When Opposites Don't Attract

WHEN OPPOSITES DON’T ATTRACT

As we become more aware of the diversity in our world, we also seem to be less tolerant of the effects of this diversity.  I speak here not about diversity of ethnicity, religion, or socio-economic status, but about diversity of opinion and conviction.  Politically, socially, and culturally, our nation has devolved into a world of “us” versus “them,” with a growing gap between the two.  This gap tends to be the genesis for all sorts of conflict, but it also offers possibilities for innovation and creativity.  It depends on how we handle the opposites we find among us, and I see four options.

First, the simplest way to deal with opposites is to consider them as incompatibles.  You can either have one or the other, but not both.  This is the “either/or” outlook.  You can have A or you can have B, but you can’t have both.  Either/or is the simplest way to consider opposites, and it’s most attractive to zealots.  In the original sense of the word, a Zealot could imagine either a Judea dominated by Rome, or one that was completely independent and self-determining.  Anyone who tried to merge the two was a traitorous collaborator, worthy of more hatred and disgust than even the brutal legionnaires.  And we find their modern counterparts all around us.  In the dark days of the Cold War, a nation was either pro-Soviet or pro-US.  You had to choose one side or the other, and you certainly couldn’t choose both.  If you tried to be “non-aligned” country, both sides distrusted and rejected you.  You can either have a Republican President or a Democratic President.  The Tea Party movement exemplifies this philosophy well.  Small government, diminished regulation, and lower taxes are the holy grail.  You’re a traitor to the cause if you back down from or seek to find any nuance in the gospel according to Grover Norquist.  Please don’t misunderstand my example to imply that either/or is the provenance of one side of the political spectrum; you can find examples on the left as well.

Second, if you become disillusioned or dissatisfied with either/or,  you can compromise.  For years, I considered this to be the best way to deal with disputes between opposites, and my heroes were great compromisers like Daniel Webster and Henry Clay.  When people disagree, the best thing to do is to split things down the middle and give a little bit to each side.  No one is particularly happy about the result, but everyone (or at least, everyone who is reasonable) can grudgingly accept the result.  But the beauty of compromise is also its downfall.  No one is happy, and no one can exult in the outcome, other than to celebrate that neither side has slaughtered the other.  Compromise dulls and deadens; it does not inspire or invigorate.  Compromise leads to counting slaves to be three-fifths of a person, a conclusion that concluded nothing but merely set the stage for a fratricidal conflict four score and seven years later.  Compromise is the solution Solomon offered for two women claiming one baby, which would have brought about the wholly unsatisfactory result of each possessing half of a tiny corpse.

In time, I discovered the wonder of a third option for handling incompatibles: the Hegelian dialect, which replaces compromise with evocative possibility.  As thesis and antithesis interact, they create synthesis: a new way of thinking and being that had never existed before.  Unlike either/or, it requires thoughtful consideration and even acceptance of both opposites.  Unlike compromise, it creates and offers a solution for which all parties can be passionate.  The dialectic approach requires a great deal of imagination and creativity, together with openness to things never before conceived.  As you may be able to tell, I’m quite taken by power of the dialectic.  But I’m learning more about another, potentially more productive, strategy to approach incompatibles.

In this fourth way of thinking, the opposites are no longer incompatibles between which one must triumph over the other, nor two positions leading to a dissatisfying compromise, nor even a synthesis which replaces them both.  Let’s use the language of church leadership experts Roy Oswald and Barry Johnson and call them polarities.  In this schema, the opposites interact with each other not simply to produce a synthesis that is better than either of the originals, but to allow full expression for each.  Oswald and Johnson call it an infinity loop between two poles.  Movement toward one pole enables us to experience the full benefits that come from it.  But staying at that pole will lead to problems, which movement toward the other pole can overcome.  The goal is not to find some midpoint between the poles (that would be compromise), or to discern a new perspective that gleans from each pole (that would be something like dialectic), but fully embracing both and enjoying what comes from the interaction and tension between the two.

