What Did You Get for Christmas?

 

What Did You Get for Christmas?

What Did You Get for Christmas? - Audio/Visual 

When the eighth day arrived, the day of circumcision, the child was named Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived. Then when the days stipulated by Moses for purification were complete, they took him up to Jerusalem to offer him to God as commanded in God’s Law: “Every male who opens the womb shall be a holy offering to God,” and also to sacrifice the “pair of doves or two young pigeons” prescribed in God’s Law.

In Jerusalem at the time, there was a man, Simeon by name, a good man, and a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel. And the Holy Spirit was on him. The Holy Spirit had shown him that he would see the Messiah of God before he died. Led by the Spirit, he entered the Temple. As the parents of the child Jesus brought him in to carry out the rituals of the Law, Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God: “God, you can now release your servant; release me in peace as you promised. With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation; it’s now out in the open for everyone to see: A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations, and of glory for your people Israel.”

Jesus’ father and mother were speechless with surprise at these words. Simeon went on to bless them, and said to Mary his mother, “This child marks both the failure and the recovery of many in Israel, a figure misunderstood and contradicted – the pain of a sword-thrust through you – but the rejection will force honesty, as God reveals who they really are.” Anna the prophetess was also there, a daughter of Phanuel from the tribe of Asher. She was by now a very old woman. She had been married seven years and a widow for eighty-four. She never left the Temple area, worshiping night and day with her fastings and prayers. At the very time Simeon was praying, she showed up, broke into an anthem of praise to God, and talked about the Child to all who were waiting expectantly for the freeing of Jerusalem. (Luke 2:21-38)

So, what did you get for Christmas? That’s a pretty common question now that the gifts have been opened and the dinner has settled. We said it as kids and today, as adults, we say it around the water cooler at work unless you’re working virtually from home. Television commercials are already talking about it – returning the things you got that you didn’t want so that you can get something else in its place. Mediums will be exchanged for larges; eggnog marked half-price for clearance; and clean-up in full swing where lights and decorations come down and Christmas trees are thrown out. Life will be “normal” again. December’s generosity will become January’s payments and the magic fades away.

When I hear that question it reminds me of my teacher, Ms. McDonald, when she asked all her sixth graders at Esther Lindstrom Elementary School that same timeless question when we returned from Christmas break. Laura was the first one to enthusiastically answer the question. She sat in front of me, which was fine with me since I liked sitting close to Laura because she was fairly good at baseball. Her answer was a Chatty Cathy doll. But then Laura went on to tell the class – in excruciating detail – about her doll to the point that my eyes began to glaze over, and I started to regret my seat assignment. “Maybe the doll’s rubbed off on her,” I thought. Thankfully, I was next.

I don’t specifically remember what I said, but I know I didn’t say “a pony,” or a “real guitar.” It was probably something like a baseball glove, or trading cards or Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. Then the girl behind me gave her answer. "An engagement ring!” she shouted. Now in the interests of full disclosure I must say that she’d probably been held back a couple of times and could have been 13 or 14 years old. But this wasn’t some sort of third world country, or first-century Bethlehem we were living in. So that was a pretty remarkable disclosure which, apparently, all the girls in class understood, but the boys thought her “engagement ring” was something you got out of a Cracker Jack box.

But what if, in answer to that question, your first thought was, “I got Jesus for Christmas.” Or what if a friend asked you, “Hey, what’d you get for Christmas?” and you said, “Same as everyone else.” Bewildered, your friend looks at you and laughs, “What are you talking about? ‘Everyone’ I know didn’t all get the same thing.” “Sure, they did,” you respond. “We all got Jesus.” Maybe one of the sweetest gifts God gave during his son’s earthly ministry was when Jesus was only eight days old and God gave an incredibly special gift to two very unassuming people — a man named Simeon, and a widow named Anna.

Simeon’s age isn’t specified, but most Bible scholars presume him to be elderly in light of the phrase, “The Holy Spirit had shown him that he would see the Messiah of God before he died,” which would be a really weird biblical footnote if he’d been a young man. Plus, Simeon’s “Okay, I can die happy now” response after meeting the Christ child (“God, you can now release your servant; release me in peace as you promised”) seems to imply his advanced age since there’s no evidence that he had a death wish. Anna, on the other hand, is certifiably old. That’s because she had been previously married for seven years and, since then, had been a widow for eighty-four more. So, if you do the math, and if you assume Anna married when she was around fourteen, as most Jewish girls did at the time, she was probably around 105. Now, that’s old – certifiably or otherwise.

