The beginning, the middle, and the end at Christmas

Human life has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But it’s the humans in the middle that run things. At the beginning and the end, we are entirely dependent on those in the middle. Children, whether in or out of the womb, are simply bundles of need. So are those who are nearing the end of their earthly course.

Both the beginning of life and the end of it are times of profound mystery, awe, and fear. And we are fantastically and tragically double-minded about it all.

Consider some examples. When it comes to suicide, we have suicide prevention notices on bridges and suicide promotion (packaged as medically assisted death) notices on British trains. (Some commenters on X noted that the suicide promotion notices in London looked like advertisements for a cruise vacation—all expenses paid.)

Why the discrepancy? Because jumping from a bridge forces the issue of death into our consciousness, and assisted suicide in a pod somewhere does not. Best to keep the nasty business in the dark.

The same is true of our treatment of pregnancy. A woman who takes heroin while pregnant can be prosecuted for endangering her child. But a woman who takes drugs prescribed by her doctor to kill her unborn baby is simply exercising her “reproductive freedom.” In fact, the possibility of a disabled child is frequently used as a rationalization for abortion—best not to bring more suffering into this world, a logic often expanded to include other forms of hardship, whether economic or familial.

The common thread is visibility and removing the burden on those in the middle. Fetal alcohol syndrome makes us uncomfortable. So does a dead body floating in a river or watching a man jump in front of a train. But an unborn child suffocated in utero and extracted piece by piece with forceps is no concern to many people. Just a medical procedure, out of sight and out of mind. Likewise with Canada’s medical assistance in dying. Yes, Grandma will die, but we don’t have to watch.

In other words, these technologies are not simply about the relief of suffering at the beginning and end of life. They are fundamentally about relieving the psychological distress of those in the middle. They are technologies of unremembering, allowing us to forget that we live in a world of sin, brokenness, suffering, and death.

At Christmas, it’s good to remember such things. At Christmas, we celebrate the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end entering into the middle of history for us and our salvation. At Christmas, we celebrate the most surprising pregnancy in history, one that eventually led to a Roman cross and an empty tomb and deliverance from the fear of death.

Christmas (and Easter) transform our view of death. As Paul says, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). In fact, Paul’s words to the Philippians encourage us to think differently about the end (and the beginning) in light of God’s purposes for both. Paul says that he desires to depart and be with Christ. He welcomed the end. But it was necessary for others that he remain. He had fruitful labor here. And God’s purposes for Paul won the day.

The same is true of the unborn and newly born, of the aged and infirm and suffering. They, too, have fruitful labor here.

Those at the beginning have much to teach us. The Lord said, “Become like children.” The psalmist tells us that he learned to trust God at his mother’s breast, and learned of God’s all-encompassing omnipresence when he was being knit in his mother’s womb.

Likewise, those at the end, from their hospital beds, remind us of God’s promise: “Even to your old age I am he, and to gray hairs I will carry you. I have made, and I will bear; I will carry and will save” (Isaiah 46:4). They remind us that death is the last enemy, that its coming is as sure as taxes, and that it has been conquered and swallowed up in victory.

Those at the beginning and the end tell those of us in the middle: This was you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy. This is you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy. This will be you: weak, frail, dependent, and needy. You are a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow. And your life is not your own. It is a gift.

“For unto us a child is born.”

Merry Christmas.