Category: Christmas

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Peace On Earth

Pax Romana was the propaganda slogan for the Roman Empire. It’s been found inscribed on coins and other artifacts in the Roman world. The Latin translates “Peace of Rome.” By the first century the Roman Empire had experienced an enormous era of peace. For about 100 years no major wars were fought, and in its place some of the greatest advancements were made including a highway system linking major cities together. Yes, Rome experienced significant peace and they jumped on the marketing campaign to feed it to its citizens so that they would buy into its rule.  

Yet the kind of peace that the Empire experienced was derived from brute force. They flexed their muscles and forced their will on their citizens. They controlled people and territories with an iron fist, and any who challenged their rule or presence was met with decisive action. Just ask the Jews. Their lands were occupied and patrolled by the Romans. And while Rome made concessions to keep the peace, the situation was always volatile. By A.D. 70 the resistance in Judea reached a boiling point and Rome came in, marching on Jerusalem, razing Herod’s temple to the ground. Sure, Roman fueled the Pax Roman messaging system, but ultimately it was accomplished and maintained by nothing other than peace.

Luke tells us that on a hillside outside of Bethlehem, shepherds were tending to their flocks. As they were passing their time, angels appeared in the sky proclaiming, “Glory to God in the highest, peace on earth and goodwill toward men” (Lk. 2:14). They then told the shepherds to go to Bethlehem where they would find a baby wrapped in cloths lying in a manger. That baby is the long-awaited Christ, the Lord.

When the angels declared, “Peace on Earth,” they confronted and challenged the Roman propaganda head on. Peace on earth would not be attained through military might or force or political ploys, but through the innocent and the vulnerability of a baby.

We spend our lifetime seeking peace. All the while, something within us remains restless. No matter how much we try to settle the storms within, we cannot find peace. Oh, we try. We try to find peace. Often, that search is in vain.

We cannot find peace,
          by feeding our addictions.
We cannot find peace,
          by wrapping gifts and placing them under a tree.
We cannot find peace,
          by holding onto grudges.
We cannot find peace,
          by ordering and opening our packages from Amazon.
We cannot find peace,
          by threatening war.
We cannot find peace,
          by electing officials who break their promises.
We cannot find peace,
          by trying to win arguments on social media.
We cannot find peace,
          through our “conceal and carry” permit.

Oh how we desperately seek peace. And in our search, we walk away empty and longing for something we cannot find. But we are not alone in our search.

The Charlie Brown Christmas Special hit the airways in 1965. Charles Schultz seemed to have two purposes in mind when he produced the show. First, he wanted to address the amount of commercialism surrounding Christmas. All the lights. All the sales. All the competitions for the best decorations. All of which seemed to miss the point of Christmas. If commercialism was driving Christmas in the sixties, one wonders what Schultz would say about Christmas today. Secondly, Schultz pushed to tell the birth story of Jesus as the true meaning of Christmas. When his fellow artists questioned his move, Schultz (and I’m paraphrasing his reply) said, “If not us, who? If not now, when?” When the suits got involved to change the story, Schultz pushed back. Knowing his popularity, he was willing to levy his following with his fans for the good of the story. His clout carried the day, and Charlie Brown Christmas, nearly sixty years later, is a classic staple today.

We know the story. Charlie Brown is struggling with commercialism surrounding Christmas. Even Snoopy has sold out. Having been asked to direct the Christmas pageant and running up against agendas and opinions and resistance at every step. It all comes to a head when Charlie Brown brings the frail little tree to the stage. Not knowing what to do now, Charlie Brown seeks clarification as to the true meaning of Christmas.

Enter Linus. Linus is the theologian/philosopher among the Peanuts Gang. When he speaks, his clarity of voice usually cuts through most discussions. Usually. Linus has his insecurities, just as much as Charlie Brown. The difference between Linus and Charlie Brown is that Linus sooths his anxiety with his blanket. He carries that blanket everywhere he goes, and the blanket has a life of its own as well. The blanket has a defining role in the TV show.

