I’m reading John Ortberg’s book, “The Life You Always Wanted,” which is a primer on the spiritual disciplines. I’ve gotten to the first discipline, which is celebration. As Ortberg says, celebration is the discipline that enables us to expand our ability for joy, one of the fruits of the Spirit (see Galatians 5:22). It seems appropriate to focus on celebration right now, between Christmas and New Year’s. It also seems appropriate because I’m on vacation!
Joylessness is a sin, and it’s a sin of which I find myself far too often guilty. After all, I’m Presbyterian. Presbyterians and joy go together like fingernails and chalkboards.
So, I’m trying to think of ways I can have at least one “mini-celebration” each day, and some bigger celebrations on a more regular basis. Any suggestions you who are better celebrators than I might have would be appreciated. But, one way I’ve thought of is to learn at least one joke each day. This works nicely because I already subscribe to a little thing called A Joke a Day (go to www.jokefiles.com) which emails me a joke every day. The thing is, I almost never open the thing and read the joke. So, I’ve started opening that email each day, starting today.
And, since we all need to celebrate more (well, we Presbyterians, anyway), I thought I’d share the joke for today. Enjoy.
While in his hometown for the holidays, this guy goes into a restaurant to enjoy a special Christmas breakfast. After looking over the menu he says to the waitress, "I'll have the Eggs Benedict." His order arrives a while later and it's served on a big, shiny hubcap. With an astonished tone in his voice he asks the waitress, "What's with the hubcap?" Breaking into song the waitress replies, "Oh, there's no plate like chrome for the hollandaise!"
May we all find more joy in the New Year.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The Virgin Birth
A college student was in the midst of a faith crisis, so he made an appointment to see his campus chaplain.
“I have problems with the virgin birth of Jesus,” said the student. “Do I have to believe in the miraculous birth of Jesus in order to believe in Jesus?”
The chaplain thought for a minute, then answered, “In one sense, no, yet, in another sense, yes. We ask you to believe in the virginal conception of Jesus and, if we can get you to swallow that without choking, then there’s no telling what else we can get you to believe. Come back next week and we’ll try to convince you that the poor are royalty and the rich are in big trouble, that God, not nations, rules the world, and on and on. We start you out with something fairly small, like the virgin birth, then work you up to even more outrageous assertions.”
I like the chaplain’s answer. In one sense, you don’t have to believe in the virgin birth to be a Christian. On the other hand, if you have trouble with the virgin birth, how in the world are you going to be able to accept the rest of the story? If you’ve ever had a hard time with the virgin birth, but seem to accept the fact that God became flesh, that Jesus is the Son of God, you’ve somehow managed to swallow a camel while choking on a gnat. The doctrine of incarnation, of God becoming human, is so much more difficult to accept than the doctrine of the virgin birth.
Imagine an artist painting a masterpiece, and then becoming a little speck of paint on his masterpiece. I don’t mean painting a little spot and saying, “that spot symbolizes me,” but actually turning himself into a little point of paint on the canvas.
Imagine George Frederick Handel composing his incredible work, The Messiah, and then Handel actually becoming a G above middle C in one measure on one bar on one page of the "Hallelujah Chorus." That note doesn’t just represent him, George Frederick Handel actually becomes that note.
“Impossible!” you say. And I agree.
“Preposterous!” you say. I agree once again.
“Inconceivable!” Absolutely right.
But that is exactly what we’re saying when we say that Jesus is the Son of God. You cannot say it much more clearly than John when he says, “In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was with God; and the Word was God… The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
The artist has become a blob of paint; the composer has become a note in the music; the Creator has become a part of Creation, a tiny speck of biological matter lying in a manger.
If God can do that, the virgin birth is a cinch.
“I have problems with the virgin birth of Jesus,” said the student. “Do I have to believe in the miraculous birth of Jesus in order to believe in Jesus?”
The chaplain thought for a minute, then answered, “In one sense, no, yet, in another sense, yes. We ask you to believe in the virginal conception of Jesus and, if we can get you to swallow that without choking, then there’s no telling what else we can get you to believe. Come back next week and we’ll try to convince you that the poor are royalty and the rich are in big trouble, that God, not nations, rules the world, and on and on. We start you out with something fairly small, like the virgin birth, then work you up to even more outrageous assertions.”
I like the chaplain’s answer. In one sense, you don’t have to believe in the virgin birth to be a Christian. On the other hand, if you have trouble with the virgin birth, how in the world are you going to be able to accept the rest of the story? If you’ve ever had a hard time with the virgin birth, but seem to accept the fact that God became flesh, that Jesus is the Son of God, you’ve somehow managed to swallow a camel while choking on a gnat. The doctrine of incarnation, of God becoming human, is so much more difficult to accept than the doctrine of the virgin birth.
