Balancing Christmas

Balancing Christmas
An early morning quiet covers the house as I sit alone on the couch with my Bible and coffee. A steady rain falls outside. The house is dark except for my reading light.

I place my Bible on the table by the lamp & look up to see the darkened Christmas tree. My heart is thankful to God for the blessings represented by each ornament on the tree. Images in plastic, glass, paper, & ribbon colorfully adorn the evergreen in the corner of the den. Each three-dimensional picture recalls the fond memories of friends, family members, students, & others dear to us from years gone by.

I notice that the ornaments are clustered together toward the bottom of the tree again. When we hang them, Beth tries hard to help the children spread them all over the tree. She reminds Joshua & Meg to balance the decorations evenly all over the tree. It is difficult because they get excited about putting up the ornaments. Their hands work quickly when it is time to decorate—moving faster than her admonishments. When the decorating is finished, the ornaments are bunched together on the lower third of the tree. The bottom branches bend under the weight of several decorations on each branch. The tight cluster of adornments seems to stop about eye-level for the children. I smile inside. I realize that the cluster of ornaments will move up over the years. It will steadily grow a little higher each Advent. As the children grow in age & stature, so too will the
“waterline” of our ornaments rise.

The tree is crowded with ornaments. I saw a tidbit that purported the average tree to have 75 ornaments. I think we’re overachievers. But there will be a day when the children will have their own homes with their own trees. They will take many of these ornaments with them to get their own Christmas decorations started. Like taking the cuttings off of a tree to allow a new tree to take root, we will encourage Joshua & Meg to set their own roots of Christmas traditions.

Our tree may look a little bare that year. Alone, Beth & I will space out the ornaments evenly all over the tree. She’ll remind me to make sure we have a balance of sizes & colors & shapes all around the tree. We’ll even make sure to cover the back—so you can see them out the window too. And as we pick up each ornament we’ll tell a little story about them: where we got it, when we got it, & fondly recall the giver. Maybe when Beth isn’t looking I’ll cluster up a bunch of ornaments toward the bottom of the tree. I’ll remember a morning in a dark, quiet house when everyone else was asleep & our Christmas tree was beautifully and wonderfully out of balance.

Images of the Savior--Part 4

What do you give the one who has everything? Have you ever walked the aisles of stores, staring blankly at the shelves trying to find “just the right gift?” Maybe you’ve stood at the counter of the department store while the sales person showed you item after item. After what seems like hours, you still can’t decide. Your winter coat feels heavy on your shoulders and you grow warmer and warmer with the anxiety of the deadline of Christmas coming and you still don’t have a gift.
I don’t think the Magi had the same anxiety. They brought the infant Jesus gold, frankincense and myrrh. They seem like odd gifts to us. But they brought just the perfect gifts. So what about us today? What gift would we bring Jesus?
In The Gathering this week, we finish our “Images of the Savior” series as we examine the Christmas Story from the view of the Magi. Bring yourself—and your friends and family—as we examine the gift of Christmas.

Week 2 Picture

Some of you missed the week 2 painting. I've put it up on this post for you.
Remember that all of the paintings will come together at the Christmas Eve service for yet another, large picture.

Images of the Savior--Week 3, December 13

What if God had an important message for you? What if it came in a way that you weren’t quite expecting? What if the message was completely improbable? What would you do?
In the Christmas story, the unlikely shepherds received a message in a divine way. It was a message that just didn’t seem possible. They responded with joy and set out to tell all what they had seen.
This week, in our “Images of the Savior” series, we look at the shepherds and what they saw that Christmas night. We look at their reaction and what we can learn from it. Felicia will paint this week and next week as well. May we all be open to what God has to show us.

