There is something about Christmas.     

For a few, Christmas means nostalgia and cheer as everything around them seeps blessing and fruitfulness.  They gather with family to celebrate; a perfect picture on the front of a Christmas card offering thanks to God, as they gather around the Christmas bird.  Sopped with the gravy of life, they dig in to enjoy this time, tweeting about how sweet time with family and friends fills not only their bellies, but their hearts as well.  In their view, they celebrate "rightly," having a separate birthday cake for Jesus, no idol images such as: elves or Santa are brought into their homes.  If they do allow Santa to visit, their children leave notes saying they don't really believe he's the reason for the season, (but thanks for the presents, anyways.)  Waking up Christmas morning, they drive to the homeless shelter where the adults serve food and the kids pass around cookies decorated like, gasp! Santa, stockings, and trees, then return home to open the three presents each under the tree.  Not because that's all mom and dad could afford, but because the Christ child only got three, so any more would be better than what He was given.  (Never mind that just having a roof over their head and a place to lay it is more than Christ ever had, but I digress.)  After the children joyfully open their gifts, they spend the day satisfied (feasting in the Lord, NOT being gluttonous) as they sit around pondering how good He is.

To others, Christmas means finding awesome electronics under the tree and full stockings on the chimney, (even though they spent most of the year being naughty) Santa is willing to let the little "sins" slide, isn't he?  They spend the day with family they really don't care to see any other time of the year, and feast on the traditional food that Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without.  Living on the side of the tracks where things aren't so bad, they enjoy the fried, smoked or oven baked bird and eat their fill in dessert.  They tweet about football and sit around already addicted their new electronics ignoring all the crazy in-laws.  It's Christmas.  Peace on earth, good will to men and all that stuff.   A day to bring on the cheer, so bring on the heavily spiked Eggnog to help them celebrate (or forget!) And get 'Ole Scrooge sauced up so he'll stop talking about how depressed he feels - being such a downer.  Sadness on Christmas is forbidden and therefore must be hidden, lest you bring everyone else down.  Times are tough so suck it up that you only have two coats to wear this Christmas instead of four.  Things could be a lot worse.                  

But for some, Christmas means frustration, loneliness and sorrow as most of the themes and traditions surrounding the holiday magnify loss, and the fact that life isn't always magical.  Family doesn't look picture perfect like those on the cards in the mail.  It looks more faded, scattered, blended.  A love one vanishes leaving an empty chair at the table.  There is no Tiny Tim to stand and say, "God bless us, everyone" because there is no feasting where famine has occurred.  Santa is a "magical" tease; if only they believed hard enough, Christmas magic would swell in their hearts and they too would forget their woes and burst forth into song.  But when Christmas is more Bah Humbug! than Deck the Halls, sorry but Joy to the World just isn't the sentiment of their hearts.  They resonate with the Grinch as they watch everyone else enjoying what they feel has been taken (or never given in the first place) from them grumbling that all the noise about Christmas - a baby born in a manger, a fat, jolly man coming to bring what is lacking is just - noise, noise, noise.  They look upon the hilltops tired of hearing the shouts, "Be of good cheer!" knowing things aren't what they could be.  For what is there to cheer about when there's so much sadness in the world?  Children die, families split, the ring never comes, the baby never develops, children are chained to beds, slavery still exists, drought destroys crops, hurricanes rip houses apart... 

As for me, when I think about the meaning of Christmas, I am more mutt than pure breed.  A combination of the three stereotypes above, I believe in and worship Emmanuel, God with us, the baby born to Mary and Joseph.  I try to focus more on his coming than on all the tradition and festivity surrounding Christmas, and reflect on his goodness as I watch my children smile and enjoy the lights on the tree.  I enjoy the Christmas movies shown during ABC's 25 days of Christmas, leave love notes and small messes of Skittles made by Jared the Jingle Bell Elf.  We gather with family and feast on turkey, casseroles and desserts while watching football.  My family picture is blended and faded with an empty seat where my mother would sit if she were here.  I am filled with sorrow as I miss her, and think about how much she'd love watching my children enjoy the season.  I've felt more Bah Humbug! this year that it's all a bunch of noise, and wept knowing there is still suffering and death on Christmas.  

I feel it all, and it's all Christmas.   