With Charlie Brown exasperated, he cries for someone to tell him the true meaning of Christmas. Linus steps forward. With the spotlight on him, he begins to recite Luke 2, the passage where the angels speak to the shepherds. As he begins to speak, a subtle but significant moment takes place as Linus drops his blue blanket.

Since Charlie Brown is a cartoon, the artists make choices. Sometimes an object may disappear for no apparent reason, especially when each frame is hand drawn. Not so in this case as Linus will pick up his blanket immediately after his soliloquy. So, as soon as Linus begins reciting Luke 2 the blanket falls to the ground because Linus finds the peace to abandon his blanket through the manger, through the baby Christ. All the anxieties disappear at the manger. Even Charlie Brown finds the peace to walk away from the show with the frail Christmas tree.

The Roman Empire used Pax Romana to convince their people that peace comes through military might or political maneuvering. Neither provides peace. Both are manipulative propaganda still in play today. True peace begins when we approach the vulnerable and defenseless baby at the manger.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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A Not-So-Silent Night

When my daughter was a preschooler, a neighbor had set out a traditional nativity display on their lawn. She loved that nativity scene. She loved going to see “Baby Jesus.” Every time we came home from church, the store, the school, or from running errands, she’d beg, “Let’s go see Baby Jesus!” Every time. And because the nativity scene was set up in a yard in a circular road off our street, it was an easy diversion to make and a simple request to fulfill. Maybe, just maybe, her best day was the afternoon we trudged through the snow to the nativity scene to visit “Baby Jesus” in person.

Nativity scenes capture the serene and holy hope of the Christmas season. Saintly Mary and her betrothed, Joseph, sit over a feeding trough gazing at the newborn who warmly coos. Gathered around are the barn animals, the shepherds, and the “Wise Men” in solemn worship. With the star shining bright, the child in me cries, “I want to see Baby Jesus.”

But the nativity scene is an enigma as the traditional story of Jesus’ birth fails to accurately line up with the biblical story, especially in one significant detail. The Christmas story is nothing shy of a bloodbath, filled with the screams and cries of mothers across Judea. Mothers who cannot be comforted.

According to Matthew, the “Wise Men,” better described as “Magi,” came from the east, probably from modern day Iran or Iraq. Being astrologers, they followed a star that led them to Judea. Connecting the star to a newborn baby, they went to King Herod to get more information. Specifically, they wanted to know where they were to find this child. Once they dropped the title, “King,” Herod’s paranoia was triggered. He sent them on their way with his blessings under the ruse that he wanted to worship the child. He didn’t. He wanted to kill the infant before the child became a man. King Herod was a ruthless ruler who was easily threatened by anyone he deemed stood in his way. So much so, he had his own son killed believing his son prematurely eyed the throne.

The Magi made their appearance before the child. Leaving their gifts, they returned to the east. However, being warned in a dream, they discarded King Herod’s request to tell him where the child king lay. Such defiance angered King Herod, deciding he cannot have anyone compete for his title or throne. In a moment which foreshadows the cross, and eerily linking Jesus to Moses, Herod cast a dragnet, ordering his men to kill all the baby boys under the age of two within the vicinity of Bethlehem. By employing genocide, King Herod will stop this threat before his throne is compromised. Instead of joy and laughter on Christmas, Matthew says we hear Rachel weeping for her children, and refusing to be comforted (Mt. 2:18).

It’s not the Christmas story we want or tell, certainly not the one we tell our innocent children. It is the Christmas story de-sanitized. For all the quiet, holy, and reverent moments, something dark and sinister is at play. Something dark is always at play. In the midst of the bloodshed and weeping comes a glimmer of hope. And hope never disappoints.

