New Year’s “Failures”
It is New Year’s Day, and for many people that means two things: Resolutions. And failure! According to one study, nearly one out of four resolution-makers will fail in their resolve by the end of the first week. Over half will fail by the end of the first month. Over ninety percent will have failed by the end of the year. Resolutions, it seems, are a sure exercise in the futility of our willpower.
The obvious lesson of New Year’s resolutions, then, is the likelihood that sooner or later we will fail. But I wonder if New Year’s resolutions reveal more than our weak resolve. I wonder if they reveal the idolatry of our world. We idolize strength. We idolize self-sufficiency. We idolize the self-made individual who single-handedly accomplishes their ambitions. We put on a pedestal high achievers, big earners, people who look perfect. And just as easily, we tear them apart at the first sign of weakness or failure. It’s no surprise, then, that we do the same thing with ourselves. We resolve to be perfect, and then when we fail, we give up. We think we can do it on our own; when we can’t, we lose all hope.
Who Is Carrying Whom?
But God does not lose hope. Neither does God expect perfection. When God took on flesh and entered into our world, he could not make it on his own. He had to be carried.
The beginning of the Christmas story is angels singing and shepherds glorifying God and the noble magi kneeling before Jesus and Mary and Joseph tenderly watching over their child. But Matthew tells us that, after the initial joy and celebration, there is great darkness and danger. Jesus is born into the same world that we inhabit—a world filled with fear and violence, a world that is not safe. And Jesus is just as vulnerable to these risks as we are today. He is born into the world with a mark on his head. King Herod—who lives according to the gospel of strength and self-sufficiency, who trusts no one, not even his own family, some of whom he would even put to death for fear that they would take his throne—King Herod wants little baby Jesus dead, and he goes to disastrous lengths to ensure the result. For this reason, an angel of the Lord warns Joseph to get up and “take the child…and flee to Egypt” (Matt 2:13).
Our Old Testament scripture today is from the prophet Isaiah. It presents a fascinating contrast to the Christmas story. Isaiah praises God for carrying Israel out of danger (Isa 63:9). Isaiah’s language echoes other Old Testament passages that compare God’s deliverance of the people Israel from Egypt to a mother eagle who carries her brood out of danger. The message is plain. The people Israel cannot do it on their own. They need help. They need God to carry them out of Egypt.
But the Christmas story shows us a striking reversal. God cannot do it on his own. God needs help. God in Christ needs Joseph to carry him down to Egypt. Lest we think that this story is a one off, that once baby Jesus grows up to be an adult he will be strong and self-sufficient, we might remember the cross. Jesus’ story does not end with a man flexing his muscles and securing his own way in the world.
“This Is My Body,
Broken for You”
On the one hand, Jesus’ apparent weakness could be seen as cause for despair. If God cannot make it on his own, then who can?
On the other hand, this could be the very crux of the good news. If God cannot make it on his own, then who can? We can let go of perfection! We can let go of this impossible ideal, this idol of self-sufficiency. The good news is not that God comes to make us invincible, but that God comes in weakness, where we need each other, where we must carry each other. The good news is love, which is born in relationship. Love is what carries us when we cannot make it on our own. It is love that carries Jesus away from the murderous king Herod. It is love that will lift up the tax collectors and prostitutes, the poor, the little children, the widows, the Samaritan woman, Zacchaeus, and so many others.
Every week at the table, we remember how Jesus gives himself to us. This week in the season of Christmas, we might remember how, first, Mary and then Joseph give themselves to Jesus. How before Jesus lifts up others, Jesus himself needs to be carried. He needed Mary, who gave birth to him, to say, “This is my body, broken for you.” He needed Joseph, who carried him to Egypt, to say, “This is my body, broken for you.”[1]
Where Christ Is Born
Whether you’ve made resolutions for the new year or not, maybe today’s scripture will provide a gentle and sobering caution against any expectations of perfection that we have for ourselves. Maybe it will remind us that failure or weakness is not the end of the story but the beginning. It’s where Christ is born. Maybe it will remind us that we cannot make it on our own. Maybe it will remind us of what matters most—not personal achievement but carrying each other.
Because chances are that, as an American Christian, you grew up learning about the importance of having a “personal relationship” with Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. It is easy to hear that word “personal” and think “private.” It is easy to adapt our faith to the ideals—and the idols—of our culture. We can think that Jesus in our heart is enough, and from there we can make it on our own to accomplish whatever we set our mind to do. But the picture in the gospels is different. Jesus envisions a life where we are never alone, a life where we carry and are carried by one another. Jesus first says, “Follow me” to two men, not one, and those two quickly grow to twelve. Later he sends out his disciples not alone but in pairs. Finally, as he prepares for his final days on earth, he promises his followers that he will always be with them, but in very specific terms. “Whenever two or three of you are gathered in my name, I am there” (Matt 18:20). “The church, according to the New Testament, is not a loose confederation of individuals. The church is a body—a living, breathing organism whose members are so intimately connected that they can only move together. On any given day, every member of that body needs help, and every member has some help to give.”[2]
The good news of Christmas is certainly that God is with us and we are not alone. But if we left it at that, we would miss out on the depths and riches of God’s love. God’s presence is not the guarantee of strength and success, but the embrace that draws us together in our weak and fragile humanity. God’s salvation is a story of one person carrying another because we cannot do it alone. Sometimes it is us being carried. Other times, it may be us carrying God, if you would believe it. Either way, it is how Christ is born into our world. Not in perfection, but in our need. Christ is with us when we carry one another.
Prayer
Who is born not in perfection
But into this flesh,
Vulnerable and needy—
May the infant Christ
Disarm us of ambitions
Toward independence and perfection
…
Carry us, dear God,
As we in our humble and honest ways
Carry you into the world.
May your love be our salvation,
Now and forever. In Christ: Amen.
[1] Inspired by Rachel Held Evans with Jeff Chu, Wholehearted Faith (New York: HarperOne, 2021), 3-6.
[2] Adapted from Nate Larkin, Samson and the Pirate Monks: Calling Men to Authentic Brotherhood (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2007), 73.
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