time to weep and a time to laugh,  a time to mourn and a time to dance…-Ecclesiastes 3:1,4

Yes, there is a time to weep and mourn. But it is just that. time. It is season. And like all seasons, it will eventually change.

This in no way is meant to imply ‘Things will get better, so get over it.” Seasons are not something we get over. Seasons are something we get through.

When it’s August and 95 degrees and 1000 % humidity (I know it only goes to 100%, but it feels worse), you can’t just wish your way into November when it’s 60 degrees and no humidity. You don’t get over summer- you get through it. One agonizingly humid day at a time.

Seasons of grief and pain are like that. They are not something that we get over. They are something that we get through. One day after another, and sometimes one minute after another. And yes, it sometimes feels like the season will never end.

But if we keep taking steps, eventually we get to a different season. Which leads me to this…

#4- Keep moving. 

One of the greatest challenges in grief and pain is the temptation to stall out. To stop moving- because you feel like you can’t go on. To allow the pain to so overwhelm our lives that we simply cannot go forward.

However- we don’t get through a season staying on the same day of the calendar. We get through it by moving to the next day. We do that by takings the right steps, such as…

  • Connect with God through His Word.
  • Pray to God- honestly. Emotionally. Raw.
  • Have a “safe person” to talk with.
  • Gather with the local church- and sing to God in the middle of your pain.

Full disclosure, these steps are often painful in and of themselves. How can I believe God is love when He allowed me to lose something or someone so precious to me? How can I talk to God when I’m upset at Him? How can I talk about my pain when I can’t even get the words out without weeping? How can I sing about the goodness of God when life is not good?

We often avoid these steps because we assume pain is a bad thing. However, what I’ve learned in my own pain is this: If it hurts, that’s a good sign. When we put alcohol on an open wound, it stings and burns like the dickens (it’s Christmas time, the phrase fits!). But that means it’s doing its j0b- and that there’s still life there. That gives us hope that, even though there is tremendous pain right now, healing can come if we’ll let the sterilizing agent do its job.

That which hurts is often that which also heals- if we’ll learn to embrace the pain of the healing process. That process, if we lean into it, will heal and restore us over time. Eventually, it will lead us to a new season where the grief and mourning is replaced by joy.

However- even in a new season- which perhaps you are in right now- please realize this:

#5- The process has “pop ups”- even in seasons of great joy.

About a year ago, my wife and I suffered the loss of our first child through miscarriage. It was the most devastating event in our lives, and the pain of that loss was unbearable. However, God journeyed closely with us through it, and eventually we found healing and restoration.

Now, we are in a season where we are expecting a son in March- and that is fully of joy, nervousness, and anticipation- so much different than 12 months ago.

And yet- we still have moments where the pain of our loss “pops up” from time to time- and unexpectedly.

Just this past weekend, Grace and I were out and we walked into a Christmas store. I happened to see a poem that was framed and I read it…and immediately wished I hadn’t.

It was a poem written as if it was from a lost one that was spending Christmas with Jesus this year instead of us.

Even thinking about it brings a huge lump into my throat. Reading it brought tears to my eyes, because- even though we have this precious child in Grace’s womb right now- we were painfully reminded of the child that is with Jesus that we won’t get to meet until Jesus takes us to eternity.

You’re going to have moments like that- even when you think you’re “over it.” And it’s ok. Don’t hold back the tears. Don’t try to tough it out (Admittedly, I am not great at this. I am learning to lean into the pain). Lean into the pain- because their are some losses that will always hurt- because they should.

 

But the fact it hurts indicates you’re alive; again, we should be concerned if it doesn’t hurt.

But more than that, the pain is a reminder for us to run to our source of healing: Jesus.

He doesn’t blame us when we cry years after the loss. He doesn’t lecture us. He doesn’t roll His eyes and say “This AGAIN???”

He simply holds us in His arms and, once again, helps us to move forward one step at a time if we’ll start by simply being honest with Him about the pain.