For some reason, my kids and I have had some great conversations lately at Walmart. We sit on a bench while my wife checks out, and subjects just seem to pop up that open the door to some great discussion and teaching opportunities. Why it's happening at Walmart, I have no idea. (Perhaps we're spending too much time there?) Nonetheless, I am grateful for those moments and pray that they are formative in the lives of my children.
Now to my point. The other night, my youngest son and I were having a Walmart conversation when we happened upon the subject of "mean people." I'm not sure how it actually came up - although, in all probability, it somehow related to his older brother - but it led to a discussion on how we respond to those who do not treat us right. We talked about the fact that we are called to be people of love, grace, and kindness, and regardless of what others do, we cannot allow them to keep us from being what we are supposed to be. And, in reality, we will never change anyone by responding with an unloving, combative, or spiteful spirit. As Paul tells us in Romans 12:21, "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."
I've been thinking about that conversation in light of the Christmas season. Jesus entered this world not with a show of strength and power, not with force and coercion, but in the absolute humility of an infant born in a stable. He did not fight to hold on to His rights or His position, but emptied Himself in a way that is beyond comprehension. And His humble entrance set the tone for His life and ministry on this earth. He did not come to be served, but to serve; He fed the needy and healed the hurting, washed the feet of the undeserving, and forgave those who persecuted Him; He laid down His life to rescue the lost and hopeless. Jesus changed the world, not with demonstrations of worldly power or by fighting fire with fire, but through humility and sacrifice, love and mercy.
As the followers of Jesus, we too often and too easily allow ourselves to be pulled into conflicts of power and self-interest, fighting to defend our rights and our position against those who would oppose us. In the process, we frequently lose our way and neglect our calling. Rather than truly changing the world, we are content with preserving our rights in this world; rather than reflecting the grace of the One who has sent us, we elevate our own defense and winning arguments to the place of priority. The path that Jesus showed us, the one of humility, mercy, and sacrifice, can quickly fall from our sight; the way of loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us is too easily forgotten.
It's interesting, and somewhat ironic, that Christmas itself has become a battleground for some, an argument over our rights and place within the culture. Yet Christmas inherently reminds us that we will not truly change the world by defending our own rights or by fighting like others fight. Jesus came in humility and lived as a servant, effecting change not with the weapons, methods, or attitudes of this world, but by the way of the Cross. May Christmas challenge us once again to follow that same path, trusting that the way of love and grace will indeed make a difference.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Friday, December 12, 2008
The Unlikely Matter of Christmas
I'm one of those people who, by nature, finds comfort in consistency. I like it when things fit the expected pattern, when matters are clearly defined and ordered. My wife went through a spell where she tried a different recipe every time she made meatloaf. After several months of experimentation, I finally requested a moratorium on meatloaf in our household. It's not that they were all bad (although there were a few tragic missteps), I just couldn't deal with the numerous, unexpected variations. I want certainty and continuity. Call me obsessive, call me compulsive, call me insane - it's just me.
In my more mature and lucid moments, when I recognize this tendency as a deep-seated and personal issue of control, I also catch a glimpse of how this shapes my perceptions, understanding, and expectations of God. You see, sometimes I want God to fit into my self-created definition, to work according to my preconceived expectations, and to be contained by the boundaries of my understanding. Although I may not admit it openly, part of me wants a God who is safe and predictable, a God who shuns surprises and acts in line with my notion of consistency. Christmas, however, reminds me that God is anything but that; it reveals a God who acts in surprising and unlikely ways, who breaks in unexpectedly and mysteriously. Consider the story again:
God comes into the world, not with sky-splitting glory and power that drops people to their knees, but in human flesh, as a baby with all the usual dependencies and needs.
The Word of God became flesh, and in the mystery and wonder of this incarnation, Jesus somehow embodies the fullness of humanity and the fullness of God.
A young girl, ordinary and unexceptional in the eyes of the world, from a backwater town, with the common name of Mary, becomes instrumental in this divine story of redemption.
A common laborer named Joseph, without position, means, or power, is entrusted with the role of raising and providing for the Son of God.
The news of this miraculous in-breaking of God's Light into the darkness of our world was shared first, not with those considered famous or significant, but with common shepherds marked by the dirt of the fields and the smell of sheep.
Pagans from a far off country, moved by the sight of a star, came as unlikely worshippers while the educated, religious elite remained oblivious to what God was up to.
And the Son of God, the Word made flesh, came into this world, not with the appearances and trappings of nobility and dignity, but born in the mess and smell of an animal stall.
This is not how I would write the story; it is not what I would consider likely, expected, or even appropriate. But this is God's story, one that reveals His delight in working in unexpected ways, in surprising places, and in unlikely people. Christmas reminds me that God cannot be defined by my idea of what is likely, He cannot be contained by my personal expectations and judgments. God is working in ways, places, and people that I would not expect or imagine, and my efforts to contain or tame Him will only blind me to what He is doing.
"Lord, in this Advent season, I am reminded that you are a God who works beyond my boundaries of understanding and expectation. As an ordinary person, marred by weaknesses of all kinds, that brings me hope. As unlikely as it might seem, I too can be an instrument of your grace. And even as I try to embrace that truth for myself, help me to extend that same grace to others. You are at work in surprising ways, in places I would not imagine, and through people I would not expect. I ask You, simply, to give me the eyes to see it."
