I love Currier and Ives winter/Christmas scenes. They are very lovely. I love the feel-good Christmas stories on the Hallmark channel. I don’t actually watch them very often. I am prone to cry, my nose gets all stuffed up, and I get a sinus headache. But I do like them.
However, my own life is neither a Currier and Ives print nor a Hallmark Christmas special. My life is messy.
Now, don’t get me wrong. There is a lot that is right with my life. I have a wife whom I love, and who loves me. We have paid off our house and cars. We have a little money coming in, and a little money in the bank. We are, in fact incredibly wealthy, compared to probably 98 % of the people in the world.
We have good friends and we have a little dog who lights up our lives, just by being her canine self. We have things that we love to do, some of which even make us a little money.
Still, my life is messy. My mind is messy. My emotions are messy. My sleeping and work areas are messy. As my grandmother used to say to me, “You’re a mess!” (For those of you who think that grandmas are always on your side, I’ve got news for you: It ain’t necessarily so!)
And thanks to me, my wife’s life is messy, due to no fault of hers.
So, as this Currier-and-Ives-Hallmark-Channel season reaches its most feverish pitch, I comfort myself with one simple thought: According to Luke’s birth account, Jesus was born in a barn.
What?! That’s no place for a baby to be born!
No, it isn’t, and if I had been making up a story about the birth of a king, I don’t think I would have made this story-telling move. But Luke makes precisely that move: Jesus, the King, was born in a barn.
I struggle to believe it sometimes, but there it is: a king, The King, born in a very messy, humble place. I grew up on a farm. Rest assured that even the cleanest barn isn’t—clean, that is.
So, for all of you who are alienated from your families, for all of you who wish you were alienated from your families, for all of you who have lost a loved one recently, or are afraid you will soon, for all of you who are alone, for all of you who feel hopeless on this 25th day of December, 2018, for all of you who just wish the day was over, I say this:
Merry Christmas! I can say this, not because of Currier and Ives, not because of Hallmark, but because of a King who made a humble entrance, rather than a grand, royal one. I can say this because Jesus is always willing to be born in messy places, messy places like my heart and your heart.
Or is “Grace” God’s first, middle, and last name? Perhaps God is Grace from beginning to end?
A friend (who is also my twelve-step sponsor) sent me the following link: https://www-nytimes-com.cdn.ampproject.org/c/s/www.nytimes.com/2018/12/23/opinion/grace-jesus-christmas-christianity.amp.html.
I am not sure whether or not my sponsor realized how much I’ve been struggling with depression the past few days. Specifically, I’ve been wondering if God’s grace is truly enough for me. I’m probably the only person in the world who wonders that, right?
If you ever struggle with depression at this or any time of year, if you ever feel like an outsider, you need use the link (pasted above) to connect with the article by Peter Wehner.
Who knows? Maybe God is gracious after all. Maybe this link will help to link you to this Gracious God.
DTEB, “A NEW CARD GAME: MENTAL GOLF”
Thursday, December 20, 2018
I have not been happy with my thought life for the past couple of days. My thoughts have not been entirely off the rails, but many of my thoughts have not been God-honoring thoughts, either. Gluttonous thoughts, excessively angry and fearful thoughts, lustful thoughts, envious thoughts, worried thoughts, self-pitying thoughts—what a messy mind I have at times! I wonder why I have so many problems with my mind? Or is really helpful to ask why?
Perhaps I should stop asking why, and instead play a sort-of mental “golf” card game. Golf—when you’re talking about cards—is a game for two or more persons. The goal is to have the lowest score possible (or, at least, a lower score than your opponent/s). Hence the name “golf.”
In golf, you are dealt four cards. There is a “stock deck” in the middle of the table, which you cannot see, of course. You take turns substituting higher point cards in your hand for the cards in the stock deck. Sometimes you substitute a high-point card for an even higher point card, but that is the chance you take. Eventually, someone raps on the table, people reveal their cards, and the person with the lowest total points wins.
What if I regarded my thought life as a game of golf? What if I envisioned the stock deck as face up and spread out, so that I could see the point values of the various cards? Then, I could substitute a bad card in my hand for a better one from the stock deck.
When it comes to my thoughts, I can generally discern which ones are life-affirming and which ones are not. If I am aware and honest, I know what cards I have in my mind. And the good cards in the stock deck are face up.
Eventually, Death raps his knuckles on the table, and the game is over. I want to have the lowest possible score.
In a sense, the analogy is helpful to me. It turns my thought life into a game. I am much better at having fun with serious things, than I am at being serious about serious things.
