Christmas Gifts in July

Christmas Gifts in July

Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you; not as the world gives, I give to you. Don’t let your heart be troubled, neither let it be fearful. John 14:27

Now that I’m retired from ministry there are a few things that I’m beginning to understand about life. And, there are a whole bunch more questions, but we’ll leave that for another time. Here is one thing that I’ve learned: No none likes to be told what to do.

Even the best leaders in business give people objectives and not specific instructions. A leader who is constantly telling people what to do quickly is seen as a micro-manager and someone who does not trust her team. But, if they can delegate responsibilities and allow others to accomplish the objective in their own way, the team members see themselves as valuable and trusted.

I wonder how often as Christians we tell people what to do, or what they should be feeling, or how they should be experiencing the world. “Jesus left us peace. So, you should feel peace no matter what is going in on your life.” “Jesus left us peace. Here are four ways to achieve that peace in every circumstance.” “Why are you so anxious all the time? Don’t you know Jesus gifted you with peace.” And on and on and on.

I understand that sometimes people respond to such exhortations, and I do not want to exclude them entirely. But we also need to take a step back and realize none of us experience peace (or joy, or faith) one hundred percent of every day. And, some peoples’ lives have been so disrupted by hardship, that for them, even accepting that peace is possible is an immense challenge.

I almost decided not to write about this verse today. Most who read this already know my situation, and I won’t belabor it. The short story is I retired early due to health reasons and now my wife and I live with my sister and brother-in-law in Texas. Patti is working, I suffer pain every day, and do not have a vehicle at the house. I would much rather still be in Washington near our daughter, but we have to finish paying the mortgage on our home there before we can move back.

All this is not how I envisioned my life at 64. So, the situation, along with chronic pain and clinical depression, have produced a situation that is not conducive to feeling a lot of peace. And, if someone wrote me a letter with this verse as a heading, I probably would not receive it well. It would sound like they were telling me “Hey, dude, buck up. Grab the peace that’s there for you!” (As if, after 40 years of ministry I was entirely unaware of Jesus’ promise.)

But, if I received a note that said, “I’m thinking of you. I know this is probably one of the hardest times of your life. Wish I could do something. Try your best to find some peace in the middle of it all. I understand how difficult that must be right now,” I would rejoice. No, I would weep, with joy. It would be a human touch that transmitted the presence of Christ.

When my mother died in 1987, she was only 53 years old. She lived in Upstate New York and had bought a Victorian home she hoped to remodel into a Bed and Breakfast. Unfortunately, she never was able to fulfill her dream.

When we heard of her death my sisters and I met up in New York to grieve together, comfort her husband and each other, as well as have a memorial for her in the little village she had called home. We pulled up in front of the old house in the car we rented. Though in some disrepair, it was beautiful, and fit our mother’s sensibilities to a t. We walked up onto the porch that circled the entire house, knocked on the door, and our step-father beckoned us in.

After hugs and greetings, he gave us a tour of the house. One thing caught my eye almost immediately. In the corner of one room were at least half a dozen wrapped Christmas gifts. But Mom died in late July, so I asked about them. Those were the gifts Mom had bought for us and her grandkids, but never had the funds to mail.

In the middle of our grief we all laughed. Mom always made sure to gift her kids, and especially her grandkids. It hadn’t gone without notice that there was nothing under the tree from her the previous Christmas.

We looked at each other, picked up the gifts, turning them over, looking at the labels and wondering what exactly to do. Eventually we unwrapped them. I cannot tell you what the gifts were, I do not remember. But it affected us deeply that Mom kept those presents wrapped and ready for us.

Jesus told his disciples that he was leaving them a gift: his peace, his shalom. Shalom is more than feeling calm. It is the common greeting in Hebrew, and is a desire for wholeness, purpose and goodwill in a person’s life. It goes far beyond living without anxiety. Jesus’ gift is purpose in life that is not defined by career, popularity, good looks, or any of the outward measures we use. It is an inner awareness that we are so valuable to him, that he has bequeathed that purpose to us forever.

