Rejoice And Be Glad

This is the day the LORD has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.

“WAIT, WHERE IS THE FIRST PRESENT?” I (Julie) called as I squished in next to my husband, Aaron. We’d just finished cleaning up after dinner, and opening presents was next on our agenda of Christmas Eve traditions with his family.

“I’ve got it!” my son, Jon, exclaimed, hoisting a medium-sized box above his head as he maneuvered from the Christmas tree to Aaron’s side. “Here, Dad. I think this one is for you.”

The twinkle in Jon’s eye was unmistakable. As the current youngest in our extended family, he’s given his dad this box every year for the last several. Each member of the next generation has taken their turn giving this particular gift over the years, each with their own flair for the dramatic.

“Oh. I have no idea what this could possibly be.” Aaron’s smirk as he bent to the task of unwrapping his gift matched the smirks around the living room. With the paper removed, Aaron popped off the tape, flipped the box flaps, and fished one arm around until he pulled out Louis the Cabbage Patch doll and held him aloft. We all cheered.

“Thanks, everyone. You shouldn’t have,” Aaron said with dry sarcasm. Chuckling, we shifted our attention to the actual presents waiting beneath the tree.

That’s right, my husband gets a Cabbage Patch doll named Louis for Christmas. The same doll. Every year. For over thirty years. It’s ridiculous and funny and one of my favorite Christmas traditions, despite occupying only a fleeting few seconds in our Christmas Eve celebration.

The story behind Louis involves a winning raffle ticket for the hottest toy of the year, an excited mom, a disappointed eight-year-old Aaron who didn’t want a doll for Christmas, and then, years later, a practical joke on that same boy, now a teenager, that somehow turned into an annual event. It’s the story of a Christmas flop redeemed into something silly and filled with loving affection for both Aaron and his mom. As much as I enjoy the goofiness of a practical joke that goes on into perpetuity, I’m in love with its redemptive arc and want to see it play out year after year.

And we’re not the only ones with a quirky, fun tradition. My friend Carrie’s family dines at Waffle House on Christmas. As with our tradition with Louis, they didn’t set out to establish a new ritual, but kiddo taste buds and living too far from family finds them returning year after year. They pump Christmas tunes through the restaurant jukebox, laugh with staff and each other over ridiculous conversations, and leave an extra big tip as a thank-you and a blessing. Their joy carries them back out the door with full tummies and another good memory.

As lovely and fun as Carrie’s and my traditions are, Christmas joy can be far simpler. In fact, sometimes joy is found in simplicity and ease precisely because it doesn’t require energy or extra work. Every year, my friend Kate’s family piles into their car with hot cocoa and Christmas cookies or candy canes and goes hunting for homes with light displays. It’s a low-energy way for their entire family (with a wide age range of kids) to relax together as they ooh and aah over homes lit up with varying degrees of complexity. One house sets its light display to classic rock tunes, inviting families to park the car, tune in to a shortwave radio frequency, and listen to the Rolling Stones or the Beatles as the lights dance in time with the music. Driving around looking at Christmas lights has become a stress reliever for Kate and her husband, so they set out a couple of random evenings during Advent for an impromptu light tour when things start to feel tense around their home.

God has sent us every good gift (see James 1:17), and Advent is an invitation into an entire season of rejoicing. It’s easy to dismiss the importance of funny moments and silly traditions in the face of the gravitas of God sending his beloved Son to us as an infant. After all, that tiny babe was predestined to a sacrificial crucifixion as the final blood offering to wash away forever our sin, thereby putting us back into right standing with God. While that gift is worthy of our somber reflection during Advent, it’s also to be celebrated as we wring every ounce of joy out of December in a million tiny and big ways, some of which we’ve done for decades, and some of which are fleeting moments, unique to this day, this week, this year. Let us not forget that joy is listed as a fruit of the Spirit—tangible evidence that the Holy Spirit is active and at work in our lives (see Galatians 5:22-23).

Sacredness can be found in snowball fights and sledding and snow angels with your beloveds (or in going to the beach or into the desert for a picnic if you live in a land with a summery Christmas), in laughing so hard you can’t catch your breath during the white elephant gift exchange or the ugly sweater contest, and in snuggling close while binge-watching Christmas movies. Worshiping God can look like pausing to deeply savor that first bite of perfectly cooked prime rib during your Christmas Eve dinner or sipping eggnog in the glow of your Christmas tree in those silent moments after everyone else is asleep.

Do not decline those invitations into joy and silly and fun sent your way this Advent. Look for them. Embrace them. Hold tightly to them. And then, invite others into merry and bright right along with you.

Heavenly Father, thank you for invitations into joy this Advent as we celebrate and rejoice over the birth of your beloved son, Jesus. Help us seize those invitations and nudge us into inviting others to join in the fun. May this Advent be filled with laughter, with abiding contentment, and with a daily recognition of your goodness. Amen.