Christmas Means There Are No Bit Parts

        I can't believe that it is Christmas Eve and this is the first time the whole month I have taken the time to blog. I have chased dozens of ideas around in my head, I created a printable and even developed a new recipe, but I never would commit anything to print, so to speak. I have struggled my whole life with feeling inadequate and unimportant, and this holiday season it has really been getting to me. My every step, some days, feels dogged by chants of "not enough" and "no one cares". This isn't a pity party, it is just gut-level honesty, which is pretty much all I have ever put out here, so nothing new.

    I won't blame anything, it isn't the fault of the media, or my friends, or my lack of therapy. I have learned that I need to rely on the Lord to satisfy my needs, as nothing else will do. And that is probably why I have been so heavily weighed down by my insufficiency, because I know what to do but I'm not doing it.

    Sometimes I am just worried that I am not making a difference, that nothing I do really counts. Everyone else seems to have a starring role, and I feel stuck behind the scenes, or worse, standing in line hoping for a ticket. Everyone else has their name up in lights, and I can't seem to catch a break.

    And I wondered if sometimes Joseph felt that way. In "The Christmas Story" he has a strange part, if you really consider it. He barely merits a few lines in Luke, most of his story is found in Matthew. He is called a "righteous man" and is recommended by his family line. He is the descendant of David that gave Jesus his heritage. But really, after he appears in the story of twelve year-old Jesus teaching in the temple, we don't hear much about him. He fades from Scripture and often our memories.

    I recently bought a nativity to share with my preschool class. It was what seems to be the normal set-up, the holy family, the Magi, a little stable. I asked one of the children to name the pieces with me and when they got to the man with the staff they said, "shepherd"! No, it was poor Joseph, who had less significance in their mind than the lowly sheep herders. We know his name, but what do we really *know* about him? Not too much it seems, other than his background and his few actions that show him to be a protective, caring man of God.  But still, sometimes, he seems a bit part, his name appearing far down on the list of characters in the show. Did his name even make it on the marquee at all?

    But you and I know better. Even if my preschool student didn't recognize Joseph's importance, we can. We know his obedience saved Mary and Jesus, that he had faith to follow through even when the way was unclear. We know he was vital to the story, just as God had planned it.

    And when I really pay attention, I know that is true for me, too. Because Christmas means there are no bit parts. Jesus came so that EVERY life can have meaning and value. Every one gets to be essential to the story line that points to the glory of God with every page. He is the star, but we all get to have killer supporting roles, making sure that the message gets across.

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me." Galatians 2:19b-20 HCSB

   Because He lives in me, all that I say and do has value. Just like Joseph, I have a part to play. And even if it seems small at times, in reality it will last for eternity if I am living by faith. I may not have more than a few lines to read, but Christ makes them essential if He is living in me.

"And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him." Colossians 3:17 HCSB

    His birth and His death make every life important. Christmas means there are no bit parts. Thank You, Father, for sending Your Son.Help me to remember that You are the reason for *every* season, and You alone can make my life worthwhile.

The Talk

       

Sit with me, and we will talk light into a dark night...

      I had a talk with my eight-year old this week. It wasn't something I had ever really thought about having a conversation about. With him. At eight. It wasn't a conversation I really wanted to be having with anyone, but when he sees you crying in the middle of Target, he's a pretty perceptive little guy and I was faced with the stark realization that there never would really be a "good" time to have this kind of chat. But not having it all could be much worse.

   You see, when you are a parent, you prepare yourself for questions about "the birds and the bees" and uncomfortable topics like gender, and homosexuality, and even for the weird ones like, "why is the sky blue?". And maybe you are a better parent, so you have already talked to your children about this, but I'll be honest, it isn't something I wanted to talk to my kids about, because it is just so darn complicated, and awkward, and just awful.

   But that was what made me realize that I actually *had* to talk about it. I won't beat around the bush any more. What I had to talk to my precious little boy about was suicide. We have a person we love dearly, and that person faced this situation down this week. And it broke my heart, but strengthened my resolve: this is serious and we have to talk about it. Collective "we" and personal.

   That person's story isn't mine to share, so I won't. But this is something that is on-going, and the people involved have done everything "right". And we are walking a path that is unknown to us, but praise Jesus, nothing has been done yet that can't be undone. But the shame of the whole matter is that there is just so much shame in the whole matter. Why don't we talk about suicide? Are we afraid that if we speak it we will give it power? That is a lie, straight from the pit. Talking about it *robs* suicide of it's power, because the fact of that matter is, shame is the leading cause of taking one's own life, in my opinion.

   The shame and guilt involved in crying out for help is a tragedy of the greatest proportions. It is directly un-Biblical and we need to stop with the whole "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" and "real men (or women) don't..." Sometimes, you not only don't have bootstraps, you don't even have boots! That is why the Lord gave us one another. Because my job is to hear you when you cry, and love you. Paul says it better (Doesn't he always?)

"Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:1

 Is there any more saddening sin than that of denying one's worth in Christ? Is there anything more tragic than someone who is blinded to the value of life-their own included? But where does it say, "Make that the un-talked about forbidden sin." No where! It says we are to restore them *gently*. With compassion. Full of love. Like Jesus.

   You can go no further? I will carry you. Carry you straight to the throne. Because there is the only One who can make your life worth living. And it is so worth living. YOU ARE LOVED. And I shouldn't wait until you are hysterically crying out to say so. Maybe if you knew how much I loved you, you would feel safe to tell me how you really feel.

  And that is what I told my sweet son. I said, "If you ever feel like you don't want to be here anymore, like you would be better off if you were dead, I want you to know that I will hear that. That I won't be mad, or punish you. That I will love you, and we will get help."

   And I realized something. Talking about suicide has to start long before someone is depressed, and desperate. It has to start with really truly knowing and loving one another. I have been dealing with some things in my own life lately, and I owe so much to those who have come alongside me, got down in my mud, and said, "We won't leave you here. We're in this for the long haul." And that is what we need to be. These people know me, they saw that something was wrong, and they are lovingly working with me to help me be restored.

   Help isn't a few well-placed cliches. It is months and years of love, of grace-giving, of forgiveness. Of developing a thick skin to insults but a tender heart of compassion, and ears sensitive to hear what isn't being said, of eyes intuitive enough to see beneath the surface. Of becoming more like Jesus. And knowing that medicines, and therapists and prayer are all different components of what is probably a complicated solution. This didn't happen overnight, and it won't be healed that way.

   But it starts by saying, "I hear you. I see you. I won't condemn you for your burden. That if you trust me enough to tell me that you want to take your own life, or cease existing anymore, that I won't shame you. I will love you, and I will carry that burden with you, for as long as it takes."

   Sometimes that means supporting the person directly, both spiritually and physically (Hello-therapy and medication aren't free!). That means keeping your phone on, and your radar up. Sometimes it means supporting the family, because they are suffering on this journey. Sometimes it means sharing your own story. We can be a light in the darkness that is suicide. We just have to speak up.

So, I started here...