The afternoon of Christmas Eve our family was getting ready to head downtown for the 5:30 Christmas Pageant at First United Methodist. While some of the children in the pageant work hard to memorize lines, and the adult leaders have the young people amazingly well prepared, the whole thing is a rather chaotic, wild, rich, swirling, beautiful mess. (Which happens to draw hundreds of people...so that the sanctuary is, year after year, nearly full.)
As we were getting ready we asked four year old Ella and two year old Olivia if they wanted to be angels in the pageant. Olivia, who is a cute little brown-eyed thing, said, "No, I want to be a dragon."
Many of us have been reading stories for years about children wanting to play their own roles in Christmas pageants. Someone told me that a girl in the last year or two here at First wanted to be a dog at the manger! They had advertised roles as sheep, donkeys, cattle, wisemen, etc. but this young woman wanted to be a dog.
Livy said, "I want to be a dragon." It is hard to see this little girl as a dragon. She sure looks more like an angel to Grandpa but there must be a dragon in there wanting to get out!
The cool thing is that when we got to the church, where adults were helping children into costumes, Nicole heard that Olivia wanted to be a dragon and she smiled. She said, "Sure, she can be a dragon. Let's see what we can find..."
I like the idea that God welcomes not only donkeys, cattle, and sheep at the manger...but also dragons. Luke would have understood, I think. Luke makes a point of telling us that the first visitors to the manger were shepherds. And shepherds were considered dirty, ritually unclean, impulsive, and untrustworthy. There were, I once said in a sermon, the first century's version of traveling carnival workers.
We have a God who is big enough to make a place at the manger for dragons. Wild things. Untamed creatures. Who set fields and trees on fire when they sneeze. Whose appearance is unsettling...and whose scales are rough. But who, in their eyes, have the light of God's kingdom.
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Air Brushed Christians: a Word for the Holidays.
Our oldest son lives in Columbus, Ohio. A friend of his has a tough job: air brushing the pictures of the models whose pictures will be used in the catalogue at Victoria's Secret. Or whose pictures will be posted in the stores.
When I heard that, I wondered what constitutes a bad day for the company artist. I wonder if this young guy's wife understands when he complains about a long day...deadlines?
This may come as a shock to you, but these seemingly perfect women aren't perfect. The leaders of the company, though, want any imperfections covered over...removed.
Sometimes we are guilty, in the church, of airbrushing our lives. We want any sign of weakness or fear or failure removed. We do our best to hide all that. Not sure why we -why I- do that but I suspect it has to do with not trusting people to love us, or want to be with us, if they knew just how ragged around the edges we sometimes are. Truth is the temptation to airbrush the fears and sin and imperfection out of our lives is evidence of our lack of trust in God's grace. "How could a holy God want anything to do with a creature who has been known to yell at his kids, or who has trouble controlling his mouth, or can't get over the bitterness of a long ago divorce?" we think. So we airbrush. We hide the sad or scared or mean stuff.
I was thinking about that this afternoon. As we approach Christmas. A tv ad for Budweiser showed a team of horses pulling a perfect wagon through a gentle snowstorm. It showed a perfect white farm house with a perfect green wreath, with a perfect red bow, on the front of the house. We see these images of perfect holiday gatherings. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, parents and loving children, a well behaved dog wagging its tail to the beat of a Christmas carol. We see people in a warm home, gifts wrapped and piled beneath a tree, folks holding hands around the dinner table for prayer...and it all just seems so...perfect.
If you are thinking you are the only one in the world whose life is ragged, if you think you are the only one who gets overwhelmed or lonely during the holidays, I have news for you: few families, few relationships, and few holiday gatherings are as perfect as the idealized pictures show them to be. A lot of people get tired....during the holidays. A lot of people feel overwhelmed. A lot of people have moments of loneliness.
Two weeks ago I was coming back from a meeting in central Indiana. I called a person I love very much to tell them I was thinking about them. I called to check in on them. Our conversation went from bad to worse. At the end she was shouting at me and I was shouting back. "I called to tell you I love you!" I said into the phone. "Don't you get it?" She shouted back. I said, "This isn't good for either one of us" and I hung up on her. Twice...because she called back and started yelling again. I was driving through deep darkness, on a rainy night, in Whitley County. By the time I got home my body was humming...electric...with sadness. Disappointment. How can families and friendships get so sideways?
