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Wednesday, 16 December 2009
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The Christmas Song Which Never Fails to Make Me Cry
It's the song I've never been able to finish, not only because I'm tone-deaf and the notes are too high, but also because I choke on the words.
"I am a poor boy too," they go, "I have no gift to bring / That's fit to give a King." And yet "I played my drum for him. I played my best for him."
It's these last words which always get me. I often feel that any gift of love, faith, honor, and praise which I have to give Jesus is fairly miniscule, and certainly not a gift that is comprable to what he came to give us. Yet the message of the song, Little Drummer Boy, is if I offer our Lord what talent I have, and if I do so to the very best I am able, then...to borrow from Tolkein..."it is a very kingly gift indeed."
Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny.
Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, "I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on." Mark 12: 41-44, NIV
Sunday, 13 December 2009
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God's Stocking Stuffer to Me this Christmas
"What are mere mortals, that you should make so much of us?" Job 7:17, NLT
When I stop to think about the events of the past few days and the inarguable role God played, I find myself a bit bewildered. I don't know quite what to think of this God who cares so much for the menial details of our lives.
I've lived in my current apartment since I moved back from Marquette, and for the most part, I was happy. Then it was close enough to my work, it has decent views, is in a surprisingly rural location for being a mile north of the county seat. Rent was inexpensive, the neighbors were mostly quiet, my landlord let me get a cat... I suppose the major drawback is the lack ventilation. The building operates on radiant heat, so in the winter, there is no transfer of air, no filtration of it either. This made for a perfect environment for mold.
I never thought much of it. I would climb on a chair every few months and spray bleach on the ceiling spots, squirt more bleach into the window frames, wipe the mold from wall-mounted air-conditioner. Sure, people told me this was bad for my health; many told me to move. But moving is a hassle...and work was close...and I loved seeing deer from my windows.
But these past months, with those windows shut, I quickly noticed constant congestion, sneezing, coughing, bloody nose, wheezing. As I laid awake at night trying to clear the passages, I would hear my downstairs neighbor coughing and wheezing. And she's been here more than a decade.
So I began a search, one I hoped which would bring me within 10 miles of the greater part of my route, where I might have another cat and a balcony. Unfortunately, my route is in one of America's richest counties, meaning rent in a decent place fitting my parameters would likely be well out of my budget. So, last weekend, my wonderful parents drove all over the county with me, putting in calls and tolerating my increasingly dejected mood. It seemed each place we called had rents easily a hundred dollars beyond my abilities.
But God. And my father. Dad thought to call the place my sister once lived, and loved, before her marriage. I told him not bother, seeing as a complex just two blocks away was $150 more than I wanted to pay. But it turned out my sister's old home isn't. In fact, it's $35 less than where I'm at now, and it's bigger. And has a raised terrace opening onto a enclosed courtyard. And I can get Hadassah and I a kitten, and the kitchen is fully upgraded, and it has no mold.
Back to God, because this really is him. Yes, the economy slumped, but that much? Two months ago, this same unit was at the price of the complex across the street. Such a little thing to him, landing me this place, one which, with or without, I still would serve him.
I don't even think I serve him very well; I'm a bit distracted in my walk. Yet he still cares to help.
Christians love to constantly say that Jesus is the greatest Christmas gift ever, which, when I stop to really consider, is true. It isn't that he came just to die, but that Jesus came also to live. To endure all those trivial, human concerns so that we can never say to him that "you just don't understand!" Still, he doesn't have to care; he chooses to. So while Jesus takes up all the space under the proverbial Christmas tree, he still seems to really enjoy giving us a few extras for mantle.
Friday, 04 December 2009
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Playing the Jesus-Card in the Dating Game
Part of my internet-dating profile reads: looking for a Jesus-minded, Bible-reading, available Christian man. At first I had just written, looking for a Jesus-minded man, but I soon got the impression that many men on these sites have no idea the kind of man Jesus is. Because certainly Jesus is not the sort who, in his profile, would brag about his prowess in the bedroom while also saying he wasn't necessarily looking for a serious relationship at the moment.
So I got more specific. And surprise, surprise, almost all communications ceased. Perhaps I came off a bit crazy...or perhaps the internet is not the venue God will choose to play Matchmaker for me. But I just feel that being specific here, in this potentially dangerous virtual bar, isn't a bad thing.
I've learned that throwing down the Jesus-card immediately shuts out unwanted attention as far as dating goes, though I wonder if I play it too early; my parents certainly think I do. They, and other older people, say that I don't give these guys a chance. But I feel there are certain character-flaws I don't need to put up with, and certainly one of those is the shying-away at the mention of the name of Jesus. I can't believe that my future husband is so weak that he is unable to stand up against whatever it is for him that name raises.