Imagine an artist painting a masterpiece, and then becoming a little speck of paint on his masterpiece. I don’t mean painting a little spot and saying, “that spot symbolizes me,” but actually turning himself into a little point of paint on the canvas.
Imagine George Frederick Handel composing his incredible work, The Messiah, and then Handel actually becoming a G above middle C in one measure on one bar on one page of the "Hallelujah Chorus." That note doesn’t just represent him, George Frederick Handel actually becomes that note.
“Impossible!” you say. And I agree.
“Preposterous!” you say. I agree once again.
“Inconceivable!” Absolutely right.
But that is exactly what we’re saying when we say that Jesus is the Son of God. You cannot say it much more clearly than John when he says, “In the beginning was the Word. And the Word was with God; and the Word was God… The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
The artist has become a blob of paint; the composer has become a note in the music; the Creator has become a part of Creation, a tiny speck of biological matter lying in a manger.
If God can do that, the virgin birth is a cinch.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Disappointing Others
Consider this question for a moment: who in Jesus’ life did he not disappoint?
The first story we have of Jesus after the accounts of his birth, when he is twelve, is about his disappointing his parents by worrying them while he’s back in Jerusalem talking with the rabbis. Later in life, when Jesus has begun his ministry, his family tries to make him come home with him because they think he’s lost his mind. That’s a pretty big disappointment.
Jesus was always teaching his followers lessons they couldn’t understand, disappearing to pray when they needed him, telling them he was going to go to Jerusalem and die, which really ticked Peter off. And then there was the night he slept right through the storm and the disciples woke him up saying, “Don’t you care that we are about to die?” Jesus was constantly disappointing the disciples.
There were those who thought he should have been more political, those who thought he should have been more mainstream. Some thought he shouldn’t socialize with sinners, and others thought he should have healed everyone who asked for it. There were friends who thought he should have come more quickly to heal their loved one.
There were tons of people who found Jesus to be very disappointing – so much so that some of them finally decided to take his life.
In those times when it seems that, no matter how hard you try to please everybody, there’s always someone who is disappointed in you, who criticizes you, who finds fault with you, and conspires against you by complaining to others that you’re just not who they had hoped you’d be, remember, the only One Jesus never disappointed was his Father.
The first story we have of Jesus after the accounts of his birth, when he is twelve, is about his disappointing his parents by worrying them while he’s back in Jerusalem talking with the rabbis. Later in life, when Jesus has begun his ministry, his family tries to make him come home with him because they think he’s lost his mind. That’s a pretty big disappointment.
Jesus was always teaching his followers lessons they couldn’t understand, disappearing to pray when they needed him, telling them he was going to go to Jerusalem and die, which really ticked Peter off. And then there was the night he slept right through the storm and the disciples woke him up saying, “Don’t you care that we are about to die?” Jesus was constantly disappointing the disciples.
There were those who thought he should have been more political, those who thought he should have been more mainstream. Some thought he shouldn’t socialize with sinners, and others thought he should have healed everyone who asked for it. There were friends who thought he should have come more quickly to heal their loved one.
There were tons of people who found Jesus to be very disappointing – so much so that some of them finally decided to take his life.
In those times when it seems that, no matter how hard you try to please everybody, there’s always someone who is disappointed in you, who criticizes you, who finds fault with you, and conspires against you by complaining to others that you’re just not who they had hoped you’d be, remember, the only One Jesus never disappointed was his Father.
So, if someone's not disappointed in you, you're probably doing something wrong...like spending too much of your energy trying to make everyone happy with you.
Of course, we’re not Jesus and we are going to stumble and fall. Sometimes others’ disappointment in us really is our fault. But, still, when you’re running around trying to keep the customers, the church members, the supervisor, the boss, the spouse, the kids, the parents, the teachers, and the friends happy, and nothing ever seems to be good enough, remember, you’re in good company, because Jesus turned out to be a great disappointment to a great many people, too.
Thursday, December 7, 2006
Embrace the Rudolph in You!
Did you know that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was almost named Rollo? And, he is only 67 years old? It seems like Rudolph should be as old as Santa. But, actually, he was the creation of one Robert L. May, who, back in the 1930’s was a copywriter for the old Montgomery Ward department store chain. As a Christmas promotion, his employers asked May to come up with a storybook to give to children shopping in their stores.
