Month: December 2020

Missing Christmas

‘If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world’ – C.S. Lewis

Pandemic notwithstanding, I suppose it was a good Christmas.  I savored special moments with family, soaked myself in the Christmas story, and otherwise set my mind and heart on the true meaning of the season.  I did many of the things I love to do each year: I decorated the tree, set up and played with the trains, listened to Linus tell Luke’s story, played our family’s version of Elf on the shelf, watched and read A Christmas Carol. Our church celebrations were different but meaningful. Although there were some traditions we had to skip this year, I managed to check off all the important boxes.    All in all, I have nothing to complain about this Christmas. 

And so it was with a sense of discouragement that I found myself, the day after Christmas, feeling down.  I felt as if I had missed something.  This feeling first manifested itself in the realization that there were certain songs I hadn’t heard this year (I blamed this on Alexa; I have this awesome Christmas playlist, but when I tell her to shuffle the songs, she keeps playing the same dad gum songs over and over).  So I deliberately spent some time listening to the forgotten songs.  Oddly enough, this did nothing for my mood.  It felt too late, and I was overwhelmed with the sense that I had, once again, missed Christmas. 

I say once again because, truth be told, I feel this way every year.  Every December 26th, I get the post-Christmas blues.  Maybe it’s the letdown. At some point in November (Okay, October, I’m one of those people) I start to get excited about Christmas.  The season holds forth great promise, and I really try to fulfill it.  Some years I come close.  I get at least an epiphany or two.  Sometimes I get close enough to the story that it feels as if I can reach out and touch the face of God.  And sometimes, glory of glories, I’ve felt God reach out and touch me.  But then, somehow, on December 26th, it feels as if its over.  I’m not sure why I feel this way.  Christmas is never truly over.  But the realization that the official season has come and gone gets me every time. 

The ghosts of Christmas pasts inevitably play a role in the letdown.  I have this image of ‘the perfect Christmas’ in my mind, one that I supposedly experienced once upon a time.  The truth is that this ‘perfect Christmas’ is an amalgam, a highlight reel if you will, of my now 53 Christmas pasts.  All the best moods, moments, family times, and spiritual experiences rolled into one super memory of a marvelous Christmas. It’s a nice Christmas to remember, but it is of course pure fantasy.  I’ve never experienced a single Christmas that matches the collective one in my imagination.  No wonder I feel let down every year.  How can reality match the dream world?

I could chalk it all up to that then, this post-Christmas blues.  But as I forced Alexa to play those forgotten songs and pondered the feelings they inspired this past Saturday, I realized that there is more involved than the letdown.  I realized that this feeling of having missed Christmas is inevitable.  Indeed, it’s necessary.  Christmas is the story of God becoming man, the Starkindler born beneath the stars, the Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth casting off his prerogatives and privileges that he might renew the whole of His Creation.  It is a story too vast for capture.  It is too grand and glorious for the likes of me, or any of us, to fully experience in a single year, or even in a lifetime of Christmases.  The collective fantasies of a 1000 Christmases couldn’t come close to apprehending the wonder and majesty of this story. 

And so, this year, after many December 26ths worth of missed Christmases, I’ve accepted something.  This feeling of Christmas missed is as it should be.  It serves a purpose.  I am not meant to feel satisfied at Christmas.  I am meant to feel empty.  I am meant to experience a deep sense of unfulfilled longing – an unfulfilled longing for another world. 

For one day, at the Final Advent, there will be another world.  It will come to me, or I to it, in one of two ways.  Either I will die and enter the world of God’s eternity, or Jesus will come during my lifetime and bring God’s eternity to me.  Then, and only then, will I be satisfied.  Then, and only then, will my elusive longings be sated.  Then, and only then, will I finally plumb the depths of Christmas and all that it means. 

Until then, well, I guess I will experience this missing of Christmas every December 26th for the rest of my life.  And that is fine with me, for it will keep me longing for the day when it will finally be, and truly feel like, Christmas forever. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

The Voice of the True King

The following Christmas message is excerpted and adapted from my book, Royal Mistakes: Life Lessons from Some Seriously Messed Up Judean Kings.

