Mmm num ba de; dum bum ba be; doo buh dum ba beh beh.
Sing it with me. “Pressure pushing down on me, pressing down on you.” I apologize if that song gets stuck in your head, but it’s been in mine for a couple weeks now. A conversation with a friend got me thinking about it initially and then the freight train-like approach of the holiday season really hammered it home.
I feel pressure from all sorts of directions most days of the year but it’s particularly present at this “most wonderful time of year.” Most of the year it’s my own internal debates about parenting or what to do when. How scheduled in activities should my children be? Shouldn’t they just be home being kids and learning how to use their brains and imaginations? But all the other people are doing this. Are they right? Am I wrong? Does it matter?
Have I done lifetime damage by not signing my child up for travel ball? At what age do you discuss a cell phone for your child? Am I buying them too much stuff and therefore they appreciate nothing? What if I’m out there on a limb by myself not allowing them to do something that all their friends are allowed to do? Should I go back to work? How many worthy commitments is too many? When is it alright to back out on a commitment? Is that breaking a promise and will it set a terrible example for my kids?
So much pressure. And now this exhausting, grief-riddled, heavy year has spit us out into the holiday season where we’re supposed to do all the magical things and be happy about it. A large part of me – the part that wants to cry every time I hear, “I’ll be Home for Christmas” – wants to skip it altogether. Trees, decorations, presents, food, hustle, hustle, hustle. Nope. Not feeling it.
I’ve seen approximately 6 million Facebook posts from parents dreading the Elf on the Shelf. We don’t do it. Are my children scarred because all the other kids have it? More pressure. We made up our own much more low-key version of an elf that keeps zero schedule and just does a few random kind acts. It’s not that any of these activities are wrong. It’s just collectively we’ve piled on so much that many of us have taken the peace and joy right out of Christmas and life for that matter. And for what? I feel like we’re trying to buy peace and it isn’t for sale.
I teach a young adult Sunday School class at my church and yesterday, for the first time in six months, no one showed up. Well, that’s not entirely true. God did. He and I spent the time together pondering on pressure and the pressure of the season. I thought all of this was about comparison. The everyone is else is doing it or getting one type of thing. Are we feeling real pressure or are we just trying to fit in? So I asked Him to show me what He wanted me to focus on.
What He has put on my heart isn’t exactly about comparison (that’s what I get for doing my own thinking). It’s about focus. Comparison is only a thing if I’m looking at someone else. My grief is only acute when I look at what I don’t have. When I look out at a world of ridiculous busyness, unrelenting consumerism, gut-wrenching tragedies and heartbreaking grief, I want to pull the covers over my head and skip it all. Bah humbug for me.
However, when I adjust my focus to Jesus, peace and joy come back into view. I’m not going to give you a trite sermon about Jesus being the reason for the season. If you’re a reader of this blog you could probably give your own sermon on that topic. What I want to remind each of us, notably me, is that when I keep myself focused on Jesus there is peace. I could’ve been frustrated that I spent time working on a Sunday School lesson and got up earlier than I would’ve liked to go teach it only to have a room of empty chairs. But when I looked for Jesus in it, I had a rare uninterrupted hour of time spent with Him in his house.
When I look for Jesus over the last few days, I can see Him in friends that step up in place of family. I see family that helps so that I have the time I need. I see people showing love to people who are struggling. I see people trying extra hard to be nice and to be giving. I see love that never dies, even when people do.
For every “I’ll be Home for Christmas” there is also a “Joy to the World.” I can spend my time focused on the work that goes into Christmas, the decisions of parenting or on complaining and the bad news of the day. I’ll be constantly saddled with comparison and worry, and the heavy gets heavier. Or I can spend my days looking for Jesus in the midst of it all and see just how good He is at bringing peace to my weary soul. That is where joy dwells. I choose Jesus.