May created the story of a reindeer who was rejected and made fun of, a sort of autobiographical character because May himself had grown up being teased and excluded for being small and shy. The sadness of this reindeer also reflected the great sadness in May’s personal life, as his wife died after an extended illness during the time he was writing this story, leaving him with a four-year-old daughter named Barbara. May tested his story on Barbara, and when she loved it, he submitted it to his supervisors, and over the next half-dozen years, six million booklets were distributed in Montgomery Ward stores.
In 1947, still deeply in debt from his late wife’s medical bills, Robert May persuaded Montgomery Ward to give him the copyright to his story. That same year, Rudolph became a nine minute animated movie shown in movie theaters. Two years later, May’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, turned the story into a song which Gene Autry recorded and the record became the second-largest selling Christmas song of all time, surpassed only by “White Christmas.” Then, in 1964, Burl Ives narrated the television special and Rudolph did, indeed, “go down in history.” Robert May, Rudolph’s creator, died in 1976.
I found it particularly interesting to learn that the original story May wrote did not exactly match the song we all know and love. For one thing, Rudolph was not a member of Santa’s reindeer herd at the North Pole. He lived with his family in a regular reindeer village somewhere. He came to be chosen for his special mission when Santa arrived at his house to deliver presents, and noticed a strange glow coming from Rudolph’s bedroom. Santa was getting worried because the fog outside was growing thicker, so he invited Rudolph to help him deliver the rest of his presents by guiding his sleigh through the fog.
I like that story better, that Santa would come to Rudolph where he lived, and found in Rudolph a special gift which, up until that point, seemed more like a curse to its owner. It kind of reminds me of another One who came to where we are, and saw in us a preciousness we don’t always see in ourselves; a preciousness worth dying for, in fact. And his Spirit keeps returning to us, keeps seeing in us gifts we may sometimes think are curses, and calls us to use those gifts to help him in his work.
In the truest sense, you and I are all Rudolphs, often feeling as imperfect and embarrassed as though our noses were glowing red for all the world’s amusement. But Jesus comes to us and says that our weaknesses are his greatest strengths, and invites us to join him in sharing his love with all the reindeer we know.
Accepting his invitation may not mean we will go down in history, but we will surely go down in His Story.
(Information about Robert L. May and Rudolph from www.snopes.com)
May created the story of a reindeer who was rejected and made fun of, a sort of autobiographical character because May himself had grown up being teased and excluded for being small and shy. The sadness of this reindeer also reflected the great sadness in May’s personal life, as his wife died after an extended illness during the time he was writing this story, leaving him with a four-year-old daughter named Barbara. May tested his story on Barbara, and when she loved it, he submitted it to his supervisors, and over the next half-dozen years, six million booklets were distributed in Montgomery Ward stores.
In 1947, still deeply in debt from his late wife’s medical bills, Robert May persuaded Montgomery Ward to give him the copyright to his story. That same year, Rudolph became a nine minute animated movie shown in movie theaters. Two years later, May’s brother-in-law, Johnny Marks, turned the story into a song which Gene Autry recorded and the record became the second-largest selling Christmas song of all time, surpassed only by “White Christmas.” Then, in 1964, Burl Ives narrated the television special and Rudolph did, indeed, “go down in history.” Robert May, Rudolph’s creator, died in 1976.
I found it particularly interesting to learn that the original story May wrote did not exactly match the song we all know and love. For one thing, Rudolph was not a member of Santa’s reindeer herd at the North Pole. He lived with his family in a regular reindeer village somewhere. He came to be chosen for his special mission when Santa arrived at his house to deliver presents, and noticed a strange glow coming from Rudolph’s bedroom. Santa was getting worried because the fog outside was growing thicker, so he invited Rudolph to help him deliver the rest of his presents by guiding his sleigh through the fog.
I like that story better, that Santa would come to Rudolph where he lived, and found in Rudolph a special gift which, up until that point, seemed more like a curse to its owner. It kind of reminds me of another One who came to where we are, and saw in us a preciousness we don’t always see in ourselves; a preciousness worth dying for, in fact. And his Spirit keeps returning to us, keeps seeing in us gifts we may sometimes think are curses, and calls us to use those gifts to help him in his work.
In the truest sense, you and I are all Rudolphs, often feeling as imperfect and embarrassed as though our noses were glowing red for all the world’s amusement. But Jesus comes to us and says that our weaknesses are his greatest strengths, and invites us to join him in sharing his love with all the reindeer we know.
Accepting his invitation may not mean we will go down in history, but we will surely go down in His Story.
(Information about Robert L. May and Rudolph from www.snopes.com)
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