Sheep and Celebrations
Our church has begun practicing for our Christmas musical presentation. Since my husband is out of town, I’ve been listening to Christmas music on random days. I’ve started watching cheesy Netflix Christmas movies while I’ve been working on creating the Christmas cards we will send out this year. Somewhere in the midst of being all Christmas-y I meandered down memory lane and remembered all the hoopla and anticipation that filled the month of December when my children were small. It’s just my husband and I now. Christmas day is quiet. Don’t be sad for me, the day is still delightful, and the joy of the season still brings wonder to my heart. Our Christmas day just doesn’t look like the movies or the magazines with all the family, the big meal and the large amount of presents. There’s a corner of my heart that misses all those secrets and surprises, the exclamations of happiness, and the sigh of relief when the day is finished. But just a teeny tiny corner.
I’m learning not to compare my life to what society proposes is the ideal. It’s a hard lesson for me. I have the dreaded FOMO disease: the fear of missing out. I fear missing what God wants me to do. I fear I will miss the perfect opportunity to really explain to my children how much they mean to me. I fear I will miss understanding what my husband needs. I fear missing out on the best thing for each day. I fear I will miss out on being seen, recognized and valued. I fear missing out on really knowing one person because I’m spending too much time with someone else. It’s all a bit insane.
I try not to follow too many people on Instagram, because it makes me wonder why my life seems so ordinary. Logically, I know their life is really no more glamorous than mine. Today one of the Christian authors I follow posted about the elements of her life that are not so wonderous. She sought to be transparent and to encourage her followers to not imagine her life to be easy or ideal. She has had major struggles and traumas in her life that I have no frame of reference for. People posted below how grateful they were for her message, they knew similar pain and she gave them hope. Satan whispered a lie to me that my life is not relatable. I waffled for a moment or two as I battled the ugly monster FOMO. Then, I stood my ground in Jesus.
I saw my disease raising it’s ugly head earlier this morning as I spent time in God’s Word. I was reading about Jesus leaving the 99 sheep to go find the one that was lost. I read the verse that says when the one is found there is great celebration. I recalled Sunday’s sermon and how the pastor mentioned that the story of the prodigal son is more about the brother than the son who came home. He pointed out that in Luke 15, Jesus tells the three stories of the lost and found because the religious leaders were complaining about Jesus welcoming and eating with sinners. Jesus told the stories to teach those who were supposed to know God that there is no “us” and there is no “them.” God welcomes and accepts everyone. He’s ready to throw a party for anyone who comes home. In the story of the prodigal son, the son who remains with the Father, should’ve been overjoyed because the lost had been found.
This morning I read “What do you think? If someone has a hundred sheep, and one of them goes astray, won’t he leave the ninety-nine on a hillside and go and search for the stray?” (Matthew 18:12) I flashed back to when my children were small. My son was very talented in the area of wandering off. I’m sure there were seasons when I felt all I did was try to track him down. And I’m sure I said those famous mom words to my daughter, “Stay right here. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go to (blank) and see if your brother is there.” She obviously didn’t have the wandering off trait. I expected her to stay put, and she did. It didn’t mean that I loved my son more and my daughter less. There were times in those teen years when my daughter was the one I was tracking down since I knew my son was safely in front of his gaming system. In those moments, I was searching for the one who needed to be found.
My “A-ha!” this morning came when I looked at the verse in the light of the truth that Jesus is the good Shepherd. I thought of the truths found in Psalm 23: the Good Shepherd provides what I need (Psalm 23:1); the Good Shepherd leads me to green pastures (verse 2); the Good Shepherd renews my life (verse 3); the Good Shepherd leads me on the path that is right for me because His character doesn’t allow Him to do anything different (verse 3); the Good Shepherd is with me when life is hard (verse 4); the Good Shepherd comforts me when I’m hurting or afraid (verse 4); the Good Shepherd fills my life so that it overflows with His goodness (verse 5); the Good Shepherd pursues me with goodness and faithful love every day of my life (verse 6). Jesus gives all that to me. He’s not just leaving me on some hillside to fend for myself while he’s off searching for someone who needs to be found.
I too often see God with the limitations that I have. When I was looking for my son, I didn’t necessarily have eyes on my daughter. When I was seeking my daughter, I wasn’t watching my son conquer whatever world on his gaming system. God has no such limitation. When God’s Word says that God is with me, He is. While He is with you. While he is searching for someone who needs to be found. God spoke to my heart and corrected me. When I come to Christ, sick with FOMO and whine, “what about me?!” I am not believing the truth of who God is and the promises He’s given. God can choose to bless whomever, go and search for whomever, throw a party for whomever and He is still loving and looking after me. There is nothing to fear. God makes sure that I will not miss out on anything He promises.
I need to choose to celebrate who God is in my life every moment. I need to choose to wonder and marvel at who God is in other people’s life and celebrate just as heartily. The celebration is for the glory of who God is, for the glory of His Kingdom.
Christmas is right around the corner. It reminds me that God celebrates the people He created. And Christmas leads to Easter, when I’m reminded of the magnitude of what God has done for me. There are some who don’t know what there really is to be celebrating. They need to be found. I have already been found and I’m not missing out on anything: not the search party, not the Welcome Home party.
