'Twas the Week before Christmas...

This was written several years ago as a reflection on Matthew's telling of the birth of Jesus (1:18-25). I've always been struck by the nature of Joseph's struggles, finding in them many analogies to our own...and finding in his response a good model for our response to God. Herewith, a bit of poetry...and wishes for a very merry Christmas.

'Twas the week before Christmas and all through the place
every person was caught in the holiday race;
The stockings weren't hung; they'd not even been found;
and the cards were not sent, and nowhere around
were the cookies that should have been all baked and ready;
nor the ornaments made, nor the dinner plans steady.
And I with a sigh and Mama with a yawn
wondered how we would finish before Christmas dawn.
There we sat, not so nice, on the living room couch;
one tired and sad, and the other a grouch.

Perhaps we were snoozing; I don't really know,
but something or someone had startled us so
that we sprang to our feet to see what was the matter
while our hearts raced ahead of their usual patter.
When what to our wondering eyes should appear
but a village alive 'neath a night starry clear.

"Come this way," a voice seemed to lead us along
through a close, winding street towards the sound of a song.
There were people all over, crushed shoulder to shoulder,
and to stay with our guide we pushed on a bit bolder
until we were standing in front of a door
that was open, revealing a bare, earthen floor
and a rude, little room set with a straw and a trough
and a trio of doves cooing down from a loft.

"More water!" another voice hurried on by;
then a shout, "He is here!" and a woman's sharp cry.
And the song was replaced by a baby's first squall,
and a poor woman's tears from her nest in the stall.
"He is beautiful!" now a man softly exclaimed,
and his voice starting humming the song once again.
And taking his shawl, then the baby was clothed
in the prayers of his father and the love of all those
who had gathered to marvel at this long-waited birth
of a child and a promise and a hope for the earth.

"Yeshua is his name," soft the voice of his mother;
"God will save" was the murmur from one to another;
And the crowd backed away, and the babe fell asleep,
and the man looked to heaven and started to weep.

"Forgive me for doubting" he pled to the sky,
"all the words of the prophets from days long gone by
that you'd never abandon your creatures below."
And again came his song in a voice rich and low:
a simple refrain as his lullaby swelled,
"I love you, my child, my Emmanuel."

And then the dream vanished as quickly it came;
and we wakened to find most our things much the same.
Still the presents and parties and jobs to be done,
still the days over full and the work under fun.
But yet, in another way, subtle and true
this frantic-paced waiting is changed and made new;
Priorities shifted, and new questions raised:
Just what does it mean when the Lord of all Days
comes to live 'mongst his people and take as his own
their sins to be healed, and their hearts as his throne?

While the motive behind all our busy-ness is
to do just what is right; still the holiday's His.
All our gifts and our getting can never compare
to the gift of the child and the life that is there.
So I think of the song; may it fit to my voice!
May there be no temptation, no darkness, no choice
that would keep my own life from attesting it well:
"I love you, my child, my Emmanuel."

The way home...

There's a moment in the movie "Apollo 13" when Commander Jim Lovell (played by Tom Hanks) describes a harrowing experience during a mission over Korea. It's night and he's running low on fuel when something malfunctions...knocking out all his cockpit electronics. No radio, no lights, no gauges...nothing to help him find the aircraft carrier on which he is to land. This premier piece of aviation technology might as well be a rock since, when he runs out of fuel, thats precisely what it will fall like into the sea.

He prays for a way home and then looks out the cockpit window to the water below. There he sees a green bio-luminescent stream. It's algae...a simple sea-borne plant...that's been stirred up by the propellar of a large ship. He follows it straight to his carrier and a safe landing.

Relocated by their Babylonian captors, a disheartened group of exiles are afraid that they will never see their home, Jerusalem, again. But Isaiah (chapter 35) brings them the promise of a way...a Holy Way across the desert and back to Zion...which God will prepare for them. It's not something they can do on their own. But God who is faithful has not forgotten them, and will lead them by a way so clear and direct that even the most foolish can't mess it up.

What Isaiah foretells comes to pass. Judah does return to Zion in rejoicing. But Isaiah's prophecy is fulfilled in still another way...by the advent of God's Messiah...one who doesn't just show the way, but who...by his saving death and resurrection...is the Way.

That's good news in an age which trusts its own technology too much and then despairs the disappointments too deeply. Remember: when the night is dark, when the road is long, when your own efforts have failed, God in Christ is faithful still. By means of humility, self-sacrifice and steadfast love, God gathers us to himself. The way home is there for us and will not fail.

All I Want for Christmas...

...is my two front teeth. It's a silly old song, but a seasonal classic. I've already heard it twice this year on the "all-Christmas-music, all-the-time-until-you-run-screaming-from-the-room" radio channel. And that's about enough for me.

But it raises an interesting question. How much does what we want shape our behaviors and our attitudes? If we want new teeth, we daydream about what we'll do with them (including wishing you a Merry Christmas). If we're fixated on that new Wii, we're likely to notice how our old Playstation 2 just doesn't cut it anymore. If we're hoping that Santa will drop a new Lexus in our driveway, it's likely that our palms get sweaty when we see one on the street...and that we begin to really notice all the little things wrong with our current jalopy. You get the idea.

Christians aren't exempt from wanting these things (or a myriad of other necessities and toys). But we also want something else, yes? We await the coming kingdom of God...a reign of peace, wholeness, justice and dignity where God's values finally supplant our own. And in our waiting...our wanting...our anticipation for this grand future...how is the present time of life changed? It's worthy considering: What behaviors and attitudes in our lives reflect the already but not yet nature of the rule of God in our lives?