My family is good at saying goodbye.
My father served as an officer in the U.S. Army for nearly thirty years. I’m a full-grown adult now with children of my own, yet it’s still hard to keep count of the places I lived, the bedrooms I decorated, and the friends I made and lost along the way. To this day, the screeching sound of packing tape and the dusty smell of cardboard boxes flips my stomach with terror. Eventually, my older sisters went to college—one to Pennsylvania, the other to Texas. We’re all spread out now, with families of our own, disparate branches of a wide-spread family tree. Goodbyes are more complicated than ever. But we have an old stand-by to help us through. Any time we have to say goodbye, we hug, then say, “See you Tuesday!”
The phrase comes from a Jerry Clower skit called “The Long Goodbye.” I’ve never seen the sketch, but I’ve been told it went something like this: A big family stands around a departure gate at an airport making a big scene, sobbing and crying and carrying on, telling their father goodbye. They’re holding onto his arms, dabbing their faces with handkerchiefs, and bemoaning the time they’ll spend apart. Then he walks toward the jet bridge and, with a big wave and a smile, looks back and says, “See you Tuesday!” He has a thick southern accent, so it comes out “Tews-dee.” Calm and happy, the family waves back and then turns to leave. We see they’ve been engaged in a histrionic, over-reaction, sobbing for no reason. The goodbye is no big deal. “Hello” is right around the corner.
If Jesus’s resurrection mystified His followers, we shouldn’t be surprised if it baffles us today. John’s account of that morning—the quiet pandemonium, the sprint through Jerusalem, the empty tomb, the pile of linen, some in a mess, some carefully folded—rendered the disciples so afraid that next we see, they’re huddled in a locked room, terrified of what might come next (John 20:1–20). The story’s trajectory made no sense to them, despite Isaiah’s prophecy and Jesus’s words. Their story wasn’t over, and neither is ours.
The old prayer depicts a rhythm to our faith: “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” Goodbyes are full of sorrow. But thanks to Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection, “goodbye” will never have the last word. That should give us joy and courage to stand with our eyes lifted. Though we have not seen Him, we believe in Him and rejoice with inexpressible joy (1Peter 1:8).
The glorious hello is just around the corner.
Having a one month old – the reading in John 16 really stuck out to me – how we don’t remember the suffering, we only feel the joy. I long to find this type of blind faith and love and joy in Jesus.
I’m writing “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” down and putting it somewhere I can be reminded of this constantly.
@Alexandra Fritzler, I’m praying for your healing! Being a new mom is hard enough, without having health issues too.
I love the readings today. (well everyday) I long for Christmas to be about Jesus. I’m hoping that I can be an example to my husbands kids who are not believers in any way shape or form. They have not been raised with God. Their mom was following Wiccan at one time. They are good kids, but no faith. They are privileged kids which makes it even harder. It would be amazing to see them turn to God!
I love your longing heart for Christ to be glorified throughout the world! In His presence we are made holy and blameless! He is working all things out in His timing. Jesus is the best gift to be unwrapped this Christmas and may many be blessed with the living water as the Father reveals himself to many this year.
I love your longing heart for Christ to be glorified throughout the world! In His presence we are made holy and blameless!
I long for tradition. For simplicity. For beauty. I long to know what it was like for those first followers of Jesus who I have come to love through the ancient scriptures and writings of the early church fathers. As I peel back the layers of what I grew up thinking Christmas was, all the jolly joy of a bearded man in a red suit falls away to a Savior born in grave clothes. I see a miracle born baby to a Most Blessed Virgin Mary. I see the glimmer of a perfectly designed manger scene give way to a dark cave where Jesus was actually born. All the seemingly worthy attempts to create a human made Christmas gives way to our God who gave us the Light we actually needed. The only Light that would save us from the darkness we know is there. The most glorious gift under the Christmas tree is the Light of Christ Himself. The Messiah who shines, so we can see God who saves our souls. We possess the Spirit of Christ, the Holy Spirit sent from heaven that the “angels long to catch a glimpse of” (1 Peter 1:12). We have something precious, more valuable than all the gold in the world, something even the angels wonder at! So, what is my longing for this Advent? Holiness. That I, we, would live our lives as if this was actually true. Because it is. “Therefore, when you have prepared your minds for action, by being self-controlled, put your hope in the grace that will be brought to you by the revelation of Jesus Christ” (1 Peter 1:13). May our souls be purified in the Light of Christ, being obedient to the truth, and love one another fervently from the heart (reading on in 1 Peter through verse 22). May our lives be lived with holy hearts, because He is holy. No matter what we suffer now, there is miraculous joy that covers it all. Selah, until… Maranatha. Amen.
Thankful for this reminder today. Looking forward to that glorious hello someday.
For today, I’m trying to do my best to find joy in the midst of struggle with my health as a new mom. This is my first Christmas with my 8 month old and I’ve never felt worse health wise. Trying to choose joy in the midst of the unknowns and difficulties. God is so good! ❤️