Luke, whose medical specialty could have been gerontology for all we know, explains that both of these elderly people hung out at the Temple a lot because of their devotion to God. But given their card-carrying AARP status, you can’t help but wonder if they weren’t just a little lonely, too. At their age maybe they had no one to go home to; no one to talk to at the dinner table; no one to sit beside while on the couch watching It’s a Wonderful Life. Nothing in their tidy little apartments at the City of God Retirement Home to keep them company except their cats and cataracts.

Apparently, they puttered around the church every day, praying at the altar, maybe hobbling back and forth on errands for the priests like carrying boxes of candles up from the basement or carefully rubbing down each church pew with linseed oil until it gleamed. The temple regulars had grown accustomed to always seeing the white-haired gentleman wearing the high-water khakis and that nice, little old lady who always smelled like Pledge. Most worshipers probably didn’t give Simeon and Anna any more thought than they did the shiny pews or the plentiful supply of candles up front. They were old; they were fixtures; they were invisible. But then one day a teenaged couple walked in the front door of the Temple. The young husband was wearing a clean but tattered pair of blue jeans and had birds squawking in his backpack. His wife, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, was carrying what looked like a brand-new baby. They both shyly approached Simeon.

That’s when the young man cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but can you tell us where to go to give God an offering on behalf of our new little boy?” Simeon immediately put the mop down and took a deep breath to steady himself. Then he reached his gnarled hands toward the new mom and asked her gently, “May I hold him, please?” Mary nodded and handed the newborn Son of God to Simeon. He cradled the pink-cheeked Messiah for several minutes and then began to sing a praise song he’d written many years before but had never actually sung aloud.

Anna, who’d been in the women’s restroom the whole time refilling the paper towel dispenser, was shuffling back toward the sanctuary when she heard Simeon’s warbling baritone voice. “What’s that old goose up to now?” she thought. And as his voice rose in pitch as she wobbled her way to the sound, her feeble heart skipped a beat because she didn’t realize that the sound was actually Simeon singing; she was afraid he’d fallen down, broken his hip and was screaming in pain. That was until she turned the corner and saw her dear old friend’s enraptured countenance. Then she saw the baby in his arms and, realizing immediately the miracle that was taking place, ran toward them with the speed and agility of a track star.

Day after day, year after year, Anna and Simeon accepted and appreciated the little joys that came their way: a place to go to volunteer and feel useful; a friend with whom to share stories and prayer requests; maybe even free Wi-Fi in the Temple lobby. It makes you wonder if their willingness to recognize the sweet, little gifts God blesses us with each and every day are part of the reason why God chose them to be recipients of the same incomparable surprise present he gave the shepherds wandering in the fields that special night only a week earlier. Good news and great joy — the Savior of the world wrapped in an ordinary blanket. God does stuff like that.

The long and patient faithfulness of Simeon and Anna is a beautiful example for those of us who, like them, are waiting for the Lord’s return. But unlike Anna and Simeon, we’re not left to wait alone. Paul told the struggling Gentile believers in Colossi, “Christ lives in you, the hope of glory!” (Col. 1:27) And when you think about it, Christ grew in Mary until he had to come out. And like Simeon and Anna, Christ will grow in us until the same occurs. He will come out in our speech. He will come out in our actions. He will come out in our decisions. Every place you live will be a Bethlehem, and every day you live will be a Christmas.

So, what’d you get for Christmas? I got Jesus, and so did you.

Happy New Year!

Randy

A Misfit's Christmas Invitation

 

A Misfit’s Christmas Invitation

A Misfit's Christmas Invitation - Audio/Visual

 

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger. (Luke 2:8-12)

Most everyone has heard this passage, even if they’ve never cracked a Bible open. That’s because each December, in between scenes of the Grinch slithering around Whoville, or George Bailey being rescued by Clarence, or Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer running around the North Pole with Herbie, we have Linus, who discovers the true meaning of Christmas in the gospel of Luke. Now, I love Linus as much as the next person, but it got me to wondering whether popular culture has made this story just a little too familiar. Maybe.

You see, the story begins with God sending out a birth announcement. In fact, there’s only one announcement of Christ’s birth recorded in the Scriptures, and there’s only one invitation from God to anyone to come see his newborn Son. And God gives FedEx the wrong address. He sends the announcement, overnight, to a bunch of uneducated, smelly, low-class, social and religious dropouts: shepherds. They’re kind of the last people you’d expect God to have on his mailing list.

