When the Holidays Were a Letdown: An Unexpected Lesson from Daniel

Of all the things that the book of Daniel can teach us—how to be faithful to God amidst all the pressures of living in a pluralistic society, how to pray, how to act with humility, integrity, and resolve, and how to navigate our anxiety and suffering—perhaps one of the most overlooked and underappreciated lessons Daniel has for us is how to deal with anticlimax. By “anticlimax,” I mean those moments in life where we experience a letdown instead of fulfillment, or those moments where happiness and grief well up simultaneously but grief seems to overpower joy.

For many of us, the holidays are anticlimactic moments. With all the joy of seeing and reconnecting with family, there’s also the anticlimax of family tension and arguments, or the joy of the holiday is dampened because the seat that was occupied by a loved one is now empty. When life presents us with these anticlimactic moments—whether triggered by the holidays, by getting that promotion at work that comes with a lot more responsibility and criticism than expected, or having unexpected complications from having a child—how do we move forward? What do we do?

The biblical book of Daniel, chapter 12 has probably never been our answer!  Yet, while it is not immediately apparent, Daniel 12 can be a great help, particularly in asking two questions: “How long?” in verse 6, which speaks to our present struggle, and “What shall be the outcome?” in verse 8, which speaks to our future hope.

At that time shall arise Michael, the great prince who has charge of your people. And there shall be a time of trouble, such as never has been since there was a nation till that time. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone whose name shall be found written in the book. And many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever. But you, Daniel, shut up the words and seal the book, until the time of the end. Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall increase.

Then I, Daniel, looked, and behold, two others stood, one on this bank of the stream and one on that bank of the stream. And someone said to the man clothed in linen, who was above the waters of the stream, “How long shall it be till the end of these wonders?” And I heard the man clothed in linen, who was above the waters of the stream; he raised his right hand and his left hand toward heaven and swore by him who lives forever that it would be for a time, times, and half a time, and that when the shattering of the power of the holy people comes to an end all these things would be finished. I heard, but I did not understand. Then I said, “O my lord, what shall be the outcome of these things?” He said, “Go your way, Daniel, for the words are shut up and sealed until the time of the end. Many shall purify themselves and make themselves white and be refined, but the wicked shall act wickedly. And none of the wicked shall understand, but those who are wise shall understand. And from the time that the regular burnt offering is taken away and the abomination that makes desolate is set up, there shall be 1,290 days. Blessed is he who waits and arrives at the 1,335 days. But go your way till the end. And you shall rest and shall stand in your allotted place at the end of the days.” (Daniel 12:1–13)

Start with the context, not just that of Daniel 12 but also of the broader historical situation of God’s people. This passage begins midstream in a broader vision that Daniel receives from God. Daniel 10–12 is one long, final episode in the book, and in this last vision, Daniel gets a glimpse into the future. What makes this vision especially difficult to interpret and understand is that Daniel simultaneously sees two different points on the timeline of history—one in the intermediate future (a few centuries away) and one in the ultimate future (the end of the timeline)—and the events taking place at these two points are mixed in together in this vision. All these events come at Daniel at the same time, making it difficult to parse out what is to happen when. If that sounds confusing, it’s because it is! If we look at verse 8, even Daniel—the wisest man across two world empires—says, “I heard, but I did not understand.” So, we are in good company here!

What we can understand, though, is the occasion for this vision and why Daniel had it to begin with. Daniel 10, at the start of this vision, provides a timestamp: “In the third year of Cyrus, king of Persia…” Cyrus was a significant person for the Jewish nation because 200 years before the people of Israel were sent into exile by the Babylonians, the prophet Isaiah predicted that when the people of Israel did go into exile, a king named Cyrus would come and be the one who would allow them to go back home. This is exactly what happened. The Babylonians conquered Jerusalem and sent the Jewish people into exile, scattering them all other the world at the time. When the Medes and Persians conquered Babylon in 539 BC, the king Cyrus issued a decree that allowed some conquered peoples, including the Jews, to return to their homelands. Although Cyrus did this as a foreign policy strategy to earn good will and consolidate his power, he nevertheless unknowingly fulfilled biblical prophecy by allowing the Jewish people to return to their promised land. And in the prophetic literature, the return from exile was always connected to the restoration of Israel and the consummation of all things. In other words, in the Jewish imagination, coming back to the promised land meant for them that Israel would rise to the top, that God would establish the kingdom of Israel forever, that all of their enemies would be judged and destroyed, and that everything would be made right.

