Identification

 

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. 1 John 4:9.

Well, I’m a day late. I try to blog every Monday and Thursday, mainly as a discipline for myself. Christmas really got me muddled up this week, about which day was which. Now it’s Friday, Christmas Eve and I haven’t finished with Thursday yet! Still, the above text is true whatever day it is, and brings to mind a story.

One cold winter, a young boy looked out of his window watching the snow and wind rage outside. The yard lamp illuminated the forecourt to the barn, and in its light he saw a number of birds flying in the snow. “It looks as though they need shelter,” he thought to himself, and wondered how he could help them.

He had an idea. The barn was large, with plenty of places for birds to perch in the rafters. “I’ll go and open the barn doors so they can take shelter there.” He dressed for the cold, went outside and opened the barn doors. But to his disappointment, the birds continued to fly about in the wind and snow.

He ran into the yard, waving his arms, trying to shepherd the birds into the barn. But the birds flew more wildly, scared by this young human and his antics. Finally, after several minutes of frantic waving, he gave up, and trudged disconsolately back into the house. He settled in the window once more, watching the birds’ aimless flying.

His father came and sat beside him, aware of his young son’s concern for the birds. “Son,” he said, “There’s only one way you could help the birds. You would have to become a bird yourself. Only then could you lead them to shelter.”

The story reminds us of He who became one of us in Jesus, so He could lead us to safety.

Have a very blessed Christmas.

Jesus: Humility or Power

She gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:7.

Every age makes life’s biggest mistake imagining God in every guise but His reality. Wouldn’t we expect the Ruler of the entire universe to come to a palace and take up His rightful place as King of the earth? In fact, God’s people of that time fully expected their Messiah to come as a liberating hero and kick out the occupying Romans.

Both convenience and fear dictate caricatures of God. He probably wants everybody to have a good time, so let’s imagine him as a grandfatherly figure, who pats us all on the head. Or possibly His love provides a haven where He overlooks all our sin, and we’ll all enjoy a heaven of our own making—some heaven!

He may mimic an erratic father who needs to be appeased at every turn. Perhaps as a stern and disinterested judge, He punishes us for our sins by bringing us adversity. Maybe He waits to pounce on every deviance from his will like a tyrannical dictator. Alternatively, He simply wound up the universe like a watch, and, with no further interest in it, left us on our own.

The stable, one of the most significant symbols of Christianity, destroys all our foolish imaginings. Seeing God in a cattle trough can only attest to one overriding characteristic: humility. When God gave Moses the Law, he described Himself by the ways He would administer it: compassionate, gracious, patient, loving, faithful, and forgiving (Exodus 34:6–7), all the components of humility.

But that does not discount His omnipotence. He also described Himself as just, and when His humble approach to humankind reaps no response He will take the only course left, that of judgment. He was constrained to the manger by His love, not weakness. Don’t let us mistake “gentle Jesus, meek and mild” for a weak, ineffectual Ruler who will never bring justice to the world.

But in this season, we rejoice that God reached out to us in a way we can comprehend—by becoming like us, feeling our pain, showing us how to live, dying to redeem us back to Himself, and finally rising from the grave to confirm his authority, power and truth.

Hallelujah! What a Saviour.

Keeping Christmas Alive

  

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about." Luke 2:15.

Well, I guess I won’t go to the stable in Bethlehem as the shepherds did, mainly because Bethlehem is a distance away, and I don’t want a stray bullet in my back. Besides, the stable is long gone, and the ornate structure that replaces it, or where they think it was, is totally out of character with the original.

Mind you, we can visit it regularly at children’s portrayals in myriad locations, at crèches in front yards and on mantle shelves. We can’t hear the angels sing, but we can hear their song in malls, shopping centres and on radio. And we can see and hear it in the comfort of heated homes and public places, not the windswept winter hills of Bethlehem.

Trouble is, yearly repetition and a barrage of the Babe’s birth every Christmas dulls the message behind the excess. Even I find it hard to reflect on the wonder of the Christmas message when constant use devalues its impact. I cling to the mental knowledge that for me, for many of us, it is the greatest wonder of the world, but I have little emotional attachment.