‘The people refused to listen to Samuel’s warning.  ‘Even so, we still want a king,’ they said.  ‘We want to be like the nations around us.  Our king will judge us and lead us into battle.’  So Samuel repeated what the people had said, and the Lord replied, ‘Do as they say, and give them a king.’ – 1 Samuel 8:19-22(a)

Back in the days before Rehoboam, before Solomon, David or even Saul, Israel was one nation under one King, and that King was God.  God appointed Judges to lead and impart guidance to the people, but these men and women were not monarchs in their own right.  They were merely representatives, ambassadors if you will, of the One True King.  God was Israel’s King.  It was as simple as that. 

At least it was supposed to be.  The people, fallen and fickle as they were, tended to forget who their king was.  Whenever they did, it got them into trouble.  The Book of Judges tells of the trouble they got themselves into in those days.  The people would forget who their king was, turn their back on him, worship idols and wind up conquered by their enemies.   Then they would cry out to God for help and God would send a Judge to help them. The people would then turn back to God for a while, but before long they would forget him again, and the whole cycle would repeat itself.  You know, lather, rinse, repeat.  It was a troubling time in which to live.  The final verse of Judges sums up the problem: ‘In those days Israel had no king; all the people did whatever seemed right in their own eyes’ (Judges 21:25). 

Now you must understand, Israel did have a king.  God was the King.  Israel just had a hard time following a king they could not see.  What they lacked, they figured, was an earthly king, someone they could see, someone who would stand tall and strong and mighty at the head of a great army carrying a sword and shield, someone who would wave a flag and rally the troops, someone who would make them great like the nations that surrounded them.  True enough, God had gone before them once in a pillar of cloud by day and fire by night (See, Exodus 13:21).  But that had been a long time ago.  And truer still, God still went before them in battle through the means of the Ark of the Covenant.  But doggone it, it just wasn’t the same thing.   What they needed was a true king!

And so, on a day that would live in infamy, the people of Israel approached the man God had chosen to be the current Judge of Israel, Samuel.  ‘Look,’ they said, ‘we want you to give us a king like the ones in all the other nations’ (See, 1 Samuel 8:5).  They felt that if they only had that, all their problems (you know, the problems they had because they refused to acknowledge God as their One True King) would be solved.  All they needed was a tangible, earthly king.  One they could see.  One they could hear.  All they needed was to hear the voice of this true king, and everything would be wonderful. 

Samuel was heartbroken.  He immediately turned to God, whom Samuel at least acknowledged as King, and asked what he should do.  God told him to go ahead and grant the request. 

‘Do everything they say to you,’ the Lord replied, ‘for they are rejecting me, not you.  They don’t want me to be their king any longer…Do as they ask, but solemnly warn them about the way a king will reign over them.’ (1 Samuel 8:7-9). 

Samuel warned the people.  He told them that if they had a king like the nations, he would take their sons off to war, turn them into slaves, confiscate their property, tax them to death and otherwise make life miserable for them (sound familiar?).  ‘If you put your trust in a human king rather than God,’ Samuel told them, ‘you will live to regret it.’  (See, 1 Samuel 8:10-18). 

But the people would not be dissuaded.  ‘Yeah, yeah, we still want a king.  We want to be like the nations around us.  We want a king who will lead us into battle.  We want a king we can see and hear.’  And so Samuel checked with God again, and God again told him to go ahead and give them their ‘ideal’ king. 

The First King of Israel

Samuel did as instructed.  He found a king for Israel.  His name was Saul, and at first glance, he seemed perfect for the job.  He had the bearing of king. Tall and handsome, he stood head and shoulders above every other man in Israel (1 Samuel 9:2).  He hailed from a wealthy and influential family (1 Samuel 9:1).  He was skilled in battle.  Early in his reign, he led Israel to many victories.  But for all that, there were problems. 

For one thing he was a bit of a fraidy-cat.  On the day Samuel went to anoint him King of Israel, he hid behind a pile of luggage (1 Samuel 10:22).  And then there was his behavior during the whole David and Goliath thing.  Goliath, the Philistine champion, taunted Israel’s army for forty days, challenging them to send out the best man to fight.  That man, of course, was Saul.  But Saul never went, ultimately leaving the task of felling the giant to a shepherd boy who may have been no more than ten years old (See, 1 Samuel 17). 

