The second part (My Journey to Gospel Centered Womanhood –  http://ow.ly/99V1m) of my journey involved understanding the curse of Genesis 3:16 and God’s answer to it in the gospel. I had a strong longing that only God could satisfy that I repeatedly looked for a man to meet. How do we get from Genesis 3:16 (her desire will be for her husband) to Psalm 73:25, “…there is nothing on earth I desire beside God?”

It’s the same today as it was for the Psalmist – availing ourselves of the presence of God. The Psalmist entered the sanctuary of God, and that changed everything for him. For me, I can boldly and confidently access the throne of grace to receive mercy and grace for every need/desire/longing I have (Hebrews 4:16).

The Bikini Barista

Understanding how the curse has played out in my own heart has helped me understand my culture as well. On my drive to the grocery store, I pass a bikini barista coffee drive-through. I wonder what desires prompted her to take that job. Is it the affirmation she gets from a stranger leering at her as he orders his coffee? If so, how long do the feelings last, and how does she feel about herself when she goes to bed at night? Did she take the job simply for the money? Was her own view of her mind so little that she didn’t think she had anything but her body to use to earn income?  Chances are, that’s just the tip of the iceberg of the ways she’ll let men treat her. She stays chained to the toilet lapping up the waste with the water, either unable to free herself or unaware that there is anything better.

Adopting Coping Mechanisms

We have adopted many Christ-less coping mechanisms for dealing with these desires the curse predicts. Instead of finding in God love and affirmation that satisfies, we have in our craving apart from Christ repeatedly carved out cisterns for ourselves, “broken cisterns that can hold no water” (Jer. 2:13). For some it’s control and manipulation. I’ve been there, especially in my marriage. I thought if I manipulated things, I could get my husband to better meet my needs. But manipulation and attempts at control are as ineffective for meeting the needs in my heart as the bikini barista’s are for hers.

The Pursuit of Independence

However, in my experience, the most often pursued Christ-less coping mechanism for the curse is independence. “Men are bad for me. My dad was bad for me. My boyfriend/husband was bad for me. My boss is a louse. I’m embarrassed by the ways I have craved after loser guys in the past, I’m embarrassed by the ways women still crave after and are controlled by loser guys, and now I am going to write men off altogether. I don’t need them.” These women cultivate strength within themselves, but it is in the context of protecting themselves from dependence on men, not in the context of being a strong helper to a man.

Strong Women and the Church

I am thankful for those who first pointed me to satisfaction in God himself. God is our portion, our very great reward. No man can satisfy the longing in a woman’s heart, as no woman can satisfy the man’s. Misplaced desires set us up for failure in every relationship we have. But a woman in Christ abiding in her union with Him is equipped to eschew independence from man and stay engaged, strongly helping the man, not from a position of toilet lapping neediness, but secure in her identity in Christ. Such strong women are very good for the Church.

(Wendy Alsup is a wife and mom who loves math and theology. She is the author ofPractical Theology for Women and By His Wounds You Are Healed. Wendy blogs at:

http://www.theologyforwomen.org.)

At Redeemer we talk a lot about how we are saved by grace, not by our good works or obedience to the law. Indeed, Paul says we are not ‘under law’ but ‘under grace’ (Rom 6:15.) But what does that mean as far as having an obligation to submit to God’s will as written in his Word? Do we still have to obey the law? Absolutely.

To be ‘under the law’ refers not to law obeying but law relying (Gal 3:10-11). When we think we can win God’s approval through our moral performance and obedience becomes a crushing burden, then we are ‘under law.’ But when we learn that Christ has fulfilled the law for us and that now we who believe in him are secure in God’s love, then we naturally want to delight, resemble, and know the One who has done this. How can we do this? By turning to the law! Paul puts it this way. Though he is not under the law, ‘I am not free from God’s law, but I am under Christ’s law” (1 Cor 9:21.) Though he is not ‘under’ the law (as a way to earn salvation) he now is freed to see the beauties of God’s law as fulfilled in Christ, and submits to it as way of loving his Savior. How does this work?

