As I climbed past the Halloween decorations and suitcases to pull the Christmas bins from the attic, I recalled the things I wanted to do before beginning to decorate: clean up the kitchen clutter; sort and give away toys that aren’t used; put away the fall decorations. Annoyed with myself, I thought “I needed a couple more days before I had to start doing Christmas. I am just not ready.”
Though I was torn between the reality of a cluttered house and the desire for a tidy start to the holidays, my children were unaware of my inner turmoil. They were excited, ready to pour the eggnog and argue about who got to put the star on the top of the tree. They didn’t feel a need to be “ready” for Christmas to enter the house.
I realized how my attitude about preparing for Christmas is much like my attitude towards preparing for time with God. Rather than being eager and joyful like my children, I often feel like I have to clean up my act before I approach him.
“God, let me just get this one thing sorted out—this short temper or other bad habit, this relational situation—and then I will be ready.”
“Lord, this seems out of control. Out of your control. I am going to take care of this myself.”
“He can’t possibly want me like this. Once I get life figured out, once I clean myself up, then God could want to love me.”
Or perhaps more often, I am silent towards God. I refuse to surrender as I do life confidently and capably on my own, tidying my messes, operating as the god of my own life, independent of the one true God. I don’t even pray because I believe I can do life so efficiently on my own.
But in those thoughts and actions lie a completely wrong assessment of who God is and what Jesus came to do here on earth. When I operate out of myself and for myself, I am resting not in the gospel, but in my own capability.
What Tempts Me to Stray From the Gospel I Know
As moms, we have this good picture of the perfect Christmas, which includes stockings hung with care, warm meals, gifts, and laughter. There is a real and actual amount of “doing” that falls upon us to make it happen. And gosh, does it feel good when you do it well, when you check off that shopping list. I find incredible satisfaction and a sense of control in completing a task and completing it well.
Appearing capable and efficient is both satisfying and addictive, but striving to achieve a perfectly executed Christmas runs us ragged, emotionally and physically. Experience tells us that our role at Christmas cannot be done perfectly, and we will run out of energy, money, and goodwill.
Similarly, I find great satisfaction in feeling like I have something to offer God. But offering my good deeds, my quiet times, and my good behavior—essentially my “righteousness” – also cannot be sustained, nor are these offerings reflective of the real state of my heart.
“Look at these good works, Lord. Look how I am serving your people. Did you notice my Bible Study attendance? My Christmas family devotions?”
As with my Christmas efforts, my “righteousness” works until it doesn’t. I come to the end of myself. The illusion of control and goodness is just that—an illusion.
Advent prepares God’s people for Jesus’ coming to earth in order to live a perfect life on our behalf, receive God’s judgment that we deserved, and conquer death forever when he rose from the grave. Jesus gives us his righteousness so that we may be at peace with God. We cannot do that on our own. That is the gospel, the Good News.
Now, if God chose to send his only Son on my behalf out of his perfect goodness and love, why in the world would I think that my goodwill and good works could add anything to this equation? And yet, I subconsciously and arrogantly try to earn God’s love, his acceptance, and my own righteousness through my own efforts. That is offensively in opposition to the gospel.
Need Brings Me Back to the Gospel I Know
The gospel calls those who are needy and do not have anything to offer. God does not need or want your tidy life, with the sins sorted and dealt with. He wants you—which means your mess, because you are messy. He wants your sins that you can’t figure out because you are actually unable to anyway apart from him, your bad habits that you can’t seem to break because he’s the only one who can break those chains, and your pain because he is the only healer.
In Matthew 9:13, Jesus tells the Pharisees—the Jewish teachers who had it together on the outside but knew nothing of God’s heart for his people— “Sacrifice I do not desire, but a broken and contrite spirit.” Jesus cares about the heart, and specifically a heart that sees its own need of God and his saving work.
God doesn’t require us to clean up our mess before we approach him. As the hymn Come Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy so eloquently puts it, “All the fitness He requireth is to feel your need of Him.” God was made flesh, born in a lowly manger to a couple chosen by God. In the eyes of the world, Mary and Joseph did not have their act together, but they did see their need for a Savior.
Jesus is Immanuel- God with us. God is with us in our mess, our clutter, our to-do lists. I must daily rest in who God is and what he has done for me, not in what I can do for him.
The hymn continues, “if you tarry til you’re better, you will never come at all.” Had I waited until my house was perfectly ordered and clean, I would never be able to decorate for Christmas at all. And if we wait to come to the Lord until we have everything figured out, we will never come at all.
Joy and peace comes with the daily surrender of my good plans and good works to the one whose good plan and good work was all that was, is, and ever will be needed.
As we enter into the Christmas season, a time of intense activity and cultivating appearances, may we remember all that Jesus requires of us is to see our need of him. Only then can we rest in the joy and peace that he alone can give us.
Looking to grow as a parent in the new year? Check out our Rooted Reservoir Family Discipleship Curriculum.