The dirty little secret is many of us, even in the Christian community, do our best to airbrush this stuff out. But it is still there...
Paul, in his letters, is so honest! He doesn't appear to be trying to airbrush the sin and struggle out of his life. In Romans 7 he talks about his struggle with sin. Paul looks at his heart, his soul, and describes what he finds as a war (:23) Then, Paul says God has the power -in Jesus Christ- to deliver him from that war. He begins the next chapter by saying "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."
Maybe God loves us so much that we can stop airbrushing. Be honest. And let God's love do some deep healing.
When I heard that, I wondered what constitutes a bad day for the company artist. I wonder if this young guy's wife understands when he complains about a long day...deadlines?
This may come as a shock to you, but these seemingly perfect women aren't perfect. The leaders of the company, though, want any imperfections covered over...removed.
Sometimes we are guilty, in the church, of airbrushing our lives. We want any sign of weakness or fear or failure removed. We do our best to hide all that. Not sure why we -why I- do that but I suspect it has to do with not trusting people to love us, or want to be with us, if they knew just how ragged around the edges we sometimes are. Truth is the temptation to airbrush the fears and sin and imperfection out of our lives is evidence of our lack of trust in God's grace. "How could a holy God want anything to do with a creature who has been known to yell at his kids, or who has trouble controlling his mouth, or can't get over the bitterness of a long ago divorce?" we think. So we airbrush. We hide the sad or scared or mean stuff.
I was thinking about that this afternoon. As we approach Christmas. A tv ad for Budweiser showed a team of horses pulling a perfect wagon through a gentle snowstorm. It showed a perfect white farm house with a perfect green wreath, with a perfect red bow, on the front of the house. We see these images of perfect holiday gatherings. Grandparents, aunts and uncles, parents and loving children, a well behaved dog wagging its tail to the beat of a Christmas carol. We see people in a warm home, gifts wrapped and piled beneath a tree, folks holding hands around the dinner table for prayer...and it all just seems so...perfect.
If you are thinking you are the only one in the world whose life is ragged, if you think you are the only one who gets overwhelmed or lonely during the holidays, I have news for you: few families, few relationships, and few holiday gatherings are as perfect as the idealized pictures show them to be. A lot of people get tired....during the holidays. A lot of people feel overwhelmed. A lot of people have moments of loneliness.
Two weeks ago I was coming back from a meeting in central Indiana. I called a person I love very much to tell them I was thinking about them. I called to check in on them. Our conversation went from bad to worse. At the end she was shouting at me and I was shouting back. "I called to tell you I love you!" I said into the phone. "Don't you get it?" She shouted back. I said, "This isn't good for either one of us" and I hung up on her. Twice...because she called back and started yelling again. I was driving through deep darkness, on a rainy night, in Whitley County. By the time I got home my body was humming...electric...with sadness. Disappointment. How can families and friendships get so sideways?
The dirty little secret is many of us, even in the Christian community, do our best to airbrush this stuff out. But it is still there...
Paul, in his letters, is so honest! He doesn't appear to be trying to airbrush the sin and struggle out of his life. In Romans 7 he talks about his struggle with sin. Paul looks at his heart, his soul, and describes what he finds as a war (:23) Then, Paul says God has the power -in Jesus Christ- to deliver him from that war. He begins the next chapter by saying "there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus."
Maybe God loves us so much that we can stop airbrushing. Be honest. And let God's love do some deep healing.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Lights in the Night.
Thursday evening we headed east on the toll road. One of the odd things about my life is that unless I spend time with our two granddaughters, I don't get a day off. So although we had seen the kids over Thanksgiving, we were headed towards Columbus, Ohio.
The sky was thick with dark clouds. The sunlight slipped sideways out of the world. I was sitting, doing some work, reading the paper, and thinking...as Sharon drove.
We took the toll road into Ohio, and then headed south on state highway #49. You miss Fort Wayne but the highway has twists and turns. Takes you through one small town after the other.
