When we began the Christmas Change project, my husband and I vowed to give fewer gifts in order that we might give more money away. Our immediate families were on board, we saved some pennies with our naked tree, and I kept a running tally of how much we might give to our charity of choice. Yet, as December pressed on, I realized that while we were going to be able to give, it wasn’t the total I had hoped for.
Until one day another blogger and her family pledged to double any donations made to Amazima Ministries. Guess what our charity of choice just “happened” to be? In the end, with help from a friend, we gave even more than we’d originally set as our goal. Only God could do that. It felt like an extra little tiny gift from Him to us. For them.
Another unexpected present was the Gift of Time. I didn’t spend hours on Etsy and Amazon or wandering the mall, seeking the perfect gift. Everybody was getting an African chicken. Shopping list? Done. I was prepared to sit back and coast through December, congratulating myself on finally achieving a peaceful holiday.
But this gift of time? It wasn’t for me.
The week before Christmas, we had two friends in crisis with immediate needs. Needs we could meet. Needs that required time. So we spent our time, as wisely and prudently as we could, in service to others. I say this, not boastfully, but humbled by all the other Decembers where I may have missed out on opportunities to serve because I was snowed under by the holiday Noise. I shudder to think what it would have felt like to have to say “no” to our friends. Or to serve, but to serve poorly, unable to spread ourselves any thinner.
In this moment, the Christmas Change gift came full circle. We served others, not just with our wallets, but also with our selves.
Because, this year, Christmas Change gave us time.
And, just like we’d promised, we gave that away, too.
What were your unexpected gifts this Christmas? How did you get to give them away?
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If you have reflected on what you’ve learned this season, how you would like to prepare for this coming Christmas, or how you would like to devote your life to Change this year, or if you would like to post your personal struggles or success stories about Christmas Change, please leave your permalink (to the post, not your home page) in the MckLinky. Thank you for joining us for Christmas Change 2009, and be sure to check back here from time to time to be encouraged toward that Life of Return.
]]>Christmas is over! Come on let’s go! Get moving! No time to waste! Move it, move it, move it! We have a lot of things that need to get moving again! Back to normal & quickly!
…wait!
At this point, if you stopped for one more moment, you may have a couple thoughts rolling around in your head. You may be looking back over the past few weeks and saying…
“Wow, that was great. I feel like I lived well during this season of Advent”
or maybe you are feeling more like
“Wow, I really messed that up. I gave it my best shot, but I’m glad that’s over”
I hope it is more of the former and less of the latter; however, either way, there is one larger question still looming. The question of…
“Where do I go from here?”
Regardless of your perceived “success” or “failure” this Christmas, it is now behind us. But this question of “where do I go from here?” Well, that is a really big question.
(Thank goodness we have a little help in trying to answer this question. Last week, I heard Dr. Mark Bailey make some of the following observations about the story found in Luke chapter 2)
If we return to Luke 2, we find that Mary has just given birth, and her actions immediately following are nothing short of incredible.
“And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger”
Did you catch the incredible part of that?
Shortly after this, Luke 2:11 describes a scene where Angels find some shepherds in a field to tell them…
“And this will be the sign to you: You will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger.”
Did you catch the incredible part of that?
Look again at Luke 2:11 and ask “what was the sign the shepherds were to be looking for?” Was the sign the manger or the baby wrapped in swaddling cloths? This is very significant because…
…swaddling cloths were not just used for birth in biblical times. They were also used to wrap the dead.
I am told it was common for men and women to carry these swaddling cloths with them while they traveled. In the tragic event that they died along their journey, these swaddling cloths were used to wrap their bodies so that they could be carried home.
All of a sudden, this Messiah King who was wrapped in “swaddling cloths” gives us a picture of something far greater.
…His birth pointed to His death. He was a baby born and yet he was prepared for death.
So, if you’re still asking “where do we go from here?” I think the road ahead is clear. The road we’ve been traveling along through Christmas Change now leads us to the defining moment of the Christian faith.