First, we embrace the law of God in order to learn more about who our God really is. Leviticus 19 is a magnificent chapter which both expands on all the Ten Commandments, and also summarizes them into ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’ It shows how God’s law was not a matter only of ritual purity, but was to transform every corner of one’s practical life. In Lev 19:2, however, God introduces the whole law by saying, ‘be holy, for I am holy.’ In other words, if you want to know who I am, what I love and hate, if you want to know my heart and become like me, obey my law.

Second, we embrace the law of God in order to discover our true selves. Deuteronomy says, “What does the Lord require of you but to fear the Lord your God, to walk in all his ways, to love him, to serve the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, and to keep the commandments and statutes of the Lord, which I am commanding you this day for your good?”

Here we see that the law of God is a gift of  grace that is the foundation of human flourishing. It is not “busywork” assigned just to please the arbitrary whims of a capricious deity. The law of God simply shows us what human beings were built to do—to worship God alone, to love their neighbors as themselves, to tell the truth, keep their promises, forgive everything, act with justice. When we move against these laws we move against our own natures and happiness. Disobedience to God sets up strains in the fabric of reality that can only lead to break down.

Third, we understand the law of God as fulfilled in Christ. This means two things. One we already mentioned. Christ completely fulfilled the requirements of the law in our place, so when he took the penalty our sins deserved, we could receive the blessing that his righteousness deserved (2 Cor 5:21.) However, we also recognize that many parts of the Old Testament law no longer relate directly to us as believers. Since Jesus is the ultimate priest, temple, and sacrifice, we observe none of the ceremonial, dietary, and other laws connected to ritual purity. Also, Christians of all nations are now members of the people of God, and God’s community no longer exists as a single nation-state under a theocratic government. Therefore, the ‘civil legislation’ of the Old Testament is no longer appropriate. Adultery in the Old Testament was punishable by a death, but in the New Testament it is dealt with through exhortation and church discipline (1 Cor 6-7.)

“One list we don’t find in the pages of Scripture is what has traditionally been called ‘The Seven Deadly Sins.”  Historically attributed to Pope Gregory at the end of the sixth century, this categorization of the worst of “don’ts” has captured our creative imagination ever since.  From Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury Tales’ and Dante’s ‘Inferno’ to Brad Pitt’s ‘Se7en’, the Seven Deadly Sins—pride, lust, gluttony, greed, envy, sloth, and wrath—have become our culture’s most commonly accepted definitive list of bad behaviors. . . We all carry these Seven Deadly Sins in our hearts 24 hours a day.  They’re always lurking in us.  That’s why I’ve called this study ‘Seven Daily Sins.’  We must be clear about what sin really is and where it comes from if we truly desire to crucify it.”

So goes Wilson’s agenda for this book.  Each daily/deadly sin is addressed in its own chapter.  Each of these vices has a root that goes into and comes from our heart that can only be severed by the gospel.  Wilson’s book is about how that severing takes place.

Seven Daily Sins is a very quick read—only 121 pages long—and depending on how intrigued you are by the material within it you will consider its brevity either a strength or a weakness.  However, when its purpose is clarified its lack of comprehensiveness makes more sense.  This book is written and designed to be more of a study guide for personal use or small group discussions than it is intended to be a theological treatise.  It’s designed to provoke reflection.  It was written to stimulate conversation.  Even the formatting of the book, with plenty of space for notes and room for answers to questions that are posed, is perfect for engagement.  The book is made for interaction—not merely passive consumption.

Home groups would benefit greatly from this resource.  In fact, not only are there questions for small group discussions, but each chapter closes with a section called ‘Through the Week’ that offers suggestions for further reflections: videos to watch, Scripture to memorize, and direction for prayer.  Inside the back cover is also a page that is designed to record the contact information of the others in your study group.