The disciples didn’t respond exactly as Jesus suggested; their hearts did become troubled, they were fearful. Within a few hours they would see Jesus taken away by military might, tried unjustly, beaten to with inches of his life, and hanged on a cross in the cruelest form of punishment invented by mankind.

Peter denied Jesus out of fear. The disciples scattered during the crucifixion, later to be found huddling out of fear in the upper room. But, after the resurrection they discovered the peace Jesus had promised. Now some of them would be treated in the same way. Yet they would ask forgiveness for their persecutors, they would pray instead of denying the love Jesus had brought into the world.

I do not want to tell you that you should be experiencing peace in this very moment. Grief over our mom’s death overshadowed our happy discovery of the Christmas gifts. Of course, it did. And the struggles of the present, the pain of the past, the fear of the future can all work against the sense of peace Jesus promised. But I do want to remind you that he did promise that peace, well-being and sense of purpose. I am slowly learning that, now that my “purpose” is no longer in being a professional minister. Indeed, much of my time is spent simply nursing this 11-year-old headache. One day this week I spent only eight hours out of bed.

But, if you will accompany me on this journey as we seek to let the presence of the risen Christ give us peace, maybe we can encourage each other in our difficult moments, and avoid simply telling each other, “Hey, you oughta have peace.”

God With Us

God With Us

“A virgin will conceive and bear a Son, and His name will be Immanuel (which is a Hebrew name that means ‘God with us’).” Matthew 1:23

One of the themes of Scripture, if not the centerpiece, is that God desires to be “with us”. God created Adam from His very breath and walked with Adam and Eve in Eden during the cool of the day. He instructed Moses to build a Tabernacle, a sort of mobile temple, to let the people know He was constantly with them, even when they were on the move. He tells them, “I will make my home among you and never turn away from you.” (Leviticus 26:11) Even when Israel forsook God through the time of the Kings, God kept wooing them back.

So, it is no great surprise that God finds the most intimate way to be with us; He comes to dwell as flesh and blood, taking all the realities of humanity upon Himself. This is why Christmas is so important. It reminds us that, not only did God dwell among us in Christ, but He actually entered the world in complete vulnerability. He began as a helpless newborn, the way each of us began.

Patti and I have three children. Each one is precious to us and we hope we did our best as parents to send them off into the world. None of them came with a scholarship, feeding instructions or a mind-reading app attached at their birth. Like all babies, each one was fully dependent on us for their care. Like most parents, that was a very frightening proposition, especially when we had not taken a language course in “baby”. Though incredibly resilient, infants are also fragile.

When Michael was about eight months old he was crawling across the living room floor. For some unknown reason I had a lamp plugged into an extension cord with the cord in easy reach of his tiny fingers. The connection was loose where the two cords met, exposing a bit of the metal plug. As most babies do, Michael reached for the plug and, before I could react, put it directly in his mouth. He froze, his mouth open, and I ran over, scooped him up, and then finally he began to cry. Fortunately, he had only a burn on the inside of his lips. But, he was vulnerable.

When Jonathan was about 24 months I unwittingly closed his fingers in the hinge side of a door. The moment I heard his cry I knew what I had done! His little finger bleed profusely. The very end of his pinky finger was broken, as small as the tip of an ink pen. After seven hours in the emergency room we exited with a toddler wearing a full-arm cast for a chipped pinky. He and his cast were the darling of the church nursery for the next few weeks. But, he was vulnerable.

When Sarah was born, ten years after Jon, she was adored by the whole lot of us. The boys and I went baby-girl clothes shopping immediately after her birth. From time to time during her infancy and into toddler-hood she would wake in the middle of the night bawling. It was as if she had woken from a frightening dream. Patti or I would simply hold her close, sometimes for as much as 45 minutes, until the moment passed. Though we never knew exactly what caused those late-night disruptions, we did know that she was vulnerable.

