Jesus Is Familiar
Written by DeDe Southwick
The Christmas season is full of familiarity – the smells, the sounds, and the twinkling festive lights; so much to fill our memories. All these can take us right back to our childhood when we were eight years old, sitting on the floor on Christmas morning next to the bright lit tree. With anticipation, we eagerly await the opening of presents. But for some it is not any of these, the familiarity of the season.
Familiarity. It can be comforting with a sense of security. I am reminded of a tremendous moment I experienced many years ago while working as a caregiver at an assisted living home. Most of the folks were self-sufficient, enjoying the social aspect of the facility, while others struggled with high moments of joy only to be overrun with the anger and fear found in Alzheimer’s.
One day above the piped in caroling in the halls, I was informed on my walkie talkie that “Preacher” (whom I lovingly nicknamed) was wandering on the second floor. I went and found him. The look on his face was disoriented, wrapped in a heavy blanket of sorrow. His aged demeanor in the previous days was that of dignity, maturity, and strength – but not today.
We had shared many conversations in the past. He was a former pastor, often tenderly speaking sermons as we shuffled to the dining hall; however, today there was no sermon. Alzheimer’s had again reached out and pulled him in.
Finding him in the hall near his apartment, standing under the Christmas wreath with the bright red bow, I suggested we go in and sit down for a little while. Taking the key he held in his hand, I opened the door and led the way. Preacher took a seat on his sofa, his eyes wandering about the room, as if looking for something, ANYTHING that defined that this place was his, his home which defined him.
Looking over at the little plastic tree on his side table with matching ceramic snowmen sporting a few aged chips, he then looked over at me. His eyes filled with longing. He told me that his house, just across the river, was a nice little place. Confusion taking over his continence, he said, “But this morning when I woke up, I was here. This is not my little house.” Leaning forward, looking deep into my eyes with bewilderment and agitation, he whispered, “What should I do?”
My eyes returned the intensity of his. Pausing, taking a deep breath, I asked him, “Would you mind if we prayed? Let’s ask Jesus.” It was THEN, there it was, and there HE was. Something sparked familiarity. He may not have recognized me, or the place, or the time, or Christmas spread throughout the facility, but Jesus he knew! His eyes began to well up. I reached for his hand; he in turn enveloped mine in his. And I prayed. I prayed for peace, for clarity of mind, and for God’s all-consuming calmness to come on him. As my words quieted, with confidence and strength that exceeds any I have known, he prayed. When the final “amen” was said, he grasped my hands a little tighter and generously thanked me.
It wasn’t the caroling that caught Preacher’s attention or the stuffed Santa that stood waving at the entrance that captured him. It was Jesus. “The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, Who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)
As the Psalmist writes in Psalm 71, “In You, O LORD, I have taken refuge… Be my rock of refuge, to which I can go … for You have been my hope, O Sovereign LORD, my confidence since my youth…” (vv 1,3,5). Preacher conditioned himself over the years to know his God. He knew who He is and where He belongs. Jesus is familiar. Divine familiarity prompts beyond the smells, beyond the “White Christmas” on the television set, beyond the candles set in the middle of the table.
There WILL be times when life gets unfamiliar, even fearful, when we too may wander the halls of this world. Seasons will come and seasons will go. We will hang the tattered wreath and stand the chipped snowmen. However, may we all be like Preacher and train to know our God; to know Him beyond the smells, the sounds, and the decorative lights. When His name is spoken, His word recited, and heavenly conversation suggested, something sparks in us.
Jesus is familiar.