Additionally, if you are interesting in taking a group through this, LifeWay (it’s publisher) sells a Leader’s kit that includes additional resources for the group leader as well as short DVD messages by Jared Wilson to play at the beginning of all seven sessions.

It may be worth taking a 7-8 week break from the normal routine in your small group to tackle Wilson’s great resource provided for the church.  Or you may want to grab a couple friends and plod through it as a kind of one-off study—no long term commitments, just a 7-week season of being renewed in the Gospel.

One of the tag-lines associated with the book gives a greater snapshot of the book than all I have written above—it goes as follows, “Stop managing your sin and start experiencing freedom in Christ.”   Enough said.

“If your faith rested on a decision or commitment that you made, the Christian life would be impossible.  You would be in the same position as the people in the Old Testament who promised to obey all of God’s commandments.  They were utterly sincere in their intent, but completely naive about their ability.  But you can live this Christian life because God’s Spirit is within you.  You have the power and the capacity to do all that God calls you to do.  The Christian life is lived from within.  It is the growth and outworking of a miracle that has happened within your soul by the power of God’s Spirit” (p. 18).

If you are looking for a book to read on your own or one to study with some friends, the comprehensive study guide included in the book enables both deeper personal reflection and rich group discussion.  Enjoy!

Given my limited space, I can only deal with today’s “sad ones,” the “having-given-up-on-it-all” ones. (In the full address of which this article is a condensed version, I also talk a little about the gospel of Christ for today’s “mad ones,” the angry ones.)

For some reasons that I think are fairly specifiable, more people than we would like to think leave “Bible-believing” Christianity. Some are sad about it. Some are mad about it. In our day, there are so many of these people that it is hard not to come into contact with them. Many of these people were broken by the church. I know that sounds harsh. As Christians, it’s upsetting to hear words like that. But for many people, this is how they really see what has taken place in their lives.

By the “sad alumni” of the Christian faith, I mean the hundreds whose acquaintance with the Christian church was often one in which they were helped to move from unbelief (or from rank moralism) into professing faith in Jesus Christ. They heard the preaching of God’s law and then heard the announcement of Christ’s work on their behalf on the cross — Jesus as the God-man who met the Law’s demands for them and died for their sin, died to save them, died to give them eternal life. And they came to believe that the cross of Christ was their salvation.

But something happened after that, something that broke them. And, in many cases, I think what happened is nameable. It has to do with what our first president at Christ College Irvine called “law-gospel-law.” It’s that third point that, if executed badly, results in a lot of the “sad alumni” of Christianity. If Reformation folk execute this badly, the sensitive Christian believer can be driven to a slavery as bad as any slavery done by any totalitarian dictator. If the Ten Commandments were not impossible enough, the preaching of Christian behavior, of Christian ethics, of Christian living, can drive a professing Christian into despairing unbelief. Not happy unbelief — tragic, despairing, sad unbelief.

In the beginning, it seemed that now that we had been justified by the death of Christ, we were equipped to obey verses like “Be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48). Or in 1 John 3:9: “No one born of God makes a practice of sinning.” Or Paul in Philippians 4:13: “I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” And then, the unexpected. Sin continued to be a part of our lives; it stubbornly would not allow us to eliminate it the way we expected. Continuing sin on our part seems to be evidence that we aren’t really believers at all. We start to imagine that we need to be “born again again.”

When the major stress in pulpit and curriculum shifts from “Christ outside of me, dying for me” to “Christ inside of me, improving me,” the upshot is always the same: many broken, sad ex-Christians who despair of being able to live the Christian life as the Bible describes it. So they do what is really a sane thing to do — they leave. The way it looks to them is that “the message of Christianity has broken them on the rack.” To put it bluntly, it feels better to have some earthly happiness as a pagan and then be damned than it feels to be trying every day as a Christian to do something that is one continuous failure — and then be damned anyway.

