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Across the Pastor’s Desk by Charles Teixeira

You’re not alone, friend.

Even with all the warm, soft charm of Christmas time, it can be easy to lose our grip on why Christmas is so defined, so distinct. Beneath all the tinsel and wrapping paper, there’s the simple idea that God climbed down into all the pain of our humanity. He came for us, as one of us.

God came for you. Yes, you.

God came for you, the forgotten. He came for those of us who are the last ones to get a dinner invitation. Those of us who feel alone, though we’re surrounded by crowds. He came for those of us who feel faceless or nameless. Jesus came never losing sight of you. He came, already knowing you, only for you to get the chance to know him. He came so you would know, even if it felt like you were forgotten here on earth, you weren’t forgotten in heaven.

God came for you, the hurting. He came for those of us who wake up with pain that lingers, inhibits and humbles. Those of us who long for the time way back sometime when we felt free to move where and how we wanted to. He came from heaven, having never felt pain, only to take on flesh that not only could feel pain, but was destined to. He was born to take our pain, to hang on a cross in all its excruciating, disjointing realness — only to free us to consider the hope of one day living without these ever-present pains.

God came for you, the addicted. God took on flesh that was tempted in every way we were, yet never gave in at any moment of temptation. And meanwhile, with all His perfect righteousness, He never kept those with broken habits at arm’s length. He partied with them, probably walking them home after they had drunk one too many. His sobriety never kept him from embracing those in the throws of gluttony or drunkenness. He came so we would know God loves those who the rest of the world gives up on.

God came for you, the grieving. With all the ways Christ could have used His precious time on earth, He attended funerals. He wept with those who couldn’t stop weeping. He sees us — whether we’ve lost a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling, a friend — he sees us in our tears and doesn’t tip-toe around us or recite trite sayings or ask us why we haven’t grown out of our grief. He just grieves with us with all the wordless compassion of a best friend. He knows what it’s like to lose someone beloved, just like we do. He’s experienced what we are now experiencing, and he’s more than willing to reside with us as we cry one more time.

So you’re not alone, friend. God came for you and for me.

That’s what Christmas is all about — God entering into the broken rubble of humanity, into our brokenness, in order to show us his relentless love for us.

So, merry Christmas, Albert Lea. You’re more loved than you could possibly imagine.

Charles Teixeira is a pastor at First Presbyterian Church in Albert Lea.