Snowflake (Circular?) Logic

The local weather people are talking about snow tonight. In my part of the country, snow is a very emotionally charged word. People get gleefully excited about the possibility of snow or the idea of vacationing in snowy places. Such a simple thing—frozen precipitation—that my own feelings toward it give me pause.
Growing up, I moved around a great deal. I spent most of my early years in Kentucky where winters could be mild enough to go without jackets much of the time. Other years, our winters would bring ice storms that seemed to cripple us. Snow, however, was a rarity. Just rare enough to not really be a part of childhood memory.
A few of those early years, I lived in northeast Ohio. This is where my feelings about snow were solidified. Snow was an annual part of life. You planned on it and adjusted your routine according to how much of the white stuff stood between you and the end of the sidewalk, how much stood between your car and the end of the driveway, how much of the stuff stood between you and the canceling of school or the big plans you had for Saturday.
Granted, I took advantage of the situation as best as a young boy could. I would trudge over to Barber’s Hill for sledding or snowball fights or whatever else we could invent on a crisp winter day. But even in the midst of the fun, there seemed to be a nagging feeling of hypocrisy down inside of me. You see, I don’t like snow. I don’t like spending more time bundling up than “enjoying” the time outside. I don’t like it when icy slush gets between you and your clothes. I don’t like the cold air. I don’t like trudging through snow-covered sidewalks and parking lots. I don’t like pulling my car out of snow banks. I just generally don’t like all the stuff that comes along with snow. The feelings of discomfort with winter’s white blanket begin to make their way to the front of my consciousness as a kid. Until they all came to a head one winter morning.
I was standing outside my house waiting for the bus one cold, snowy Ohio morning. A blizzard was blowing outside, as I remember it. Together the kids from the neighborhood and I waited as the cold and snow permeated deep into my bones. The cold chilled my skin and the snow seemed to taunt my feelings of disdain toward it. There was nothing I could do about either. Everyone was gone to work and I couldn’t get back in the house. I grumbled against the wind and snow and cold.
After what seemed like another ice age, another bus driver saw us still standing on the street. It turned out that our bus had succumbed to the snow and cold and was stranded. I was astonished. Our bus froze in the cold and I was still going to school. I waited outside in weather unfit for humans or machines and nobody seemed to be fazed.
It was right then and there that I decided that I was done with snow. To the fullest extent possible, I was going to separate myself from the white stuff. It didn’t really care too much about me and I was not going to hide my disdain for it any longer.
Circumstances took me back to Kentucky that following winter. I was glad to be back in the land where snow is a rarity. However, there was the nagging sense that it was lurking around the corner all the while. Like a bully waiting to strike again, snow seemed to be waiting to get the upper hand again.
One day I heard a friend discussing a business trip he’d taken to the Gulf Coast one winter. He recounted the “snow event” during his trip. It seems that the sky spit snow one day and the whole coast seemed to stop to watch the sky. It was not enough to stick, yet the people seemed to be overjoyed. He too had grown up in a snow-plagued area and laughed the people’s awestruck expressions at the novelty falling from the sky.
I grew excited about this new and wonderful land. I wanted to live in a place where snow was such a novelty. If it was that big of a deal there, then it was the place for me. It seemed only logical that I would live in such paradise. When the opportunity came for my move to the Gulf Coast, I was thrilled to be moving to a land free from frozen precipitation.
That was nearly 20 years ago. I have, for the most part, successfully avoided the snow bully since then. Our encounters have been few and far between and short-lived at that.
Our six-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son often remind me that they haven’t seen (or don’t remember seeing) snow. They do so in the spirit of a plea to present them to snow. I’m hesitant to introduce my children to one of my childhood bullies.
This morning, the local weather people are calling for a chance of snow accumulation about an hour north of here overnight. We might see some frozen stuff even falling from the sky here. My wife and children are excited about the idea. The local Christmas parade is tonight and the church Christmas Carnival is tomorrow. To them, a seemingly perfect arrangement is in the mix. All over the community, I catch snippets of conversations about how excited everyone is about the chance for snow. People like to talk about the rare and novel. Something deep inside of me cringes. Snow. Here. That’s not supposed to happen. Then I remember: people get excited about the rare chance of snow. That’s one of the logical things about living here. So maybe watching them get so excited over so little is a good thing. Perhaps I can endure this punch of snow, to see the delight of my wife and children.
One day I’ll take my wife and kids to see “real” snow. The look on their faces will be wonderful as they romp and laugh in frozen fun. I’ll wave to them through the window —from inside the lodge, next to the fire, with a cup of hot coffee in my hand. . I’ll be the one inside in a t-shirt and shorts and dreaming of someplace tropical.
As I catch the rest of this week’s forecast I get that same warm feeling. A warm front is on the way and I’ll being wearing shorts and a t-shirt next weekend. This is Dixie's Sunny Shore after all. Seems only logical to embrace it—the common and the quirky.

Images of the Savior--Part 2

We had a great experience participating in worship last week alongside artist Felicia Olds. I appreciate Felicia sharing her God-given talents in worship during the Christmas season. I’ve included some pictures of the service.

This Sunday, our Senior Pastor, Rev. Mike McKnight, will bring the message during in The Gathering service. Felicia will again paint during the worship service. Mike will look at the Christmas Story from the viewpoint of the humble man Joseph. We encourage you to look at the story from this perspective. When we look at the story from all four different points of view, we hope that all of us can see the Christmas Story as a much larger picture.

In the Sanctuary Services this week, we’ll celebrate the Christmas Season with a special music service. I am excited about participating in this special service of Lessons and Carols. I look forward to seeing you in worship this week.