How The Light Gets In

Second Week of Advent, 2023

God works through those we least expect.

The genealogy of Christ in Matthew's gospel, which is also his prelude to events surrounding Christ’s birth, gives strong evidence for this.

In Matthew’s day, résumés were less about achievement and more about ancestry. People were judged not by what they did but by who they came from. The genealogy was the résumé.

Ancestors of ill repute were routinely removed from the list. But not so with Jesus, who chose Matthew to publish the names of those in his lineage, including all shady characters. Perhaps this was Jesus’s way of reminding Matthew, a tax collector, that if there was hope for these misfits, there was also hope for him.

“Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers and sisters.” (Hebrews 2:11)

If you have regret, it can only mean that God sees you as good raw material, right up there with the prophets and apostles. This is also true of others like you who have regret. When you realize this, you will not only be positioned to receive God’s mercy, but also to pass it on.

Like compost, weakness and defeat seem rotten on the surface. But underneath, they are rich soil in which lasting fruit can be planted, nourished, and harvested. All good and lasting fruit begins at the hem of Jesus’s garment. (Luke 8:40-48)

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross observed:

“The most beautiful people…are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern.”

I think it was Anne Lamott who said that it’s okay if you are crazy and damaged, because all the best people are.

In Scripture, many crazy and damaged people became notable servants of God and neighbor. We need look no further than Christ’s genealogy as recorded by Matthew the tax collector. Here, I will bold print a few of those names:

Abraham was a pathetic husband whom God made forefather to all who believe.

Jacob was a manipulator and deceiver whom God made head of Israel.

Rahab was a sex worker whom God made an exemplar of faith and mother to Boaz, Ruth’s kinsman-redeemer.

David was an adulterer, betrayer, and assassin whom God inspired to write half the Psalms. Matthew names him as David, “father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah.” This same David was also memorialized by Christ who nicknamed himself the Son of David. Acts remembers David as the man after God’s own heart.

Solomon followed in David’s steps with 1,000 wives and concubines. That’s more women than Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt combined, with some religion thrown in. God made this Solomon the builder of God’s Temple. God also made him the author of many Proverbs and the graphic bedroom poetry (!) of Solomon’s Song.

It is hard to understand God.

All these were horrific failures in their own way. But in God’s eyes, failure never defined them. Grace did. Centuries later, God still blesses the world through the retelling of their stories.

God works with bent instruments to bring truth, beauty, grace, mercy, justice, and hope to the world. It’s woven into the fabric of everything. The best therapists seek therapy. The best preachers of grace are keenly aware of their own need for grace. Those who forgive know they have been forgiven. They are sensitive to what Buechner said about grudges, revenge, and skeletons:

“To lick your wounds, to smack your lips over grievances long past, to roll over your tongue the prospect of bitter confrontations still to come, to savor to the last toothsome morsel both the pain you are given and the pain you are giving back—in many ways it is a feast fit for a king. The chief drawback is that what you are wolfing down is yourself. The skeleton at the feast is you.”

Jesus’s plea from the cross that God forgive those who were actively harming him was a sign of greatness. The mercy of his greatness later became a scandal, a stone that makes people stumble and a rock that makes them fall. Why a scandal? Because mercy isn’t just there for us. It is also there for them. Jesus doesn’t erase “those people.” Instead, he wants to redeem and restore them.

Presumed outsiders breathe a sigh of relief as presumed insiders get ticked off:

“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear Jesus, and the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.’” (Luke 15:1-2)

Jesus’s mercy comes free of charge to the guilty, weak, weary, and worn out. His limitless patience toward the likes of those listed above—plus failed ministers like Peter and failed publicans like Matthew—bears witness to this.

God is kind to all who put their worst foot forward.

It is good to know that all of the Psalms—and nearly all of the Bible—were written by people who knew regret, sorrow, and need firsthand. God works well with material that wouldn’t be caught dead on a résumé.

Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah, clearly understood this. Otherwise, how could she have possibly forgiven, married, and raised a son with David as she did?

Leonard Cohen also understands:

“Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

The prominence of misfits on Matthew’s list and among the so-called “faith heroes” of Hebrews 11 is a balm for those who know themselves to be unfinished. It is also an inconvenient truth for those who think their biggest problem is other people.

Even Jesus, the one perfect human, positioned himself to be despised. He became sin so that actual sinners could be made righteous in him. (2 Corinthians 5:21)

This should give us pause about casting shade on presumed enemies. Even on a good day, we resemble our worst enemies more than we resemble Christ.

It isn’t even close.

But like Matthew, we can bring our worst to the table…to his Table. In turn, Jesus will bring bread, wine, and community plus his gentle heart, easy yoke, and light burden. (Matthew 11:28-30) It’s a blessed exchange. The only thing that can stop us is pride.

We may be famous or infamous, loved or despised, esteemed or forgotten. But in Christ, we are reckoned whole. He is our God and we are his people. Thorns in the flesh can help us live more fully in these blessed truths.

Thorns that mortify sin and evoke righteousness are assets, not liabilities. Paul’s own thorn attacked his pride and formed within him what St. Augustine said were the top three Christian virtues:

1. Humility.

2. Humility.

3. Humility.

In keeping Paul humble, the thorn made him fit for the things that matter most to God. There is glory in our thorns. God’s power is made perfect through our many unanswered prayers that they be removed. (2 Corinthians 12:7-10)

The following “Serenity Prayer” from Reinhold Niebuhr is a treasure for those who are brave enough to pray it:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference, living one day at a time; enjoying one moment at a time; taking this world as it is and not as I would have it; trusting that You will make all things right if I surrender to Your will; so that I may be reasonably happy in this life and supremely happy with You forever in the next. Amen.”

As Tim Keller was fond of saying, “All you need is nothing. All you need is need.”