…this road leads us to the cross.
Jesus, from the moment that Mary laid Him in the manger wrapped in those swaddling cloths, told us where He was going. We are simply called to follow Him there.
So, “Where do we go from here?” The answer first depends on our response to this question…
Is Christmas Change just about how we change our approach to Christmas, or is Christmas Change about how we change our approach to living?
because if this is about living in such a way that means following a King to a cross, we need to move very carefully. We need to move very carefully because that means that this road we are on has the potential to change everything.
For many, it has truly been a season of change, and the potential for more change is great. For others, we may not be ready to change it all, and that is okay. It is okay, because we are simply called to follow.
…However, the one thing that we cannot do is remain here.
We must continue asking the difficult and challenging questions that cause us to move forward as a community. It is in moving forward that we truly begin to understand the need for a season of change. However, as these seasons come and go, they must do so in a way that progressively draws us deeper and closer to the heart of our Creator. It must be a progression that moves in the direction of living out this idea of “a life of return.”
A life of return?
consider this King who…
…returned to the world’s brokenness and suffering
…returned to proclaim freedom for the captives
…returned to rescue, redeem and restore
…returned to bring good news to the poor
…returned to restore the prostitute
…returned to establish justice and mercy
…returned to feed the hungry and care for the orphan
…returned to bind up the broken hearted
…returned to adopt us as His sons and daughters
…returned to give us a future and a hope
…returned to rebuild the ancient ruins
…returned to restore the places long devastated
And this is a King who will return again…
…so, until that day comes, may we be known as a people who are the active foreshadowing of this returning King.
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The match strikes. You hold your breath. A child is lighting the Advent candle, and the wick is stubborn. Flicker, flicker. Will it go out? You wait, heart beating.
At last it sets flame.
The bending, tentative light seems so small. Still, you begin to breathe again. It’s truly beautiful, a curve of expectancy.
This Christmas, I’ve been thinking about bringing gifts of light to a particular kind of darkness, though I feel as inadequate as a little child, sputtering match in hand.
Sixty to one hundred million women are “missing” from the world’s population; among the living many are oppressed. I will never forget a picture I once saw in the New York Times magazine, of girls in a window display. Each girl had a number pinned to her clothing.
They were so young, and despite that they would be “otherwise engaged” throughout the day and night, they were sitting simply. One was combing the long black hair of another, like any young girl playing with friends.
Reading Forgotten Girls I was taken by the invitation to write a poem from an oppressed girl’s point of view. As I began to write, I remembered the girls in the window…
“Number 100 Million and One”
I am the girl in the window
combing her hair twined and black
smiling so no one will know
there’s a scar on my heart that grows
in the night, when I lie on my back
I am the girl in the window
crimsoned with memories of low
men and high, bright keepers who track,
smiling so no one will know
even the wind, when it whispers and blows
disperses my secrets beyond the black
I am the girl in the window
beseeching the stars to silently show
a hidden path past wall’s slim crack
smiling so no one will know
the shush of my soul as it ebbs and it flows
searches for red silken ribbon gone slack
I am the girl in the window,
smiling so no one will know.
The world is a pretty big place, needs all ’round. Maybe the need of our enslaved sisters speaks to your heart. If so, strike a match. We are holding our breath with you, waiting.
—-
“Resist the Darkness” in soft pastel, by L.L. Barkat. First published with the poem “Number 100 Million and One” at Love Notes to Yahweh. To learn more about our forgotten sisters, go to Stitchable Sisters, where you can listen in on a Conversation with Michele Rickett of Sisters in Service, which encourages us to Resist the Darkness.
]]>Settle in, remove the distractions, pause, just breathe and read this slowly…
…it’s almost here. The day that literally reset the course of human history is now quickly upon us. The moment when “Emmanuel” became more than prophecy and “God with Us” came into a small corner of the world in the presence of shepherds to breathe for the very first time.