G.K. Chesterton’s 1908 book Orthodoxy offers an outlook similar to Oswald and Johnson’s description of polarities.  As he puts it, the point is not to find a balance between virtues, but to have them collide with each other.  He advocates holding passionately, uncompromisingly to both opposites.  Separate them, exaggerate them, and then crash them into each other.  To explain, he offers the example of courage, which he defines as “a strong desire to live taking the form of a readiness to die.”  If all you care about is living, you will run away from danger and hide from every threat.  But if all you care about is dying, then suicide is awfully attractive.  Courage is the collision of valuing life so much that you are willing to lose your life for it.  Is this the same thing as Oswald and Johnson’s polarities?  I’m not sure, but at the very least they’re kissing cousins.

Polarity, or the collision of opposites, provides intriguing insight into some of the toughest theological nuts we have to crack.  Looking again to Chesterton, he considers Isaiah 11’s prophecy of the lion laying down with the lamb.  The prophecy does not mean that the lion becomes lamb-like.  The lion would then be subdued by the lamb, which is just as much of an either/or as the lion eating the lamb would be.  The prophecy is not that the lion becomes a lamb, but that the two opposites can lie down together.  They can be with each other, both fully living out their identity.

This metaphor of lions and lambs is not limited to an ancient prophecy; it is a description of our Lord.  In Revelation 5, John is told to turn and look at the triumphant Lion of Judah, but when he turns he sees a Lamb that has been slain.  Is Jesus the gentle, humble, sacrificial lamb?  Yes.  Is Jesus the roaring, fierce, powerful lion?  Yes.  No either/or.  No compromise.  Not even a synthesis.  But a polarity.  Two simultaneous virtues crashing into each other.  And this opens us to the mystery of God.

• Do we worship one God? Yes.  Do we worship three Persons? Yes.
• Does a loving, sovereign God control the events of the world? Yes.  Are there terrible evils in this world that violate God’s will? Yes.
•  Does God love us with an infinite, unimaginable love that nothing can shatter? Yes.  Does God hate our sin with an unspeakable fury? Yes.
• Is Jesus God?  Yes.  Is Jesus human?  Yes.
• Is the kingdom of God here? Yes.  Will the kingdom come with the return of Christ? Yes.
•  Is the redeeming work of Christ the only means for salvation? Yes.  Does God desire for all people to be saved? Yes.

You may quibble with some of these opposites and point out that they are or can be quite compatible with each other.  And you may be correct.  But the number of foundational convictions that Christians hold which are, or at least seem to be, in contradiction with each other is certainly something to give us pause, and is a great supply of grist for the mill of apologetics.  It is certainly not the expression of a straightforward description of life, God, and the world.  Our faith cannot be confined to a discreet set of theological propositions, although much benefit comes from the centuries of inquiry and consideration.  If Christianity is a riddle, it is one that will never fully be solved.  Rather, it is an evocative and eternal mystery in which we revel and lose ourselves.

Each of these four strategies for handling oppositional elements can be appropriate in the correct context.   Some things are either/or, with no room for compromise.  Other matters can be settled satisfactorily with compromise, while others set the stage for a synthesis, and yet others form a dynamic polarity.  The trick, of course, is to match the most fitting approach for the matter at hand.

God Doesn't Care About Your Facebook Status

I walk into a hospital room to visit someone who just went through major surgery and say, “Hi!  How are you?”  Reflexively, he responds, “Fine, thanks,” regardless of much pain he is in or how worried he is about his prognosis. 

I hug someone at the funeral home as she stands grief-stricken beside the casket and ask, “How are you doing?”  Choking back her tears, she replies, “Good, and you?”

I see a social media post from a family that I know is going through a crisis.  It’s a picture of smiling, happy faces with the caption “Life doesn’t get any better than this!”

Almost instinctively, we try to put on a good appearance.  We want the world to think that our lives are happy and beautiful, no matter what struggles we may be enduring.  Maybe we’re afraid that others will reject us or think less of us if they know about our troubles.  We might think it’s a sign of weakness to admit to any problems.  Perhaps by disguising our difficulties we don’t have to admit to ourselves that we have them.  Then we can blissfully ignore them, hoping somehow we can muddle through life anyway.