I was surprised to find myself delighted by the Christmas tree lights in the yards...and in the homes along the way. The night was very dark. The world was cold. And we would drive by these houses where the Christmas lights -especially the trees decorated with all white lights- seemed to be calling us all inside. Promising warmth. Home. Someplace where we could be ourselves.
A CD of Christmas music -by the Christian rock band 3rd Day- was playing. The lights... the homes...the music...all combined to produce all sorts of feelings and memories.
I found myself thinking of our church's work, right now, to become even more welcoming. To strangers and guests. So that people who are hungry for God, for truth, for grace, will feel like they are home when they walk through our doors. I thought about churches that are like those houses with no lights hung by the windows...churches that look cold and dark and lifeless. And I thought about how churches -and individuals- sends messages out to the world that their hearts are open.
And I thought about times when our family...is together. What it feels like to have everyone under the same roof. Sometimes there are tensions...challenges...but almost always it is so very good!
I thought about the Christmas in Belguim, when I was a boy, and my folks were thinking of adopting a young Belgian child. A boy. He came to the house for a visit. I can't remember his name or face. But for whatever reason my parents chose not to take that step.
I thought about my Mom. Sometimes, you know, there are moments when you miss someone so much you think your heart will burst. I was thinking about my Mom...who was wonderful and strange and passionate and distracted and always late and full of love for God. Then, as we stopped at a stoplight in a small Ohio town, I looked over at a store window. The owner had hung four old stockings in the window as a part of a Christmas decoration. One of the stockings
-a red one- happened to have the name Anita inscribed in large script. My Mom's name was Anita. I smiled. The light turned green and we began moving south, again.
The lights along the way make the darkness more than bearable, don't they?
Interesting how Jesus, John explains, was light coming into the darkness. And the darkness has not overcome it.
The sky was thick with dark clouds. The sunlight slipped sideways out of the world. I was sitting, doing some work, reading the paper, and thinking...as Sharon drove.
We took the toll road into Ohio, and then headed south on state highway #49. You miss Fort Wayne but the highway has twists and turns. Takes you through one small town after the other.
I was surprised to find myself delighted by the Christmas tree lights in the yards...and in the homes along the way. The night was very dark. The world was cold. And we would drive by these houses where the Christmas lights -especially the trees decorated with all white lights- seemed to be calling us all inside. Promising warmth. Home. Someplace where we could be ourselves.
A CD of Christmas music -by the Christian rock band 3rd Day- was playing. The lights... the homes...the music...all combined to produce all sorts of feelings and memories.
I found myself thinking of our church's work, right now, to become even more welcoming. To strangers and guests. So that people who are hungry for God, for truth, for grace, will feel like they are home when they walk through our doors. I thought about churches that are like those houses with no lights hung by the windows...churches that look cold and dark and lifeless. And I thought about how churches -and individuals- sends messages out to the world that their hearts are open.
And I thought about times when our family...is together. What it feels like to have everyone under the same roof. Sometimes there are tensions...challenges...but almost always it is so very good!
I thought about the Christmas in Belguim, when I was a boy, and my folks were thinking of adopting a young Belgian child. A boy. He came to the house for a visit. I can't remember his name or face. But for whatever reason my parents chose not to take that step.
I thought about my Mom. Sometimes, you know, there are moments when you miss someone so much you think your heart will burst. I was thinking about my Mom...who was wonderful and strange and passionate and distracted and always late and full of love for God. Then, as we stopped at a stoplight in a small Ohio town, I looked over at a store window. The owner had hung four old stockings in the window as a part of a Christmas decoration. One of the stockings
-a red one- happened to have the name Anita inscribed in large script. My Mom's name was Anita. I smiled. The light turned green and we began moving south, again.
The lights along the way make the darkness more than bearable, don't they?
Interesting how Jesus, John explains, was light coming into the darkness. And the darkness has not overcome it.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Do Distracted, Tired Angels Still Sing?
If you look up the word angel in the dictionary you're certainly not going to see my picture. I'm not sure I'm qualified to do certified, angel-type work.