One of my favorite Christmas songs draws the listener to the manger scene in “Do You Hear What I Hear?” The song opens with the night wind speaking to the lamb about the star in the sky. The lamb goes to the shepherd boy and in the midnight sky, he hears singing. Presumably, he hears the angelic host in chorus. By now we realize that the song is drawing from myth since the wind communicates to a lamb who then speaks to the shepherd. The sheep speaks. The shepherd boy, doubling as the role of the Wise Men, goes to the Mighty King to tell him about the child shivering in the cold, pleading with the King to bring silver and gold. The Mighty King, instead of using the Magi as a ruse to kill the child, makes a proclamation, declaring to all people hope and peace as this baby child will bring goodness and light.

As much as I loved this song, I struggled with its lack of biblical accuracy. Never mind the mythology part, the Mighty King, who is clearly Herod, does not support the child but does everything to kill the child. That part of the song rested uneasily with me as one who holds the Biblical story in high regard.

All that softened once I discovered the context for the song. In 1962 Russia supplied nuclear war grade missiles to Cuba and parked them off the coast of Florida. For two weeks America was on a head-on collision with a third world war. Only this time, it was nuclear. And for thirteen days it looked like no other option was on the table.

Out of that crisis, on the cusps of the Christmas Holiday Season, and seeing two mothers with babies in strollers who were looking at each other, smiling, Gloria Shayne and Noel Regney composed, “Do You Hear What I Hear?”  The song calls people to find another alternative to their fears, where Rachel weeps for his children and refuses to be comforted. The song embraces a prayerful peace. Ultimately, the only venue for peace comes, not from a nuclear holocaust, from the baby born in Bethlehem. Like the Mighty King, instead of feeding our fears, we turn to faith, we humble ourselves, and we use our power and position to help speak a calming peace to people, where Rachel, weeping for her children, may be comforted. When we do that, we fuel hope. And hope never disappoints.

Arguably, the bloodiest and deadliest war lasted five long years, fought between 1914-1919. We know it as World War I. That war was the first to use modern inventions and technology of tanks and artillery which stripped the land barren while dehumanizing the soldiers. The new trench warfare tactic dug people in, and it prolonged the war instead of bringing it to a quick and decisive end. It also became a cesspool for disease and sickness. The war killed more people than any war up to its time, and left the majority of soldiers wounded, not only physically, but mentally, emotionally, and spiritually as well. The war was rapidly devolving into one of the most horrifying moments in our world’s history. Over a million casualties with three hundred thousand fatalities occurred just during the six-month Battle of Somme. The scars from this war took a generation to begin healing, only to be ripped opened by a second World War.

In the early days of the war, Pope Benedict XV was negotiating a ceasefire when talks stalled, then failed. Instead of the heads of states coming to a consensus, a grassroots truce emerged from within the troops.

On Christmas Eve some German soldiers began singing “Stille Nacht” (i.e., Silent Night). As they were singing, the Allied soldiers began to join them. The Germans sang a verse in their language followed by the Allies singing a verse in English until both had formed a unified chorus of praise. Eventually, one of the German soldiers braved the enemy and emerged from the trenches unarmed. At first the Allies believed it was a ruse. But time unfolded and, daring to seek a holy peace, they acted in faith and stepped out into no-man’s land. Each side laid down their arms and shook hands. They exchanged gifts of cigarettes and chocolates. They topped the night with a rousing game of European football. When the day ended the soldiers shook hands and returned to the trenches where fighting resumed the next day.*

Many of the soldiers were changed by the new-born friendships. They refused to fire on each other and yelled out warnings when mortar was launched. Most of the soldiers were transferred to new outfits in order to reengage the fighting. But the 1914 Christmas cease-fire, the only recorded cease-fire in history initiated within the ranks, occurred because on Christmas Eve soldiers decided to sing Silent Night.

In the midst of a hell-hole called, War, a sliver of hope overran despair. No, it did not last, but it happened because understanding the true nature of the Christmas story, a story born in bloodshed, always brings hope. And hope never disappoints, so that Rachel, weeping for her children, can be comforted.