God wants so much more for us than a happy façade over a troubled life, or a cheerful smile that masks a breaking heart.  Consider, for example, how the Bible presents its main characters.  Moses is a murderer.  David is a philanderer.  Elijah is a coward.  Jeremiah is a chronic complainer.  Peter is an unreliable loud-mouth.  Paul is a self-righteous jerk.  These aren’t heroes to idolize.  These aren’t sanitized saints to admire.  These are real people, with all their faults, sins, doubts, and emotions on full display.  The Bible does not give us a pantheon of role models; it shows God working with real people.

God sees us for who we really are, and not for the cleaned-up version we want to show to world.  We cannot bring our brokenness to him for healing and comfort if we try to hide it from him.  We cannot experience the fullness of his powerful love when we believe he will only love the positive parts of who we are.  Our good news is that God accepts, welcomes, and enjoys our whole being without reservation.

Consider how God presented himself to us through Jesus Christ.  He shared our lives at their most vulnerable points.  He was born in a strange place far from home and had enemies from the very start.  He grew up in an impoverished region with an unremarkable family.  He had no formal education or wealth.  He was tortured to death while being humiliated to all passers-by, while his closest friends deserted him.

If God wanted to win our devotion by impressing us, he went about it all wrong.  But if he had, we would think that we had to measure up to his standards. He would accept us only if we were as good as him.  But God is not seeking people who are perfect.  He seeks us in our sin, our weakness, our bad days.  Because it then that he can demonstrate the fullness of his love and grace.

Finding Contentment

How can you find happiness and contentment?  In one way or another, seeking the answer to this question guides and motivates many of our lives.  But the answer continues to elude us.

According to an article I recently read by Rev. Dr. Martin Theilen, psychologist have found that genetics account for about 50% of our ability to be content, our life circumstances for another 10%, and factors that we can control account for 40%.  We may think we’d be happier if we lived under different circumstances, but our attitudes and behaviors are four times more important for attaining the goal of a contented life.

Dr. Theilen points out ten Biblically-based attitudes and behaviors that help to increase our sense of contentment:

1. Knowing that external circumstances do not determine happiness: What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? (Mark 8:36)

2. Using trials as growth opportunities: We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:3-4)

3. Cultivating optimism: Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

4. Focusing on the present: Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (Matthew 6:34)

5. Practicing forgiveness: Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. (Ephesians 4:32)

6. Practicing generosity: A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. (Proverbs 11:25

7. Nurturing relationships: Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: if either of them falls down, one can help the other up.  But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10)

8. Expressing gratitude: Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

9. Caring for our bodies: Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? (1 Corinthians 6:19

10. Caring for our souls: “my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him. (Psalm 62:1)

Consider how you can find contentment in your life through the practice of our faith in these ways.

Learning from Atheists

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM THE ATHEISTS

Atheists can teach us many things about our belief in God.  During my PhD studies I took a seminar called “Science and Religion,” in which our professor would bring up a religious topic and ask, “Why would anyone in their right mind believe this?”  Psalms 14 and 53 may both begin “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God,’” but for Dr. Grünbaum, “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is a God.’”  I deeply appreciate the challenges to my faith that he presented, because they forced me to consider what I believe, and why.  I came away from the seminar with a better understanding of what I had previously accepted without reflection.

A couple years ago I came across a collection of quotes by famous people who are atheists.  Just as my seminar challenged my faith and helped it to grow, their words can give us food for reflection and thought.

Sir Richard Branson, a British entrepreneur and founder of the Virgin Group, once said, “I would love to believe.  It’s very comforting to believe.”  I think we would all agree that faith in God can be very comforting.  We can be reassured with the knowledge that the  all-mighty & all-loving One has us in the cradle of his arms.  But if that’s all that our faith is about, we are missing something.  God is not a cosmic security blanket to make us feel good and to heal our boo-boos.  God makes us uncomfortable and challenges us to turn our lives upside-down.  He demands that we quit running our lives on our own terms, and to surrender authority of ourselves to him.  Suddenly, believing is not quite as comforting.

