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XMess

I wrote this poem when I was in high school. I still kinda like it, even though I have since found out that it actually does snow in Bethlehem from time to time.

A Christmas special on TV a couple nights ago
Had three wise men and a flock of sheep
Walking through the snow
How sad, I thought, and such a shame
Doesn't anybody know
That in the desert town of Bethlehem
It never, ever snows?

I went to the mall the other day-- a very scary place
Where cursing shoppers fussed and fought
For every parking space
How sad, I thought, and such a shame
Does anyone remember
There's more to save than steps and cash
During this month of December?

And in the mall, a line of kids, some skinny and some fat
Kicked and clawed to get their turn
To sit in Santa's lap
How sad, I thought, and such a shame
Can't anybody see
That Christmas time is not the time
To teach our children greed?

So with "Xmas" decor everywhere, I've come to the conclusion
That the One who won at Calvary
Gets lost in the confusion
How sad, I thought, and such a shame
But there can be no doubt
That Christmas becomes an X-Mess
When Christ gets taken out.

Thank God for Charlie Brown

Last night, I was watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" with my 11 year old. It was released in 1965, the year before I was born, and I don't ever remember not watching "A Charlie Brown Christmas" at least once every year. But I got the impression it was the first time Caleb had really paid attention to it. And watching it through his eyes, I was amazed at how wonderfully, incredibly politically incorrect "A Charlie Brown Christmas" is. When Charlie Brown cries out, "Isn't there anyone who can tell me what Christmas is all about?!?", only one answer is given. Linus doesn't come out and say, "well, the holidays mean different things to different people, Charlie Brown. Christmas is all about spending time with the people you love." Instead, Linus comes center stage, asks for the lights to come on, and recites Luke 2, ending with "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, and good will toward men." Then he grabs his blanket, walks to Charlie Brown, and quietly says, "That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown." Charlie Brown walks out of the theater with his pitiful little tree, stands under the stars, and then-- I swear I am not making this up-- closes his eyes and prays, while Linus's words from Luke echo in his head. And the whole Peanuts gang joins him under the stars and sings "Peace on earth, and mercy mild-- God and sinners reconciled." No menorahs, no mention of Ramadan, no Kwanzaa. No season's greetings, no Santa Claus, no happy holidays. Because while that may be what December is all about, that is NOT what Christmas is all about. Linus knew that there wasn't anything else that would answer Charlie Brown's question.
As I listen to what my sons talk about when they come home from school, I am glad they are learning about diversity and tolerance. I truly am not bothered that Caleb learned "The Dreidel Song" in fourth grade. But if someone asks me what Christmas is really all about, there really is only one answer.
Thank God for Charlie Brown!

Joy, Sorrow, Anticipation, Impatience, Confidence

When Chris's liver gets delivered,
Someone else will get de-liver-ed

This nonsense line kept rattling through my head this morning during my quiet time. I have a 28 year old nephew with Hepatitis (from a bad blood transfusion) who has been on a list for a liver transplant for several months now. Three times he has gone to the hospital because a donor liver came in, but after testing, it has turned out not to be a match for him. So, yesterday was the fourth time. All looked good, and the surgery was to be scheduled for 9:00 pm last night. And as I sent out e-mails and facebook updates to my friends to pray for Chris, several of my friends pointed out the mixture of sorrow and joy that comes with a story like this. For my nephew to get a chance for his life to be extended, someone else's life has been cut short. So I am learning to pray not just for my nephew, but also for the family of some son or father or brother who has died.

Anyway, I woke up this morning and checked my text messages for a word from my sister. Turns out that late last night the doctors determined that the liver was too big for Chris. So, for the fourth time, it's back to waiting.

Waiting is a discouraging thing. It is hard to pray faithfully for a blessing from God, only to see the answers seemingly going to someone else. But the more I think about it, the more I am reminded that the call to love my neighbor means I have to pray in equal measure for my nephew AND the family of the donor. And I also have to pray for the recipient of the liver that Chris didn't get. Because now, someone else is getting that second chance on life. Someone else's father, or brother, or son. And what if that person doesn't yet know Christ? This potentially gives him a chance to respond to the love of Christ someday in the future.

All that to say, my nonsense, "Dr.-Seuss-is-taking-over-my- blog" ditty has had another verse added to it. Indulge me:

When Chris's liver gets delivered,
Someone else will get de-liver-ed
But if the delivered liver isn't a fit for Chris
Someone else could get delivered.

Divided We Fail

This election season has lost me a friend. It started when I posed the question on my Facebook page, "Is it better to vote for the candidate you dislike the least, or not to vote at all?" This caused a very conservative friend from college to begin a conversation with me on Facebook that spiraled down into ever increasing levels of nastiness. And while he never "defriended" me on Facebook, he stopped returning messages, and the last one from him was just plain ugly.

What hurts the most is that this friend is a brother in Christ. We were both very involved in campus ministry when we were in college. We prayed together, led Bible studies together, went on more retreats and ministry opportunities than I can even remember. Things went south over a situation when we worked together several years ago, and we hadn't talked in a long time. Then, a bunch of us found each other on Facebook, exchanged pictures of our families, got caught up with each other, and started talking about reunions. Then came politics.

