A couple of weeks ago, I witnessed the last hours of a man's life. I didn't even know him, but it's the first Christmas his family will spend without him. It was a glaring reminder to me of the fact that Christmas can encapsulate just as much loss and pain as it can joy and good will. And in a way, Christmas is the physical beginning of a story filled with loss and pain. Christmas brought about the birth of the journey to the cross.

As I sit, in my comfortable home, with the pretty Christmas decorations and the good smelling food, I think about where my heart is at. Yesterday, I helped pack shoe boxes with Samaritans Purse, and I stood in one of the examples of the homes that Samaritans Purse is building in Haiti. Surrounded by the thin tarp walls, under the tin roof in a space smaller than my room, I was transported back in my mind to a place where faces stood raised the the heavens, praising God amidst loss. For just a moment, I was thrown back into a place where loss stalks about in big ways.

Philippians 3:7-8 says, "But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ." This Christmas, after 11 months of crisis and hardship and loss beyond belief, I know the hearts that will truly be saying these words.

And now I think of myself, and the things I wrestle God for; the things he is calling me to lose for his sake. Though my selfish drive to satisfy the desires of the flesh will never satisfy my craving for my Jesus, sometimes it's hard to unclench my fists from the things I am afraid to lose. And so, looking to the heavens, I wonder... am I allowed to grieve my losses? Jesus, is it okay that I am afraid?

I will sacrifice everything for you.