Brian Eno, a composer and performer of ambient music, wrote “What religion says to you, essentially, is that you’re not in control.  Now that’s a very liberating idea.  It’s quite a frightening idea as well, in some ways.”  And he’s right.  Our knowledge that God is in charge sets us free from the anxiety of trying to manage all the affairs of our lives.  We can release the sense of responsibility for making sure everything is taken care of.  On the other hand, the thought of letting go of our lives terrifies us.  What if we trust God and he lets us down?  And when we do surrender ourselves to him, we still want to second-guess what he does and we try to “help” him.  We easily forget the words that Moses spoke to the Israelites, fresh out of slavery, as the Egyptian army bore down upon them, with their backs to the Red Sea: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14).

Hugh Laurie, the actor best known for playing the lead role in the TV series “House,” has said , “I have this idea that if there were a God, if he saw you taking anything for granted, he’d take it away.”  While we may disagree with his harsh notion of a God who goes around taking things away from us, imagine for a moment if he did what Mr. Laurie suggests.  I wonder how much would be left after God removed all that we take for granted.  God’s blessings are not like cheese doodles that we mindlessly stuff into our mouths while watching TV.  Each is a precious gift to savor, relish, and enjoy.

Comedian Kathy Griffin shocked the nation when she accepted an Emmy Award in 2007 by saying, “A lot of people come up here and they thank Jesus for this award.  I want you to know that no one had less to do with this award than Jesus.  He didn’t help me a bit.”  While we may not be able to take her words to heart, they offer a warning for us.  Even when we say that we believe in God, we may share her attitude without realizing it.  We often take full credit for our accomplishments.  We can take satisfaction and even have appropriate pride in what we achieve.  But we easily forget that the Lord is the one who supplies the energy, skill, and wisdom we used to do so.  We overlook the many factors beyond our control or even awareness that he guides.

Isaac Asimov, one of the greatest science fiction writers, wrote “If I were not an atheist, I would believe in a God who prefers an honest and righteous atheist to a TV preacher whose every word is God, God, God, and whose every deed is foul, foul, foul.”  Even though Romans 10:9 tells us to declare with our mouths that Jesus is Lord, Jesus ended the Sermon on the Mount by telling us that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” will enter the kingdom of heaven (Matthew 7:21).  Our witness to the world suffers greatly from the hypocritical words that come from mouths of Christians.  While we are considering words of atheists, let them consider not what we say but what we do.

Encouragement Is Not Sympathy

According to 1 Thessalonians 5:11, God calls us to “encourage one another and build each other up.” Παρακαλέω, the Greek word for encouraging, also means comforting or urging.  Encouragement is not simply about making someone feel better.  Encouragement invites people into a way of life and a way of thinking that enables us to experience the fullness of God’s blessings.

Encouragement is not sympathy.  Encouragement strengthens and invigorates.  It offers power and confidence.  Sympathy, however, seeks to lessen the harshness of our struggles.  It tells us, “What you are experiencing is too much for you to handle.  Your life is too difficult.”  Much like pity, it weakens us with the message that we are incapable of dealing with the life God has given us. 

Sympathy cuts us off from the Lord.  It limits our grasp of his capabilities, until he becomes nothing more than the One who cares and holds our hands.  But encouragement draws us closer to God.  It urges us to One who fills us with His power to handle anything that we face. It tells us that with God, all things are possible and no situations are God-forsaken.  Sympathy says “What a shame!”  Encouragement says “Get ready for something amazing!”

Years ago I met a man with chronic physical ailments.  His wife sympathized for him.  She tended to his every need.  As he lay groaning on the hospital bed in their living room, she did whatever she could do to ease his struggles.  Each day he got weaker and weaker, and eventually went to a residential therapy center.