The key question here is a very basic one: Can the cross and blood of Christ save a Christian (failing as he is in living the Christian life) or not? Most of us would say, I hope, that the shed blood of Christ is sufficient to save a sinner all by itself. So far, so good.

But is the blood of Christ enough — all by itself — to save a still-sinful-Christian? Or isn’t it? Is what Luther said about the Christian being simul justus et peccator biblical or not? Can Christ’s righteousness imputed save a still-sinful Christian? And can it save him all by itself? Or not? I think the way we answer this question determines whether we have anything at all to say to the “sad alumni” of Christianity.

Has the Law done its killing work on these “sad ones?” Boy, has it ever. They need more of the Law like they need a hole in the head. For them, the gospel often got lost in a whole bunch of “Christian-life preaching.” And it “did them in.” So they left. And down deep there is a sadness in such people that defies description.

C.F.W. Walther said that as soon as the Law has done its crushing work, the gospel is to be instantly preached or said to such a man or woman.  What the “sad alumni” need to hear (perhaps for the first time) is that Christian failures are going to walk into heaven, be welcomed into heaven, leap into heaven like a calf leaping out of its stall, laughing and laughing as if it’s all too good to be true. It isn’t just that we failures will get in. It’s that we will get in like that. “You mean it was just Jesus’ death for me, that’s why I’m here?” But, of course. That’s the point isn’t it? As a believer in Jesus you won’t be condemned! No believer in Jesus will be. Not a single one!

The law, at least, assures us that we determine our own destiny.

The law does promise life to me,

If my obedience perfect be. (Ralph Erskine)

This we understand. And we like it. We like it because we maintain control–the outcome of our life remains in our hands. Give me three steps to a happy marriage and I can guarantee myself a happy marriage if I follow the three steps. If we can do certain things, meet certain standards, and become a certain way, we’ll make it. Law seems safe because “it breeds a sense of manageability.” It keeps life formulaic and predictable. It keeps earning-power in our camp.

The logic of law makes sense.

The logic of grace, on the other hand, doesn’t.

Grace is thickly counter-intuitive. It feels risky and unfair. It turns everything that makes sense to us upside-down. Like Job’s friends, we naturally conclude that good people get good stuff and bad people get bad stuff. The idea that bad people get good stuff seems irrational and wrongheaded on every level. It offends our deepest sense of justice and rightness.

Grace is not rational…The gospel of grace throws our glory train off its tracks. Instead of calculating, mastering, and determining, we find ourselves completely helpless, left with no option but to fall into the everlasting arms of the God who could consume us in his wrath but instead embraces us in his Son. (Mike Horton)

So, it doesn’t surprise me at all when I hear people react to grace with suspicion and doubt. It doesn’t surprise me that when people talk about grace, I hear lots of “buts and brakes”, conditions and qualifications. That’s just the flesh fighting for its life, after all. As Walter Marshall says in his book The Gospel Mystery of Sanctification, “By nature, you are completely addicted to a legal method of salvation. Even after you become a Christian by believing the Gospel, your heart is still addicted to salvation by works…You find it hard to believe that you should get any blessing before you work for it.”

Because we are natural born do-it-yourselfers–God-wannabes–(and have been since Genesis 3), the vitriol reaction to unconditional grace is understandable. Grace generates panic because it wrestles both control and glory out of our hands. This means that the part of you that gets angry and upset and mean and defensive and slanderous and critical and skeptical and feisty when you hear about grace is the very part of you that needs to be reckoned dead. That’s where mortification begins–it begins with that part of us that hates grace.

But while I’m not surprised when I hear venomous rejoinders to grace (the flesh is always resistant to “It is finished”), I am saddened when the very pack of people that God has unconditionally saved and continues to sustain by his free grace are the very ones who push back most violently against it. Some professing Christians sound like ungrateful children who can’t stop biting the very hand that feeds them. It amazes me that you will hear great concern from inside the church about “too much grace” but rarely will you ever hear great concern from inside the church about “too many rules.” Why? Because we are by nature glory-hoarding, self-centered control freaks. That’s why.