Saul was also a jealous man.  As the years rolled by, and the young shepherd boy David grew to be a man, he led Israel’s armies in battle with great distinction, winning many battles over Israel’s enemies.  But as the people began to sing David’s praises, Saul became jealous (1 Samuel 18:7-9).  In fact, before long he became a paranoid, homicidal lunatic, hurling spears at David and chasing him all over the wilderness in an attempt to kill him (See, 1 Samuel 19-26).  When all was said and done, God was so disgusted with Saul that he stripped him of his kingdom.  Saul himself met with a dreadful end, falling on his own sword in battle (1 Samuel 31:4).  It turned out that Saul had not been the king Israel had been looking for.  His voice was not the voice of the True King. 

Israel’s ‘Best’ King

So Israel moved on to David, who was a much better leader.  David was no coward.  He was strong and courageous.  He was a Warrior-Poet, a man from whose heart sprang forth the beautiful songs we call the Psalms.  Best of all, he was a man after God’s own heart (1 Samuel 13:14).  That is, he cared about what God cared about (at least on his best days).  But even so, he was only human, and being human, he had problems.  His biggest problem was his weakness for the ladies.  His first six sons came from six different wives.  The most infamous of his relationships was the one he had with Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11).  Alone one day, walking about on his royal parapet, he looked down and noticed a beautiful woman taking a bath.  And he kept looking (it’s the second look that gets you in trouble).  He soon invited her to the palace, offered her a drink, and well, one thing led to another, and even though she was married, he slept with her.  Things became complicated when she announced she was pregnant (just imagine that conversation), and that her husband, Uriah, had been away at battle for some time, thus eliminating the possibility that he was the father.  What did David do?  He arranged the murder of her husband.  David was not only a peeping Tom, he was a murderer.  And this was but one of the moves by which David, the best earthly king Israel ever had, sowed the seeds of destruction for his own kingdom.  No, not even David was the king Israel needed.  Once again, his was not the voice of the True King.

Worldly Wisdom Personified

But third time’s a charm right?  After David came his son, Solomon.  Talk about a man who had what it takes to be king!  Solomon was the wisest man on earth.  As we noted in chapter one, people came from all over the world to listen to the pearls of wisdom that dropped from his lips (1 Kings 4:34).  He was an administrative genius who created the most efficient government Israel had ever seen, and a master builder to boot (See, generally, 1 Kings 4).  Moreover, he was amazingly wealthy; the Bible describes him as the richest king on earth (1 Kings 10:23).  But even he wasn’t the king Israel needed.  Because if David had a weakness for the ladies, Solomon was weaker still.  He had 700 wives and 300 concubines (1 Kings 11:3), many of whom led him into idolatry and the worship of false gods.  Yes, the wisest man who ever lived turned out to be a fool and set up the scenario that would divide his kingdom during the reign of his son Rehoboam.  Not even Solomon’s was the voice of the True King. 

After Solomon

And after Solomon?  Years of royal screw-ups. A Divided Kingdom.  War. Idolatry.  Social Injustice.  Defeat and exile.  The northern kingdom of Israel defeated, her ten tribes led away by the Assyrians, erased from the pages of history.  The southern kingdom of Judah defeated by Nebuchadnezzar, her tribes taken to Babylon for 70 years before being allowed to return under Persian rule.  Then came the Greeks, a brief period of independence, and finally Rome. Eventually Rome gave Israel a king.  His name was Herod, a brutal megalomaniac who murdered members of his own family to stay in power.  No one in Israel ever made the mistake of thinking that his was the voice of the True King. 

The dream for a king like the nations had proven to be a nightmare.

The Return of the True King

But God never gave up on his people.  He never gave up on his dream of a people who would know him, and him alone, as their True King.  A people who would be his own and show the world how he wanted people to live.  And so, throughout this sordid history of earthly kings and empires, God sent the people reminders of his dream.  Perhaps the best examples of these reminders are the ones that came from the mouth of God’s prophet Isaiah.  Isaiah spoke of tough times, but also offered hope:

‘Nevertheless, that time of darkness and despair will not go on forever…there will be a time in the future when Galilee of the Gentiles, which lies along the road that runs between Jordan and the sea, will be filled with glory.  The people who walk in darkness will see a great light.  For those who live in a land of deep darkness a light will shine.  You will enlarge the nation of Israel, and its people will rejoice.  They will rejoice before you as people rejoice at the harvest and like warriors dividing plunder.  For you will break the yoke of their slavery and lift the heavy burden from their shoulders.  You will break the oppressor’s rod, just as you did when you destroyed the army of Midian.  The boots of the warrior and the uniforms bloodstained by war will all be burned.  They will be fuel for the fire.  For a child is born to us, a son is given to us.  The government will rest on his shoulders.  And he will be called, Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  His government and its peace will never end.  He will rule with fairness and justice from the throne of his ancestor David for all eternity.  The passionate commitment of the Lord of Heaven’s Armies will make this happen!’ (Isaiah 9:1-7). 

