Christmas Comes

Christmas... It's not a date on the calendar. It's a state of mind.

Well, I have been waiting for Christmas to come. This is not to say that I have been waiting for December 25th to come, or for some particular event, that I call Christmas. It is not tied to a time or a place. It just happens, when it happens, where it happens.

It came this year in Church, as I listened to a beautiful high, pure voice singing “Silent Night”. The world around me dimmed, I felt the rush of angels’ wings, and it came. It always happens like that for me. I hustle about, like everyone else at this season, decorating and shopping, squeezing in one more social engagement before the holiday deadline. It seems so urgent that we get it all done. But at a quiet moment, on a mall bench, or with family dining, or watching a Church play, it happens! I feel his presence and I remember that he loves me, even me! I remember that he came down from Heaven, as a little baby. He really did! I remember the joy that his coming brings to the world. It overwhelms me, my heart weeps and I worship him.

 It always surprises me. It’s like it’s happening for the first time. It shouldn’t, you know. Why don’t we remember every day? God is there always, waiting. It’s our own distraction that keeps Christmas from coming every day. Our business, our routines... work, play, fussing over every little thing, these are the problem. We just need to stop and listen, turn off the television and the radio, hush the children, close our eyes, and listen... for his coming. The angels are all around us, hear them, smell them, feel their wings on our faces. Come see the baby. Lay your treasure before him and worship him.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth on him, shall not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16)

 

MJS  12/24/01

Remember

Things are heating up for the holiday season. If you're like us your calendar is filling up fast and you're struggling to get all of the stuff done that is SO important.

Don't forget the reason for the season... I know it's cliche, but I also know how easy it is to forget about what's really important when we get so busy with what life is throwing at us, stuff which may require our attention, but may not neccesarily be very important. Just stop and remember the important stuff.

This poem is a little anachronistic. I mean does anybody but me remember when papers were delivered by boys on bikes and once every month they came to your door and collected the money for your paper delivery and gave you one of those little paper stamps as a receipt? I know, pretty old fashioned. I think it still works though. It's also written from a woman's perspective. Let's admit it guys, it's the women that take care of most of these details for us, isn't it? Maybe we should remember to thank them for doing what they do for us.

REMEMBER

Remember to do the last minute shopping.

Remember to clean the whole house without stopping.

Remember to tell Bob to buy something nice,

for his mother and father, and not fuss about price.

Remember to trim the tree and deck the halls,

with holly and greenery and bangles and balls.

Remember the baking and ginger bread making.

Remember to string lights, though your back is breaking.

Remember the church play rehearsal at one.

Then back to pick up Jane at the mall, what fun!

Remember to tell the boys, who are hiding,

to take out the trash, clean their rooms and stop fighting!

Remember to leave something for the mailman.

Remember the things you forgot, if you can.

 

When the last gift is wrapped, and the cookies are made,

When the goose has been stuffed, and the paperboy paid,

Then maybe, just maybe, we’ll remember the reason,

Why we do all the things that we do at this season.

Maybe, just maybe, we’ll remember the baby.

Remember the ultimate gift that God gave us,

The Christ child who came down from heaven to save us.

 

 

                                                                        MJS

                                                                        12/22/93

                                                           

As A Child

I tend to get a little morose at Christmas time. I think maybe that's because I tend to look backwards this time of year, not only reflecting on the pasing year, with it's lost opportunities, but also looking all the way back to childhood and to all of the "use-to-be's and might-have-beens". I also miss those that I have lost. I'm guessing that it's the same for you.

Here's a poem that I wrote during one of those times. Jesus said, "Unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven" (Matt. 18:3, NIV). We need to become like little children... humble, innocent, trusting, not wise but willing to learn, hopeful, believing, expecting to be provided for, dependent on grace. We need child-like wonder. Child-like sounds alot like spiritual maturity, another of God's ironies. So far this Christmas I've only managed to be disrespectful, ungrateful and pouty. Help me Lord! Help me to be child-like... in a good way.

AS A CHILD

Christmas is coming.

It happens every year…

Festivals, and Santa Claus,

And holiday mirth and cheer.

We string the lights, and hang the holly,

Trim the tree, and fill our nights,

With parties and pageants, and yuletide folly.

                       

Christmas is coming.

