No Terror, No Peace
To put it lightly, the holidays are stressful.
We’ve had a blended family for more than 15 years, and making everything happen is always a challenge. Days off from work are spent traveling to distant places so children can visit parents, grandparents, stepparents and step-grandparents.
The holidays are a sad time for my family, too. Tragically, a few years ago my children’s mother passed away just a couple of days before Christmas. My father also died around the holidays, and this year my mother will spend Christmas with us at our home as she struggles with the late stages of Alzheimer’s disease.
Why am I sharing these details?
As I was going through the ordination process years ago, I had to take a detailed psychological assessment. When it was time to discuss the results, the psychologist revealed that I took the test with what he called a “high degree of defensiveness.”
“Oh, that’s bad,” I said.
“No, that’s good,” he replied. His response confused me, but he then explained that “normal” people have clearly defined boundaries, and they tend to project the image they want others to see.
During my time as a pastor, I learned this to be true. People’s lives are filled with failures, brokenness, tragedy, sickness and death, but they never really share those things with anyone. We don’t like to admit our vulnerabilities, not even to ourselves. So we project an idealized image — one that leaves out the troubling details.
When the shepherds first heard about Jesus’ birth, they were terrified. It was in the darkness of night, and they were protecting their flocks from predators. The messenger of the Lord told them not to be afraid, that the One who was promised had been born into the world, and they would find him wrapped in a blanket, lying in a manger (Luke 2:8-12).
The shepherds knew real life was terrifying; that’s why they were tending their sheep. They understood suffering and death had no boundaries and lay just beyond the predatory darkness of night. This existential threat provides an important backdrop for the story. The blinding light of a heavenly messenger penetrates through this darkness and announces a miracle: a child of God has been born into the world; He will know suffering, and He will bring peace.
The sterile, artificial manger scenes I see each Christmas diminish the power of this story. They focus on peace but neglect terror, even though we all know real life doesn’t have such clearly defined boundaries.
The sterile, artificial manger scenes I see each Christmas diminish the power of this story. They focus on peace but neglect terror, even though we all know real life doesn’t have such clearly defined boundaries.
Maybe it’s time for us to stop acting like everything is normal.
This Advent season, I’m going to stop projecting the life I want others to see. Instead, I will be more like these shepherds. I will accept my vulnerability, seek the One who knows human suffering and experience real peace.
– Jeremy Morse
Director of Institutional Support & Donor Relations, Palm Beach Atlantic University