Come, Let Us Adore Him

     I can remember with crystal clarity all the feelings Christmas Eve evoked when I was a kid. It was the most wonderfully tortuous day of the year.
     Although I never yearned for a Red Ryder BB gun like Ralphie in the “Christmas Story,” my wish list was always plenty full and all those wishes reached an almost unbearable peak on Christmas Eve. The day seemed to last forever and when bedtime finally arrived, I’d lie awake for hours, listening and wondering if Santa might actually be downstairs at that very moment.
     Our Christmas expectations certainly change as we grow up, but expectations are tricky things. They can easily morph from the simple, happy wishes of a child to unrealistic adult-size desires and demands that can potentially wreak emotional havoc.
     The happiest people I know are those who temper their earthly expectations and longings. Not with cynicism, but with genuine gratitude for every blessing they already have.
     Unrealistic expectations have probably ruined more Christmases than tight budgets and burnt turkeys ever could.
     Let’s face it, not many of us have ever roasted chestnuts on an open fire, traveled over the river and through the woods in a horse-drawn sleigh to get to our grandmother’s house, or experienced the lavish outpouring of love heaped upon George Bailey at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
     Yet, we’re programmed to think some version of those idyllic holiday experiences is the norm. If we stare too long at the gap between those romanticized Christmas scenes and our reality, it can dredge up all kinds of difficult feelings.
     I fondly remember a few white Christmases growing up in Indiana, but I sure don’t expect those in South Carolina. So when it actually did snow here one Christmas several years ago, it was magical—like a stocking-stuffer straight from God.
     Dialing down our expectations dials up our thankfulness for even the smallest, simplest good thing.
     Another effective way for me to keep my expectations in check is to remember that this earthly life is just a tiny blip on my timeline compared to the unimaginably wonderful future I’ll experience as a believer in Jesus Christ. As counselor and author Dr. Paul Tripp writes, “If eternity is the plan, then it makes no sense to shrink your living down to the needs and wants of this little moment.”
     I recently came upon a quote from Charles Dickens’ classic “A Christmas Carol” that helped me keep the holiday hoopla in perspective. Referring to his son, Tiny Tim, Bob Cratchit says, “Somehow he gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men see.”
     I don’t know anything about Charles Dickens’ faith, but he sure seemed to capture the heart and hope of Christmas there. It is indeed about the One who can make lame beggars walk and blind men see, and who made a way for His followers to enjoy a never-ending future free from sin, pain, sickness, and unfulfilled longings.
     We can avoid so many difficult emotions if we focus on that bigger picture. God certainly gives us wonderful experiences, relationships and things in this life, and He wants us to enjoy what we have, but oh, the glorious freedom when they no longer have us.
     If you believe in Jesus, rejoice in all the gifts that come with that. And if you haven’t yet accepted God’s offer of forgiveness and salvation, what a perfect time to unwrap that incomparably magnificent gift.
     And come, let us adore Him.