Revved Up

A Clean Slate

2010-01-04T13:27:00.005-07:00

Living in Colorado, it's easy to imagine a new year stretching out before me as lovely and unmarred as an expanse of freshly fallen snow. A few days into January, however, and that white field of perfection has footprints going this way and that. Some were made with intention and clarity, others were not. Some show forward movement, others suggest retreat or backtracking.

Wise or foolish, purposeful or random, our choices quickly carve a pattern on the smooth surface of a new beginning. But unlike paths taken through untrodden snow which are soon erased by the sun or the next storm, our day-to-day decisions leave impressions of one kind or another. It's a long wait for a new year to come to give its gift of an utterly clean slate.

Followers of Jesus don't have to wait for a new year to begin afresh. We are given the gift of forgiveness. For those of us who've grown up in the church, sometimes this word is so familiar as to have lost its awesome power. When we ask with earnestness for forgiveness, it's given! In full. Forever.

I remember once asking forgiveness for something terribly weighty, something I thought was all but impossible to forgive. I offered up a prayer asking God to have mercy on me and to forgive me for my willful and terribly unwise choice. This was a prayer I expected to have to pray for a long, long time. But no sooner than I asked, I understood that God had sensed my contrition and had freed me from my horrible burden. God wiped away all memory of my failure.

In Judaism, Jesus' spiritual tradition, much emphasis was placed on remembering all that God had done for the people. How marvelous then, that Jesus would come and add the necessary complement to this essential practice. If we are called to remember, then we are also invited to ask God to forget, truly, what we have or have not done.

It's a long trek from the threshold of one new year to another. But with God, everything can be made new again. Sometimes in a flash. But always in full and forever.

Shop til I Drop? NOT!

2009-12-14T11:11:00.004-07:00

While I've been out and about this month, I keep hearing folks ask each other "Are you done with your Christmas shopping?" When this one gets tossed my direction, I nod my head. But I'm lying. I don't shop for presents anymore. Not really.

A dozen years ago, everyone in my little family was a worker bee. Free time was largely spent getting ready for a work week, recuperating from a work week, or tending to all those things that needed to happen when we weren't working--doing laundry, grocery shopping, housecleaning, and such.

With no children or grandchildren in the family, with all of us living lives of plenty, it dawned on me that we might do well to consider radically downsizing or even doing away with gift-giving altogether. So I broached the subject, very much aware that I might be misunderstood; someone could easily think me a Grinch or a cheap-skate.

But I wasn't misunderstood. We all agreed that we possessed too many things already and that more precious than stuff was time. So the deal was struck: if, in the process of living our lives, we were to accidentally happen upon something we thought someone else might like, we could purchase it. But no heading out to the shopping center in search of something to buy. No trolling the mall hoping for inspiration to strike. No buying something, anything, because a gift had to be given on the 25th.

It was weird at first, I'll admit. December seemed awfully quiet, awfully uncomplicated. But as the weeks passed, I found myself drawing closer to the Christmas story because I wasn't preoccupied with searching out gifts. The meaning in the season's songs--both the secular and the sacred ones--leapt out and warmed me. They weren't my shopping soundtrack anymore but were more like food for the heart and soul. And when Christmas Day came, I found myself feeling more loved and more loving, not less so.

We've tweaked our agreement a little over the years. I'll assemble a little package of something or other to send to my single brother, simply because I like the idea of him pulling up after work one chilly night and finding a box of goodies in his mailbox. He usually goes online and orders up a delivery of some of the best coffee I've ever had. The two of us happily go in together on a year's subscription to Netflix for Mom, just 'cuz she loves movies.

All these years later, I'm grateful for the gift of unencumbered December days my family has given me. I'm also grateful for what I don't have--possessions I don't really need, want, or know what to do with.

It used to be that Christmas Eve would come and I'd feel a kind of emptiness that had no name. But now when I go to worship and hear once again the story of Christ's humble birth, I feel I have everything I've ever wanted. And then some.

Do "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays" Really Need to Duke It Out?

2009-12-08T15:07:00.007-07:00

"Put the Christ back in Christmas" has become an increasingly common refrain in December. It's a potent assertion in the face of what looks and feels like the secularization of a holy season. With this as a concern, some insist that the right and proper thing to do is to dispense altogether with "Happy Holidays" and rely only on "Merry CHRISTmas" to convey good cheer.

Me? I have no trouble at all with saying (and meaning) "Happy Holidays." This is, after all, a season of other important holidays--the Jewish season of Hanukkah begins December 11th and the African American celebration of Kwanzaa commences December 26th. Let's not forget, too, that for some the Winter Solstice (December 21st) is time of reverent acknowledgement of the sacred.

As a Christian living in a pluralistic society, I feel it's appropriate, even faithful, to say "Happy Holidays." It's how I affirm the presence and importance of those in the religious minority. Christians can easily forget the responsibility of sensitivity we bear for being members of the religious majority (in this country, anyway).

Jesus may be the reason for MY season, but I want to leave room for other people's seasons, too. Somehow that feels to me like the Christ-like thing to do.

Who Are We Waiting for?

2009-11-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

When I was pastoring elsewhere, a guest speaker came to our Adult class early December one year to talk about something that had gotten him in a great deal of trouble in churches throughout the state: his insistence that our collective focus on Santa prevents us from preparing for and welcoming the Christ child.

Our class listened respectfully, unlike some that had (I'm not joking) chased the fellow out the door and down the street. (Folks generally don't appreciate being told that the only difference between Santa and Satan is how the letters are arranged!)

The man had a point, though, one that hit home (and hard) the following hour when I asked our children during their worship-hour message who it was they were waiting for later that month. A chorus went up immediately--"SANTA" they sang out as the congregation gasped and then clucked their tongues.

Rather than blame the kids or their parents, I reminded the folks in the pews that this was a responsibility we all shared. Maybe we're all a little confused about whose arrival we're anticipating.

As a pastor, I struggle with Advent--this four-Sunday season that leads up to the celebration of Christ's birth. Well, I don't struggle with the season, what I struggle with is how to help folks (the youngest to the eldest) make this a holy and meaningful time. When we gather for worship in December, I'm well aware that people are probably thinking about their shopping lists and social obligations. And I know the kids aren't pondering God's risky plan to send a holy child to show us what love says and does so much as they're salivating over the latest gadgets and gizmos, hoping beyond hope that Santa's going to tuck those babies under their trees on Christmas Eve.

In many European countries, Santa (or his equivalent) comes early in December. He does his thing (leaves candy in wooden shoes in Holland, for example) and then he goes away, leaving everyone a good, long stretch of time to think about and prepare for the miracle of Christ's birth.

Who are we waiting for? How do prepare for his arrival? And how do we do this in a way that feels soulful and satisfying, rather than contrived or super-religious?