This may sound like a strange thing about God, but I wonder if becoming a baby was scary to Him. God is omniscient, meaning He knows everything. But there is a difference between “knowing” and “experiencing”. That is part of the reason Jesus came, so we could be assured that God understands our predicament, our trials and even our joys. Imagine being the Creator of All and contemplating life as a vulnerable newborn. The God who is Sovereign, who called the Universe into being, is now at the complete mercy of a young couple raising their firstborn child. He who commanded the Hosts of Heaven invaded humanity in helpless flesh.

Will you take some time this season, look at Jesus, and wonder at the miracle of “God with us”? Will you follow that same Jesus who, loving us to the very end, endured the suffering of crucifixion because God wanted to be “with us”? Will you rejoice that “God with us” was resurrected from the dead, not to make us some supernatural beings, but to endorse our very humanity. Oh, the mysteries of the grace of God. The All-Powerful God’s great desire is to be “with us”, and to do so, He laid aside His power, taking on our own vulnerability. That is the Christ we celebrate at Christmas. 

God Understands (thoughts on Ferguson and Christmas)

God Understands

“Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High.” Luke 1:31,32a

You may think it strange to begin a Christmas newsletter and devotion by referring to the recent tragedies in Ferguson, Mo. But, hopefully, if you bear with me, we can together understand one of the primary reasons that Jesus, the Son of God, came to earth.

No More Mundane

No More Mundane

“Glory to God in the highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom he is pleased!” Luke 2:14

One year ago the Hurricane Sandy barreled into the East Coast with a fury unrivaled in recent history. The largest Atlantic hurricane on record, estimates assess damage to have been over $68 billion, surpassed only by Hurricane Katrina. At least 286 people were killed along the path of the storm. It affected people from Jamaica and the Dominican Republic, to 24 states in the United States.

Happy Holidays ya'll

“And I heard a great voice out of the throne saying, ‘Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and he shall dwell with them, and they shall be his peoples, and God himself shall be with them, and be their God.’” Revelation 21:3

We are at it again. It is November 6 and Christmas decorations are popping out everywhere. I haven’t even finished the bite-size leftover chocolates from Halloween. Don’t take me for a Grinch, I adore Christmas. There is so much magic, joy, music and family all compressed into a Holy Evening and Everybody Up Early Morning.

Tiny

Tiny

(“But you are a God ready to forgive, gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Nehemiah 9:17b)

Tiny things, visible but overlooked; soft coos,
babies sleeping in the quilted corners of our playroom.
Tiny things, heard but so submerged; round eyes,
mothers gazing at the miracle dozing underneath the adult hum.

A mom who found the man who would love her,
A dad who found the woman who never gave up;
Nine mingled children, a pair of twins included,
sing like they own the earth, play like they have all day,
love like rejection has never pinched their delight for attention,
and run to hug,
and run to hide,
and run to lay aside today’s trouble for another
chance to laugh like every day is Christmas day.

I know those families; rare. I love those couples; repaired
by hope and elongated breaths between the questions that measured
the path like mile markers up the steeps and down.

Tiny things, thoughts soak the eyes and the cheeks; soft asides,
trouble is not the enemy, conquered by hands’ light touch.
Tiny things, words painted, each name a circle; round crosses,
enclosed and warm, the fireplace glows, the moment creates

A Christmas day fond of the first; children and unlikely
parents in love and loved beyond measure.

Tiny things, like babes in the straw, changed our images,
our dances, our carols and our wintry reasons for the day.

Peace and Goodwill

Peace and Goodwill

“Glory to God in highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.” Luke 2:14

It was the middle of the night; the sky was the purple black that appears once no remnants of the setting sun are left. It is dotted with starry points of light, and quiet. It was the time of night very few experience; either because they are sleeping, or are safe and warm within their homes. But, the few times we have lingered outside, far away from city lights and far past midnight, we understand the magical quiet and peace which that hour of darkness can possess.

