…the most wonderful time of the year?

With rosy cheeks we sing “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.” We rush from school to pageant practice to the store to grab one more box of hot chocolate. With chestnuts roasting on an open fire, we wrap the umpteenth gift before greeting the carolers outside our door. Our bags get packed or guest beds get made in a last-minute frenzy while Mariah Carey belts from the Amazon Echo on our counter. We yank a stocking cap over our ears and stuff our reindeer socks into untied boots and go shovel the driveway.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and yet most of us are stressed. We concern ourselves with giving the right gift or the best gift or enough gifts as we turn generosity into a competition. Between shovelfuls of snow we worry about our bank account keeping up with our seasonal spending. We rush back inside to take another batch of cookies out of the oven, then plod back to the half-shoveled driveway. The dusty bookshelves need to be wiped off and the toothpaste spots on the mirror need to be cleaned, after the driveway is cleared. When our backs start to hurt we realize the time to accomplish our neglected resolutions is down to just days (and the cookies push the scale the wrong direction). We wonder if the family will get along, and feel pressure to make this the best time of year for everyone. As I tossed the thousandth shovelful of snow into the whipping darkness, I couldn’t help but think this is actually the most stressful time of the year. Maybe I’m doing it all wrong.

Stress itself comes in adverse or demanding circumstances. It follows, then, if we feel stressed, we must demand much of ourselves. Somehow we know stress is not what “the most wonderful time of the year” should bring, yet we tolerate the craziness because we expect peace is coming, eventually. Some people believe peace will come after graduation, or after a wedding, or after a promotion, or after retirement. (I’ve done three of the four, and not one suddenly produced peace.) We wait for peace to come, even though we spend week after week singing “Glory to the newborn King, peace on earth and mercy mild…” We say we believe Jesus came to be Immanuel – God with us. Somehow we fail to connect the dots. Jesus came to bring shalom – peace. He came to offer peace every day – in the midst of our busy schedules and gingerbread houses – not after we finish our to-do list.

We probably will leave at least one item on our list undone. Maybe a snowball fight will interrupt decorating the bathroom, or maybe the pie will be forgotten in the oven and so dessert is another serving of cookies. Maybe Mary and Joseph felt stressed this time of year, too. They were traveling, with a baby about to be delivered, with no hotel reservation to welcome them. Yet Jesus came to them, shattering the silent night with the songs of angels. The angels declared “peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.” (Luke 2:14, NLT)

Peace on earth. Peace, now – not once we get whipped cream on every mug of steaming cocoa. Peace, even as family tensions run high. Peace, especially when we worry about falling short. If this is the most wonderful time of the year, and yet all we feel is stressed, maybe we’re all doing it wrong.

A special thanks to Pastor Shawn Winters (Calvary Church, Roseville, MN) for inspiring the finishing touches on the post. Rarely is a good post the product of one thinker.