So, we read about Cyrus, but we also read, “In the third year.” In other words, anticlimax. On one level, it was anticlimactic because although the Jewish people were allowed to return to their homeland, very few of them did. Daniel didn’t go, likely because of his age, but many others stayed because they had carved out a fruitful life in exile. And for the few people of Israel who did return home, who went back to the promised land expecting the restoration of the people of God, nothing happened. No restoration. No renewal. No judgment. The people of Israel thought all the “pieces” of their former glory had been reassembled: Nehemiah led the rebuilding of the walls of Jerusalem; Ezra the priest led the restoration of the temple and held a service of national repentance; the prophet Haggai led a campaign to get a descendant of King David, Zerubbabel, appointed as the ruler of the province. So, the city is rebuilt, the temple is rededicated, a son of David is on the throne, but nothing is happening. Nothing’s changed. In fact, not only has nothing changed, but the Jewish people continue to experience persecution, hardship and difficulty. Things aren’t getting better for them; in some cases, things are getting worse. Anticlimax.

Amidst this collective letdown, in the third year of king Cyrus, Daniel gets this vision of the end. And at the end of this confusing vision, the question is asked, “How long?” How long will we keep being persecuted and misunderstood? God, how long will you allow evil to persist? How long will you let the wicked prosper? How long until you fix everything that is broken? When will you make all things right? Lord, how long?

We can connect with Daniel’s confusion and frustration. To some degree, we have all experienced the disappointment of finally getting something we have longed for, only to find it less satisfying than we had hoped. Maybe it was finally getting that job, after years and years of study of undergrad and postgrad work, but instead of a suddenly fulfilling life, all we experience is frustration and discouragement. Perhaps after years of singleness and longing for a spouse, we find “the one,” but then we find frustrations, that the relationship we dreamed of having with our spouse is far from perfect. What Daniel is feeling—and what you and I are feeling—is the experience of living in a fallen world, a world that is not as it should be, a world that is broken and subject to frustration. And when we are confronted with the brokenness in the world, in our relationships, in ourselves, and even in the good things we enjoy, what are we to do? We will get to what God will do (our future hope) in a moment, but Daniel gives us two things to hold onto now:

First, when confronted with anticlimax, with frustrations and disappointments, we are allowed to mourn. In Daniel 10:2, after Daniel was shown this vision, he mourned for days. He neither ate nor slept; he wept, lamented and cried out to God. This shows us that when we are confronted with the broken things in the world, in our family, in ourselves, in others, we are allowed to mourn. We have permission to grieve, and the Scriptures even encourage us to take our frustrations to the throne of God and throw them at his feet.

The misconception that Christianity is only and ever about triumph and victory, life going “up and to the right” has burned out and disillusioned many. We internalize that false version of faith and believe that when we go to church, we must put on smile and pretend everything is awesome and that if everything isn’t awesome it is because we’re doing something wrong. That half-baked version of Christianity is exactly the version of Christianity that Karl Marx rejected. Marx described religion as the “opiate of the masses” because he believed that religion caused people to numb out and become indifferent to the plight and suffering in the world. But Daniel does not tell us to numb ourselves; he tells us to mourn, to lament, to take what is broken in the world and to bring it before God to do something about it. In fact, in the book of Psalms, around 60 of them are laments, cries to God about the brokenness of the world and pleas for God to make things right. The Bible gives us permission to tell the whole truth about ourselves and the world, to bring all of our emotions and frustrations into God’s presence and call out for him to do something about it.

With Advent beginning next week, we can find fresh courage that God has a knack for bringing light into dark places. One of my favorite writers on Advent is fond of saying, “All Advents begin in the dark.” When we feel as though we are in darkness, we are allowed to name it, to call it what it is, and to mourn.

Second, we are not given permission to despair. We are encouraged to name and experience sadness, but sadness is not allowed to overwhelm and defeat us. Daniel was explicitly told not to give in to despair. Why? In verse 7 Daniel is told not to despair because while evil, suffering, and frustration will continue in the world, they have an expiration date—this fallen world will persist for “a time, times, and half a time,” but it will not last forever. God’s promises are not fully realized in the present, but they will be fulfilled. Restoration will come, God’s people will be vindicated. Sadness will give way to joy. Daniel is not to despair because evil has an expiration date.

