When Myrrh Is The Only Gift You Can Bring

Christmas feels heavier than it used to. There was a time, not terribly long ago, when holiday mainstays filled my heart in such a way it felt like I could float to the heavens. Then, everyone started dying. Experiencing grief during this time just changed the shape of Christmas and made me sad to my bones. I struggled for a long time with being able to reconcile the natural affects of loss in a fallen world with the faith I am rooted to, knowing that one day everything sad will be untrue. It made things like Christmas carols particularly unbearable.

Have you ever listened to all of “We Three Kings?” A couple of years ago, when grief was still a fresh wound, I found it to be one of the only Christmas carols I could tolerate. Many of the others with their spirited tunes reminded me too much of Christmases as a child, when my grandma was alive and life was just weightless on our shoulders. But one day when We Three Kings came on, instead of skipping to the next song I let it play.

It’s a truly haunting journey as the three kings bring gifts to the newborn King of Kings. Gold was the gift meant to signify that Jesus was royalty. Born in a stable, raised by a carpenter, but acknowledged as a king from birth. An air of respect and regency lingered in the midst of this baby's humble beginnings. Frankincense held within it praise for a deity. In the temple, priests would offer up the sweet scent of frankincense as prayers and praises for the God of Abraham. This offering to the newborn told the world that He was the Word made flesh.

Then we come to myrrh.

The last king.

The last gift for the baby.

Myrrh.

It’s oil. One that could be used for anointing…but this was oil most widely known for its use in burial practices. Think about that for a minute. How depressing is it to bring embalming materials to a baby shower?

I think about that king a lot. Were the other kings like “Woah, my friend…is everything okay at home?” Or did they see what he saw? Did they feel a pull in their hearts that death is what would ultimately bring life?

If you haven’t listened to the song, you should give it spin. The last two verses say,

Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume
breathes a life of gathering gloom;
sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying,
sealed in the stone-cold tomb.

Glorious now behold him arise;
King and God and sacrifice:
Alleluia, Alleluia,
sounds through the earth and skies.

When grief became unbearable I wondered what was wrong with me. People around me would talk about how they just chose to be joyful, Christmas was making them feel better not worse, Baby Jesus’s arrival gave them joy…it all made me want to scream. Why couldn’t I feel that? Why couldn’t I bring the gold for a King? Or the frankincense for God?

But someone had to bring the myrrh. Someone had to acknowledge the pain and ugly side of death because that was THE gift. Unto us a Son was born because sin and death entered the world, and His death, burial, and resurrection was the only way to conquer it. If your Christmas is a bitter perfume, you aren't alone. Even at the "first Christmas," the Heavens rejoiced to a world in pain and turmoil. The Jews were living under the oppression of Roman rule. Tensions were high. The Messiah was expected and hoped for, but at the same time God had not raised a prophet in 400 years. If you and I were alive at that time, there would be no family stories passed down from our father's father's father's father about the miraculous works of God. There would be people eagerly awaiting, but also those in a season of heartbreak.

He came for those rejoicing. He came for those who had lost hope. He came for the grieving.

But thank God He came. The entire nativity scene, as we know it, is not the absence of sorrow. It is a proclamation to the entire world that death and sorrow do exist. Their ramifications are impossible to overcome on our own. That's why the Word became flesh in the form of a tiny Baby lying in the manger. If we're in a season to bring myrrh, let us bring the myrrh to acknowledge the sacrifice that ultimately conquered the grave for all. Because of this, one day there will be no more gathering gloom and no need for myrrh.