‘Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot – yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root.  And the Spirit of the Lord will rest on him – the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.  He will delight in obeying the Lord…He will give justice to the poor and make fair decisions for the exploited.  The earth will shake at the force of his word, and one breath from his mouth will destroy the wicked.  He will wear righteousness like a belt and truth like an undergarment.  In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat.  The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all…nothing will hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain, for as the waters fill the sea, so the earth will be filled with people who know the Lord.  In that day the heir to David’s throne will be a banner of salvation to all the world.  The nations will rally to him, and the land where he lives will be a glorious place’ (Isaiah 11:1-10).

 In other words, God would bring beauty out of the tragedy that occurred on the day Israel asked for a king like the nations.  The God who was Israel’s True King would reveal to them and to the world what their hearts had truly been longing for all along.  It was as if God, through Isaiah, was saying: ‘Hear O Israel!  Your True King is coming, and when he comes, when you follow him, when you hail him as your True King, then you will know peace.  Then you will know joy.  Then you will know salvation.  And this peace, this joy, this salvation, will be not just for you, but for the whole world!  It is coming Israel!  You shall one day hear the voice of your True King!’

The centuries slipped by in the wake of Isaiah’s words, and the people longed to hear that voice.  They longed for the arrival of its owner.  And for a long time, it must have seemed as if it would never happen.  But then, at the dawn of what we now call the first century, an angel named Gabriel showed up.  And he told an old man named Zechariah that the True King was coming.  And he told a young girl named Mary that she would conceive by the Holy Spirit, and that her child would be the True King.  And he told her carpenter fiancé Joseph, a descendant of David, that he should go ahead and marry her and raise the child as his own.  And in the fullness of time, the angels broke forth in glorious song outside the little town of Bethlehem, the birthplace of David, as they announced that the True King had come.  The King Israel should have wanted all along.  God himself.  God in the flesh.  God as one of us.  God as our king. 

And so it came to pass that as Mary brought forth her child into the world on that still, not so silent night, a newborn baby’s cry pierced the darkness of the Judean countryside, and Israel finally heard the voice of the True King. 

The True King’s Kingdom

The voice, of course, belonged to Jesus, whose kingdom was and is unlike anything else the world has ever seen.  Jesus never had a kingdom like Saul, David, Solomon, or any of the nincompoops we’ve studied in this book.  He never wielded a sword.  Never carried a shield.  Never waved a flag.  Never exercised power in the conventional sense.  Never had a palace.  No, Jesus’ kingdom was different.  It was a peaceful kingdom, a kingdom whose power was based on the idea of just coming alongside of people and loving them.  Even if they were enemies.  He traveled up and down the land of Israel, teaching about the Kingdom of God, showing the world his way, revealing to the world the way of the True King. 

Jesus died on a Roman cross for the sins of the world, and I suppose when that happened, it must have seemed as if once again, Israel had not found her True King.  But then came Easter, and the glorious news that Jesus had risen from the dead!  And then, forty days later, he ascended to heaven, from whence he rules and reigns now and forever, and from whence he shall one day come again to make earth and heaven one.

Until that day, his Kingdom expands.  It expands one life at a time.  It expands through those who dedicate themselves to living and loving in his name.  It expands, as through the words and deeds of his followers, the world continues to hear the voice of its True King.

And, as Isaiah said so long ago, it will never stop expanding.  The kings and kingdoms of the world will always fall.  But the Kingdom of God and the Christ will endure forever.

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

A Father’s Story

This post is an excerpt from my Advent devotional, The Dawn from On High: Advent Through the Eyes of Those Who Were There. It appears as the second chapter of the book, after Mary has told the story from her perspective.

