Dining with the Difficult

“Sometimes the best we can do is to remind each other that we’re related for better or for worse…and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum.” -Rick Riordan, The Sea of Monsters

It’s not always so joyful, this Christmas business. While plenty of us, myself included, relish the time of celebration and family, for others “family” is a painful concept. So painful, in fact, that for days leading up to December 25 they literally dread the annual family connection which the season requires.

There are lots of reasons for their dread. Some have divorced parents, both of whom want to have them over for dinner, and if they’re married, they have in-laws to say yes or no to as well. Tugged on all sides, they know someone’s going to be hurt whatever they choose, and they loathe being in that position.

Others have dark family histories, where serious damage was inflicted by one member onto another but never acknowledged, much less apologized for. Memories of abuse, cruelty, or humiliation hang over the dining room when they sit down together, and the strained conversation and pretense can be a misery.

Some wives have just learned of their husband’s infidelity, and now have to go through the motions of Christmas celebration aching on the inside and “Merry Christmasing” on the outside. The position they’re in is a terrible one.

Still others have the resident family jerk to deal with – the loud mouth, the heavy drinker, the narcissist, the interferer, the phony intellectual, the sullen, or the downright rude. Dinner with them means dining with the difficult, an unpleasant task and a reminder of why they don’t seek these folks out during the rest of
the year.

In that sense Christmas can be like a funeral, in that it accentuates what’s good or bad in families, and sometimes the bad is pretty bad indeed.. On top of it all is the guilt a believer often feels just because she or he isn’t thrilled to be with the family, the “If I were a better Christian this wouldn’t bother me” sort of guilt.

What to Do?

If you’re going to be dining with the difficult, then God bless you, that’s not easy. But you’re in a position to identify very deeply with the One you’re celebrating this season, and there really is strength in that.

I remember one Christmas many years ago, at which one of the invited guests (thankfully not a family member!) was over-inbibing, over-talking, over-everything. Rude and noisy, his presence was an insult to the event. By the time we were midway through dinner I’d had enough, when I suddenly remembered that the Lord we were celebrating was born in a manger, in the presence of animals like horses, goats, or donkeys. So I prayed silently, “Lord Jesus, You spent Your first Christmas in the company of an ass. Show me how to do the same!”

That didn’t change the ass, but it sure changed me. I felt closer to the Lord, my conversation flowed more easily as the tension in me lifted, and I wound up actually being grateful for a chance to give Him something meaningful that night: my obedience, shown by patiently loving the unlovely, in the middle of a
difficult situation.

(And I couldn’t help but remember the number of times people have had to pray something similar when they were with me and I was the ass. Amazing grace is needed all around.)

I really hope none of this is relevant to you. I hope you’re anticipating the Big Day with joy, and that the idea of a family gathering is something pleasant and meaningful to you.

But I know very well that for some people, the gathering will be more of a test than a blessing. If that’s the case, now’s the time to ask Him for His attitude towards the difficult people in your life, and for His love to overshadow any discomfort you have. Surely God doesn’t call us to repent of having less than wonderful feelings for people who’ve hurt us, or whose behavior is still hurtful. But it’s what we do with those feelings – either give in to them or by God’s grace rise above them – which constitutes how successful we’ll be at pleasing Him on the day we say
we honor Him.