I tell friends that it's because Christmas carols were never written for the guitar.
That's true. Not a one.
There's just something about it that makes me so deeply skeptical- so uninterested and distant that I can hardly understand it myself. I think sometimes that it is the repulsion that I feel when I hear the vacuous statements of goodwill as money changes hands. You can hear the drool pooling on the floor behind the register.
And yet I feel entitled to blow my wad (such as it is) through the entire month of December. I was disposing of the wrappings and boxes, and was sort of disgusted with myself. And the thing is I didn't think we'd gotten all that much stuff for the boys. We really didn't. I think they each got 4 things from us.
I thought we'd been pretty thoughtful. We bought them each 12 punch balloons and a boppy for beating up (which they have, thoroughly). There was a Thomas the Tank Engine toy and a Cars toy. There was other stuff too, but I don't suppose that's the point. I guess Christmas is just a let-down for me somehow.
----
I had a discussion with a friend of mine from college the other day. God has placed a great weight on his heart for the shamar of the earth: the mandate that God gave Adam and his legacy to care for and maintain His garden. He believes that our failure to responsibly fulfill that charge has come to a point of imminent danger to the entire planet. He believes that the human race has literally taken over the planet and consumed its resources to the point of pillage. And that feasible options for recovery are very limited.
I agree with him right up to the last couple of arguments. It makes me sad because he wants to put more limitations on the spread and growth of people. That doesn't seem right to me. But I understand his passion.
---
At the shop I used to work for, there were a couple of guys that I just couldn't talk with. And they were alright with that because they simply couldn't talk to me. It just seemed like every time we tried to talk, somebody ended up pissed and it was middle school all over again. Didn't really matter what the topic was.
And that made me sad, because most of the time (I'm pretty sure) no harm was really intended. There was just a screen to our understanding each other.
---
I have a big family. You wouldn't guess it necessarily. I don't really correspond with them much. I don't know if any of them read this blog regularly, so I'm probably going out on a limb talking about them. Some of them I have much stronger bonds with. Some of them... well, not as much. And it's not a big thing, we just haven't spent a lot of time together. Our respective ages run the gamut, as do our various stages-of-life. A lot of us seem to have only our genes in common. I don't mean that to be a slam. We just live our lives in different places. And they don't cross a lot. Does that mean I don't care. No. It makes me sad, because I know that people who knew us all would say that we are all similar to each other in mysterious ways. I know that all the guys sound pretty much the same. And there is a common laugh that always relaxes me when I hear it.
But it makes me sad when I think about how our whole lives are going by and we hardly talk.
---
I wonder how many people practically kill themselves trying to please God. I know that I have spent the better part of my adult life trying to be perfect. Trying to say everything perfectly, to live with perfect integrity, wanting to search out the wisdom of the world, and the Word of God to come to the final flawless interpretation. It's gotten to the point where I can't tell if I'm actually interacting with the "real world" at times. I mean, Christian music, Christian friends, Christian literature, etc. You can live in two worlds pretty easily.
It makes me sad. Because I'm pretty sure that's not why Jesus was born.
---
Over the last year I've been slowly turning away from trying to figure it all out. I haven't completely given it up, I've just allowed myself to lower my expectations a little. At least in that one regard.
I've been trying to push myself towards compassion more than teaching. Sounds arrogant, I know. Guess that's part of the sin-me that Jesus is scrubbing away.
You know I'll never be all the way clean, right? Not during this lifetime. I can hold the title of clean in my hands- He gives it to me as assurance that it's coming. But still he works. I suppose it's like the strap they used to put in a soldiers mouth while the surgeons worked on him. No morphine, just bite down on this. Ok, so the analogy is maybe not perfect. But I have a pretty firm grip on the title. And I seem to grasp it tighter when Satan's whisper gets louder, or when Jesus' brush really bears down.
Anyways... I think I've strayed from my point a little. Or maybe not.
One of my journey-moments is the ongoing deepening of my grasp of Jesus' invitation to the weary to come and take his yoke, his shackles, because the burden he offers is an easy one. That he comes to restore the easy relationship between Creator and creature.
I don't think that Jesus' is about peachy-keeny, sweet and saccharine mushy cushy feelin' groovy kind of spirituality. Don't misunderstand what I'm saying. But I also think it's stupid to think that my mind will ever fully grasp the full breadth of what "God wants"- that I will ever be able to grasp the profound depth of what covenant looks like when God is the other hand in the hand shake.
Paul says that the law came because of weakness. I sort of get that. How do I know that stealing is actually wrong unless I'm told. Otherwise, I might just think it's me being thrifty.
I don't know where this ends up, but I guess the thoughts that I have right about this time of year-- is just how profoundly we DON'T get Christmas. Sure, we know the story. We can sort of grasp it, as Paul says in another context, as though through a glass darkly.
But how tremendously important it must be to God to be reconciled to people. How profound that reconciliation must be, how broad, and deep, that God would forever and permanently relinquish the privileges of being in perfect relationship, in perfect form, in short, in Heaven, and become a baby. A screaming, poopy, colicky baby. And not born into wealth, or high society, but into obscurity. Into a town of 50 families maybe, so far off the beaten path that even the Romans didn't even care.
I think the thing I'm most looking forward to shedding in God's newly minted creation-- misunderstanding. Gack.