I’m curious. At that moment, what was the world really expecting?
Today, in this moment, what is the world really expecting? Something that looks like this?
Obviously not…
I believe that so often we have this picture in our minds of a manger scene that was full of peace and silence where all the animal looked in (and didn’t smell), and for our convenience the manger had a couple of little side rooms for reflection and prayer.
Just for a moment consider what the world outside of this Norman Rockwellesque scene may have been like.
The streets must have been full (there was no room at the inn). Certainly people were preparing meals, transactions were being made, to-do lists needed to be checked off & people had places to be. Did anyone in that little town really even know or care about what was happening among them? I very much doubt that all was quiet and peaceful both within or just beyond the paneled walls of that barn.
However, for some reason, on that day and at that time God spoke softly in the fields during the still moments to those that were listening to the promise that He was coming.
…because, this is a God who speaks softly to all who listen to His promise of “God with Us.
The reward of “God with us” was given to those who were listening. It was given to those that could pause long enough to lift their eyes to the sky and search for the star pointing to a King. God was with them; this Messiah became present with them. He brought no armies, sat on no throne and didn’t use facebook to announce that He had arrived. He was present with us, and we only know this because of a small gathering of people who were listening.
…they were present, and this God brought His presence to give to them.
Time and time again, as this story of rescue and redemption unfolds, we find Jesus and his disciples reenacting this scene of being present & giving presence.
But, do we even know what it looks like in our world today?
…to be present.
…to be the “with Us” part of Emmanuel?
Our world places little value in being presence because we do not understand it. We must trick ourselves into thinking we are present by thinking it’s a stare, a momentary pause to pay attention or not checking my phone for five minutes. Certainly this Messiah King did not come so that I could learn how to put my phone down for a day.
…His presence and my presence must certainly be about something greater.
We have just a few days remaining in this season of waiting, preparation and arrival, so what will we do with these next few moments before they are gone forever? What will we give that moth and rust will not destroy? What will we give that will not be forgotten?
…the gifts and measures of this world that mark our days and years are simply insufficient.
In one short story found in the third chapter of the book of Acts, Peter & John encounter a man begging for money. Peter says to the beggar “silver & gold I do not have, but what I have I give to you freely.”
In that moment, at the temple gate called Beautiful, they gave him Christ, and Christ, by His very name, is presence.
…Peter & John gave him everything.
Once I heard Rick McKinley ask this question…“What would our family, church and community look like if we said ’silver & gold I do not have?’
As we celebrate Advent, I can chose to follow this story and give the greatest possession that I have ever been entrusted with to those that I love the most. It is really the only thing that I came into this world with, and it is the only thing that once lost can never be regained.
…Presence is something that God gave to me, and He entrusted that I would give it away to others.
In our crazy, busy, excessively connected & to-do list filled world, may we be a people that seek out a place to lift our eyes and search for a God who is speaking softly that He is coming. And, like the Magi, once we find that star, may we travel over the difficult & treacherous roads that allow us to be fully present.
Today, there is still so much to learn from these shepherds…
…they were present and waiting for their King.
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I’m not a natural giver. It doesn’t come easy to me. But an idea came to me [that I probably heard from someone else though I can't remember who it was] to have a yard sale and give all the stuff away.
No tags. No haggling. No $1 boxes or $2 books.
Just everything for free.
I wanted to DO something for Christmas Change. I’m pretty good about writing inspirational things and yet making sure my own words never change my own life.
And I didn’t want to do that this time.
So I sent an email to my friends- “let’s give our stuff away.” And they brought boxes and boxes and filled my guest bedroom to overflowing.
Nashville has a surprisingly large population of refugees from all over the world. So we hung up signs at the refugee centers saying, “Come over on Saturday and take our stuff.” [I mean, that isn't EXACTLY what the signs said, but you get my drift.]
And here’s the result.
[Forgive me for not wearing makeup. It was 7am on a Saturday. Can you blame me?]
