December 26, 2020 . . . A Prayer for the Day After Christmas
By Mark A. Taylor
Dear Lord,
Is it over? Is Christmas really over?
Like so many items on our calendar this year, Christmas came too soon. Christmas morning dawned before we had done everything usual to prepare for it. We hadn’t bustled through crowded shopping centers enjoying all the lights and decorated trees and display windows festooned with glitter and tinsel and snowmen and Santa. We’d seen no drive-through Nativity scene. We hadn’t attended the concerts, the special programs and presentations and worship services that have always been our favorites. Our Christmas napkins and serving pieces were left in storage and our favorite recipes were ignored; there were no Christmas parties requiring them, and most served more than would gather at our Christmas table. Some of us, sitting at home alone except for the forced gaiety of a Zoom call, didn’t even decorate a tree.
We stood still while Christmas passed us by, another long day in a year full of them. And now, in some ways it seems as if Christmas didn’t even happen.
I’m not complaining, God.
No one wants to hear me complain, and I suspect even you get tired of it. And I know it’s bad form to whine and weep when I have so much to be grateful for.
My house may have been quieter this year, but thank you, God, that I have a house.
My dinner table may not have been as festive as usual, but thank you, God, that it once again held plenty of food to fill me.
Our Christmas was different, but after all, it’s just this one Christmas. (And it was just this one vacation at home this year, and just this one month after month of attending church via computer screen, and just this one set of birthdays with cut-back celebrations. . . . OK, God, I know that sounds like complaining again.)
I’m wearing the same clothes week after week because there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do that justifies dressing up (or even putting on a shirt with a collar), but every garment in my closet full of clothes is a gift from you. With so many in the world dressed in rags, I’m sorry not to be more grateful.
And I AM grateful, Lord.
Everyone’s talking these days about this difficult year—not just the pandemic, but the racial strife, the political chaos, and the conflict and confusion that underlie each new headline. It’s wearying for all of us, God.
But at least I have you. At least I have the bedrock unchangeableness of your Word and your love. At least I have the reminder that troubled days on earth are only road bumps in the journey to eternity in a place without viruses or vitriol. At least I know other Christians who live consistent, quiet lives guided by your goodness and tempered by your standards.
At least? At most! The losses of this year have reminded me, God, of all that’s left when the superficial and the externals are diminished or destroyed. And all that’s left is all that matters, really quite a quotient of blessing and peace.
Peace, Lord, that’s what I really seek from you this morning.
Peace with my assurance of your presence in my life. Peace with hope that the interruption of this year will be just that and not evolve into a pattern for all next year, too. Peace with the wait, most likely a long wait, for the taming of the covid beast. Peace with a decision to find ways to serve you even if some usual ways have been waylaid. Peace with discoveries of how you’re using all the upheaval of 2020 to activate Christians and motivate nonbelievers to seek you afresh.
Your Son promised your peace to those who seek you, and so I ask boldly to experience it. Your messenger said we could approach you as a whimpering child rushing to the open arms of a loving daddy. And so here I am, Lord, liberated by your love and motivated by needs I see all around me. Thank you, Lord, for Christmas. It didn’t sparkle as usual this year, but nothing can cover or compromise the promise brought by the Baby we remember at Christmas. We haven’t forgotten him, and Christmas helped us remember you haven’t forgotten us. Those are reasons enough for Christmas, and we are grateful.
Photo by Alex Dolle from Pexels