Ready for the City

Ready for the City

(“The glory of God made the city bright. It was dazzling and crystal clear like a precious jasper stone.” Revelation 21:11)

No more dreary within, without;
sunlight minus the star, moonlight just as bright,
and the faces I’ve missed that open the sparkle new like then,
will stay and not leave, play and conceive every note we imagined
sung again, impromptu again, collaborating lately like once upon a time.

Right now I barely face the day,
and the faces I remember are much too far away to cheer
the movement in mud hope has become.

I am ready for the city, buzzing like Christmas eve downtown,
without the pushing, the panic, the gravely grab for one more
gift wrapped late. Only the Salvation Army bells, the carols over
cheap boardwalk speakers, the children giggling over what is in the
sacks, the boxes, the trunk and closets. Just the seventh-grade disciples
dressed in white, singing joy to the world down a nursing home hall
out of tune, dropping words, shy but loving the attention.

I am ready for the city dressed like a jewel,
the color of air, the taste of sunrise,
where every friend is the same face all around,
every face genealogy, heirs together without a moment’s deliberation.

I am ready for the Throne, my tears the prism seeing the
rainbow river that embraces the dais. And I am shattered in
a moment unchanged, shards frozen midair before Perfection’s height,
and I see the cracks I hoped had held together, I hoped to hide in the
par-light of a shadowy sun.

Before the Creator who fashioned me well, every crack was now a crater
and I stood, could do no other, in the face of such glaring inspection. Jesus

i cried

Son of God, have mercy on me.

I am ready for the city, dressed like a jewel,
and cannot remember a smidgen or minute when
dark spoke its half-face or chips ruined my value.

I am ready for the city, all has been made known,
the cover-ups disrobed, and, not alone, I and we,
surround the throne, light, air, water and quantum waves
off Love’s pure reign.

In the Neighborhood

“I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: ‘Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They’re his people, he’s their God.’” Revelation 21:3

It is the Thursday after Christmas, which fell on a Sunday this year. Because this holiday is so centered around family gatherings, it is probably the most evocative time of the year. Emotions can range from the thrill of young children ripping open multi-colored paper to a couple sadly alone because family is so far away. Highs and lows are punctuated like staccato notes in the middle of soft ballad.

O Little Town of Bethlehem

O Little Town of Bethlehem

(“But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, are only a small village among all the people of Judah. Yet a ruler of Israel will come from you, one whose origins are from the distant past.” Micah 5:2 NLT)

Each year we are reminded that something extraordinary took place in a small Jewish village over 2000 years ago. Though it is fairly evident that Jesus was likely born in the spring, our winter date for the celebration has taken hold over time, and here we are; twinkly lights, the crunch of snow, bundled up carolers and all.

Smoky Midwinter

"Smoky Midwinter"

({The angel} said, “Do you know why I’ve come here to you? I now have to go back to fight against the angel-prince of Persia, and when I get him out of the way, the angel-prince of Greece will arrive.” Daniel 10:20 [The Message])

In five minutes a young lady will arrive to practice a
song we have only sung twice. “In the Bleak Midwinter”,
smoky, poet-folksy, melancholy and richly painted.

I fear she may be late, and fear she will fear the notes
unknown to her,
the timing stinging and fuzzy. And she will bashfully
sing to her toes forgetting her own beauty and
misty middle tones.

I’ll accompany her any way she desires, (although
I’d prefer sparse chords and timing so free it almost
sounds spoken.)

She’ll lead the way, we may need to add
a fifth beat here and there
to the straight time written.

It is time, what we agreed upon, and I do not hear her
walking down the hall. She is so much greater than her
self-written story.

But she just texted me she is on her way,
and she said “lol” when I texted “Yea!”

I am ready for us to play the artist to her vocal liberties
which I hope are
freer than ever with Rosetti’s words tonight.