God was born.  Why?  Because children die, families split, the ring never comes, the baby never develops, children are sold and chained to beds, drought destroys crops and hurricanes rip houses apart.  Deep in children's hearts is a knowledge and belief that someone who understands exactly what they desire lives above them in a place beyond what their imaginations can fathom.  God's family is messed up, blended, scattered among the nations.  Knowing we need to see He empathizes and understands what we face on this earth, he left the place of always good and bright to groan and weep at death, grieve the hardness of our hearts, and suffer as a human wrapped in skin that hungers, thirsts and feels tired.  He understands the Grinch in us that looks back knowing how it could have been and where it all went wrong. There are holes in our hearts left by loss, idols that didn't deliver the sack of joy they promised, and the digested feast leaving us hungry again.  Only when we believe, can we experience real peace and joy.    

Isaiah 53:3-5  "He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.  Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed."   

Sorrow to peace.  It's Christmas.    

        

          

       

  

       

My poem "The Rescue" with Explanation

     I wrote this poem "The Rescue" back in 2004.  I was cleaning out the preschool rooms at church and this sweet romantic picture of a woman being rescued kept swirling in my head.  It wouldn't subside so I sat down in one of the small chairs, and not having any paper began jotting down what came to me on a paper towel.  It is not based on any certain person, place or thing.  It is merely a picture of God's redemptive grace and salvation.  Having been told it's very deep and some may not get it's meaning, I've written out the synopsis for you and a note to explain why I used the word lover to describe the savior.  My hope is the poem might cause you to consider the God who loves us even while we are filthy and trapped and rescues us out of that darkness into His magnificent presence.                 

(Synopsis)

     A woman in captivity dreams about being in a place where she feels secure.   She is trapped with Enemy (the Devil) who endlessly entices her with treasures and suitors to tickle her fancy (anything that will make her feel special, pretty and loved).  He offers the drug of fleshly pleasure and she drinks it. 

     The King (God in all His majesty) comes to her rescue exposing what's been in the dark.  The Enemy does not want her to see just how horrible and torturous the lair has actually been so he entices her more.  But because of the light from above, the woman can see the Enemy has actually stripped her of everything (naked).  She is as weak as a newborn (helpless) filled with all the poison (deadly sin) she's been drinking.  She instantly feels fear, shame, guilt and sorrow and she fears the King will abandon her when He sees just how filthy she is.  But He doesn't leave choosing instead to lift her out of the pit and give her living water (a metaphor for salvation through Christ) that cleanses her.   

     Please Note:  The use of the word lover to describe what the King becomes to her isn't intended to mean anything sexual in nature.  It is meant to imply an intimate relationship where she is completely surrendered.  Her savior becomes the one who loves her most.  The one in whom she goes to find her safety and security.  The fear is gone.  She can enter His chamber (his house) and recline in sweet embrace (a picture of closeness) because of His grace.     

Now please enjoy... The Rescue.  

The Rescue                  

Protected in His arms,

Nestled safely against His chest,

Feeling His love so tenderly,

Experiencing a King's majesty.

As he binds His mighty sword,

Ready to fight for my soul,

He lifts my eyes up towards His face,

And does not see my ugliness.

He fights to preserve my purity,

I'm justified before my mockers,

In Him, I am beauty undaunted,

Restored, renewed and wanted.

Fighting for my honor,

He gives to me His word.

To show me how He treats His love,

As He embraces me from above.

A lover like no other is He,

He calls me his own, beloved.

He, my holy, righteous King.

Fulfilled in Him, I have no need.

This, my dream, filled my mind,

While trapped in Enemy's lair.

I sipped on poisonous drink,

Unbeknownst with every sip.

A dream until He called to me,

So powerful, but sweet His voice

Wooing me out the darkened pit

Offering a love with no compare.

His might, His power, His splendor

O' how it enticed my heart!

But for my sole adoration, I would see,

My Enemy not release so easily.

He enticed me increasingly,

Teasing me with endless pleasures,

Promising unending treasures.

Filling my pride, promising beauty,

Unmatched suitors to tickle my fancy.

But Enemy's offer how it paled,

Once the King's was revealed.

An offer so simple, just one sip,

Of living water poured on my lips.

A satisfying sip it was, indeed!

I beckoned him for more.

Feeling the life it quickly brought, 

To my poisoned soul in deep distraught.

The more the King poured out His drink,

More poison was exposed.  

How nothing but destruction and death

Had been Enemy's plan with every sip!

I dropped to the floor, 

Frightened, afraid.

Wickedness around me, guilt and shame.

Stripped of everything, I was naked, exposed

Aware of the poison sickening me.

Vulnerable was I, unable to speak

A newborn child, helpless and weak.

My wandering heart, selfishness, pride,

Envy, impatience and accusation.