It’s high time for the church to honor God by embracing sola gratia anew–the “high-octane grace that takes our conscience by the scruff of the neck and breathes new life into us with a pardon so scandalous that we cannot help but be changed…For many of us the time has come to abandon once and for all our play-it-safe, toe-dabbling Christianity and dive in” (Dane Ortlund). It is time, as Robert Farrar Capon put it, to get drunk on grace. Two hundred-proof, defiant grace.

It’s scandalous and scary, unnatural and undomesticated…but it’s the only thing that can set us free and light the church on fire.

2. Justification reversed with sanctification.

a. Only a fraction of the present body of professing Christians are solidly appropriating the justifying work of Christ in their lives. Many have so light an apprehension of God’s holiness and of the extent and guilt of their sin that consciously they see little need for justification, although below the surface of their lives they are deeply guilt-ridden and insecure. Many others have a theoretical commitment to this doctrine, but in their day-to- day existence they rely on their sanctification for their justification… drawing their assurance of acceptance with God from their sincerity, their past experience of conversion, their recent religious performance or the relative infrequency of their conscious, willful disobedience. Few know enough to start each day with a thoroughgoing stand upon Luther’s platform: you are accepted, looking outward in faith and claiming the wholly alien righteousness of Christ as the only ground for acceptance, relaxing in that quality of trust which will produce increasing sanctification as faith is active in love and gratitude…

b. A conscience which is not fully enlightened both to the seriousness of its condition before God, and to the grandeur of God’s merciful provision of redemption, will inevitably fall prey to anxiety, pride, sensuality and all the other expressions of that unconscious despair which Kierkegaard called “the sickness unto death.” [So] we start each day with our personal security resting not on…the sacrifice of Christ but on our present feelings or recent achievements… Since these arguments will not quiet the human conscience, we are inevitably moved either to discouragement and apathy or to a self-righteousness which falsifies the record to achieve a sense of peace.

3. Justification as the basis for all sanctification.

a. Much that we have interpreted as a defect of sanctification in church people is really an outgrowth of their loss of bearing with respect to justification. Christians who are no longer sure that God loves and accepts them in Jesus, apart from their present spiritual achievements, are subconsciously radically insecure persons — much less secure than non-Christians, because of the constant bulletins they receive from their Christian environment about the holiness of God and the righteousness they are supposed to have. Their insecurity shows itself in pride, a fierce, defensive assertion of their own righteousness and defensive criticism of others. They come naturally to hate other cultural styles and other races in order to bolster their own security and discharge their suppressed anger. They cling desperately to legal, pharisaical righteousness, but envy, jealousy and other branches on the tree of sin grow out of their fundamental insecurity…

b. It is often said today, in circles which blend popular psychology with Christianity, that we must love ourselves before we can be set free to love others… But no realistic human beings find it easy to love or forgive themselves, and hence their self-acceptance must be grounded in their awareness that God accepts them in Christ… [There is much evidence in our experience against the idea that we are children of God, but] the faith that surmounts the evidence and is able to warm itself at the fire of God’s love, instead of having to steal love and self-acceptance from other sources, is actually the root of holiness…

c. Presented in this context, even the demand for sanctification becomes part of the good news. It offers understanding of the bondage that has distorted our lives and the promise of release into a life of Spirit-empowered freedom and beauty. Ministries that attack only the surface of sin and fail to ground spiritual growth in the believer’s union with Christ produce either self-righteousness or despair…

At some level, every relationship is assaulted by an aroma of judgment–this sense that we will never measure up to the expectations and demands of another. Critical environments are contexts which (while never explicitly stated) shout: “my approval of you, love for you, and joy in you depends on your ability to measure up to my standards, to become what I need you to become in order for me to be happy.” It’s a context in which achievement precedes acceptance. We’ve all felt this. We’ve felt it at school, in churches, in the workplace, with our friends, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, and most painfully, at home with our spouses, our children, our siblings, and our parents. This is why any relationship where criticism is constant, where you always feel like you’re being evaluated and falling short, is an unhappy relationship.