So if you find yourself in a not-so-silent Christmas night, because you’re Rachel weeping for your children, just remember that you are the reason for Christmas. For in the midst of weeping, we celebrate Christmas. We celebrated the child born in Bethlehem. For God did not send his Son into the world as a great, invincible, and powerful King who will put people and nations in their place. No. God sent his Son into the world as a vulnerable and precious baby, swaddled in clothes, lying in a manger. And that baby is the hope, a hope that comforts you, like you are Rachel weeping for her children. And that hope will not disappoint.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

* Joseph Loconte, A Hobbit, A Wardrobe, and a Great War: How JRR Tolkien and CS Lewis Rediscovered Fatih, Friendship, and Heroism in the Cataclysm of 1914-19 (2015), ix-x.

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A Very COVID Christmas

Christmas is one of my favorite times of the year, and with apologies to Andy Williams, it may be the most wonderful time of the year. From Thanksgiving to New Years the focus on family, forgiveness and future hopes are packaged and wrapped neatly under the Christmas tree.

Since March COVID-19 has disrupted our entire lives and the story of its disruption has been told like an endlessly bad joke. We know about the social distancing protocols. We’ve seen the business sector take a huge hit. Questions about mental health are raised as children and parents struggle to educate at home. Who knew that the term “in person,” as a legitimate way to describe our church services, would be coined? Sickness, death and dread hover like a black cloud waiting to burst. Right now, it’s hard to be merry when COVID is everywhere. And so far this Christmas hasn’t been near as “wonderful” as prior Christmases.

As we’re stepping into Christmas, a few thoughts have been running through my mind worth sharing. First, history is replete with Christmas’s that have been far from wonderful. Just four days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the United States declared war on Germany (declaring war on Japan was a quicker process). By Christmas, America was committed to war with families sending their young men (and some young women) overseas. Nearly 300,000 never returned. Historians tell us that WWI left even a larger hole in people’s lives, taking years to heal (a reason why Europe was so slow to stop Germany’s aggression). The closest marker we have to understand COVID is the Spanish Flu which lasted two years, 1918-1920, and claimed nearly 700,000 lives. Maybe the deadliest disease was the Black Plague hitting Europe in 1347, lasting four years and claiming an estimated 25 million lives. These events are not included to minimize COVID and its impact on our lives, but to remind us that while the path we tread is new to us, it’s well worn by those who have gone on before us. Jesus walked with them through their Christmas seasons, and he’ll walk with us (Heb. 12:2; 13:8).

Secondly, Christmas this year has exposed what the marginalized have experienced: beneath the joy and laughter is pain and suffering. Significant pain and suffering. Social isolating has opened our eyes to the need of community and gathering. We miss our friends and family. We’re battling loneliness with mental health issues rising. But what all of us are struggling with is what many people deal with on a regular basis. People are estranged and longing for reconnection, even if they don’t understand how to reconnect (see Act. 2:42-47).

Thirdly, a better question than asking, “Why?” is “How long?” (Ps. 13:1-2). The “Why” question is usually unanswerable. Sometimes a direct line between cause and effect can be drawn. Sometimes. Most of the time a correlation does not exist. Sure, if you smoke a pack of cigarettes for thirty years you may end up with lung cancer or COPD. Or maybe you won’t. That’s part of the cause and effect weirdness. But more so, asking the “Why” question puts God in a defensive posture of blame. Directly or indirectly God is at fault for causing or allowing the bad to happen (when Jesus quotes the why question of Ps. 22:1, it’s relational and he’s not seeking an explanation). Even if we knew the “why,” it doesn’t change our situation, we still have to endure or give up. But the “How long” question steps far more into faith by enlisting God’s presence without further explanation. Since facts won’t change our situation, we need God’s assurance that our situation will come to an end.