They were the religious outcasts of their day. According to Jewish law, shepherds were always religiously unclean because their line of work kept them from going to church. But without them, who was going to watch the sheep while everyone else made the trip to Jerusalem to make sacrifices at the temple? That didn’t matter, apparently. They were doing the dirty work so the churchy people could pretend to be holy. They were kind of like truckers, or maybe nightshift workers whose jobs keep them from regularly attending services. It wasn’t their fault, but who cares if you’re one of the pretty people.

Shepherds were also social outcasts. They were constantly on the move and viewed with great suspicion – kind of like how some people are biased against gypsies or carnies. They were often accused of thievery and weren’t allowed to testify in court because their word was considered untrustworthy. That’s a polite way of calling them pathological liars. Making matters worse, they had more contact with sheep than with people. They didn’t even come home at night since they were with the sheep 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Worse yet, they slept in the sheep’s pen at night to guard against theft and attack. In other words, you probably wouldn’t want your daughter marrying a shepherd.

So, imagine you’re God and you want to announce the most amazing, most incredible, most joyous news ever; an event that will change the course of human history – the birth of the Savior for whom the nation of Israel had been waiting and hoping and praying for thousands of years. So, to whom do you announce this huge event? Who do you tell? Who do you invite to come and see God’s only begotten Son? Uh, probably not a bunch of shepherds.

 The point is that you would expect an event like the birth of Christ to be announced to the most important people in the nation. You know, the political, religious and military leaders; the hoi polloi. Even the media, maybe. But none of them got the text, or the e-mail, or the tweet, or the whatever. Oh, some foreign wise guys figured it out by following the star to Bethlehem, and then they informed Herod of what they’d heard. But they didn’t get an angelic messenger, or an angel choir, or an invitation either. Only the social and religious outcasts got the memo. It would be like the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsing all year to perform Handel’s Messiah in front of some skid row dropouts. Why?

Why did God send his angels to announce the birth of Christ to a bunch of misfits? Were the shepherds especially pious, or unusually holy? Maybe they got the MVP for believers since they’d been locked out of church by the church police. Or maybe they were expecting this thing to happen. Or maybe they were part of the Occupy Grasslands movement. The truth is they probably thought that God had no idea who they were. And why would he? They don’t sacrifice at the temple; they don’t show up for the feasts; they don’t go to church; and their deepest theological discussions are with a bunch of sheep. So why them?

Maybe it was because God wanted to demonstrate, first to the shepherds, that his love doesn’t discriminate on the basis of class, or wealth, or race, or social standing. God doesn’t discriminate on the basis of intelligence, education, profession, political power or any other adjective that we can ascribe. God doesn’t respect kings more than cabbies, or priests more than pew potatoes. But, then again, that’s our God. He’s kind of indiscriminate that way.

Paul makes the same point in his first letter to the Corinthians when he says: “My dear friends, remember what you were when God chose you. The people of this world didn't think that many of you were wise. Only a few of you were in places of power, and not many of you came from important families. But God chose the foolish things of this world to put the wise to shame. He chose the weak things of this world to put the powerful to shame. What the world thinks is worthless, useless and nothing at all is what God has used to destroy what the world considers important. God did all this to keep anyone from bragging to him. You are God's children. He sent Christ Jesus to save us and to make us wise, acceptable and holy. So, if you want to brag, do what the Scriptures say and brag about the Lord.” (1 Cor. 1:26-31)

I imagine that many nights, as the shepherds sat in those cold, lonely fields, they looked out over the valley and villages and saw the lights of homes far away. Maybe they heard the faint sound of families, people laughing, and wished they could be a part of that. And maybe you’ve felt that way, too. Maybe you’re not one of the pretty people. Maybe you’re not particularly wealthy, powerful or influential. Maybe you’ll never see your name in the paper for some great accomplishment. Maybe you’re on the fringes, either socially or religiously; maybe both. And when you compare your level of religious observance to others, the comparison doesn’t stack up very well, i.e., spotty church attendance, infrequent Bible reading and a sporadic prayer life. You think that if God even knew you existed, he’s probably not impressed.

If this strikes a chord, then I’ve got good news. Great news, in fact. The best possible news. God loves you – just like he loved those shepherds. You’re special to him – just like those shepherds were special to him. So special, in fact, that he gave them the incredible privilege of being the first to hear of Christ’s birth and, other than Mary and Joseph, the first to lay eyes on the only Son of God.

