A centerpiece of our home had been a cool ’70s retro table with a driftwood base and a heavy black leaded-glass top. It was passed down to my wife from her parents and represents decades of family memories: parties, dinners, and celebrations around the Thanksgiving and Christmas table.
Kim’s family, as missionaries, shipped it to numerous countries, and when we got married nearly 40 years ago, she wanted it. We had a tiny first apartment, and the elegant, large, heavy table didn’t quite fit our surroundings, but it represented who we were and the hope of what we might become.
The table moved with us through dozens of different homes, larger and more elegant spaces, which is what we always hoped for. A growing family, new friends, joyous celebrations, and unforgettable memories all centered on the elegant black-leaded-glass table.
In many ways, this year has represented the highest of highs in our ministry, vocational, and professional lives. Every indicator and outcome of “success” not only seems to have been met but also exceeded with immeasurable blessing and abundance: recognition, accolades, and prosperity. It has been a year of phenomenal outcomes, with all the metrics heading straight up and to the right of the goals and objectives we use to gauge how our lives are going.
Yet it has probably also been a year of our lowest lows. A brutal year by all internal measures: getting older and watching our parents age; physical challenges such as broken feet and surgeries; spiritual warfare; imprisonment and persecution of our team around the world; tension, confrontation, confusion, and conflict in the lives of our families and friends. It seemed that as the weeks went by, more brokenness and pain were added to a growing list of sorrow and even doubt about whether we could handle any more.
Reflection weighed heavily on my heart as Advent began. It was a paradox of joy for all the Lord has done in and through our lives, and deep pain and sorrow over all that we have lost and long to see healed and restored. I was actually forcing myself to set up the Christmas tree I had just bought.
Kim, with a broken foot in a cast, couldn’t help. The kids and grandkids were coming in a few days, so it needed to be done. What is usually a joyous moment of decoration and festivity felt like the year that had just passed: hard work, drudgery, and duty.
Kim warned me not to do it alone, and especially warned not to move the heavy table to make room in the corner of the den for the tree. The shattered glass rang through the home as the black-leaded top slid off the base into a million pieces on the floor. Two hundred pounds of family memories, history, joys, and celebrations lay scattered in front of me as a mocking display of both my stupidity and life’s lost hopes and aspirations.
I hastily picked up broken pieces so Kim wouldn’t have to see what she loved destroyed forever. The sharp shards of glass made razor cuts that I didn’t detect until it was too late. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I washed my hands. As I watched the blood drain into the sink, I prayed that I would have the right words to ask for Kim’s forgiveness for breaking something she loved in a year already filled with so much loss and pain.
Walking into our upstairs room, Kim must have seen the look on my face, the bandages on my hand, and heard something breaking. “You broke the table, right?” she asked.
“Yes. I did.”
“It’s okay. It’s just one more thing. But I’m just tired of all of this and want it to end.”
We hugged, and in that moment, I thanked God for my wife, who she is, all that we have, and the many hopes and aspirations still ahead of us.
After cleaning up the broken glass, I felt a weight lift off me as I began hanging our heirloom ornaments that we’ve collected over the years. I heard our children’s laughter around the tree. I actually felt the presence of angels as I hung their figurines, and I placed a white ornament that reads “CELEBRATE” at the center of the tree. I felt God’s presence in such a comforting and loving way, and the Holy Spirit whispered “new beginnings” in my ear.
In my devotions this morning, I read from Fleming Rutledge’s Advent:
“May this be for you a deeply significant Advent season. If you recognize tonight a degree of winter in your life, that is a sign that the healing rays of the Son of God are already at work in you. For you, then, there will be special joy at Christmastime when you sing this verse from Charles Wesley’s glorious hymn,
Hark! The Herald Angels Sing:
Risen with healing in his wings,
Light and life to all he brings,
Hail, the Sun of Righteousness!
Hail, the heaven-born Prince of Peace!”
So, my friends, no matter what has been broken this year, remember this: the Son will rise. His rays will warm our broken hearts and heal our wounded lives. He is our peace.
Stay strong in His trust. Do not grow weary in well-doing.
Christ the Savior was born for us, and His new beginnings await.