In my more mature and lucid moments, when I recognize this tendency as a deep-seated and personal issue of control, I also catch a glimpse of how this shapes my perceptions, understanding, and expectations of God. You see, sometimes I want God to fit into my self-created definition, to work according to my preconceived expectations, and to be contained by the boundaries of my understanding. Although I may not admit it openly, part of me wants a God who is safe and predictable, a God who shuns surprises and acts in line with my notion of consistency. Christmas, however, reminds me that God is anything but that; it reveals a God who acts in surprising and unlikely ways, who breaks in unexpectedly and mysteriously. Consider the story again:
God comes into the world, not with sky-splitting glory and power that drops people to their knees, but in human flesh, as a baby with all the usual dependencies and needs.
The Word of God became flesh, and in the mystery and wonder of this incarnation, Jesus somehow embodies the fullness of humanity and the fullness of God.
A young girl, ordinary and unexceptional in the eyes of the world, from a backwater town, with the common name of Mary, becomes instrumental in this divine story of redemption.
A common laborer named Joseph, without position, means, or power, is entrusted with the role of raising and providing for the Son of God.
The news of this miraculous in-breaking of God's Light into the darkness of our world was shared first, not with those considered famous or significant, but with common shepherds marked by the dirt of the fields and the smell of sheep.
Pagans from a far off country, moved by the sight of a star, came as unlikely worshippers while the educated, religious elite remained oblivious to what God was up to.
And the Son of God, the Word made flesh, came into this world, not with the appearances and trappings of nobility and dignity, but born in the mess and smell of an animal stall.
This is not how I would write the story; it is not what I would consider likely, expected, or even appropriate. But this is God's story, one that reveals His delight in working in unexpected ways, in surprising places, and in unlikely people. Christmas reminds me that God cannot be defined by my idea of what is likely, He cannot be contained by my personal expectations and judgments. God is working in ways, places, and people that I would not expect or imagine, and my efforts to contain or tame Him will only blind me to what He is doing.
"Lord, in this Advent season, I am reminded that you are a God who works beyond my boundaries of understanding and expectation. As an ordinary person, marred by weaknesses of all kinds, that brings me hope. As unlikely as it might seem, I too can be an instrument of your grace. And even as I try to embrace that truth for myself, help me to extend that same grace to others. You are at work in surprising ways, in places I would not imagine, and through people I would not expect. I ask You, simply, to give me the eyes to see it."
Friday, December 5, 2008
Rescuing Christmas. . . From Whom?
A lot of us seem to be concerned about Christmas. More specifically, we seem to be deeply concerned about how other people treat Christmas. Great offense is taken and spirits are troubled when people, businesses, and governments replace "Merry Christmas" with the generic phrase "Happy Holidays," giving rise to warnings about the secularization of Christmas. Those who want to fight those battles are certainly free to do so, and I respect their motives and intentions. Personally, however, I think there is a greater issue of concern when it comes to the secularization of Christmas: our own behavior, attitudes, and priorities as Christians.
On one level, I expect the world around me to secularize Christmas. After all, if someone is not living in a relationship with Jesus, they're probably going to treat Christmas as a general holiday rather than a sacred event. As the followers of Jesus, however, it falls to us to live out and bear witness to the true significance of Christmas. It's at that point that I believe we need to express some serious concern. While we've been busy pointing the finger at the secular world and how they observe or fail to observe Christmas, we have turned a blind eye to the secularized spirit that so often governs our own observance.
The season of Advent should be for us a time of genuine worship, prayer, and reflection that renews and awakens our hearts, fills us again with the wonder of God's love, deepens our gratitude for the God who is truly "with us," brings our attention to His Kingdom at work in this world, and challenges us to lay down our lives in a spirit of sacrificial love. Too often, though, this is not the reality of my Christmas observance. Rather than a time of worship and spiritual renewal, Advent becomes a month shaped and directed by the culture around me, filled with busyness and distraction, planning and spending. In our intent to celebrate the season, we too easily and frequently set aside those things that bring our attention to God, sacrificing time in the Word and in prayer for the surface matters of the holiday. And so, we enter the new year like so many of those around us: tired, overfed, and in debt.
Who is it, exactly, that is responsible for the secularization of Christmas? It's easy to say that secular people are to blame, but perhaps it's really those of us who should know better and are simply blind to our own secular habits. Before we criticize the world around us for its treatment of Christmas, perhaps it would be in order to honestly evaluate our own observance. We might find that, in spirit and priority, we're not really all that different from those we criticize - only the title has been changed.
On one level, I expect the world around me to secularize Christmas. After all, if someone is not living in a relationship with Jesus, they're probably going to treat Christmas as a general holiday rather than a sacred event. As the followers of Jesus, however, it falls to us to live out and bear witness to the true significance of Christmas. It's at that point that I believe we need to express some serious concern. While we've been busy pointing the finger at the secular world and how they observe or fail to observe Christmas, we have turned a blind eye to the secularized spirit that so often governs our own observance.
The season of Advent should be for us a time of genuine worship, prayer, and reflection that renews and awakens our hearts, fills us again with the wonder of God's love, deepens our gratitude for the God who is truly "with us," brings our attention to His Kingdom at work in this world, and challenges us to lay down our lives in a spirit of sacrificial love. Too often, though, this is not the reality of my Christmas observance. Rather than a time of worship and spiritual renewal, Advent becomes a month shaped and directed by the culture around me, filled with busyness and distraction, planning and spending. In our intent to celebrate the season, we too easily and frequently set aside those things that bring our attention to God, sacrificing time in the Word and in prayer for the surface matters of the holiday. And so, we enter the new year like so many of those around us: tired, overfed, and in debt.
Who is it, exactly, that is responsible for the secularization of Christmas? It's easy to say that secular people are to blame, but perhaps it's really those of us who should know better and are simply blind to our own secular habits. Before we criticize the world around us for its treatment of Christmas, perhaps it would be in order to honestly evaluate our own observance. We might find that, in spirit and priority, we're not really all that different from those we criticize - only the title has been changed.
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