Moreover, Daniel may not despair because there remains work for him to do. Daniel mourns in 10:2 but then in verse 13, he is told, “Go your way till the end. And you shall rest and shall stand in your allotted place at the end of the days.” Daniel is told to write these words down and then get back to work. He has faithfully served God for over 80 years, and in what little time he has left, he is called to be faithful, to continue to be a light where he is and to be a picture of hope and resistance to the darkness, an example from which others can draw strength.

But how exactly is Daniel supposed to not give into despair? And how can we? This is where we need to see what Daniel saw, our future hope. Daniel’s (and our) future hope is wrapped up in that second question, that of verse 8: “What shall the outcome of these things be?” If I am to mourn without giving into despair, how will God make things right? And the answer that Daniel gets to his anticlimax, and the answer we get to ours, is an even greater climax to come—resurrection. Daniel 12:1–3 says though things will get worse for God’s people, a time is coming when “your people shall be delivered…and many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. And those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky above; and those who turn many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” The answer that Daniel is given to his national anticlimax is that everything will be made right because everything will be made new. And the process of making all things new is resurrection.

Daniel 12 makes a unique contribution to the Old Testament; it is the only passage that explicitly talks about a final resurrection from the dead. Other Old Testament passages (like in Psalms or Job) hint at a resurrection, but only here does the Old Testament unquestionably declare that an ultimate resurrection will happen.

For that reason, Daniel 12 is the passage that the Jewish people held onto in the face of death. The clearest example of this is found in the New Testament, in John 11. When Jesus goes to the funeral of his friend Lazarus, he asks Martha if she believes Lazarus will rise again, and her response is that he will rise at the last day (John 11:24). Martha was right, but what she was unable to see in that moment was that while she was waiting for resurrection to come, Resurrection had come to her. In the very next verse, Jesus says to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (v. 25). Jesus is saying that in him that future hope of resurrection has broken into the present, and for those who look to him and believe in him can experience that resurrection future in the here and now. But how is that possible?

The story of Lazarus gives us the answer. Jesus goes to Lazarus’s tomb, and he weeps. He mourns. He is deeply moved in his spirit over the death and brokenness of the world, and he rages against it. He goes to Lazarus’s tomb, tells him to come out, and he does. Lazarus comes back from the dead. Resurrection had broken into the present for Lazarus in that moment, but Jesus knew that for resurrection to come to us all, he had to take Lazarus’s place. Jesus would go to the cross and die the death we deserve to die so that we can live the life God desires us to live–a life lived in restored relationship with God and with one another, one where our frustrations and sadnesses will give way to everlasting joy, where death itself will die and be no more. In Christ, death is not an enemy to be feared because through Christ’s resurrection, death has no victory, and the grave has lost its sting.

Because Christ has been raised from the dead, resurrection is something we can experience in the present as well as in the future. Because Christ is the resurrection and the life, we are—like Jesus—given permission to mourn at the gravesides of friends who have died, but we are not given permission to despair, because we know that the end of the story is resurrection and everlasting life. Living in light of the resurrection gives us the power to grieve the frustrations in our work and in our families and our relationships, but it gives us hope that one day, all those is broken will be mended and made whole. The author Frederick Buechner reminds us, “Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing,” and because that is true, we are not given over to despair. Instead, we can navigate our anticlimactic moments with perspective and hope.

Because of the promise that God is making all things new, we have an opportunity to do what Wendell Berry calls “practicing resurrection.” In his poem The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front, he encourages us to do something every day that does not compute. He says, “Love the Lord. Love the world. Love someone who does not deserve it. Listen to the carrion—put your ear close, and hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come. Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.” Like Daniel, we can take the resurrection hope and go our way until the end. We can carry the hope of Christ to those around us and give the world a picture of joy and freedom and peace that cannot be found anyplace else. Our friends and neighbors need a hope that cuts through their despair, and as we head from Thanksgiving into Advent, we have the opportunity to show them Jesus, the resurrection and the life, whose victory over death assures us that all will be well.