Finally, instead of looking for the silver lining, be the silver lining for someone’s life. Make that extra phone call of encouragment. Provide a meal to a neighbor or family suffering through COVID. Send a Christmas card to someone who won’t receive cards. Be generous with the homeless. Purchase a meal for frontline workers. Maybe through our compassionate generosity we can make this a very merry Christmas anyway.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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Drawing Fierce Battle Lines: Merry Christmas v. Happy Holidays

During the mid-nineties, I was preaching for a congregation in a town near the Smokey Mountains. Prior to the days of Matthew, Taylor was a small girl and Jonathan was a baby. In the community where Cile and I bought our first home, a neighbor set out a nativity scene in their front yard. The house was close enough to walk to and easy access to drive by on the way home from church. Taylor passionately asked each time we neared the home for us to drive by and see Baby Jesus. Most of the time, we complied with her wishes.

I never owned an outdoor nativity scene, and I was taught that displaying such a scene (nearly?) violated Scripture. Cile did collect, piece-by-piece, the Willow Tree Nativity Scene which she displays in our home year round. I do own an inexpensive Peanuts Gang nativity scene. But in the mid-nineties we had neither.

About this time a rumor was circling through town that the local principalities were talking about banning all nativity scenes and Christmas messages. Some were saying that the ban only applied to public properties while others believed it was going to be mandated to personal homes as well. The rumors were fueling the discussions. The topic was so strong that one Sunday evening, I stood before the congregation and proclaimed, “I may not care whether or not a nativity scene is displayed, but if they ban them, I will be the first to display one in my yard.” I was bold in drawing my line in the sand, almost as brave as Don Quixote fighting his windmills.

The truth is no local or State legislation was coming down the pipeline to curtail religious decorations at Christmas time. Sure, the prayer before football games were being challenged in courts. True, some of the retail giants began marketing “traditional Christmas” items as “Holiday” items. But to my knowledge, no one was legislating such changes. The debate and controversy seemed to have risen as if someone created a conflict just so they could prop themselves up as a “voice of reason.”

Enter the debate between “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays,” and let the battle lines be drawn.

For people of faith, this has been a contentious topic of conversation. Some believe that “Merry Christmas” should always be used over “Happy Holidays” since Christmas is about Christ. Others are concerned about the secularization of the season and its drive for consumerism; “holiday” sounds like consumers on a vacation. An informed Biblical approach may actually surprise you.

First, neither “Christmas” nor “Holiday” is mentioned in the Bible. Obviously, Christ is in the Bible, especially as Matthew and Luke spend considerable amount of time exploring his birth (by the way John goes straight to incarnational theology, “The Word became flesh and lived among us” [Jn.1:14]). As far as holiday goes, every feast in the Bible is placed in a context of dedication to God. From Sabbath to Passover to Jubilee to Hanukkah (see Jn. 10:22-23) each feast was set aside as holy for God. So while “Christmas” and “Holiday” are not in the Bible, their presence casts a long shadow on the Biblical narrative.

Secondly, the meaning of the words, “Christmas” and “Holiday” are rooted in the religious only to sprout secularized meaning over time. Crowding into the stores (prior to COVID) to get the best deals for Christmas presents doesn’t sound very sanctifying, but does look like a sellout to marketing and consumerism (no matter which phrase is used). Forgotten is that the Christ-Mas was originally a specific church service to honor Jesus with a feast (i.e., communion). On the other hand Holiday wasn’t a vacation by the Brits or a marketing ploy for American consumers, but a Holy-Day set aside for God. Thus, Christmas is a holiday or the Christ-Mas is a Holy-Day.

So if we really want to redeem Christmas and transform it from the secular into the sacred, let’s stop arguing over words/phrases not found in the Bible. Be at peace with either phrase. Instead, let’s honor Christ on this holy day and do what Jesus did best. Let’s forsake the power grab and serve our neighbors. Let’s feed the hungry, heal the sick, free the captives, calm the (inner) storms, instill hope for the hopeless and forgive the debts. And in our kindness, wish warmly the people we encounter, whoever they are, “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holy-days,” because as Christians, that’s what we do best.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

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The Naughty/Nice List: How Santa’s List Differs from Jesus’ List

One of my earliest memories of Christmas centered on St. Nick. I remember sitting on his knee asking for a new bike. I remember the cardboard fire place we set up in our living room with a lighted fire we turned on at night (without a real fireplace this was his entrance into the house?). I remember the year mom crocheted/granny square stockings to replace our small plastic ones; these still hang each year at my house. Finally, I remember the year my sister’s stocking was empty, and what I thought was a strike of justice turned out to be a faulty assessment of reality (she had already gone through her stocking).

