Dec 22, 20244 min read

Herschberger Holiday Letter 2024

Dear friends,

How are you feeling these days? If you are like me, you are affected – at least a little – by the political environment we are in. The onslaught of political ads this Autumn was relentless. They all seemed to promise one thing, that the world would end if the other guys won. Fact is, a few bullets did fly during the campaign and the prospects for immigrants in my neighborhood sure feel perilous, so if you have a pulse, the political hyperbole can put you on edge. Apparently, Jesus disciples had similar angst. Even in the book of Acts, they were still asking, “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?” We all want a strong Savior! We NEED a strong Savior. We feel vulnerable.

Vulnerability is a bit of a theme for us this year.

What makes you feel more vulnerable than giving your teenage son your car keys? Could it really be that our youngest could drive across the country? In June, we did just that. Liam and I drove to Colorado and biked down some Rockies. He loved it. My prayer life rapidly improved as I tried to keep from face planting. Also in June, Liam along with Eve and Javier (my running partners) graduated from high school. Choking down the tears as I tried to give some remarks at their graduation was a moment I will never forget. These three are some truly incredible young people and launching them out into the world had me feeling more than just a little vulnerable.

Logan ambled back to college in Ohio like it was no big deal. The calls come less frequently now, and they are less about needing some sort of assistance and more about, “Hey, did you see what so and so did in college football?” There is a certain vulnerability — and satisfaction — in not being needed on a daily basis any more.

My work at Cypress Hills (www.cypresshills.org) continues to go well. We wrapped up an eight year project of organizing local merchants into their own nonprofit association. We expanded job training programs and weathered some difficult staff transitions. I do sense some chilly winds of change. Our founder and my mentor is retiring after 42 years, and I am pretty sure I don’t want to stay for 40 years. The thought of me leaving seems pretty far fetched, but I have been praying with a small group about what my next 20 years should look like.

The anniversary of Linda’s brother’s passing was another moment that gave us pause. Once again we were blessed by many of his colleagues and friends who joined us to remember and celebrate his life. As the legal process unfolds now, we are reminded of how little we can control in this world and how much our very lives are in the hands of others. This year we also said good-bye to his beautiful home. Letting go with grace seems to be the lesson we are learning.

Linda continues to “abound in the work of the Lord” (I Cor. 15:58). In addition to the community garden, she began serving as a home health aide to elderly clients. As usual, it has become more than a job as she invests in their lives as people. One was delighted to see her show up off hours at the in-patient facility. I am thinking, “That’s Linda.” When someone is at a vulnerable time in their lives, Linda is there.

This theme of vulnerability really came home to me as I prepared to speak at a local youth retreat.The topic was experiencing the love of God, and the request sent me on quite a quest. Why is it that I and so many people I know struggle to experience the love of God? It occured to me that it has something to do with why I was scared to ask Linda to date me. It is the same reason I was scared to ask her to marry me. To love, to really love, is to be vulnerable. To ask for love is one of the most frightening steps a man can take. This quote makes sense to me. “We can choose to be perfect and admired or to be real and loved. We must decide.” (G.D. Melton). When I focus on competence and avoid authentic vulnerability, I miss out on real love. I started seeing this everywhere in the Bible from the raw honesty in the Psalms, to the sketchy cries of Job, the wrestling of Jacob in the night, and the Publican that beat his chest. People who found God were quite honest about their weakness and unpolished in their cries. This raw clarity about our need for blessing is a brave and beautiful thing, a picture of true vulnerability.

Asking for a king that will fight is much easier. Jesus is a king but he didn’t come that way. He came in vulnerability as a baby – just lying there in swaddling clothes. He didn’t halt inflation, he didn’t kick Putin out of Ukraine, or decimate Hamas. He wasn’t the sort of strong man everyone wanted then or the sort of person everyone wants now.

And if you listen closely to a conversation in the night, you will hear Jesus inviting Nicodemus into the manger. “You must be a baby too. You must be a fetus actually and be born.” Nicodemus, of course, was incredulous as all of us would be. You want me to join the Savior in the manger?!? Is that really the path to the salvation we all need? What kind of hilarious pageant that would be?

Strange indeed, yet that is His invitation. He invites us to come in the weakness and vulnerability of a child, a baby. Come like He came. The idea is so strange and counterintuitive to us, and yet it is good. The vulnerable place is a good place. “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you!” (Isaiah 49:15). This is the Gospel. This is good tidings of great joy.

So exhale, turn off the news, and settle into those swaddling clothes. You are in the arms of a good Savior

Lowell (for Linda, Liam, and Logan)