‘This is how Jesus the Messiah was born.  His mother, Mary, was engaged to be married to Joseph…’ – Matthew 1:18

Oh the joy in my heart!  I was betrothed to Mary!  Oh Mary, she could knock your socks off.  Once matters were arranged, I looked her in the eyes – oh those beautiful eyes – and told her of the home I would prepare for us.  She smiled broadly, the kind of smile that makes the sun come out on a cloudy day, and I hurried off to begin the addition to my father’s house that would one day be our bridal suite.  Such a wondrous time.  The days were filled with expectation and longing.  Just seeing Mary walk by on her way to get water from the well was enough to send my soul into the skies. 

But then one day her father came by.  He could not look me in the eye.  He brought dreadful news.  Mary was pregnant. I tried not to believe it, but there was no reason for him to lie.  After a brief conversation he left, and I fell to the floor.  I cried for hours.  I felt as if the sun would never come out again.

Finally, I rose, resolved to see her, to hear of her betrayal from her own lips.  I felt I deserved at least that from her. 

Boy did she have a story.  She claimed that an angel had appeared to her and told her that she would conceive by the Holy Spirit, and that the child she gave birth to would be none other than the Messiah who would inherit the throne of our ancestor David.  Man, I had heard some whoppers in my day, but that one took the cake.  I was no fool.  I may have been young and inexperienced, but I knew where babies came from, and it wasn’t the Holy Spirit.  So I faced the fact: Mary had betrayed me.  I was heartbroken.  So was she.  I’ll never forget the look in her eyes as she begged me to stay.  But I didn’t.  I turned on my heels and walked out the door.  Mary had always been truthful, but I just couldn’t believe a story like that.  So I walked out of her life, believing I was doing so forever. 

___

My ordeal wasn’t over, however.  There were legal details to arrange.  My options were relatively straightforward.  I could publically divorce her, thereby exposing her betrayal and bringing shame upon her and her family.  I could call for her death by stoning for having broken the contract of marriage.  Or I could quietly break off the engagement.  The first two options were things I could never have done.  Truth was that in spite of what I believed she had done I still loved her.  And so I went with option three. 

Even so, it broke my heart.  It broke over the loss of Mary and the loss of my dreams.  It broke as I thought of what Mary would endure as an unwed mother.  What would become of her?  At best, she would endure shame and humiliation.  At worst, I feared, she might end up a beggar or prostitute.  One thing was certain: our traditional community would not look kindly upon her predicament.

With such thoughts, sleep did not come easy.  I tossed and turned throughout the night until finally, in the early morning hours, in that nether world between sleep and wakefulness, I had a dream.  Or at least something like a dream.  In it I heard a voice, ‘Joseph, son of David!’  I opened my eyes, or at least imagined I did, and saw before me a being wrapped in light.  It was an angel!  I was scared to death.  But then the angel spoke again:

‘Joseph, son of David!  Listen to me.  Don’t be afraid to make Mary your wife.  The child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit.  She will bring forth a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will be the One who will save people from their sins.  Mary did not lie.  She has told the truth.’ 

I woke with a start, soaked in sweat from head to toe.  I pondered the angel’s words.  Could they be true?  Suddenly, as if by divine inspiration, the words of the prophet Isaiah came into my mind: ‘Look!  The virgin will conceive and bring forth a child.  She will give birth to a son, and he shall be called Emanuel, God with us.’  Tears erupted from my eyes.  It was true!  Mary had not betrayed me.  She had been faithful.  And, which was more, God was on the move.  Mary’s child was the Messiah who would save us all! 

I knew what I had to do.  Four in the morning or not, I had to see Mary.  I raced to her father’s house, pounded on the door.  He greeted me with bed lines on his face, wondering if I had lost my mind.  Maybe I had.  But he let me in.  When I saw Mary, I fell to my knees.  I grabbed her around the waist, resting my head upon her belly, and thought, ‘Oh my Lord, in here rests the hope of the world.’  Mary knelt beside me and we held each other for what seemed an eternity, flooding the house with tears of joy.  When we finally looked up, Mary’s father was crying too. 

In due time, I took Mary to my home, that where I was, there she would also be.  Oh you bet there was a scandal.  People counted on their fingers.  Some laughed.  Some snickered behind our backs.  Some gave dirty looks.  Others were rude, downright hostile.  But we took it all in stride, and if anyone ever got too out of line with Mary, I gave them a talking to they did not soon forget.  But for the most part we accepted the strife, knowing that nothing good ever happens without some degree of suffering, and if this was ours to bear in God’s great plan of redemption, we were more than willing to endure it. 