It happens every year.

It comes and goes,

And no one knows,

The Holy Child is here.

 

So every year we laugh a little,

And every year we cry.

Every year we spend a lot,

And every year we sigh,

And think of days almost forgotten,

Of Christmas long ago,

Of child like wonder,

O’ Holy Night!

And angels bending low.

 

 

                                                            MJS

                                                            12\96

                                                           

They Can't Keep Christmas From Coming

Here's one for the Grinches.

 

There seems to be a lot of worry lately, about Christmas being under attack. Newspapers are full of stories this time of year, of Nativity Scenes being ordered removed from town squares, and children not being allowed to sing Christmas carols in school programs. Why should this surprise or worry us? Christmas has always been under attack from this world, and from it’s would be prince and ruler (Satan).

The gospel reports the first such assault on Christmas, when King Herod vainly attempted to kill the Christ Child, by sending soldiers to murder all of the male children of Bethlehem below the age of two (Matthew 2:16-23).

Keeping Christmas has always been controversial, ever since the Roman emperor Constantine replaced the pagan winter festivals with holy days commemorating the birth of Christ, around 320 AD. Because of this, many sects or groups within Christendom have, over the centuries, objected to celebrating Christmas, and many still do today. The Puritans certainly tried to keep Christmas from coming. They banned the observance of Christmas outright, in the colony of Massachusetts, from 1659 until 1681:

“For preventing disorders, arising in several places within this jurisdiction by reason of some still observing such festivals as were superstitiously kept in other communities, to the great dishonor of God and offense of others: it is therefore ordered by this court and the authority thereof that whosoever shall be found observing any such day as Christmas or the like, either by forbearing of labor, feasting, or any other way, upon any such account as aforesaid, every such person so offending shall pay for every such offence five shilling as a fine to the county.”

From the records of the general Court,

Massachusetts Bay Colony

May 11, 1659

Certainly, an argument can and should be made, that excessive revelry, and merriment should be avoided at any time of the year, as well as at Christmastime. We should honor Christ by keeping his commandments always. Statistics plainly tell us that all of the crimes of human weakness, and all the measurements of human misery increase during the season of Christmas, because we live in a world that is in rebellion against God. People feel the pinch of sin in their lives at Christmas, if they have not reconciled their lives to God, through Christian obedience. The Christ child reminds them how far away from home they are, how far removed from God they are.

Christians should share the Puritan’s concern regarding human avarice, vice and wickedness. We should be careful how we keep Christmas. We should not allow ourselves to be dazzled or distracted by worldly splendors, so that we forget the lowly estate of the baby born in a stable, and we should never forget the poor and the poor of spirit who are always with us.

As to the concerns that all of the symbols of Christmas are pagan, I would say this:

The lifeless gods of paganism never held any power. They were hollow manifestations of false gods, created by Satan, to deceive and mock mankind. If a decorated evergreen tree was a pagan symbol for fertility and regeneration, so what? Did not my God create the evergreen tree? Does this history so corrupt the evergreen that I am now forbidden to decorate a Christmas tree? Did he not also create the holly and mistletoe? If the Germanic people of northern Europe, and the druid Celts of the British Isles utilized these as symbols in their animism and nature worship, may I not assign new meaning to these as symbols of the passion of Christ and life everlasting through him? Did not the apostle Paul tell us that all things are now clean, regardless of their former affiliation with idols (Romans 14:14)? Did not the apostle Peter receive revelation from God that he has made all things clean in Christ (Acts 11:9)?

Some have objected to the celebration of Christmas, because we are not directed to observe it by Jesus himself, or any gospel writer. It is true that we are not commanded to observe or remember the coming of Christ, as we are his death, burial, and resurrection, through the Lords Supper (Luke 22; 19). Does this mean that we are not permitted to rejoice at the coming of the Christ Child? Would God deny us celebration for the coming of light into this dark world? If so, why did he deliver to us his Word, with an account of Christ’s birth that fills our hearts with such rapture? Centuries before Christ came into this world, the prophets proclaimed his coming. The world had been waiting a long time, like wedding guests waiting for the arrival of the bride.  Should we not rejoice at his coming?