God didn’t give those privileges to the Roman Caesar, or to the Jewish high priest. He gave them to the shepherds. Not in spite of who they were, but to whom they belonged: humble, ordinary people with few opinions about themselves. Simple people who were willing to believe what God told them, and when they heard the news, they didn’t seek out a bunch of religious professionals for a second opinion. When they were invited to visit Bethlehem to see the newborn Messiah, they didn’t worry about who was going to watch the sheep. They didn’t get bogged down in debates about how they were going to find a small baby in such a large city. They simply obeyed and went.

God likes to use the ordinary so that, like a mirror, his power can be reflected in his creation. And it’s true that God didn’t send an angel to give you or me the news, either. But he did send us an invitation, and here’s what it says: “I’m here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master.” (Luke 2:10-11)

Don’t let the simple yet profound message of Christmas be lost on you this season: God knows you and loves you – even if you’re a misfit.

Merry Christmas,

Randy

Be a Wise Guy - or Girl

Be a Wise Guy – or Girl

Be a Wise Guy - or Girl - Audio/Visual 

Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise men from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem asking, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.” King Herod was deeply disturbed when he heard this, as was everyone in Jerusalem. He called a meeting of the leading priests and teachers of religious law and asked, “Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?”

“In Bethlehem in Judea,” they said, “for this is what the prophet wrote: ‘And you, O Bethlehem in the land of Judah, are not least among the ruling cities of Judah, for a ruler will come from you who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.’”

After this the wise men went their way. And the star they had seen in the east guided them to Bethlehem. It went ahead of them and stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were filled with joy! They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. (Matt. 2:1-6; 9-11)

Holiday time, for many, is highway time. Ever since the magi packed their bags for Bethlehem, the birth of Jesus has caused people to hit the road. And those Christmas trips have a lot in common with the one of the wise men. We don’t camp with camels, of course, but we’ve been known to bump into a knobby-kneed in-law on our way to the dinner table. We don’t keep an eye out for star lights, but flashing lights of the highway patrol? We watch for them at every curve. And we don’t ride in a spice-road caravan, but six hours in a minivan with kids might have made the wise men thankful for animals.

It’s not always ho ho ho on the high, highway. Extended time in the car reveals human frailties. For instance, dads simply refuse to stop. They apparently hearken back to the examples of their forefathers. Did the pioneers spend the night at a Holiday Inn? Did Lewis and Clark ask for directions? Did Joseph allow Mary to stroll through a souvenir shop on the road to Bethlehem? Of course not. Men drive as if they have a biblical mandate to travel far and fast, stopping only for gasoline.

And children? Road trips do to kids what a full moon does to the wolfman. If one child says, “I like that song,” you’d like to hear the other one say, “That’s nice.” But that won’t happen. Instead, the other child replies, “That song stinks, and so do your feet.” And then there’s the issue of bathroom stops. A child can go weeks without going to the bathroom at home. But once on the road, the kid starts leaking like secrets in Washington, D.C.

The best advice for traveling with young children is to be thankful they aren’t teenagers. Teens are embarrassed by what their parents say, think, wear, eat and sing. So, for their sake, and if you ever want to see your future grandchildren, don’t smile at the waitstaff, don’t breathe, and don’t sing with the window either up or down. Frankly, it’s probably wiser to just simply postpone traveling with children until they’re a more reasonable age — like thirty-something.

Christmas and travel. The first has a way of prompting the second, and it’s been that way since the delegation from the distant land came searching for Jesus. “Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise men from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem asking, ‘Where is the newborn king of the Jews?’” (Matt. 2:1-2)

Matthew loved the magi. He gave their story more square inches of text than he gave the narrative of Jesus’ birth. He never mentions the shepherds or the manger, but he didn’t want us to miss the star and the seekers. It’s easy to see why because their story is our story. We’re all travelers; all sojourners. And in order to find Jesus, every one of us needs direction. And God gives it. The story of the wise men shows us how. “We have seen his star in the East and have come to worship him.” (Matt. 2:2) God uses the natural world to get our attention, i.e., The heavens declare the glory of God. (Psalm 19:1)

God led the wise men to Jerusalem with a star. But to lead them to Jesus, he used something else: “King Herod was deeply disturbed when he heard this, as was everyone in Jerusalem. He called a meeting of the leading priests and teachers of religious law and asked, ‘Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?’ ‘In Bethlehem in Judea,’ they said, ‘for this is what the prophet wrote: “And you, O Bethlehem in the land of Judah, are not least among the ruling cities of Judah, for a ruler will come from you who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.” (Matt. 2:3-6) The star sign was enough to lead the magi to Jerusalem, but it took Scripture to lead them to Jesus.