The odd thing is, about this same time I became friends with someone else that I hadn't seen since high school. As we went through the same routine of getting caught up with each other's lives, she let me know that she's been in a same-sex relationship for the past several years. I let her know that I was part of a conservative Christian denomination that considers that lifestyle as sinful. But we kept talking. We continue to have mutual respect for one another. I don't feel I've compromised my beliefs in order to continue conversation. I hope both of us would say we are learning from each other.

So what it comes down to is this. Two conservative Christians can't be friends because they disagree on politics, but a conservative Christian can be friends with a lesbian in spite of their disagreements on lifestyle. Does anyone else see something deeply wrong with this picture?

"If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were raising himself against me, I could hide from him. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship, as we walked with the throng at the house of God."

Psalm 55:12-14

Is All Suffering Redemptive?

Okay, first off, it should be pretty obvious from the fact that I am finding deeper meaning from shows like "Heroes" that I am a theological welterweight. I am a theologian the way Fazzoli's is an Italian restaurant. So when my friend Eric throws out a question like "is our current suffering merely the symptom of a systemic evil rather than the reduplication of cosmic redemption?" then my first impulse is to go to Entertainment Weekly to see if a celebrity did anything embarrassing this week.
That being said, here is my best stab at an answer.
I do think all suffering is redemptive, because I think the "Christian Paradigm" is all-encompassing. Colossians 1:16 says that "God was pleased to have ALL his fullness dwell in [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself ALL things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. Colossians in general, uses that word ALL a lot. And while it seems bizarre on a human timetable, I have to believe that ALL suffering is redeemed by a God who is sovereign over ALL things.
Carol Burnett, the comedian, once defined comedy as "tragedy + time." That seems to be a pretty good definition of God's glory also. That given a long enough timeline, everything works to God's glory. It may be the morning after a tornado, when someone surveys the damage to his home and realizes that it could have been worse-- that his family is still okay. It may be the month after a job change, when I realize that no matter how painful it was to leave my old job, God has me in a good place now. It may be the year after a cancer diagnosis, when one realizes how much they have learned to depend on God and how God works through His people.
The bigger the tragedy, the longer the timeline it takes before "All things work togeter for good" (Romans 8:28). How long a timeline is necessary before we see 9/11 redeemed? We can see some elements of redemption even now, like shafts of sunlight in a dark forest. How long for the Holocaust? That one, I think, will take millenia. But Ecc. 3:11 says that God has set eternity in the hearts of men. Which means that we have been created for eternity. We have an infinitely long timeline. I think if you had stood on Calvary on the morning after the murder of Jesus, you would have thought the cross was the most horrible thing you had ever seen. Now, two thousand years later, we sing, "When I survey the wondrous cross."
God's glory = tragedy + time.
I don't think the Gospel ignores suffering. But when you ask whether it is just a symptom of a fallen world or a reduplication of cosmic redemption, I think it is both/and, not either/or. There is suffering because we are in a fallen world. There is systemic evil, because I believe we are at war with a real enemy, who desires to un-do creation. But I think it's like a fractal: smash a crystal into a thousand pieces and each piece will retain the structure of the whole. All of our light and momentary afflictions, according to 2 Corinthians 4:17, are "producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison."
Enough of that. I need to go find out who got voted off "Dancing with the Stars."

Claire Bennet, Lepers, and the Gift of Pain

I'm so excited that Heroes is back on the air. And after last season, I'm relieved it's not lame.

They seem to have found their foooting again by telling a great story.
Who is your favorite Hero? I've always been partial to Peter Petrelli-- the younger brother who could only do whatever the Hero standing next to him could do. As the youngest child, I always liked how he wanted to be like his big brother, and when his brother, who could fly, was standing close by, then the little brother could too. A psychological, birth order, sibling rivalry gold mine!
But now, I think I am really liking Claire. She's the cheerleader who can heal from anything. But this season, there is a new development. SPOILER ALERT! DON'T READ ANYMORE IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED THIS SEASON!

Are you still with me? Okay, good. This season, after a run in with Sylar, Claire has lost her ability to feel pain. Before, she could walk through fire, get hit by a train, or throw herself off a water tower, but it would still hurt. And now, she misses the pain. She tells her mom that she wonders if she is even human anymore.

Who knew we could find such deep theology in prime time? Philip Yancey, in his book "Where is God When it Hurts" talks about leprosy. He says that the disease known as leprosy in Jesus' day was actually a deadening of nerve endings. A leper would lose the ability to feel a cut on his foot. So he would just keep walking, allowing the cut to become more and more infected. Or he would never know to blink away the grain of sand in his eye and would go blind. When Jesus healed a leper, He gave them the ability to feel pain again. Pain is vital. It makes us human. It is what makes us cry out for help, helps us learn from past mistakes, makes us aware of danger. Whether you believe in God or not, you at least must concede that without the gift of pain, we would not survive long as a species. And if you are willing to consider the possibility that there is a God, then maybe you can see pain as a gift from a god who loves us, rather than proof that God doesn't love us.

I understand the rebuttal. "How much pain is enough? When does it stop becoming a gift?" And for people who have suffered unimaginable loss and pain, I'm imagining that after standing over the grave of a child you've outlived, or signing your divorce papers, or watching your life savings swept away by natural or financial disaster, you're feeling quite human enough, thank you.

What Christians hang on to that makes us different from Hindus and Buddhists is the idea that suffering is redemptive. Hindus see it as punishment for the past. Christians see it as refinement for the future. Buddhists see pain as meaningless. Christians find meaning in pain and suffering when they understand it as part of the process of making us more like Christ.