The therapists did not sympathize with this man; they encouraged him.  With caring and with firmness, they pushed him to do what he never thought he would ever be able to do again.  When he complained, they urged him to do the best that he could.  Over time he became stronger and stronger, until he was able to walk again and care for himself.

The man returned home, where his sympathetic wife once again cared for his every need.  When he faced a struggle, she took care of it for him.  The more she did, the less he did and became weaker and weaker.  Before long, he found himself back in the hospital bed again.  As well-meaning as his wife was, her sympathy took away his strength.

When God tells us to encourage one another, he wants us to act like the therapists, not the wife.

God in the Crowd

We seek God in various ways and places.  I, like many people, get in touch with God in the natural world.  I often sense his presence in the night sky, and I feel close to him when I’m out in the woods or on the creek.

But there is a better way to meet God.  Not in the beauty of nature, but through other people.

The Bible begins with a tale of a man enjoying fellowship with God in a beautiful garden called Eden.  But the story of Scripture moves us out of the garden and takes us on a journey to our ultimate destination.  At the very end of the book, Revelation does not offer the promise of a return to Eden, but the vision of a city (Revelation 21-22).  The new paradise that Christ is preparing for us is not about sunsets and waterfalls.  It is about streets and gates and walls and people…lots of people.  For all eternity, we will see the glory of God in the midst of a crowd.

We do not find God primarily in a rainbow or a hawk’s flight, because they were not made in his image.  That honor belongs to humanity alone (Genesis 1:26).  We discover God as we encounter his image in one another.  We may, with the psalmist, proclaim that “the heavens declare the glory of God” (Psalm 19:1).  But nothing compares with the glory of God that we see in another person.  None of us, to be sure, are a perfect and complete image of God, but we each possess a unique reflection of his glory.  Every person we encounter provides us with a new aspect of the God whom we seek.  If you want to find God, look for him in people, not towering oaks or ocean waves.

Not only are we made in God’s image, but he is present in the world through us.  As the apostle Paul wrote, “You are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it” (1 Corinthians 12:27).  The message once again is clear: we find God in people.  He touches us and speaks to us in the ordinary messiness of human relationships, more so than in the stars and the wind.

We may resist the truth of finding God in others in part because human relationships can be difficult.  People will disagree with us, anger and hurt us, and fail us.  They intrude into our lives with demands and expectations that can frustrate us.  And it is exactly in these inconveniences that we meet God.  Left to our own devices, we would create self-centered paradises, constructed from our convictions and fueled by our egocentrism.  But God, through his presence in others, interrupts our solipsism with his call upon us, his challenge for us, his shocking new word for us.

Times of personal and quiet reflection, whether in the beauty of nature or the stillness of our living rooms, are essential for our spiritual quest.  But they are not its meat and potatoes.  For that, we must encounter and interact with others.  And that is why we have a church.

Henry's Christmas

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen.  If there’s one thing that should be predictable throughout the year, it’s Christmas.  Henry looked forward to it every year, with all of its traditions and customs.  And Henry liked traditions.  When things went the way they are supposed to go – the comfortable, enjoyable way they’re supposed to go – well, nothing could be better than that.

But ever since Thanksgiving, nothing had gone the way it was supposed to.  He and his wife Louise were supposed to take the grandchildren to the tree-lighting ceremony in town square on the day after Thanksgiving, like they always do.  But their daughter-in-law decided to take them Black Friday shopping with her – Henry shuddered to think about how little Timmy must have hated that!  He and Louise went to the tree-lighting anyway, but instead of the traditional singing of “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire” that everyone joined in on, a teenage band with guitars and drums played an awful racket that was supposed to attract a younger crowd.  Well, it sure didn’t attract Henry.  He left in disgust, went home, and played his Nate King Cole Christmas album.  But…it just wasn’t the same.