Does it matter to God on what date we celebrate the birthday of his son? I think it would please him if we celebrated his coming every day. Whether we celebrate in the Winter or Spring, Summer or Fall, every season is God’s season. Every day in our lives should be Gods’ day. If anyone questions you for celebrating Christmas on December 25^th, ask him if he knows the date of Christ’s coming. If he answers yes, ask him if he is a prophet. If he answers yes again, he should be tested, as the New Testament instructs (1John 4:1). If he answers no, then be assured, he knows nothing of this matter, and you may safely disregard his question. What better time to celebrate the coming of Christ, than in the dark days of the dead, cold, silent winter? What better time to remember the words of the prophet Isaiah?

“The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light. They that dwell in the land of the shadow of death, upon them have the light shined.”

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.”

Isaiah 9:2, 9:6

Don’t worry about Christmas coming. If Satan couldn’t stop it from coming, then the world can’t stop it either. No politician, or grinch can keep it from coming. No school board, or city council, or cranky neighbor, or miserable, wretched creature can keep it from coming. Nor can any cataclysm, or catastrophe, or decree.

Christmas will come because He came. Christmas will come because God loved us enough to send his only son into this world as a little baby. Christmas will come because Christ chose to empty himself of all of his heavenly glory, and abide with us. He chose to walk among us so that we could know him, so that we could know that he understands what it means to suffer, and work, and live in this world. He came here so that he could save us, by paying our debt, a debt that could be paid only by him, a gift to the world, from that little baby, born in Bethlehem. He came here to lead us home, to the light of the home fire and hearth of that heavenly place that awaits us at the end of our long cold journey, through the winter of life. That is why we should remember his coming. That is why we should keep Christmas.

Christmas will come again this year, despite wars - pray for peace, despite famine - pray for plenty, despite sickness – pray for healing, despite hatred – pray for forgiveness, despite our woes and fears - pray for his strength, and wait. It will come.

 

 

                                                                                                M.J. Smith

                                                                                                12/21/04

 

 

 

 

The House of Christmas

I grew up in a house where poetry was read, sometimes aloud. One of my early recollections is of my father sitting in the living room of our house (affectionately known as the barn), with his legs stretched out and crossed in front of him, reading this poem, while my sister and I sat on the floor listening. When I hear exquisite verse, like this, written by G.K. Chesterton, it is both edifying and humbling. Here was a poet! This poem isn't homey or familiar. It is altogether strange... which is appropriate really if you stop to consider the profound nature of the Incarnation of Christ. Not warm and fuzzy, but strange, and mystical and wonderful! It's not only one of my favorite Christmas poems, but one of my favorite poems overall.

The House of Christmas

By G.K. Chesterton

There fared a mother driven forth

Out of an inn to roam;

In the place where she was homeless

All men are at home.

The crazy stable close at hand,

With shaking timber and shifting sand,

Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand

Than the square stones of Rome.

 

For men are homesick in their homes,

And strangers under the sun,

And they lay their heads in a foreign land

Whenever the day is done.

 

Here we have battle and blazing eyes,

And chance and honour and high surprise,

But our homes are under miraculous skies

Where the yule tale was begun.

 

A child in a foul stable,

Where the beasts feed and foam;

Only where He was homeless

Are you and I at home;

We have hands that fashion and heads that know,

But our hearts we lost---how long ago!

In a place no chart nor ship can show

Under the sky's dome.

 

This world is wild as an old wife's tale,

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough

For our wonder and our war;

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings

And our peace is put in impossible things

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings

Round an incredible star.

 

To an open house in the evening

Home shall all men come,

To an older place than Eden

And a taller town than Rome.

To the end of the way of the wandering star,

To the things that cannot be and that are,

To the place where God was homeless

And all men are at home.

Emmanuel's Come

Here's some of my scribbling from a while back.

Immanuel, or Emmanuel (depending on the Hebrew or Greek translation) means, "God with us" (Isaiah 7:14, Matthew 1:23).

Emmanuel’s Come

Long, long ago the world was right.

No sickness or error,

No want or blight.

We lived in peace and plenty,

One with God,

Forever young,

Endless beauty.

 

Then crept a demon of darkness,

Disguised as wisdom, wreathed in light.

Down he came, slithering scale,

Tempting, taunting us to claim our rights,

And so we fell,

And slipped God’s hand.