___

One day, as Mary was approaching her time, a Roman soldier, a herald, arrived in Nazareth.  Caesar had decided to take a census, and everyone was required to travel to the city of their ancestors.     This meant that I, a descendant of David, had to return to Bethlehem, the city of David.  I nearly laughed out loud.  Bethlehem was the place the prophets said the Messiah would be born.  Little did Caesar know that he was setting the stage for the fulfillment of God’s promise! 

So off we went.  I on foot, Mary, nine months pregnant, on our donkey.  The eighty mile, several day trip was a rough one for one so heavy with child, but as Mary herself pointed out, who were we to argue with the ways of God?  We completed the journey in the nick of time.  We had barely touched the mezuzah on the doorpost of the house when Mary had her first contraction (oh, I know many of you think it was an inn, but that’s a misunderstanding.  Bethlehem was my hometown – I had family there).  It was I who nearly fainted.  We first thought to take Mary to the upper portion of the home, but that was a no go.  The census had brought many of my relatives home and the guest room was filled to the brim.  My family would have cleared some space, but we realized that with so many people in the house, it would be best to head down to the lower level, the place where the animals were kept, since there would be more privacy (we folks in the first century weren’t as squeamish as you are today about animals). 

It was a long night.  Mary’s labor was hard.  As I said, nothing good ever happens in the world without some degree of suffering.  But eventually the glorious moment arrived, and Mary’s son, God’s son, was born.  It was beautiful and miraculous, but at the same time unremarkable, like any other birth.  The midwife cleaned him up, and while she tended to Mary, she handed him to me. 

It was love at first sight.

___

There is much more I could tell.  Of shepherds and angels.  Of the day we took Jesus to the Temple and met Simeon and Anna.  I could tell of how Simeon, to whom God had promised he would not die until he saw the Messiah, took Jesus in his arms and declared that he had, and then handed him back to Mary.  I remember his words as he did so, ‘this child is destined to cause the rise and fall of many in Israel.  He will be opposed.’  Oh how his face darkened with those words, and darkened deeper still as with furrowed brow and sad eyes he told my wife that a sword would pierce her heart as well.  I could tell you of how we later received a visit from Magi from the east bearing gifts, and of how an angel again warned me that King Herod was trying to kill Jesus.  I could tell of our consequent flight to Egypt, of how we lived there as refugees for a time, and of how, after an angel told us it was safe to return home, we learned what had happened in our absence.  In a mad attempt to kill our son, Herod had killed all the children under two years old in and around Bethlehem.  Oh how Simeon’s words resounded in my mind as I wondered what such a thing might mean for the future of my son? 

It has been a few years now.  We live in Nazareth.  Jesus is a toddler.  Our lives have been, for the most part, uneventful.  But still, on some nights, after we have tucked Jesus in and helped him say his prayers, I stand over him and wonder: what did Simeon mean?  I reflect upon how Jesus came into the world, of Mary’s difficult labor, and of how nothing good happens in the world without some degree of suffering.  And I reflect upon the fact that Jesus came to do the best thing of all: to save the world.  What pain and suffering must await him?  I have seen what a maniac like Herod can do.  What will others do when Jesus begins to fulfill his destiny?

My friends and neighbors believe that the Messiah will be a triumphant warrior.  But I have heard the town Rabbi read the sacred words, of how the Messiah will be pierced for our transgressions, crushed for our sins.  The punishment that will bring us peace will fall hard upon him.  It will be by his wounds that the rest of us will be healed. 

Oh Father in heaven!  What does that mean?  What will happen to our son?  How can I prepare him for his future?  How can I teach him to be faithful and true, to stand when the time to fulfill his destiny arrives?  Blessed Adonai, I am so inadequate to the task.  Why did you ever choose me?  How can I possibly be a father to the Son of God?

But I remember what the angel said.  I am the son of David.  The descendant of a simple shepherd used by God to do great things. And I think, maybe God can use a simple carpenter too.

Maybe, he can use anyone. 