The next day wasn’t any better, when Henry got the Christmas lights out of the attic.  Apparently some mice got into the box during the summer and had chewed the wires.  The whole box of lights was ruined.  So Henry had to brave the frantic crowds at the shopping plaza to get new lights.  He hoped to get a set just like the ones he had always put up: red plastic bells with a warm yellow light in them.  He went to five different stores, and couldn’t find them.  There were green bells (absurd!), and red bells with bright flashing lights (ugly!), and silver bells that played “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” (disgusting!).  As a black mood settled over Henry’s heart, he grabbed a bunch of the plainest looking red lights he could find, went home, and put them up.  The color was right, but…it just wasn’t the same.

The following morning was Sunday, and Henry woke up with a sense of joyful expectation.  If there’s one place where you can count on the Christmas traditions being maintained, it was church!  He and Louise pulled into the parking lot at 10:45, and Henry walked into the sanctuary expecting to see the Christmas tree up front, wreaths on the windows, and special Christmas banners on the walls.  But the church had a new pastor who had other ideas.  Apparently, Henry was informed, Christians don’t begin celebrating Christmas until December 25.  The weeks up to then are devoted to something called Advent.  Henry had never heard of Advent before, and he didn’t like it.  Instead of a month of singing familiar Christmas carols, he had to sing strange hymns about waiting for the Messiah to come.  And the pastor informed the congregation that because the Christmas tree was originally a pagan symbol, it was not proper to have one in a church.  Henry hadn’t been sure what he thought of this new preacher, but now he was convinced.  He didn’t like her one bit.  She was ruining Christmas for him.  It was his church, and he loved it.  But…it just wasn’t the same.

And this was how the entire month of December went for Henry.  It seemed as though every holiday tradition and custom was being disrupted.  None of the things that he could count on were happening.  For Henry, it just wasn’t Christmas without watching the Grinch and the Peanuts Christmas specials on TV.  But he had to miss both of them: the bowling league Christmas party and his grand-daughter’s school program made sure of that.  Oh, he could have recorded them on his VCR (he still had one of those), or bought the DVD, or had his son pulled up on the computer for him.  But there was something special about watching them on live television.  These other things were alright, but…it just wasn’t the same.

Henry enjoyed the holiday traditions so much that even sending out Christmas cards was a joy for him.  But when their son come to take a picture for the card of him and Louise in their Christmas sweaters sitting by the fireplace, he said, “Dad, you’re not going to write a brag letter like you always do, are you?  People don’t really care what the weather was like on your vacation, or what color you painted the garage.  Can you give it a break, for just one year?”  Henry hated to hear his son describe his Christmas letters like that.  To be honest, writing them helped him re-live the best parts of the past year and enjoy them all over again.  But to keep peace in the family, he decided not to write on this year.  So he sent out the cards with no letter enclosed.  It was fine, but…it just wasn’t the same.

Even Henry’s doctor was ruining his Christmas.  Back in September, during his annual physical, he told Henry that he was in danger of developing diabetes and that he should cut down on the sweets.  The doctor’s advice wouldn’t have been so bad if Henry was the only one who heard it.  But for some reason, he had let Louise come with him, and she took Dr. Weintraub’s words to heart.  And unfortunately, she hadn’t forgotten them by Christmas.  Instead of making her traditional lady fingers, Louise found a recipe for sugar-free Christmas fruit cookies.  She confiscated his stash of candy canes and replaced them with diabetic-friendly peppermint candies.  Henry ate them, but…it just wasn’t the same.

Henry put a lot of thought into the gifts he gave, but this year wouldn’t go as planned.  Louise’s Secret Santa at her book club had bought her the exact same scarf that Henry had already wrapped and put under the tree.  His granddaughter Emily had announced last week that she couldn’t stand the music of the boy band that she couldn’t get enough of last month…the same boy band whose concert video Henry had spent weeks to find.  Come Christmas morning they would open their presents…but it wouldn’t be the same.  Even the weather was part of the conspiracy to take away Henry’s Christmas.  There had been a few hard frosts and couple of flurries early in the month, but lately they were stuck in a warm spell that would last into next week.  How can you celebrate Christmas when the grass is trying to grow and you don’t even need to wear a jacket?