The Santa Clause tradition has motivated children to spend the month between Thanksgiving and New Year’s exhibiting their best behavior. In a rewards v. punishment theme children wish to avoid an empty stocking with desire to cash in on Santa’s generosity.

Similarities exist between what St. Nick hopes to accomplish and walking with Jesus. Both are appear to be all-knowing. Both desire to bring the best out of the people they encounter. Both have a list used to categorize people and their behavior. Here the similarities seem to break down and begin to diverge, as the lists available are handled quite differently.

St. Nicklaus’ list is about behavior. He rewards the good while punishing the bad. A child does everything he/she can to ensure they are included on the “nice” list. Sure, Santa grades on a sliding scale, but either you’re good or you’re not. And the burden is on you. Your behavior determines your destiny. If you’re not good enough, you fail to get the stuff you want. Simply, it’s a works-driven form of righteousness.

Jesus’ list, on the other hand, is about grace and discipleship. Those who are on Jesus’ good list find themselves filled with flaws, shortcomings and sin. As Paul quotes the Psalmist, “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Rom. 3:10). No matter how hard we try to be good, we cannot be good. In part, because nothing within us is good. The purpose of the cross was to transfer the righteousness of Christ onto us in order to make us good (2 Cor. 5:21). Even Jesus describes his Second Coming, not in terms of a “naughty” and “nice” list but, in terms of compassion. Did we feed the hungry, offer a drink to the thirsty, practice hospitality to the homeless, and clothe the naked, visit the sick or those imprisoned? (Mt. 25:31-40).

Maybe the best picture of how Jesus’ list gets flipped is the story of the two men who ventured to the temple to pray (Lk. 18:9-14). The first was a member of the conservative political/religious party. He avoided an immoral life, and shunned the people who lived such lives. He fasted twice a week and tithed a tenth of his income. If the prayer was made today, he’d boast his church attendance too. The other man knew his sin was before him, and he refused to look up at heaven. He just cried out to God in confessional tones for mercy, not justice.

Santa’s list, as a works-oriented list, places the first man on the “nice” list while the other goes on the “naughty” list. Jesus flips the list because he is looking for humility and compassion while operating in a context of grace. Neither men are good, but the second is willing to admit and trust God’s grace. The first one trusts himself, while the second puts everything on God.

When I look back at the year I thought my sister’s stocking was left unfilled, I’m ashamed at the thoughts that went through my mind. I thought we both got what we deserved. And that’s the flaw in Santa’s works-oriented list, and it’s where I was fatally flawed in my theology. He gives you what you deserves with the “naughty” while rewarding you far better than you deserve with the “nice” list. Jesus’ list simply includes those who know they deserve nothing but are given everything. He calls it grace.

 Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

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My Christmas List

In 1990 Natalie Cole released the song, Grown-Up Christmas List, and it became one of her signature songs. Two years later Amy Grant covered the song with additional lyrics and became a big hit for her. While others have either recorded or performed the song, its popularity has allowed it to be a staple for anyone’s Christmas playlist.

The song takes the listener to days-gone-by when we once sat on the knee to articulate our Christmas wishes. Now grown up, the older and wiser one has a list as well. It’s just not the same kind of list. It’s changed. It’s matured. It’s no longer self-serving, but far more inclusive of the people we contact.

No more lives torn apart ● That wars would never start ● And time would heal all hearts ● And everyone would have a friend ● And right would always win ● And love would never end ● This is my grown-up Christmas list

The reconciliation theme woven through this chorus is far from subtle. No wars. Hearts are healed. Friendships strengthened and renewed. Right and love always win. The list is easily a practical application of the angel’s promise of “peace on earth and goodwill to all mankind” (Lk. 2:14). It’s also a picture of God’s promise when he makes everything new again (Rev. 22:5).