In another sense, the analogy is not in line with what I believe at all. I believe that God forgives me of all my sins—even my bad thought life. In a sense, God doesn’t keep score. “If iniquities you kept, O LORD, O Lord, who could stand? But with you is forgiveness, in order that you may be feared.” (Psalm 130:3-4, my translation)
But I still want to honor God with my thoughts, as well as with my words and actions. Better thoughts will not only honor God, but also will be better for me. Better thoughts will also be good for everyone with whom I come into contact.
Today, I will play mental golf. Care to join me?
I often read some snippets from 12-step recovery books. They are published by Hazelden to help addicts like me. These excerpts are also published to get people to buy Hazelden books. If you’ve got some extra coins lying about, these books would be well worth the price, even if you’re not an addict.
One excerpt that I read this morning made me laugh. It also made me think.
“It’s hard to keep from trying to control the lives of others, especially in a family. We can learn from the man whose friend drove twenty miles to and from work on the freeway every day. ‘How can you do it?’ he asked. ‘I’ve tried, and I can’t go a mile in such traffic without screaming at the crazy drivers who cut in, go too slow, change lanes. Nobody listens. I’d lose my mind if I had to do it your way.’ His friend replied, ‘Your trouble is trying to drive every car around you. I relax and drive only one car – my own.’” (Today’s Gift, December 18, 2018)
Driving one car is difficult enough. Driving more than one? Way too much! And yet, how often I try to drive other people’s cars! To stay with the literal aspect of the metaphor for a moment, my wife is an excellent driver, much better than I am. However, when I’m riding shotgun, she has to frequently remind me that she is driving and I am not. Driving a car from the passenger’s side is not easy.
The Apostle Paul warns the believers in Rome not to try to run other people’s lives. “Don’t judge your brothers and sisters!” he warns them in chapter 14. In Romans 14:13, Paul says, “If you are going to judge at all, judge this: Judge yourself! Don’t cause your brother or sister to stumble!
There are certainly times when we have to intervene in other people’s lives, but we rarely have the courage to do that. More often, we want to intervene when it is really none of our business.
The meditation from Today’s Gift ends by asking a wonderful question: “What acts of others can I ignore today?”
Choosing to ignore how other people are doing may be a sign that we are properly concerned with what we are doing ourselves. I need to drive my own car.
I like to-do lists. They keep me on task—when I allow them to keep me on task.
However, have you ever thought that God might have something like a to-do list? Perhaps God has multiple lists, lists for each individual, for the planet collectively, lists for what to do with the entire universe.
Of course, for both good and not-so-good reasons, I am primarily concerned with God’s list for me. If God does have such a list, what might it look like?
But then, there are God’s other lists, aren’t there? Perhaps God has a list for each one of us, and for everything else in the universe?
So, God’s entries in his list for the entire human race might look pretty much the same as God’s list for me. (Not everyone has a puppy or a sweetheart.)
However, there have been times, I believe, when God puts something unusual on his to-do list. This time of year, those of us who are Christ-followers commemorate one of the most bizarre and wonderful items: God becoming flesh and dwelling among us in Jesus. Most of us who call ourselves “Christians” believe that Jesus was not simply a good man, or teacher, or even a prophet. We believe that he was an Invader from another realm.
I’m not necessary asking you to believe it. The truth of the matter is that many of us who do believe it have a difficult time believing it. We have an even harder time acting as if we believe it. But that is what we at least say we believe.
And then, God’s to-do list about thirty-years later has this entry: “Give my Son’s life as a ransom for all humanity.”
Sometimes, God has a really interesting to-do list.
“Joy is the infallible sign of the presence of God.” (Teilhard de Chardin)
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice. (Philippians 4:4)
Tears are not a sign of God’s absence, but joy should be my default position. Tears and sorrow are sometimes necessary, but I should get back to joy as soon as possible. My sorrow will not automatically enhance God’s reputation or human wholeness.
And yet, I seem to be addicted to sorrow—sorry for my past evil deeds, sorrow for what I’ve thrown away, sorrow that I am not the Christ-follower I ought to be.
Today, by God’s grace, I will choose joy. I will choose joy, even if it isn’t the easiest choice for me. I will choose joy because it is more pleasant for other people to be around me when I am joy. I will be joy today. Yes! I will be joy for my own sake, for the sake of others, and for the God I serve with joy.
Today, by God’s ever-available grace, I will practice the fine art of joy. Who knows? If I practice it for a long time, I might get good at it!