In his book Who Will Deliver Us? Paul Zahl writes:  “I wonder if any of us are strong enough to withstand the perceived judgments upon our lives, which touch the fears within. Have you ever tried to win the favor of a person who actively dislikes you? To get him to like you, you may have changed your style of dress. You may have altered your schedule. You may have stopped something you’ve been doing or started something new. You may have carried out their wishes to the last detail. You may tried once, then again, then a thousand times. But you have not won from this person the affirmation you so deeply desire. Judgment steamrolls over most of us.”

Can you relate to that? I can.

The deepest fear we have, “the fear beneath all fears”, is the fear of not measuring up, the fear of judgment. It’s this fear that creates the stress and depression of everyday life. And it comes from the fact that down deep we all know we don’t measure up and are therefore deserving of judgment. We’re aware that we fail, that our best is never good enough, that “we’ve been weighed in the balances and been found wanting.”

The judgment of others is a surface echo of a judgment that goes deeper. So if we’re living in an environment or we are in a relationship that feeds this fear of judgment with constant judging, we deflate and detach because it becomes discouragingly exhausting trying to satisfy the demands and appease the judgment of the other. We become depleted of the hope that we can ever attain the affirmation that seems so necessary for us to live and breathe and so the relationship flounders.

The fact is, that relational demand always creates relational resistance. Control produces relational chaos, demand produces relational detachment, criticism produces relational commotion.

Most preachers and parents, spouses and siblings, fall prey to the false idea that real change happens when we lay down the law, exercise control, demand good performance, and offer constant constructive criticism. When we do this, we are failing to acknowledge the obvious: “Judgment kills. Only grace makes alive.” We wonder why our spouse, or our children, or our friends, or our colleagues, or our congregants become relationally and emotionally detached from us. It’s because we are feeding their deep fear of judgment by playing the judge, by being the voice of law.

When we feel this weight of judgment against us, we all tend to slip into the slavery of self-salvation: trying to appease the judge (friends, parents, spouse, ourselves) with hard work, good behavior, getting better, achievement, losing weight, and so on. We conclude, “If I can just stay out of trouble and get good grades, maybe my mom and dad will finally approve of me; If I can overcome this addiction, then I’ll be able to accept myself; If I can get thin, maybe my husband will finally think I’m beautiful and pay attention to me; If I can help out more with the kids, maybe my wife won’t criticize me as much; If I can make a name for myself and be successful, maybe I’ll get the respect I long for.” But, as is always the case, self-salvation projects experientially eclipse the only salvation project that can set us free from this oppression. “If we were confident of ultimate acquittal”, says Zahl, “judgment from others would not possess the sting it does.”

The Gospel announces that Jesus came to acquit the guilty. He came to judge and be judged in our place. Christ came to satisfy the deep judgment against us once and for all so that we could be free from the judgement of God, others, and ourselves. He came to give rest to our efforts at trying to deal with judgment on our own. Colossians 2:13-14 announces, “And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross.”

The Gospel declares that our guilt has been atoned for, the law has been fulfilled. So we don’t need to live under the burden of trying to appease the judgment we feel. In Christ the ultimate demand has been met, the deepest judgment has been satisfied. The atonement of Christ frees us from the fear of judgment.

This story told by my friend and former professor, Steve Brown, illustrates well the radical discrepancy between the ways in which we hold other people hostage in their sin and the unconditional forgiveness that God offers to us in Christ.