But then, just when it seemed as though Christmas couldn’t get any worse, Henry and Louise got two phone calls that drove the final nails into the Christmas coffin.  The first was from their daughter who had just started a new job in Boston.  Cathy was cancelling her trip home for the holidays because of a big project at work that had to be finished by the end of the year.  She would stay in Boston and spend the day with her new boyfriend’s family.  It would be the first Christmas ever that the whole family wouldn’t be together.  They would still get together with their son and his family for the Christmas Eve service at the church (unless the pastor had cancelled it!), and on Christmas morning to watch the kids open their presents.  But without their daughter there…it wouldn’t be the same.

The second phone call came at noon on Christmas Eve.  It was their daughter-in-law Ellen: the kids had a terrible stomach flu and haven’t been able to keep anything down since the night before.  The pediatrician said that it would pass in a day or two, but that they needed to stay in bed and drink lots of fluids.  Maybe they’d feel well enough the next morning to open their presents, but there was no way they’d be able to go to church on Christmas Eve.  When he hung up the phone, Henry told Louise the sad news.  “Well,” she replied, “I guess it’s just going to be the two of us at church this evening.” 

But Henry had a different idea.  His Christmas had already been turned topsy-turvy; why try to salvage any of it?  “Look, Honey,” he replied, “you and Sam and Ellen should go to church, and I’ll stay with the kids.  They’ll want you in the choir, and Sam is supposed to help with the offering.  I’m sure Ellen will appreciate a break from the sick kids for a couple hours.”  So while Louise got ready to go to church, Henry walked past the tree with all the wrong presents under it, turned on the pathetic Christmas lights, and went past the green grass to the garage to drive to his son’s house.  By the time Henry got there, the children were in bed getting some much-needed rest.  Ellen assured Henry that if he just checked on Emily and Timmy from time to time, they should be fine until they got back from church.  With that, she and Sam headed out the door and Henry found himself in a quiet house, alone except for two sick sleeping grandchildren down the hall.

“Well,” he thought sarcastically to himself, “this is just the perfect end to a perfect Christmas season.  Stuck here babysitting, instead of enjoying the holiday with the family at church.  This isn’t the way things are supposed to be.”  Feeling more than a little sorry for himself, he plopped down onto the couch, too miserable even to turn on the TV to watch Clarence the angel help George Bailey discover that It’s a Wonderful Life.  As he sat alone, in a room illuminated only by the Christmas tree lights, he noticed his son’s Bible sitting on the coffee table.  “Alright,” he thought, “if I can’t make it to church on Christmas Eve, I suppose the next best thing is to read the Christmas story while I sit here.”  He decided that, since he had plenty of time on his hands, he may as well start at the very beginning of the gospel of Luke and read the whole way through the story.

Henry was a Christian man, and had been for as long as he could remember.  He had sat through plenty of sermons explaining the importance of Christmas: God becoming man and entering the world to save us.  He hadn’t just heard it: he believed it and welcomed it.  In fact, at the heart of it all, that’s what really made Christmas so special for Henry.  The carols, the decorations, the family gatherings, and all the rest of the beloved traditions mattered only because of what was at the center of it all.  Henry knew that, even if he had to remind himself of it from time to time.  This was one of those times.  Nothing was going the way it was supposed to this Christmas.  But if he could just remember what it was all about, maybe the season wouldn’t be a total loss.  So partly out of duty, and partly to avoid boredom, Henry opened the Bible and began to read from the start of Luke’s gospel.

The story was familiar to Henry.  He had read it, and even acted it out, plenty of times.  As a young boy, he had been part of the Christmas pageants: once he even got to play Joseph.  So he knew the tale: Zechariah and Elizabeth found out that they would have a son, who would grow up to be John the Baptist to prepare the way for Jesus.  An angel told the virgin Mary that she would give birth to the Messiah.  She and Joseph traveled to Bethlehem, where she had her child and laid him in a manger.  An angel told the shepherds what happened, and where to find the baby.  Henry knew the story by heart, and loved every bit of it.