I was just reading a book that I am requiring my students to read for Old Testament Theology. I had already read enough of it to know that it was an excellent book. In a section talking about the LORD as a gracious God who rescued Israel from slavery in Egypt, I was suddenly ambushed by the following sentence: “Now the gracious offer has meaning. YHWH, who promises this people to be their God, and in so doing in some sense links himself with their fortunes and misfortunes, is a most desirable deity.”[1]
A most desirable deity—yes! In spite of all the strange things that I do not understand in the Old and New Testaments, despite all the yukkiness and downright evil that is part of the church’s legacy, despite my own yukkiness and downright evil, the LORD God is a most desirable deity.
This is in stark contrast to a lot of the gods and goddesses of the ancient Near East. They were a difficult bunch to live with, even among themselves. About the best that a worshiper of Ishtar could hope for was to be left alone. She was the goddess of love and of war. It was sometimes easier to be at war with her, than it was to be loved by Ishtar. Ask Gilgamesh about that, if you doubt me.
The same God who rescued Israel from Egypt has rescued me from me. Because, you see, I was quite literally my own worst enemy. Bondage to yourself is the worst bondage of all. Slavery to yourself causes you to the slave-driver, the lash, the lasher, and the lashee.
But into my self-appointed slavery, a most desirable deity has intervened. I wish that I could embody his intense desirability much more than I do. I wish that I could tell you what a Savior God is, and also what a friend God is. I wish that I could convey to you how much fun it is to be a Christian.
I can’t. I think that these posts are my attempt to do that. But of course, God is so much more desirable than I can convey, with our without words.
However, the only way to find out how desirable God is would be for you to live with him for a long while.
When I started dating the girl who is now my new bride, I thought she was pretty nice (and also, nicely pretty). I thought I loved her. And I did, at least in some measure. But after forty-five years of marriage, I can tell you that she is most desirable wife and friend, so much more than I could ever have suspected.
Same with God.
[1] Elmer A. Martens, God’s Design: A Focus on Old Testament Theology, fourth edition (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock, 2015), 73.
“A HAPPY NEW DAY!”
DTEB, “A HAPPY NEW DAY!”
Have you ever thought about how arbitrary some of our transitional times are? And perhaps we are biting off more than anyone can chew when we start thinking and talking about a year.
Here is my journal entry for today.
Monday, December 31, 2018
“Finish each day and be done with it. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well.”
(Ralph Waldo Emerson)
The last day of the year. I wonder if we don’t make too much of these transitions. They are artificial, and perhaps not all that helpful or important.
“This is the day that the LORD has made” (Psalm 118:24) may be said of any day. Perhaps the morning and night are the real transitions.
Paul speaks of daily transformation in 2 Corinthians 4:16: “So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.”
In 3:18—just a few verses before the “day by day” of 4:16—Paul notes that “. . . we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord,are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”
I found the comments of Colin G. Kruse so helpful that I copied and pasted them below, even though I generally hate long quotes.
“And we all … are being changed into his likeness from one degree of glory to another. It is important to note that the changing into his likeness takes place not at one point of time, but as an extended process. The verb metamorphoumetha (‘we are being changed’) is in the present tense, indicating the continuous nature of the change, while the words from one degree of glory to another stress its progressive nature. The verb metamorphoō is found in three other places only in the New Testament. It is used to describe Jesus’ transfiguration in Matthew 17:2 and Mark 9:2, and Paul uses it in Romans 12:2 to denote moral transformation (‘Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind’).
Paul speaks often of the transformation of believers in other passages, though words other than metamorphoō are employed. In some cases he has in mind the future transformation of believers’ bodies to be like Christ’s glorious body (1 Cor. 15:51–52; Phil. 3:21). In other cases it is clearly a present moral transformation that is in view (Rom. 6:1–4; 2 Cor. 5:17; Gal. 6:15). The Old Testament prophets who spoke beforehand of the new covenant certainly anticipated a moral transformation of those who were to experience its blessings (Jer. 31:33; Ezek. 36:25–27), and Paul saw this expectation fulfilled in the lives of his converts (1 Cor. 6:9–11; 2 Cor. 3:3). These last references, together with Romans 12:2 cited above, provide the clue to Paul’s meaning in the present context. The continuous and progressive transformation by which believers are changed from one degree of glory to another is the moral transformation which is taking place in their lives so that they approximate more and more to the likeness of God expressed so perfectly in the life of Jesus Christ.”[1]
So, rather than simply wishing you a happy New Year (which I do!), let me give you an even deeper wish: May you have a happy new day!
[1] Colin G. Kruse, 2 Corinthians: An Introduction and Commentary, TNTC 8; IVP/Accordance electronic ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1987), 101-102.