I wonder what our list might include today if we were given such an opportunity. If we were to move beyond the selfish, materialistic-driven nature of Christmas, what might we really want to see or experience?

Would civility appear on the list? Can you imagine people actually being respectful and kind to each other? People can use active listening skills to understand first before being understood. Words like “please” and “thank you” were heard on a regular basis. Unloading in the social network becomes a thing of the past, while anger and frustration are dealt with responsibly. A “kind” tone in our voice is heard, while our language is filled with respect.

Where would truth appear on the list? For the past thirty plus years truth has taken a hit. The postmodern world has blurred the line between what is true and what is a lie. Personal opinion has overridden imperial evidence, and in the process “expert insight” has been discredited. Labeling people has always been easier than processing the information, but even that seems heightened today. And along the way Christians failed to live Truth with the world knowing too many of us are hypocrites. Recovering truth, beyond repenting from the lies, means stripping away preconceived ideas and cultural norms we’ve embraced.

How much is diversity appreciated in a society often longing and pushing for uniformity? Color, wealth and regional roots are part of any society’s make up. But the drive for uniformity keeps some at arm’s length while inciting fear in the rest. We’re naturally suspicious of outsiders, but that mistrust doesn’t mean it’s a right feeling to own.

Civility, truth and diversity are absolutely mature wishes to long for. They certainly can be rooted in the character and presence of Jesus. And more importantly, we don’t have to wait for others to implement those qualities, we can own them ourselves.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

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Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum: A Christmas Story

It was a teaching moment. As Jesus was watching the contributions go into the temple treasury, he noticed a widow. She was placing two copper coins into the box. Jesus drew the disciples’ attention to the widow and noticed her generosity. Where others gave out of their wealth, she gave out of her poverty (Lk. 21:1-4). Where the rich, who gave a lot, only gave a small portion of their wealth, she gave everything she had though the total amount was the sum value of maybe a penny. Jesus’ commentary on her giving was Kingdom of God valued; she gave more than anyone else.

God looks more at the giver than the actual gift.

When Samuel was in the process of anointing the new king for Israel, God told the prophet not to be consumed with their looks but their heart (1 Sam. 16:7). David’s brothers looked more royal than the scrappy boy tending his father’s sheep. But Israel had already been down that road with someone looking kingly but not acting kingly. God wanted someone whose heart was set on him, not on the power kingship brings to the monarch.

The theme of weakness into strength recapitulates throughout Scripture. The humble will be lifted. The rejected will be accepted. The powerless will find power. So it’s no wonder that somewhere along the way someone creates a story like the drummer boy.

In the story the little boy found his way with the throng of people who heard that the Messiah had arrived as a baby in a manger. People were bringing gifts, but the little boy had no gift to bring. Many of the people had the means to travel and the resources to present great gifts. The little boy had nothing and the long journey was beyond both his means and his ability.

When the boy finally reached Bethlehem and stood before the baby king, he watched the adults present their gifts to the child and his parents. Shame swelled over him. He neither had a gift nor could afford such luxuries. He stood there like he was out of place and overwhelmed.

Finally his opportunity to present his gift came to him. He hands were empty. His poverty spoke volumes as he stepped forward. Confessing his lack of gift, he offered the one thing he had. He offered to play his drum. With the mother’s blessing, he started to play. Amazingly, the crowd grew silent, the animals joined in the song and the baby smiled.

Such a small gift, such a simple song. Yet it strikes at something near to the heart of God. For God continues to look not at how big the gift is, but how big the heart that gives the gift.

A hug. A cup of water. An encouraging text. A lunch at a fast food restaurant. A meaningful prayer. An offer to babysit. A phone call. Cleaning up a mess. Holding a baby so a mother can have a moment of peace. Dropping your last few coins in the collection plate because it’s all you have.