But tonight, on this Christmas Eve that just wasn’t the same, as he read the story alone in a dark and quiet house, even the familiar tale didn’t seem to be the same.  Was it because nothing was the way it was supposed to be in his own Christmas celebration this year?  Or was it because Henry wasn’t actually alone in the room: that God himself was there, explaining the story of Christ’s birth as he read the words on the page?  I’ll let you decide for yourself.  But as Henry read, it was as though he was reading it with new eyes.

The first Christmas was just like his Christmas: nothing happened the way it was supposed to.  An old couple like Zechariah and Elizabeth shouldn’t be having a baby; Henry chuckled to himself at the thought of Louise and him having a baby at their age.  And a young girl like Mary shouldn’t be having a baby either; Henry got a bit uncomfortable when he realized that Mary probably wasn’t much older than his granddaughter Emily.  Both births were miracles, of course: but the devout priest serving in the temple didn’t believe the news like you’d expect, the young peasant girl did.  Things seemed to be turned upside: as crazy as having 60 degree weather on Christmas Eve. 

Henry glanced up when he heard Timmy stir for a moment in his bed, but went on to read the song Mary sang after she was told that she would have a baby.  Her spirit sang, and her heart rejoiced.  Henry had listened to enough choir cantatas that his wife had sung in to be able to recognize that line.  But as he kept reading, he discovered why Mary was filled with such joy.  God had chosen her, insignificant little Mary of Nazareth, to play a huge role in his plan of salvation; she would be blessed for generations to come.  But Mary went on to praise God for the things he had done, and would do, that would disrupt the world.  Everything was going to change; nothing would be like it had always been.  The humble would be exalted and the hungry would be satisfied.  But the proud would be brought down, the mighty would lose their power, and the rich would lose their wealth. 

Henry let the Bible rest on his lap as this new thought seeped into his soul.  According to Mary’s song, the whole point to Christmas isn’t about keeping traditions, doing things the way they’re supposed to be done, and making sure that everything stays the same.  Christmas came because God wanted to shake things up!  The reason Christ was born was to fix things that had been broken, and to re-arrange what was out of balance.  Henry was the first to say that “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”  But the world had been broken before Jesus came, and God needed to fix it.  In fact, the world still needed fixing.  There were too many terrible stories on the news about children being killed and warfare in far-off countries, of politicians who don’t do anything but fight with each other, and greedy corporations putting their profit ahead of everything else.  No, things in the world couldn’t be the way they’ve always been if there was supposed to be peace on earth and good will to men.

Henry’s eyes fell upon the nativity scene that his son’s family had put up on a table in the corner of the room.  Everything in it was out of place: the Son of God born to a poor family without a decent roof over his head.  The news of his birth announced to a handful of shepherds working the night shift out in a remote pasture, instead of a huge crowd of people.  A group of pagan astrologers coming to pay homage, instead of the wise and holy religious leaders in Jerusalem.  Apparently, God wanted to shake things up and change everything.

Suddenly ashamed, Henry dropped his gaze to the floor where Timmy’s race cars were scattered about.  God came to change things, not just in the world around him, but things inside of Henry himself.  He could be a bit too quick to express his opinion, and too slow to listen to what other people had to say.  He talked about what a shame it was that there were needy people even in their own town, but he didn’t do much more than talk about it.  He loved his family, but didn’t always show Louise and everyone else the respect that they deserved.  Henry covered his face with both hands as a feeling of guilt washed over him.  He was selfish, prideful, and lazy.

At just that moment, Henry heard the church bell ring out.  Louise and Sam and Ellen and the rest of the congregation were getting ready to light their candles and sing “Silent Night.”  Christ the savior is born.  Everything was different now, and nothing was the same.  God had come to overturn a suffering world and to break through his own sin and shame.  Henry walked down the hallway to look at his sleeping grandchildren.  His Christmas wasn’t the same this year.  But now he understood, for the first time, that this is actually what Christmas is all about.  The world has changed, he had changed, and nothing will ever be the same again.  Thank God for that.