People see signs of God every day. Sunsets that steal the breath. Newborns that bring tears. But not everyone who sees the signs draws near to God. Many are content to just simply see the signs. They don’t realize that the riches of God are intended to turn us toward him. “Perhaps you do not understand that God is kind to you so you will change your hearts and lives.” (Romans 2:4) The wise men, however, understood the purpose of the sign. They followed it to Jerusalem, where they heard about the scripture. The prophecy told them where to find Christ. It’s interesting to note that the star reappeared after they learned about the prophecy. The star “came and stood shining right over the place where the Child was.” (Matt. 2:9) It’s as if the sign and word worked together to bring the wise men to Jesus. That’s because the ultimate aim of all of God’s messages is to shed the light of heaven on his Son.

“They came to the house where the child was and saw him with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. They opened their gifts and gave him treasures of gold, frankincense and myrrh.” (Matt. 2:11) A simple dwelling became a cathedral, and the seekers of the Christ-child found him and knelt in his presence. They gave him gifts: gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, and myrrh for his burial. They found the Christ because they heeded the sign and believed the scripture.

Noticeably absent at the manger were the scholars of the Torah; the religious know-it-alls. They reported to Herod that the Messiah would be born in Bethlehem. So, didn’t they read the prophecy? Yes, but they didn’t respond to it. You’d think at a minimum they would have accompanied the magi to Bethlehem. The village wasn’t far away, and the risks were small. At worst they’d have been out a little effort, but at best they’d have seen the fulfillment of prophecy. But the priests showed no interest whatsoever. The wise men, on the other hand, earned their moniker because they did.

Their hearts were open to God’s gift, and the men were never the same. After worshiping the Christ child, “they departed for their own country another way.” (Matthew 2:12) Matthew uses the word “way” in other places in his gospel to suggest a direction in life. He speaks of the narrow “way” (Matt. 7:13-14), and “the way of righteousness.” (Matt.21:32) Maybe he’s telling us that the wise men went home as different men. Called by a sign. Instructed by Scripture. And directed home by God. It’s as if all the forces of heaven cooperated to guide the wise men. And God uses every possible means to communicate with you and me. The wonders of nature call to you. The promises and prophecies of Scripture speak to you. God himself reaches out to you. He wants to help you find your way home.

Many years ago, I watched the television adaptation of the drama The Miracle Worker, the compelling story of two females with great resolve: Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan. Helen was born in 1880. She wasn’t yet two when she contracted an illness that left her blind, deaf and mute. When Helen was seven years old, Annie, a young, partially blind teacher, came to the Kellers’ Alabama home to serve as Helen’s teacher. Helen’s brother, James, tried to convince Annie to quit, but the teacher wouldn’t consider it. She was committed to helping Helen function in a world of sight and sound; and Helen was as stubborn as her teacher.

Locked in a frightening, lonely world, Helen misinterpreted Annie’s attempts. The result was a battle of wills. Over and over again Annie pressed sign language into Helen’s palm, but Helen would pull back. Annie persisted. Helen resisted. Finally, in a moment of high drama, a breakthrough. During a fevered exchange near the water pump, Annie placed one of Helen’s hands under the spout of flowing water. Into the other hand she spelled out w-a-t-e-r. Over and over, w-a-t-e-r. Helen pulled back. Annie kept signing. W-a-t-e-r. All of a sudden Helen stopped. She placed her hand on her teacher’s and repeated the letters w-a-t-e-r. Annie beamed. She lifted Helen’s hand onto her own cheek and nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, yes! W-a-t-e-r.” Helen spelled it again: w-a-t-e-r. Helen pulled Annie around the yard, spelling out the words. G-r-o-u-n-d. P-o-r-c-h. P-u-m-p. It was a victory parade of sorts.

Christmas celebrates a similar moment for us — God breaking through our world, and in a feeding stall of all places. He will not leave us in the dark. He is the pursuer, the teacher. He won’t sit back while we miss out. So, he entered our world. He sends signals and messages: H-o-p-e. L-i-f-e. He cracks the shell of our world and invites us to peek into his. And every so often a seeking soul looks up.

May you be one of them. When God sends signs, be faithful. Let them lead you to Scripture. And as Scripture directs, be humble. Let it lead you to worship. And as you worship the Son, be grateful. He will lead you home. This Christmas may God give you eyes wise to see, and a heart humbled by the babe in the manger. This Christmas, may you be changed by the Christ who gave his life so that you may find yours – f-o-r-e-v-e-r.

Merry (Early) Christmas!

Randy