I'm sure the shepherds, in Luke's account of the birth of Jesus, probably felt the same way. They were sort of among the "untouchables" of Palestinian society. Their work kept them dirty and prevented them from keeping Jewish kosher laws and observing many of the religious rituals. The closest thing to shepherds in modern-day life in the Midwest might be carnival workers. That interesting tribe of folks who move from town to town and set up the rides.
Even though I'm not qualified to be an angel, God asks me to show up every Christmas and tell the story. Explain to a room full of people what the birth of Jesus means. Some of the folks are half-asleep, still trying to recover from that second slice of pie at dinner. Some are grouchy because they have been dragged to church against their will. A few are intoxicated. And there are a few who are leaning forward on their chair, longing to hear a word from God.
This Christmas I was fighting a cold. I was tired and distracted. If I were a pitcher -and I suppose every preacher is a pitcher- this Christmas I would have told my "manager", "I don't think I have good stuff, Skipper."
So I felt off my game. Wooden. The music was astounding...beautiful... inspiring. The dancers were a delight. The Christmas video was just right. And I felt tired. Wooden. The words tumbling out of my mouth and falling to the ground. Instead of soaring what I had to say seemed to fall to the ground...nearly lifeless.
The good news, of course, is that Jesus is still born. Despite what I may feel like or the quality of my work. Jesus is still born. God still comes. Salvation has to do with the grace of an all-powerful love and is not dependent on my ability to be always "up." Always "on." Always able to bring the 90-mile fastball.
Sometimes God calls unlikely characters to carry a message. I wonder if any of the shepherds were distracted or tired. I wonder if they were feeling the cold or worrying about the sheep that had been left behind.
It's cool that they still showed up, isn't it?
I'm sure the shepherds, in Luke's account of the birth of Jesus, probably felt the same way. They were sort of among the "untouchables" of Palestinian society. Their work kept them dirty and prevented them from keeping Jewish kosher laws and observing many of the religious rituals. The closest thing to shepherds in modern-day life in the Midwest might be carnival workers. That interesting tribe of folks who move from town to town and set up the rides.
Even though I'm not qualified to be an angel, God asks me to show up every Christmas and tell the story. Explain to a room full of people what the birth of Jesus means. Some of the folks are half-asleep, still trying to recover from that second slice of pie at dinner. Some are grouchy because they have been dragged to church against their will. A few are intoxicated. And there are a few who are leaning forward on their chair, longing to hear a word from God.
This Christmas I was fighting a cold. I was tired and distracted. If I were a pitcher -and I suppose every preacher is a pitcher- this Christmas I would have told my "manager", "I don't think I have good stuff, Skipper."
So I felt off my game. Wooden. The music was astounding...beautiful... inspiring. The dancers were a delight. The Christmas video was just right. And I felt tired. Wooden. The words tumbling out of my mouth and falling to the ground. Instead of soaring what I had to say seemed to fall to the ground...nearly lifeless.
The good news, of course, is that Jesus is still born. Despite what I may feel like or the quality of my work. Jesus is still born. God still comes. Salvation has to do with the grace of an all-powerful love and is not dependent on my ability to be always "up." Always "on." Always able to bring the 90-mile fastball.
Sometimes God calls unlikely characters to carry a message. I wonder if any of the shepherds were distracted or tired. I wonder if they were feeling the cold or worrying about the sheep that had been left behind.
It's cool that they still showed up, isn't it?
Looking for Wrenches and Getting Trained.
In the days leading up to Christmas I found myself curious. About the best gifts or surprises people had received for Christmas. I mean beyond those deep, profound, spiritual gifts of faith in Christ, joy, God-given peace, or the healing of a broken relationship. I mean stuff. Under the tree. Wrapped up (or not).
A couple of gifts stand out in my memory. One was an o-gauge railroad set. I was in first grade. I walked into the living room of our apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, beneath the Christmas tree there was this red, yellow and silver Santa Fe engine with rolling stock. It was a pretty special moment!
The second gift I remember most clearly is a very simple, GE-stereo made out of dark green plastic. With that came a membership in the Capitol Record Club. Which was a big deal for a teenager stuck in northwest Alaska where the only AM station played country and western music -long before C & W was cool.