Do you remember the story about the little boy who killed his grandmother’s pet duck? He accidentally hit the duck with a rock from his slingshot. The boy didn’t think anybody saw the foul deed, so he buried the duck in the backyard and didn’t tell a soul.

Later, the boy found out that his sister had seen it all. Not only that, she now had the leverage of his secret and used it. Whenever it was the sister’s turn to wash the dishes, take out the garbage or wash the car, she would whisper in his ear, “Remember the duck.” And then the little boy would do what his sister should have done.

There is always a limit to that sort of thing. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore-he’d had it! The boy went to his grandmother and, with great fear, confessed what he had done. To his surprise, she hugged him and thanked him. She said, “I was standing at the kitchen sink and saw the whole thing. I forgave you then. I was just wondering when you were going to get tired of your sister’s blackmail and come to me.”

Jesus took on himself all the judgment we deserve from God so that we could be free from the paralyzing sting of judgment we draw from others.

Not too long ago, I heard from someone about how difficult Christmas would be because of some heartbreak in their family. There was utter hopelessness and devastation. Christmas would be impossible to enjoy because of the freshness of this pain. It’s been a story very hard to forget.

I get it. I mean, it makes sense on the level of Christmas being a time in which there is a lot of heavily concentrated family time. The holidays can be tense in even the best of circumstances. Maneuvering through the landmines of various personalities can be hard even if there is no cancer, divorce or empty seat at the table. What makes it the most wonderful time of the year is also what makes it the most brutal time of the year. My own family has not been immune to this phenomenon.

But allow me to push back against this idea a little. Gently. I think we have it all backwards. We have it sunk deep into our collective cultural consciousness that Christmas is for the happy people. You know, those with idyllic family situations enjoyed around stocking-strewn hearth dreams. Christmas is for healthy people who laugh easily and at all the right times, right? The successful and the beautiful, who live in suburban bliss, can easily enjoy the holidays. They have not gotten lost on the way because of the GPS they got last year. They are beaming after watching a Christmas classic curled up on the couch as a family in front of their ginormous flat-screen. We live and act as if this is who should be enjoying Christmas.

But this is backwards. Christmas—the great story of the incarnation of the Rescuer—is for everyone, especially those who need a rescue. Jesus was born as a baby to know the pain and sympathize with our weaknesses. Jesus was made to be like us so that in his resurrection we can be made like him; free from the fear of death and the pain of loss. Jesus’ first recorded worshipers were not of the beautiful class. They were poor, ugly shepherds, beat down by life and labor. They had been looked down on over many a nose.

Jesus came for those who look in the mirror and see ugliness. Jesus came for daughters whose fathers never told them they were beautiful. Christmas is for those who go to “wing night” alone. Christmas is for those whose lives have been wrecked by cancer, and the thought of another Christmas seems like an impossible dream. Christmas is for those who would be nothing but lonely if not for social media. Christmas is for those whose marriages have careened against the retaining wall and are threatening to flip over the edge. Christmas is for the son whose father keeps giving him hunting gear when he wants art materials. Christmas is for smokers who cannot quit even in the face of a death sentence. Christmas is for prostitutes, adulterers, and porn stars who long for love in every wrong place. Christmas is for college students who are sitting in the midst of the family and already cannot wait to get out for another drink. Christmas is for those who traffic in failed dreams. Christmas is for those who have squandered the family name and fortune—they want “home” but cannot imagine a gracious reception. Christmas is for parents watching their children’s marriage fall into disarray.

Christmas is really about the gospel of grace for sinners. Because of all that Christ has done on the cross, the manger becomes the most hopeful place in a universe darkened with hopelessness. In the irony of all ironies, Christmas is for those who will find it the hardest to enjoy. It really is for those who hate it most.

Matt B. Redmond is associate pastor for Branch Life Church in Birmingham, Alabama. A graduate of Covenant Theological Seminary, he blogs at Scribo Facio Noto.