My ugliness, intolerance and evil thoughts,

Unveiled before Him, my innermost parts.

He knew me more than I knew myself

And still carried me into light.  

Wiping the tears streaming down my face,

Lovingly holding me in sweet embrace.

As His comforting words soothed my heart,

He invaded my empty soul.

Starting a romance like none other,

Rescued, my savior became my lover.

I approach His throne with confidence,

Unlike the time before, 
Knowing He extends His arm,

As I approach the opened door.

He leads me to His chamber,

Where I recline in deep embrace,

And He tells me I am lovely,

Because of His sweet grace.  

Small Excerpt from my Book

This is a poem written by the lead character in my book.  It's a prayer from a dying heart.    

Invisible No Longer

A distillery atop a hill,

Holds my lonely heart.

A love once felt, a warehouse boy,

Under a sea of stars.

Promise given, away I ran

But nothing did I gain.

Only that which is void of love

Filling me with pain.

Clearest blue, topaz eyes

Sparkling right at me.

In his eyes, I see your face,

Where I want to be.

A lion roars and holds me down,

Those fierce and golden eyes.

Pierce my heart,

Blood drips out

From each and every lie.

Trapped inside a lion’s den

Fresh meat to be devoured

I beg for freedom, my own release

Each and every hour.

A whispered prayer sent to the sky

Invisible to see.

But felt within this dying heart

More real it cannot be.

Love is real. It does exist

I felt it in your care

Loving me with no return,

I see it now.  It’s there. 

An Epic Endorsement

     I've always been intrigued by the concept of endorsement deals.  Companies give multi-millions of dollars for men and women of the hour to associate themselves with a product.  The desire is to allude people into believing that said product is better or more prestigious than another of its kind.  The company gambles this big money in hopes that during the contracted time frame, untapped or bored consumers looking for something else to whet their whistles will walk through the sliding glass door and show them the money.  Not necessarily because the product is so great but because trendy celebrity or prestigious person chooses to promote it ultimately promoting themselves as well.  
    Not many would question the athlete or famous person for doing this.  Who wouldn't be willing to pledge allegiance to something when they are being paid millions of dollars and given worldwide recognition to do so?  Most people if approached with the promise of money, prestige, fame or worldly comfort would be hard pressed not to take it - or for those who are mightier than most - hard pressed not to at least consider taking it.  Justifying it could be easy.  If the deal only lasted for a few years, then after all ties are loosed, the bank account is fattened and the diet soda they really like is once again sitting on their table, most would feel absurd not to sign on the dotted line.  Loyalty to a company who took care of them when they were but a dreg on the bottom of the glass would be broken for the promise of riches, comfort and close association with the greater persons, places and things of the world.     
          As I read the stories of people like prisoner Said Musa, Pakistan's former Minister for Minorities Shahbaz Bhatti, and the many men and women tortured and killed because of a refusal to renounce belief in Christ, my mind swirls around this idea of endorsement.  The stories of the oppressed and tortured are no longer being kept locked away in their dungeon-like cells.  They are crossing barriers and breaking free spreading among the masses as a witness for those of us who have yet to stand in Peter's shoes.  Standing at the point of coercion, forced to decide between renouncing or keeping silent about faith in Christ or facing mockery, isolation, hatred and God have mercy, horrible death.       
     In Hebrews, we are told, "Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword.  They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated—of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.  And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.  Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

     These are said to be a great cloud of witnesses.  Witnesses to what?  To showing how awesome is the person of Christ that one would be willing to forgo an offer of money, prestige, fame or worldly comfort.  Without receiving the promise, when hard pressed on all sides they refuse to break loyalty to the One who took care of them when they were but a dreg on the bottom of a glass.  The One who endured brutality, being mocked, spat on, beaten and nailed to a wooden cross to die a torturous death.  The pioneer who ventured through the wilderness before them so they might consider him and not grow weary and lose heart.  Men and women who cannot say they benefitted with prosperity from allegiance to the Lord when they were being tortured and oppressed because of Christ, or fighting for those who are.  They echo the apostle Paul's claim, "But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ" (Philippians 3:7-8)
     Whatever gain they had is counted as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ.  They're not suffering for him because of the selfish joy of knowing a thousand virgins wait for them after death or that they'll walk into a gold mansion pimped out just for them.  On the contrary, they suffer and forsake it all because being with Christ is better than any worldly pleasure.  It's an epic endorsement of a God who is infinitely greater and more valuable than any rubbish of this world.