Where we’re consumed with how big and impressive our gift to God is, God is far from amused. He’s looking at the heart of the giver, such as the level of generosity, the amount of cheerfulness and the volume of faith when the giver gives.

Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to a little drummer boy.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

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Somewhere Between What Did Happen and What Could Have Happened

The Christmas story is filled with controversy at so many levels. We can begin with December 25th as an odd time for Jesus’ birth since shepherds were unlikely to be tending sheep in the fields during the winter months (Lk. 2:8); it was possible, but unlikely. We can clarify how the Bible speaks of the three gifts of the Magi, but says nothing of the number of Magi present (Mt. 2:11b). We can preach that the traditional manger scene never occurred, as the shepherds saw the baby Jesus in the manger (Lk. 2:16), but the Magi went to a house to see Jesus (Mt. 2:11a). 

Not only is the traditional manger scene foreign to the Biblical narrative, but the Christmas story, according to Matthew, is filled with scandal, jealousy and murder, making any prime-time movie look white-washed in comparison. Matthew specifically calls out four women with tainted lives in Jesus’ genealogy: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth (she spent the night with Boaz), and Bathsheba, which leads to a young Mary pregnant out of wedlock (Mt. 1:3, 5-6, 18-19). Matthew’s story ends in a blood bath, as well as a fore-shadow of the crucifixion; Herod’s jealous rage executes and orders to kill all baby boys in the Judean region (Mt. 2:16). Like the cross, we’ve glossed over and photo-shopped the birth narrative of Jesus to make the story more palatable.  

If we begin talking about the amount of commercialism tied to Christmas, we might all be shamed.

I’ve come to terms with the Christmas story’s relationship to the pop-culture telling of the birth story of Jesus. Personally, I’m just kinda glad that Jesus’ story is being told (i.e. Phil. 1:15-18). That said, one area I’ve struggled with is the classic Christmas song, “Do You Hear What I Hear?” (It’s also one of my favorites). I can accept the liberties with the Biblical story and the use of fantasy as imagery in the song.

* The night wind speaks to the lamb about the star in the sky.
* The lamb goes to the shepherd boy about the song he hears, presumably the song of the angelic host.
* The shepherd boy, in combining him with the Wise Men, goes to the Mighty King to tell him about the child shivering in the cold, pleading with the King to bring silver and gold. 

At this moment the song departs entirely from the Biblical narrative. It’s this divergence that I’ve struggled with the most. 

When Herod heard the news that the Christ was born, he used worship as a pretense for murder (Mt. 2:8). The baby was a threat to his throne, and he was going to eliminate any threat (historically, Herod was known for such actions). However, the song says the Mighty King declares to all the people hope and peace, as the baby child will bring goodness and light. 

It’s here that my upbringing starts to scream, “We cannot sing this song, because it’s not true!” The Mighty King tried to stop the baby’s reign before it even started; he never promoted his reign. My soul was in turmoil. I loved the song, but it told a story that never happened. The song is nothing but short of a lie. 

A couple of years ago, I experienced an epiphany when a different understanding of the song emerged. Maybe the song was not about “What Did” happen. We know what happened. Instead, maybe the song tells us about “What If” something else happened. 

“What If” the Mighty King humbled himself?
“What if” the Mighty King used his power and position to lead a restoration?
“What If” the Mighty King rallied the people of Judea around Christ?
“What If” the Mighty King led the throng in worship to the Christ?

We all live somewhere between “what did happen,” and “what could have happened.” A husband and father could have been the spiritual leader of his family, but chose apathy while mocking or criticizing people of faith. A business owner could have ministered to the people but was too preoccupied with making his next dollar. A church could have made a difference in the community, but were too consumed by internal strife or just afraid to act in faith. 

Living between “what did happen” and “what could have happened,” means we have the choice. The choice is not only what kind of story we want to live out, but what kind of story God wants us to live out.                                       

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)