A Hard-Hitting Expose of Santa and other Mysterious Christmas Symbols

A Hard-Hitting Expose of Santa and other Mysterious Christmas Symbols

Ok, now that I have your attention, I want to share my true intent with this month’s newsletter. As far as certain methods of celebration take us away from the original joy of Christmas, Jesus’ birth, I share some believers’ concerns. But, the notion that certain symbols are to be avoided or are evidence of the “world” stealing Christmas from us is another thing entirely.

Though a very small minority of Christians today take issue with Santa Claus, I find it difficult to be threatened by him. More so, I doubt the magnificence of our Heavenly Father is going to be eclipsed by the shadow of a fat fellow in a flying sleigh. Beyond all the tactless tinsel of commercial Christmas, the historical understanding of Santa Claus reveals something that God would have pervade the spirit of all mankind.

Nicholas of Myra, located in modern Turkey, was a “saint” because he was a follower of Jesus and was titled a “Saint” by the church’s recognition of his love and good works. It is this same Nicholas, known as “Saint Nicholas” who, through the ages comes to us as “Santa Claus”.

He was known for taking Jesus’ words to heart about giving to the poor: “But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” Matthew 6:3,4

Saint Nicholas was very generous to the poor, but most often anonymously. The most famous story concerns three young women whose destitute father was going to force them into prostitution in order to survive. To prevent this heinous crime, Nicholas, on three different nights, anonymously went to their father's house and threw a bag of gold though an open window. The bishop's miter and fur trimmed red winter garments eventually became what we recognize as Santa's outfit, while Saint Nicholas's generosity was transferred to the "jolly old man" who delivers gifts anonymously on Christmas Eve.

Perhaps I should leave Santa Claus behind and tackle some other of the Christmas symbols.

What about all the wreaths, poinsettias and other greenery. Those have to be pagan, don’t they? Wiccans are well known for their nature worship. Let’s examine it together. Wreaths combine several Christmas symbols including holly, fruit, mistletoe, evergreens, tinsel, and so on, all of which retain their symbolism on the wreath. The word wreath comes from an old English word, meaning to writhe or twist. Greens twisted into a circle made "crowns" for kings, military leaders, and athletes. Because wreaths, due to their circular shape, symbolize eternity, the circle of life, and endless hope, they began to be used at Christmas and hung. Because a wreath has neither beginning nor end, but is a continuous circle, it symbolized God Himself.

Holly, with its spiked leaves and red berries symbolizes Jesus’ suffering for the world and the crown of thorns He wore.

How about something as simple as tinsel? A legend tells of a poor, faithful family who wished to decorate a Christmas tree in honor of the Christ Child but who had no money for decorations. In the night, spiders came and spun webs across the tree. Then the Christ Child, honoring the family's faith, turned the threads into silver. When we want to give our all to Christ, but we think that we have nothing of value to give, God gives value to our offerings. God does not measure worth by worldly standards but by spiritual ones. Give Christ your all and He will consider it more precious than gold.

The Christmas tree itself did not originate until About the year 1500. Martin Luther, inspired by a snow covered fir tree, brought a small tree indoors and decorated it with candles in honor of Christ’s birth. Because it is green year-round, the evergreen tree represents hope. Its needles and its narrow crest point upward, turning our thoughts to heaven. And topped with a star, it reminds us of the star of Bethlehem. Because the tree is cut down and then erected again, it is a symbol of Christ’s resurrection.

But what about X-MAS! It is not a pagan or worldy attempt to “x” Christ out of Christmas as. the word actually is an abbreviation for Christmas. Christ was often written as "XP" or "XT" and the Greek letter Chi X stood for Christ in the ancient Greek symbol for Christians. The “X” itself reminded those early believer of the cross of Jesus itself.

Hmm…perhaps this Christmas I’ll join the masses who celebrate Jesus’ birth, follow Him with all my heart, and remember the “X” means “Christ” and His cross where He died for me. At Christmas time let us heed this reminder: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” (Romans 12:21) and celebrate what is originally behind the symbols of Christmas.