Gift

It had to have been around 1995. It was a few days before Christmas, and my sister came sauntering down the stairs looking like a cat who just ate the canary. “Want to know what I’m getting for Christmas?” 

What kind of question is that?! Of course I wanted to know what she was getting for Christmas. Because I needed to know what I was getting for Christmas. Middle school me had his eye on a sweet boombox that year, and since our parents were meticulously fair, knowing what Mindy was getting would provide vital empirical data about whether I’d be smashing out sweet mixtapes by New Year’s.

“They got me the Starter jacket I asked for.”

If you are a 90s kid like me, there is a solid chance you felt that just now. Starter jackets were where it was at – a guaranteed ticket to popularity. I would probably gain at least fifteen friends just by walking in the front door of Stayton Middle School in 1995 wearing a Starter jacket. Add some Reebok Pumps to that outfit, and scrawny 7th grade me might even land a girlfriend he could listen to his mixtapes with. So you probably understand what I’m saying here. This was big news. 

“But how did you find out? Did you peek in Dad’s closet?”

She had peeked. It was the first time in history that one of us kids lost patience and peeked at our Christmas presents before Christmas morning. I was scandalized and thrilled. 

How the rest of the story goes depends on who you are. For me, it was hilarious (in a little brother sort of way) watching my sister open her jacket and pretend to be surprised and delighted, only to burst into tears a few moments later. And it wasn’t just a solitary tear tracing a line down her cheek. It was full-on bawling accompanied by a full-on confessional. For my sister, something about losing the magic of Christmas morning was too bitter to bear. Even a rad new Starter jacket couldn’t make up for that. 

I’ve since learned that there is something profound about the experience of asking, hoping, and then patiently waiting. There’s something risky and raw about a gift being hidden from sight until it is revealed by the giver. When we ask, and we hope, and then we wait, we trust like children that the gift-giver will respond. We hope that when he thinks of us there will be enough love to merit the gift we hope for. And while love shouldn’t be counted in currencies like boomboxes or Starter jackets, we children can’t help but hang the questions we carry about our worth on whether we are lovable enough to think of and sacrifice for.

Advent calendars and presents hidden in Dad’s closet all remind us that there was once a Gift hidden in a small and sacred womb. While the Gift grew in secret darkness, the world groaned under the weight of the grave. It had been groaning since Adam. And some like Hannah and Daniel and David and Rahab dreamt and sang about the day a Gift of love would be given to bring an end to death. On that giving day, Isaiah wrote, the Giver would prove that he loves us by thinking of us and sacrificing for us, and setting us free from the grave. Hundreds of years passed after Isaiah uttered those divine words. The waiting was long.

And then one night, the Gift who was hidden in Mary’s womb – the One our hearts had asked and hoped and waited for – was finally revealed. This Gift was not set under a star-topped tree, but he was displayed under a star. He wasn’t surrounded by carols, but he was encompassed by a chorus. Love was revealed! The Gift was given! And today we remember that the Giver has not forgotten us. His response to our groaning and hoping and waiting is love.

The Gift is love for those who wait patiently, and love for those who’ve given up waiting. He is love for those who know they can’t earn Him, and love for those whose folly is thinking they have. He is love for the sick, love for the weak, and love for those who are sick of being strong.

So wherever you find yourself today, I pray that “You, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:17-19

Merry Christmas!

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Jeremy Williamson, Director of Restorative Experiences