Merry Christmas, y’all.
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We ended the night feeling blessed. We had been worried about the outcome of this conversation, of the process, having the right words, but everything had been there. We felt lighter, peaceful — right. Like truth had won that night.
It hadn’t been a huge revival, or an amazing service at church, it happened with just our little family, in just our little family room. We had a teachable moment, with two little boys ages 7 and 5, that lasted almost 30 minutes. It had been on our hearts to tell them that Saint Nicholas was a living man long ago, who did blessed, charitable things, but that it’s the symbol of him that lives on today. A heavy topic for little children, indeed.
The way we told them was to start with why we celebrate Christmas in the first place. Because of the gift of Jesus, who was sent here specifically to die, we celebrate His birth. Which meant we had to explain why He had to die, which meant we had to explain sin, which meant we had to explain how man came to sin in the first place. Which meant we eventually found ourselves at The Beginning, talking about creation and — can you see what a big undertaking this turned into?
I tell this story not to imply that all parents should do this — we felt led and convicted to have this conversation, because we had been having “Santa” leaving presents for the kids the last few years (a tradition I grew up with and simply continued, having never really thought about if it was a good idea or not), and the specific questions about Santa and his “magic” and all that he does — and is — had begun to make my husband and I uncomfortable. We avoided direct answers to our children’s questions, not wanting to lie, and it was clear it was time to have The Talk.
But we also felt as though we wanted to make sure they knew there was real “magic”, the Holy Spirit, and that amazing things, things that seem magical, really do happen. That there is Truth in Jesus and His promises and His history. We didn’t want them to someday say, “well Santa isn’t real, is Jesus really real?” We were given the prompting for this conversation, and then given that teachable moment, and it went amazingly well. The words flowed from our mouths in just the right way that our boys understood. We praised God so much that night, for yet another huge milestone in the faith journey of our family in shaping our beliefs and practices.
***
Ever since being urged to re-evaluate our Christmas traditions and make a Change, we’ve been so blessed, and yet so attacked. It feels like that Lion Who Prowls took extra notice of us once we became one less unconscious holiday shopper. Unending sicknesses sabotaging all the beautiful new traditions we had hoped to begin, unexpected financial stress creating strife among us, regression in my special needs kids tempting us to doubt, even a mysterious flat tire the morning after we had that amazing talk with our boys (making us miss church). And that’s just in the last three weeks.
Sometimes we keep thinking that it’s all a coincidence, or that it’s an extra special run of “bad luck”, but is it really? Remember it is said:
“For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ”
- 2 Corinthians 10:3-5
And…
“Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. 12 For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. 13 Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm.”
- Ephesians 6:11-13
There is a battle going on, for our souls and hearts and minds. When we put on the Armor and take on the shield of faith, the belt of truth and the sword of the spirit, nothing can truly harm us. Mess up our schedules and our bodies (and often times much worse), yes, in this fallen world, but never harm our souls.
We can expect to be attacked, because God says we will. We see it as a sign we’re doing something right. Being on fire instead of lukewarm. Being a beacon of light that glows in spite of the darkness, instead of a dull ember, fading and unused, no life having been breathed into it in far too long.
As you finish out this last week before Christmas, there’s not only still time to make change, but still time to be attacked. Have no fear, and be bold! Resist the Evil One, and remember that your brothers and sisters around the world are going through the same thing. Christ came to die, be risen, wash clean, confirm, restore and establish YOU. Nothing and no one, in this world or the supernatural world, can take that away.
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I let her sleep now, even though it is late in the day, because it lets me have quiet. I fold laundry without her busy hands un-doing what I need did. I’ll pay for it later, but right now, [sigh] it’s worth it.
Often I don’t even know who I am anymore. What is scar, what is original skin?
Several nights in a row I have had this recurring dream: I smell something burning, and my husband points behind me at a flashlight underneath a blanket. Other nights I smell the burning and remember to go looking for the flashlight under blankets. I can see it on, glowing through the fabric. And I can smell it.
