It was a sad weekend in our neck of the woods. First, we got news that one of our parishioners, who was recently diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia, will need a second (and more aggressive) round of chemotherapy to reach remission before her care team will do any bone marrow treatments. We feel horrible on her behalf, but we are not without hope.

Second, a parishioner from a previous church had her ashes spread on Saturday. Her husband and sons are in deep grief for this wife and mother who died all too young. “For dust you are, and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19). She knew Christ as her Lord and Savior, so here again, we are not without hope.

Finally, we got news yesterday that my sister-in-law had to put her dog Buddy down. We would dog sit him whenever she and her husband went on vacation. Rescued out of a horrible situation nine years ago, Buddy was the kindest, most chill creature we’ve ever known. Yet even here we are not without hope. Apparently, all dogs go to heaven. (Except for Puffy, the demon-possessed Pomeranian.)

All this came on the heels of a hellish news week, one featuring terrorism and death around the world and here at home. Again. (And some of it was done in the name of the twisting of one of the world’s major religions.) Who cannot sympathize with the ancient lament, “How long, O Lord?”

But through all the hard times of life, God cares for his people. That’s why he came to us on that first Christmas. God in Christ didn’t avoid the miseries of this world. Rather, he entered into those miseries, experienced them firsthand, and then swallowed them up. He’s coming again someday to make all things new. In the meantime, we can count on his lavishing love to carry us through the hard times.

Bethany told me a while back that she won’t be able to attend a Christmas Eve service when I’m gone. I said to my precious little girl, “You need to be brave and go light those candles like you always do. The light they hold represents all that gives us hope beyond the grave.”

Mild he lays his glory by,
Born that man no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth.

Christmas Eve—and all that it represents—is everything. Everything.

Have a good cry if you need to when life is hard. “Blessed are those who mourn,” said Jesus. He should know. Christ had tears streaming down his own cheeks on more than one occasion, too. He was “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” So you’re in good company if you “lose it” once in a while. It’s o.k. to not be o.k. for a season. After all, it’s only a season. “Joy comes in the morning.”

So, dare to cling to hope. And let Hope himself cling to you. The Christmas manger leads to an empty tomb. It’s still a Christ-kissed earth that we live on, so we are never without hope.