Our pastor recently recounted a humorous story of how he and another young boy decided to check out the large wrapped boxes under the Christmas tree in their church auditorium. Finding an opportune time they snuck in and stripped the supposed treasures of their paper and ribbons. To their shock they found nothing. In an attempt to cover up their 鈥渃rime鈥� they used masking tape to put the gifts back together. While we chuckled I couldn鈥檛 help think of the empty boxes that used to sit under my tree.
For me, and for too many others, the Christmas scenario of jubilant celebration rang hollow for too many years. Christmas Day held the promise of a 鈥渢ruce鈥� when I was growing up. It was a day when no abuse of any kind toward Mom or any of us five kids was to be exhibited. I鈥檓 not sure if we ever enjoyed the fullness of that promise but I do know I harboured the secret fear that peace on our part of the earth never would be a reality; instead, I dreaded the day that our Mom, in spite of all her suffering, worked hard to make so special. The joy and excitement of the season eluded me for decades.
At the risk of appearing to offer easy answers, a practice I despise, I can testify to the fact that Christ can fill those empty spaces with a joy and peace that extends from one December to the next. Sure there still are challenges and hard times but the inner emptiness that marked my Christmases for so long no longer haunts me.
In speaking of the ministry of Jesus, the writer of the Gospel of Luke records that 鈥淗e has filled the hungry with good things鈥�.鈥� Luke 1:53
Struggling with empty boxes? Ask for help; it鈥檚 available.