Could it be so literal, am I hiding this little light of mine under a bushel?
Why do I feel like the bushel is smothering not only my light, but also (and mostly) me?
It’s not like when I was in Sunday School and I held up my pointer finger and covered it, my other childish hand the small fingery bushel.
There are many days I feel that some big Giant Being plops down a big giant HEAVY bushel and squashes it right on top of me.
And then says: Be mom! Feed the baby! Sign this note! Lunch money is overdue! Buy the presents! Make dinner! Clean the house wash the clothes say your prayers pick up the pieces of every tiny thing that falls to the floor and from their mouths and from their eyes and from their hearts.
There was a time several years ago, at Christmastime to be exact, that we were in the hospital with my son Noah. The nurses brought him presents from underneath the big pediatric center’s Christmas tree while he remained attached to EEG monitors. Around that time a doctor told us our son might end up in an institution.
Noah is fine today*. He actually celebrates 5 years seizure-free this Christmas. I look back at that time and remember how I felt the Giant Being himself SITTING ON TOP OF MY CHEST, one time I even had the nurse check me over because I thought I was having a heart attack, right there in my son’s hospital room.
I was so strong then. At that time, I literally thought my life was about to be over, yet I don’t think my faith has ever been stronger. I spoke The Word. I breathed it and knew it in my heart.
And all I have is some bushel trouble right now?
I’m pushing back a little harder. I’m burning under here, and I’m breaking through. I can see it glowing through my fabric. And I can smell it.
*Praise God. All my praises to Him.
[I am thankful for the blessings my family personally received from The Children's Miracle Network and the Make A Wish Foundation. They are the real deal, people. If you can afford to include them in your Christmas Change, whether it's with your time, money, or gifts, a child and his family will be surely blessed. And so will you.]
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Eventually, we stopped buying gifts for the foster kids. Sometime around Thanksgiving the ads would pop up on the radio, the Giving Trees would show up in the grocery stores, and church groups would hold their annual toy drives. By Christmas Eve, my parents would have received a few industrial-sized garbage sacks full of brightly wrapped gifts to put under the waiting tree, all marked with paper tags such as: Girl, 2 yrs, doll; or Boy, mittens, small. We always held back a few things for the children’s birthdays or other special occasions, but still, the generosity of a kind community filled our Christmas celebration with an embarrassment of riches.
That day, after a late breakfast , mom would bag up the mountain of paper and bows and dad would make bottles and change diapers and they’d send over-stimulated little ones off to naps. Over the next weeks and months my parents would see those same children through countless bottles, boxes of diapers, doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, visits with family, adoption proceedings and sometimes, a return to their birth homes. Every day for over 20 years, my parents gave their presence to a succession of small, wounded children who had nowhere else to go.
Christmas is the time of year we rehearse the Incarnation, a word that literally means “in flesh.” A word that tells us God didn’t deny Himself a couple of mochas and drop a festively wrapped doll in the toy drive barrel. Rather, the God of Heaven stripped down, slid from Mary’s womb into the dank, cold air of earth, and found a home in the waiting arms of a tired, scared man and woman; consenting to partake of the everyday substance of the people He loves.
The Incarnation relentlessly forces us to make room in our lives for Christ. Jesus is not just an idea, He is a living, breathing Person who takes up real space. When He enters the world lives are interrupted and rearranged: first Mary, then Joseph, then the disciples, then Israel, then the world. As Christ indwells us, we learn to practice living the Incarnation with others. We must make space, move around our priorities, open doors, shuffle time and even disrupt the most intimate structures of our lives in order to become the in flesh representation of Christ on earth.