For the last several years I have wanted to buy a very simple train set. Something that could be easily set-up. Maybe placed under the Christmas tree.
The day after Christmas my oldest son and I headed out to an area box store to get some wrenches. While we were looking over the tools I noticed a red sign that said 50% OFF CHRISTMAS ITEMS & TOYS. I have a collection of toys at home and in my office. So I walked over and found myself standing next to several boxes containing Lionel 0-gauge train sets. I looked at the boxes...studied the description of the train sets. I looked up at the sign announcing 50% off.
I don't mean to be blasphemous or anything, but it was like this shaft of light poured down on me and that Lionel train set. I'm not sure but I could almost swear I heard choirs of sales associates singing, "I've Been Working on the Railroad."
So I picked up the box, checked out, and returned home. When I walked into the house I asked my wife, Sharon, to close her eyes. I'd gone out looking for a wrench and came home with an o-gauge Chicago & North Western railroad set.
It's nothing fancy. It's nothing complicated. But my 16-month old granddaughter enjoys running it with me. Our faces light up when the train goes by and Ella presses the button that makes the whistle blow. Bryan, our oldest son, and I were chattering like kids as we reviewed a catalogue of high-end model railroad stuff.
Sometimes you go out looking for one thing and you come back with a whole lot more than you ever bargained for. So much more than you ever thought you'd find...or have.
Deep, eternal, life-changing joy is always a God-given gift. Which is almost always connected to knowing...being loved by...Jesus. In addition to this, though, there are these delightful, little joy moments that make our eyes light up in good ways. A deeply discounted 0-gauge railroad set, for example. Where the cars light up and smoke rings come out of the stack on the locomotive.
It's fun having fun.
I think "lighting up" at the little, good things in life is one sign that we're fully alive.
A couple of gifts stand out in my memory. One was an o-gauge railroad set. I was in first grade. I walked into the living room of our apartment in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, beneath the Christmas tree there was this red, yellow and silver Santa Fe engine with rolling stock. It was a pretty special moment!
The second gift I remember most clearly is a very simple, GE-stereo made out of dark green plastic. With that came a membership in the Capitol Record Club. Which was a big deal for a teenager stuck in northwest Alaska where the only AM station played country and western music -long before C & W was cool.
For the last several years I have wanted to buy a very simple train set. Something that could be easily set-up. Maybe placed under the Christmas tree.
The day after Christmas my oldest son and I headed out to an area box store to get some wrenches. While we were looking over the tools I noticed a red sign that said 50% OFF CHRISTMAS ITEMS & TOYS. I have a collection of toys at home and in my office. So I walked over and found myself standing next to several boxes containing Lionel 0-gauge train sets. I looked at the boxes...studied the description of the train sets. I looked up at the sign announcing 50% off.
I don't mean to be blasphemous or anything, but it was like this shaft of light poured down on me and that Lionel train set. I'm not sure but I could almost swear I heard choirs of sales associates singing, "I've Been Working on the Railroad."
So I picked up the box, checked out, and returned home. When I walked into the house I asked my wife, Sharon, to close her eyes. I'd gone out looking for a wrench and came home with an o-gauge Chicago & North Western railroad set.
It's nothing fancy. It's nothing complicated. But my 16-month old granddaughter enjoys running it with me. Our faces light up when the train goes by and Ella presses the button that makes the whistle blow. Bryan, our oldest son, and I were chattering like kids as we reviewed a catalogue of high-end model railroad stuff.
Sometimes you go out looking for one thing and you come back with a whole lot more than you ever bargained for. So much more than you ever thought you'd find...or have.
Deep, eternal, life-changing joy is always a God-given gift. Which is almost always connected to knowing...being loved by...Jesus. In addition to this, though, there are these delightful, little joy moments that make our eyes light up in good ways. A deeply discounted 0-gauge railroad set, for example. Where the cars light up and smoke rings come out of the stack on the locomotive.
It's fun having fun.
I think "lighting up" at the little, good things in life is one sign that we're fully alive.
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