Thursday, December 16, 2010

A Christmas Confession

I have a confession.

I am a Christmas scrooge. While hearing that first Christmas song on the radio brings a smile and joy into the hearts of some, it has the polar (ha) opposite effect on me. If I wasn’t married to a wonderful woman who loves Christmas, and if I didn’t have kids that would be disappointed, I wouldn’t have a Christmas tree, I wouldn’t have lights, and “Christmas music” would only tickle my ears between the dates of December 24th and 25th.

But that’s all superficial. When I see the rampant consumerism that is “Christmas” it kind of makes me sick—especially when I take time to recognize that I’ve bought into it myself.

And then there is my utter disgust and frustration with certain groups (such as the AFA) that like to rally well-meaning people around a misguided cause under the banner of Christianity, and then asks for donations to help them continue their “Godly” crusade. I’m sorry (not really), but using the name of Jesus to market products should be what is offensive, not someone’s use of the word “holiday”. And if I really want people to know who Jesus is, I’m not going to wear pins or put bumper stickers on my car that tell people they are evil or stupid because they are trying to deny Jesus by writing ‘X-mas’ on their ‘holiday’ cards (by the way, the use of the letter ‘X’ to reference Christ goes back to at least the 16th century).

Lately, I’ve even become annoyed with the way the nativity is most often represented…

But that is not my confession. Many people could have told you I’m a scrooge, and my wife certainly could tell you about my annoyance and frustration with the things Christians seem to get caught up in around Christmas.

My confession is that I have let all of this become a distraction away from what really matters in remembering the birth of the Christ, Jesus.

More about the nativity. I don’t know why, but I had never really taken time to consider the reality of the whole of the nativity scenario before. Let me describe it to you in a way that recently occurred to me: Imagine walking/riding a donkey for 90 miles on dusty roads (9 months pregnant, no less), only to find out there was no decently clean room for you to rest in when you arrive. Instead, you find yourself in a dirty stable, smelling of animals and manure—and then you start to give birth. For those who have experienced it, you know that process involved in giving birth is not a neat and clean one even when you are in a clean and sterile hospital environment—I don’t think I will need to elaborate, but you can think about that for a moment…

And then a bunch of shepherds show up and there’s no one to tell them it’s not visitation time. Now, I know there was probably some clean-up done, but they came within the day Jesus was born, and it was still a stable. What I’m getting at is that it is not a picture that would inspire me to write poetry and beautiful music. Actually, I would probably feel a little uncomfortable and sad.

However, there is something about it that brings amazing, unspeakable joy, and that is hard even now to grasp.

God.

God Almighty, the creator of the universe, the mustard seed, and of the human race is there. He humbled himself to not just show up in the world in the image of the created, but to enter into the world the same way every single other human being has entered into the world—and in a situation that I can look at and honestly call disgusting.

THAT makes me want to sing “JOY to the World!”

Most all of Jesus’ ministry was done among the “least of these”; the outcasts, the crippled and diseased. The majority of those in prominent positions were opposed and turned off by Jesus. His entry into the world was no different: born in a dirty, stinky animal stable and celebrated by shepherds (pretty low on the societal totem-pole)…then when some of apparent prominence did show up a few years later (the wise men), they were foreigners, representing ungodly peoples. Nothing about Jesus appears to be worth celebrating, and certainly his position is not one that would naturally lead many people to admire, let alone worship him.

But yet, here is our God. The one by whom and for whom all things were created (Colossians 1), the great “I am” (John 8:58), the fullness of God in bodily form (Colossians 2:9). He not only came to minister to the “least,” he humbly came among least, proclaiming with authority freedom and reconciliation (Luke 4:18-21), and offering the right to become children of God (John 1).

Is that what the Shepherds saw when they entered the filth of the stable and gazed upon the infant only a few hours old? In as much as they could understand, I think so. They did have the benefit of a host of angels appearing to them immediately prior.

Is that what I see when the kids get dressed up in cute little angel and sheep costumes, and a shy blonde-haired girl holds a cabbage patch doll in a cardboard manger?

It’s sad that the birth of Jesus is relegated as a topic of remembrance for a single time of year (try telling the story in July and see how many people ask you why you’re talking about Christmas in July), but the reality of God incarnate is a joyous realization any time of the year.

So, in light of this confession, my repentance (change in mind & direction) is this: to be less scrooge-like and less focused on the things that distract from the Good News, and to allow myself to be overwhelmed by the beauty and mystery of God entering the world in such a low state to reveal the fullness of himself to all people.

Praise God!