This season, every trip to the grocery store, every turn of the radio dial, every Salvation Army bell ringer reminds us that there are good people in the world willing to give something, to make the world a bit brighter for others. But the Incarnation demands that we ask ourselves if we are as willing as Mary and Joseph to disrupt our whole lives and welcome the work of Christ. How many of us are willing to live the day to day Incarnation as people like my parents have done? That ceaseless, grinding reality that comes after the gift is unwrapped and the toys are put away?
During Christmas, while the images of Jesus’ presence and mission are on full display, we can make this more than just another celebration or a once-a-year giving fest. We can allow it to become a yearly reorienting, a chance to assess whether or not we have truly lived the Incarnation in our own space and time as Christ modeled for us in His coming and His living.
Some ideas for incarnational living:
Become a foster parent.
Commit to working with the homeless.
]]>It’s hard to find Jesus in Christmas.
His Name is right there in the very word. How can we miss it? I searched the Christmas aisles of the scrapbook store for a sticker of baby Jesus in the manger. I couldn’t find one.
I looked high and low for a book about the Advent, the Coming to read with my children and couldn’t find one at the Christian book store.
Christmas was created to be a birthday party for Jesus, but the guest of honor is forgotten.
It’s hard to find Jesus in Christmas.
But we need Christmas.
Creation and Christmas are intertwined.
Thousands of years before there was a stable, bewildered shepherd’s and a Holy birth, there was a serpent in the garden.
He deceived Eve–she deceived Adam–we were born into deception. And that’s when we needed Christmas.
When we see Jesus, we see Christmas. When we see Christmas, we need to see Jesus. And it’s there, when the Tree, and The Manger mingle, we find The Cross.
And that’s when we see others, our focus is sharpened and He shows us the need.
This year, a fewer number of gifts will be tucked under our tree. Instead, we are rejoicing in buying chickens and blankets for orphans.
I want change. I need it, just like I need Christmas.
*This post was inspired from a line in the children’s book One Wintry Night by Ruth Bell Graham. It’s a part of our family reading this Advent Season.
]]>I could have gotten a college degree in making things complicated. A Ph.D in Complication. I am a professional Maker of Difficulty.
Even something as right and beautiful as wanting to think of Christmas in a counter-cultural way can become a daunting task when held in my busy hands too long. I put Christmas in the middle of my table and circle around it, sizing it up to figure out how to make it meaningful, memorable and simple.
There is pressure to be thankful. To be frugal. To be creative and purpose-filled. If I’m not careful, the very thing I long to make simple will become a tangled mess of green and red difficult.
I tend to do things backwards when it comes to Christmas. In a desperate effort to infuse meaning and sacredness, I try to respond and forget to receive. I do it every year. Without fail.
It’s because there are needs out there. Fake need, like to-do lists and gift shopping. And heavy, real need, like whole countries filled with hungry babies. Loads of families with no health insurance. Thousands of men out of work. The needs are great and never-ending.
I long to respond to the need, to jump into action, to busy my hands with His work while finishing up the laundry and getting our Christmas picture taken.
But unless I first receive from Him, I realize too late I have nothing to give.
I admit it is hard for me to receive Jesus. Not for my salvation like when I was seven. More, for my daily bread. If He isn’t my get-out-of-bed Jesus, my find-the-kids-socks-without-blowing-my-top Jesus, my hope-in-the-midst-of-a-hard-time Jesus, then how can Christmas be any different than any other day?
The only reason Christmas means anything in the first place is because of who Jesus is to us everyday.
Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in. Then it becomes His working, not mine. Then I can listen with His ears to the needs around me. Then I am aware of His heart towards those in need rather than my own sense of helplessness.
Receive the True Gift. Personally. Thankfully. Quietly.
Then, respond to His gentle voice within as He brings needs to mind. Instead of seeing a sea of hungry babies and jobless men, perhaps one need will come to mind. One baby who needs something you can give. One local family who could use that extra meal. One mama who just needs you to listen. He sees their faces and their hearts, as if they were the only one. He is not in the business of overwhelming us. He is in the business of loving people, one at a time.
A season of change, a life of return. His life. Indeed.
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