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

Artwork by Michelle Jones

The Manger Player

‘And she brought forth her newborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger’ – Luke 2:7

How extraordinary is the chronicle of Christ’s Nativity!  Peasant parents-to-be on the move to register for the all-powerful Emperor Augustus’s census, mere mice in a world patrolled by imperial lions.  Arriving at their destination, they are forced to bring forth their miracle child in less-than-ideal conditions.  Depending on your interpretation of events, they were either shuffled off from the inn to a barn out back or relegated to the lower portion of a dwelling where the animals were kept.  Either way, their son – no less than the Son of the God – was born in a stable.  You might have thought that the Almighty Maker of Heaven and Earth, who created the universe out of nothing, could have arranged a better location for His Son’s birth than a place that stank like wet animal fur and dung.  The only people who came to acknowledge the incredible introduction of God in human skin were shepherds (the magi came later), hardly the major players of Judean society.  It was hardly an auspicious beginning.  The regents of the world would never have done it this way.

Which is precisely the point.  This was the unfolding of God’s plan to save the world, and God, though the possessor of ultimate and comprehensive power, doesn’t behave like the world’s major players.  He reveals his strength in weakness, a weakness that proves itself to be stronger than human strength (See, 1 Corinthians 1:25; 2 Corinthians 12:9).  It is through weakness and foolishness that God saves the world.  Which explains perfectly why Jesus was conceived in the womb of a poor peasant girl, birthed in a stable, and laid in a manger, why he came into the world not as a major player but, if you will, a ‘manger player.’  That’s the way God rolls. 

We would do well to remember this.

Too often we do not.  History is replete with examples of professing Jesus followers pursuing the way of power, the path of the major players, rather than the path of the one in the manger.  It is a path God never asked his people to follow, one that He Himself expressly rejected in the life of His Son.  Yet many follow it anyway, believing that obtaining what the world perceives as power is not only important but a matter of life and death. 

I am reminded of this every day when I read the news.  The 2020 Presidential election is over, and most of us would like to move on, but as we all know the President is playing a dangerous game, spinning patently false conspiracy theories in a transparent attempt to steal an election in pursuit of his own interests.  That a political leader, a major player on the world stage, would behave in such a manner probably shouldn’t surprise us.  The regents of the world often behave this way.  It’s kind of par for the course.  The extent to which it seems odd to us in America reflects how privileged we have been in this society up to this point.  Not everyone in the world is quite so privileged. 

But to see professing Christians, those who claim to follow Jesus, backing such an effort, hoping to thereby have access to the halls of power, exercise influence, and advance an agenda, should shock the conscience of everyone who hopes to honestly follow the one born and laid in a manger. 

An influential leader in the evangelical world recently gave voice to the position of many when he echoed the President’s lies, refused to accept the ‘monstrous’ Joe Biden as his fellow American, and called the election ‘the most horrifying thing that has ever happened in the history of the nation.’  He then proclaimed to the President (who had called in to his show; yes, this man has a show): ‘I’d be willing to die in this fight.  This is a fight for everything.  God is with us.’[1] In brief, this leader conveyed his belief that Christians had to fight for Trump because everything depends on keeping him in office. 

I beg to differ.  Christians should know that everything does not depend on keeping one’s preferred political candidate in power.  Rather, everything depends on following the one who, rather than be born in a palace and laid on a bed of downy softness, was born in a stable and laid in a manger.  Everything depends on following the one who, after he grew into adulthood, expressly spurned the imperial power game.  Everything depends on following the one who, though he had created all things, rejected being a major player on the world’s terms, took up his cross as his preferred means to save the world, and called us to do the same.

The Apostle Paul said that Christians are to have the same mind as Christ Jesus, who, even though he was God, renounced his privilege, became one of us, took on the form of a servant, and humbled himself all the way to the Cross (Philippians 2:5-8). 

There is a battle worth dying for in our time.  It’s a battle for the soul of the Church.  In this battle, with all due respect to the evangelical leader quoted above (and those who agree with him), the question is not whether we will give our lives for Donald Trump.  Or Joe Biden.  Or any other major player on the scene of imperial politics.  The question is not whether we will give our lives in the mad quest to obtain imperial power that we might change the world from the top down.  The question is whether we will give our lives, not for the major players, but for the ‘manger player,’ pursue his humble path, and walk with him as he changes the world from the bottom up. 

As the Mandalorian would say, ‘This is the way,’ and everything depends upon our following it.    

Under Christ’s Mercy,

Brent

[1] Eric Metaxas, Christian Radio Host, Tells Trump, ‘Jesus is With Us in this Fight.’ Religion New Service. November 30, 2020.