Thursday, December 23, 2010

Christmas

Christmas is charged with an energy that no other holiday, no other holy day can touch. Fourth of July is a lightweight compared with Christmas. And Easter? Well, Easter is the most important day on the Christian calendar. But not even an empty tomb can compete with a baby in a manger. Christmas is the heavy weight of holy days.

So many dreams, hopes, and longings. So much emotion. So much nostalgia, sentiment, anticipation. So much of the past and future all wrapped together like presents in our hearts.

But why exactly does Christmas come to us with so much weight, energy, hope, and longing? Maybe it's the nostalgia of childhood or family. Or, maybe it's the sound of the baby in the manger. Maybe the story of the babe in the manger does something transcendental to our hearts. Maybe it's the cries of new life, which are like songs of angels. Maybe the story of the baby suggests to us the greatest present in the world is the present of God's incarnation. The baby is the fulfillment of all of our hopes and dreams for a life fully imbued with God's love.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Making God in Our Image

As I listen to an individual speak about their understanding of God, as I listen to people describe their faith in Jesus Christ, I am becoming more attuned to how perspectives on Jesus closely mirror personal views on politics and social issues.

That is to say, if the person is politically conservative, Jesus looks conservative. If the person is liberal, then Jesus is liberal. Contrary to good theology that says God is wholly other than us, it seems that Jesus is never very different from us.

Though the Bible suggests that we are made in the image of God, my experience suggests that we often make God in our image. God becomes what we want God to be. Jesus is the God-man who looks alike us and our agendas.



Thursday, December 9, 2010

The Little Drummer Boy


A fire burning, smoke rising through the sixty year old brick chimney. I watch the quiet activity in my home and notice the reflection of the flames dancing in the brass ash-screen. And I listen. Listen to the music. Christmas music. The Little Drummer Boy. Something catches in my throat every time I hear this song.
I played my drum for Him
Pa rum pum pum
I played my best for Him
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Then He smiled at me
Pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
My heart softens, an indefinite longing opens wide. Is the longing for God? It feels like a spiritual longing. A longing for something beyond what I see, hear, feel, taste, and touch. A longing for something beyond my ability to describe the longing.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Coffee

I'm looking for God at Starbucks.

I sit at a corner table in a overstuffed chair and I can't quite get comfortable. “An ottoman would be nice,” I think. “And a throw pillow for the small of my back.”

Soft, folksy music drifts from black speakers that are mostly hidden in the corners of the ceiling. People rush in and rush out. They have different color hair, their bodies are different sizes, their expressions mixed. Latte, half-calf, espresso, and the old stand-by that made Starbucks famous.

I watch as two women, one older and one younger chat in line. Their clothing suggests that they are worlds apart. One is dressed in the latest fashions from Elle and the other wears gray sweatpants. In front of them, a man on an iphone with a starched white collar rambles on about a deal, his voice beginning to rise: I'll take care of it when I arrive. No problem. We can still buy it. Send the guys to pick it up. Do it. NOW. Other people are reading the morning paper, yawning, sipping, waking up.

I watch and I wonder. Where is God, right now?

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Kingdom

The wind is like ice blowing through the air. The wind races through the mossy trees and across the elementary school campus. I watch young children in bright colors leave the warmth of the cars dropping them off. I inch my car forward.

The kids all wave good-bye to adults behind the wheel of their respective autos. All the children have smiles. They seem not to begrudge the wind for being so cold. I inch forward getting ready to unload my precious fleshy-cargo. And I wonder, “Why do children smile so easily?”

The door of my car opens and a teacher, with a gloved hand, waves to me and says, “Good morning.” “Good morning,” I respond. My young child slides out of the back seat, his feet hitting the white concrete sidewalk. Before the car door closes he turns and smiles, the wind lifting his hair, and he whispers, “I love you, dad.”

He is running before I can whisper my love in return. But I wonder, “Why do children love so easily?”

As I drive away I remember something important. “Do not keep the children from me,” said Jesus, “for to such belongs the kingdom of God.”

Monday, December 6, 2010

Prayer is Good

Lying in bed with florescent lights and the sound of medical beeps in the foreground. Another day in the hospital. She waits and thinks, "What is God trying to tell me?"

Strong willed and more patient than I ever thought possible. The woman waits. Waits for healing. Waits to go home. Waits for good news.

She remarks on a piece of mail she received. A card from someone at church. It brings a smile to her face. "I just don't know," she says. She wants to pray. So we pray. "That is good," she remarks. "Yes, prayer is good."

And I leave her side and she watches me exit. "Thank you for coming," she says. "You're welcome," I say. The Lord be with you."

"He is."

I am amazed at her faith.