How do you keep the freshness of Christmas alive?

Like Us, Mary Faced Adversity

In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. Luke 2:1.

Of course, this text reminds me of the hype over Canada’s recent decision to make the long form census voluntary and remove jail time for those who refused to fill it out. Opposition complained this would undermine accuracy, as though coercion ensured it. In our time when convenience or just plain cussedness trumps truth, census accuracy can’t be guaranteed.

Joseph and Mary didn’t have the choice. The self-styled god Caesar could exact dire penalties for refusal to co-operate. Thousands probably travelled to their ancestral homes to register; the edict was for all the Roman world. So Joseph with Mary, now his wife and close to delivery of her firstborn, made the arduous journey to Bethlehem.

How did Mary cope with this? With some difficulty, I am sure. Did she really have a donkey as many pictures suggest, or did she walk all the way? And when she arrived, no place to sleep and bear her child but a stable? Beyond the physical endurance necessary, did she wonder if she was mistaken in believing God was orchestrating all this?

After all, if this was God’s Messiah in her womb, surely He could have arranged for a smoother pregnancy. Perhaps move the census to later, and leave them at home for more comfort; or some other easier alternative. From what we know of Mary, I’m sure she bore the hardships with great patience. Besides which, in her devotion to God she would have known the Scriptures.

If Herod could find Messiah’s birthplace, Mary would have known it. She would recognize this exhausting trip to Bethlehem as part of God’s plan. Knowing He traveled with her, she would have strength for it. In addition, sufficient Scriptures pointed to His coming as one who would be “despised and rejected”; the stable was an appropriate entry point.

Of course, we do not have Mary’s detailed map for our lives. Without precise reasons for our adversity it’s difficult to find meaning in it, and even if I’d had Mary’s assurance, I would still have doubted along the way. Bumps in the road regularly occur that can make us doubt our sanity, if not the Scriptures.

But when all else seems awry, the promises of God stand secure. We may not know the details, but we can be sure of the outcome. “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28), and “surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt 28:20).

Sometimes, we simply have to cling to His promises in raw faith as beneath it all we know we can trust Him. "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

               

Wasted Time?

This week has not been a good one. Oh! Not that anything particularly bad happened, or that nothing good occurred; it just didn’t go the way I wanted. Of course, that last phrase should raise the question of why it seemed so unprofitable.

Distractions are the first problem. Not necessarily frivolous pastimes, but needful things. Health requires visits to the clinic, doctors, check-ups, massages or chiropractic care, and, while we are out, why not some needful shopping?

Home by noon, lunch and a rest—Ann and I sleep for an hour or more!—and the day is shot.

Now it’s Christmas. Let’s get the tree and decorations up. Have to do it this morning, we have a visit planned this afternoon. Can I write in some Christmas cards?

Another day requires a trip to Calgary; the day is gone and no time for a sleep either! Then a day spent in our daughter’s house looking after some visitors, and most of the week has gone also.

The second setback is tiredness. A day or two of the common round seems to sap both our energy and resolve.

I recall starting my first pastorate. Why not tackle some basic research for next Sunday’s sermon on Monday morning? I soon learned that the emotional energy spent at several services on Sunday left me exhausted on Monday.

No wonder many pastors take Mondays off. One wise pastor told me never to resign on a Monday. I’d probably regret it Tuesday!

These distractions sap my creativeness. After all, I write best in the morning. Worse still, the two or three mornings I had available, I couldn’t put two words together. I deleted most of what I wrote in desperation and annoyance.

So far the tyranny of the urgent has left tired gaps for the important. Can you guess how I felt by the end of the week, and who bore the brunt of it?

I’m not sure God was glorified in my efforts or attitudes this week. So how do we process times like this when all is supposed to be done to the glory of God.

In the grand scheme of things, I doubt one unproductive week adds up to much. And perhaps, those times are part of the process of accomplishment—some needed recuperation, or outside inspiration—certainly the week inspired this piece!

I guess winning the war is far more important than losing a few battles. In this vein, let’s hope this coming week is as good as the last.