And would a Christian man...a man who at least goes to church, has been raised in a Christian home, or opens his Bible occasionally, be so easily scared by a woman who does? And do I even want to date a guy who isn't any or all of those things? I'm of the attitude that I don't want to waste my time and money on something that is going nowhere...and certainly dating a non-Christian, for someone as sometimes serious and sometimes not as myself, is not leading anywhere good. A date with a non-Christian...fine, provided going in I don't know (I don't quiz each guy who asks me out prior to assenting...really). But I don't think I need to entertain the idea of dating non-Christians.
Some think I should. "What if the guy is led to a knowledge of Christ through me," I'll hear. Which is a valid point, but a non-Christian guy, upon getting to know me, is either going to be intrigued at the thought of Jesus, or as the case has been, scared away. Why should I pursue someone who can't take that? I can guarantee this: a life with someone like myself is going to present much scarier things than my God...unless, of course, you oppose my God.
I have standards. Material, physical, and intellectual. On these, I'm flexible. He needn't be rich or even comfortable; he does need to show he has potential, ambition, and intellegence, however. He needn't be a Brad Pitt, have the perfect body, or dress in a way I would appreciate; I can't, however, find him physically repulsive. Intelligence, not necessarily book-smart, yet he and I have to have something to talk about. But when it comes to Jesus...I'm not flexible.
It isn't great being single, but I'd rather be single and content than force myself to compromise just so I can say, "I'm dating someone."
Do not unite yourselves with unbelievers; they are no fit mates for you. What has righteousness to do with wickedness? Can light consort with darkness? Can Christ agree with Belial, or a believer join hands with an unbeliever? Can there be a compact between the temple of God and the idols of the heathen?
And the temple of the living God is what we are. 1 Corinthians 6:14-16, NEB
Wednesday, 02 December 2009
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Christmas without Jesus
"I hate this time of year," and account-friend told me, "I hate the traffic, the shopping, the crowds. I hate the cold and snow. I hate that my kids only want these exorbitantly expensive things! I wish I could be put to sleep now and woken up after New Years!"
Pretty usual vent, right? And to this point, I agreed with everything she said. But what came next just broke my heart for her: "I hate Christmas!" she finished, "there's nothing redeeming about it!"
Goodness. For as much as I dislike the materialistic, aggravated, frantic undercurrent which exists everywhere in America from Thanksgiving on, there always was that single redeeming factor: Jesus. So Christmas without him? Just as my friend described.
Christmas ought to be a happy time. Admittedly, family and gift-buying can be stressful, but we at least have Jesus. For those who don't...what is there?
Every once in a while I hear someone say, "When is Jesus coming back?" or "Jesus could come back today and I'd be happy. I can't wait 'till Jesus comes back!" That latter I've heard come from the mouths of very well-known evangelistic preachers...and it hurts. Because the very reason Jesus hasn't come back yet is for people like my friend. To me, what this renowned evangelist said sounds a lot like what was said in the first century, without the desire to sin, of course:
In the last days there will come men who scoff at religion and live self-indulgent lives. They will say: "Where is the promise of his coming? Our fathers have been laid to rest, but still everything continues exactly as it has always been since the world began." ...
It is not that the Lord is slow in fulfilling his promise, as some suppose, but that he is very patient with you, because it is not his will for any to be lost, but for all to come to repentance. 1 Peter 3:3-4, 9, NEBWe need to remember there are probably many like my friend who celebrate Christian holidays without an understanding of who Jesus is. And as hopless as that sounds, we're all still here...for a reason.
Tuesday, 01 December 2009
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Like Green-Bean Casserole
I've heard spoken today two words I've often seen in print, know the meanings of, but never knew the pronunciation: cherubic and indefatigable. Now, having heard them, and verified the pronunciation with a dictionary, I can't seem to keep them from playing in my mind. There's a delightful, lilting aspect of conquering their sound, as though I've finally and truly gotten to know them.
My walk with God is a bit like that. I've read the Bible, as well as myriads of books about Jesus, the Church, theology, but actually practicing it all...testing it? I hesitate to "taste and see that the Lord is good," because what if I "taste" and get something like green-bean casserole? Not saying Jesus is anything as foul as that; in fact, he is as far from the atrocious dish one can get.
What I mean is, what if I've "tasted" Jesus after having partaken of the foul green-bean casserole? Or what if the thing I've asked for is green-bean casserole to him? What if I try one of those promises God made in his Word, but because of my approach, timing, or request, I've actually offered up to God the abominable green-bean casserole, albeit on a gilded, gold fork? Presentation doesn't matter, because it is indeed green-bean casserole...and I get it pushed right back into my face.
I digress.
What I'm saying is, the Bible's promises are like a list of strange, complicated words. Some I've seen and heard, have tossed about as freely as a smile, but others I tiptoe around, hesitate to try out. I have no trouble chit-chatting with God, praying for others, or even for those spiritual gifts Paul told us to ask for. But there's other things, big things...
Perhaps I've heard the "by his stripes, you are healed" line too much and saw no results; maybe that's why I hesitate. But what could happen in me were I to embrace the promises of God as I do new words? If I could accept his Scripture beyond the type and actually experience it?
I sought the Lord and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34:4, NIV
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