‘I’m just like you’ (at Christmas & more)

During this special season, I find myself craving meaning and purpose. Suffice it to say, the shallow takes a back seat to that which is more.

This year I’ve been reading through a short devotional from Scottish author Sheila Walsh. One page made me think especially lots. 

Here Walsh wrote about a childhood interaction, about a boy in class when each was twelve. The boy was overweight, stuttered, and wore especially thick glasses. Walsh worried about his lack of companions and the unfortunate teasing that came far too generously from the other adolescents.

Writes Walsh:

“I was walking the short distance home from school one day when I heard a commotion behind me. I stopped and turned around to see what was going on. Sam was being harassed by three boys. Their words were cruel enough, but when one picked up a small stone and threw it at him, something inside me snapped. I dropped my schoolbag and pushed the bully so hard that he fell into his friends, and they all ended up in a pile on the sidewalk. Sam and I walked home together that day. We lived only one street apart, and he invited me to come in and have some lemonade. His mum poured us each a glass, gave us a chocolate biscuit, and Sam and I sat down by the fire.

‘Why did you do that?’ he asked.

‘Because I’m just like you,’ I said.

‘No, you’re not,’ he said.

‘I am, Sam. I think we all are.’

We’re all broken in one way or another. We want to belong, to fit in, but life is hard. It’s hard for everyone, but some of us conceal our struggles better than others. Some have no choice but to wear their brokenness in a visible way, while others disguise it behind laughter and smiles, but the pain is the same. We long to be fully known and fully loved, but that’s a terrifying thought. What if being fully known meant that we would not be fully loved?

As we walk through this Advent season, we are invited into that very longed-for embrace by our heavenly Father. The grace of such overwhelming love only became possible when Jesus left the glory of heaven to be born as a fragile baby. He walked where we walk, loved like we long to be loved, all the time showing us in flesh and blood what God our Father is like.

But the truth remains that, unless we are able to grasp hold of that love by the grace of God, to let that love into every little broken corner of our lives, we will remain alone. We were made for so much more.”

 I think what I like about this is a couple of things.

One, we’re all alike. Yep, all of us… black, white, male, female, old, young, gay, straight, conservative, liberal, American, not, brilliant, not, including all other demographic categories. There is no difference. 

But we, way too often, attempt to maximize manufactured differences.

At our own peril.

At Christmas, it’s easier for me to see that.

Jesus was born in a manger — according to both history and scripture — giving us love in human form. His earthly life would show us how incredibly much we are loved…

… and how incredibly much we are to love one another.

Merry Christmas, friends… and always…

Respectfully…

AR