So lies took root in the heart of man.

Spreading his plague and pestilence,

Breathing his drought, awakened to sin.

We listened, and knew.

Reached for the hidden,

Knowledge, forbidden.

 

And somewhere out there,

At the furthest reaches,

A journey began.

A comet came racing,

Hurling, thru space, blazing,

Measured trek, Pacing,

Arriving at the time reserved,

At the moment appointed,

Across the measureless divide,

A star, heralding the Anointed.

And posting a watch above that place,

It shown for us all to see,

God’s command of time and space,

His immeasurable majesty.

For unto us a child is born,

Unto us a son is given.

Son of man,

King of heaven.

 

Lamb of God,

Born among shepherds,

Lowly, humble,

Surrounded by lepers.

Sweet precious breath,

Holy child,

Heaven’s gift,

Meek and mild,

Life for death,

Born to die.

His death is life,

For you and I.

 

So ring the bells!

Ring them loudly!

Proclaim the news, joyously, proudly.

Tell it to the mountains.

Tell it to the nations.

God has come to his creation.

Jesus boy, far from home,

The Law fulfilled,

Emmanuel’s come.

 

 

 

MJS

12/19/08

The Man and the Birds

Living Large means listening for God when he speaks, however and whenever he speaks, and through whoever or whatever he uses to speak to us. Living Large means humbling ourselves before God and before our fellow man and learning what He teaches through his Word and through those that he sends to teach us.

I loved listening to Paul Harvey's, "Rest of the Story" on the radio. This story is one of my favorites. It's probably fictional of course, but I have no doubt that God has gotten people's attention in similarly diverse and unique ways on countless occasions throughout human history. One need only look through the Old Testament to find God's unique attention-getting methods. Once he even spoke through a donkey (Numbers 22)! Kinda makes a fella humble, doesn't it? I mean if God could speak through a donkey, maybe he could even work and speak through us, huh?

By the way, in case your a little rusty on your Latin, "Adeste Fidelis" means "Come All Ye Faithful".

Paul Harvey’s story – The Man and the Birds

Now the man to whom I'm going to introduce you was not a scrooge, he was a kind, decent, mostly good man, generous to his family, upright in his dealings with other men.  But he just didn't believe all that incarnation stuff which the churches proclaim at Christmas Time.  It just didn't make sense and he was too honest to pretend otherwise.  He just couldn't swallow the Jesus Story, about God coming to Earth as a man.  "I'm truly sorry to distress you," he told his wife, "but I'm not going with you to church this Christmas Eve."  He said he'd feel like a hypocrite.  That he'd much rather just stay at home, but that he would wait up for them.  And so he stayed and they went to the midnight service.

Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall.  He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier and then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper.  Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound.  Then another, and then another.  Sort of a thump or a thud.   At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window.  But when he went to the front door to investigate he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow.  They'd been caught in the storm and, in a desperate search for shelter, had tried to fly through his large landscape window.

Well, he couldn't let the poor creatures lie there and freeze, so he remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony.  That would provide a warm shelter, if he could direct the birds to it.  Quickly he put on a coat, galoshes, tramped through the deepening snow to the barn.  He opened the doors wide and turned on a light, but the birds did not come in.  He figured food would entice them in.  So he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow, making a trail to the yellow-lighted wide open doorway of the stable.  But to his dismay, the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow.  He tried catching them.  He tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms.  Instead, they scattered in every direction, except into the warm, lighted barn.

And then, he realized, that they were afraid of him.  To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature.  If only I could think of some way to let them know that they can trust me.  That I am not trying to hurt them, but to help them.   But how?  Because any move he made tended to frighten them, confuse them.   They just would not follow.  They would not be led or shooed because they feared him.  "If only I could be a bird," he thought to himself, "and mingle with them and speak their language.  Then I could tell them not to be afraid.   Then I could show them the way to safe, warm ...to the safe warm barn.  But I would have to be one of them so they could see, and hear and understand."

At that moment the church bells began to ring.  The sound reached his ears above the sounds of the wind.  And he stood there listening to the bells - Adeste Fidelis - listening to the bells pealing the glad tidings of Christmas.  And he sank to his knees in the snow.

 

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth.

John 1:14