The Reason

I see the expression "Jesus is the reason for the season" posted a lot on social media and talked about in groups of friends who share the Christian faith. And I get it. I really do. When my family and I gather on the morning of December 25, the Christmas story is the first thing we focus on before anything else, and we sing Happy Birthday Jesus (or try to - see this link). 

But as we go through the years, we have come to question a lot of the trappings that go with the celebration of Christmas. We understand that December 25th was the date chosen in the early 4th century as "Christ-mass" or "celebration of Christ" by an emperor (Constantine) who wanted Christianity to be the "state religion," and who appropriated the festival of Saturnalia (celebrating the Roman god Saturn, the god of agriculture) to make the transition more palatable. Saturnalia is the pagan holiday, celebrated between December 17 and 24, from which we get our "Christian" tradition of giving gifts, feasting, erecting and decorating an evergreen tree, hanging garlands and wreaths, and using holly branches/berries in decorations.  The lengthening days just after the winter solstice (December 21) meant that many people in ancient times (including the Romans) lit lights (candles and lamps) to welcome the coming Sun.

Photo by Brent Keane from Pexels

Other traditions come from other religious beliefs: the Yule log come from the pagans of Europe, mistletoe comes from the Druids, ivy (used in Christmas decorations in England) is an ancient Roman symbol of the god Bacchus, the god of wine and pleasure, and the modern Santa Claus, thought to be a North American adaptation of the English Father Christmas, had his origins far earlier, in the supreme god Odin from Norse mythology, who is always depicted as an old bearded man in flowing robes. As we know, the Vikings influenced the development of early Anglo-Saxon culture in England.

In addition, the date itself is suspect. It is most likely that Jesus was not born on December 25, or even in the winter. (Yay for no snow!) He was probably born in the early spring, for that is when ancient Hebrew shepherds kept flocks of ewes and lambs outside of Bethlehem, a bedroom community not far from Jerusalem. The lambs were born in late February or early March, and remained with their mothers for the first few weeks in preparation for the Passover feast, so it is likely that Jesus was born in March or April.

Knowing all this means, for me, that I hold the traditions and trappings loosely and that I no longer associate them with the actual celebration of Jesus' birth. Because we have a statutory holiday devoted to the celebration of "Christmas," December 25 is a convenient time for me to remember that God became man, to commemorate His birth, and to spend time with family and friends. Yes, we decorate - but not a whole lot. Yes, we exchange gifts, but we try to make those gifts meaningful expressions of love instead of an obligation based on guilt or greed. Yes, we have a big meal - turkey with dressing and some sort of pie for dessert - but we choose to share that meal with at least one person who otherwise would be alone on a day that many associate with being among family and friends.

But Jesus is the Reason for the season only because we (as believers) choose to make it so. There seems to me to be a certain amount of arrogance in how Christians have judged those who celebrate December 25 without Jesus at the centre of it. We have chosen to celebrate Jesus' birthday at this time, but others - because they are not Christian - have every right to celebrate it however they wish. 

So it makes no difference to me whether people say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or whatever, to wish each other well during this season. I look at the well wishes behind such words and I say back to them, "Same to you!" instead of trying to make them feel guilty for using the "wrong" words. At this time of year, when the nights are longest and the endless winter stretches out before us in such bleakness, it is good to remember that there are certain things which transcend circumstance and tie us together as human beings. We believers need not be obnoxious about our faith; that only drives people away. We can be kind, generous, and accepting, and attract people to Jesus rather than promote our own agendas (and in so doing, repel people). We can hold precious in our hearts the Babe who left such opulent richness to lay wrapped in rags, helpless, in a feeding trough.

And we can be grateful that He did this, knowing He would be rejected and crucified, to give us purpose. Himself. He IS The Reason - not for the season ... but for Living.

And you did not visit Me.

For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ - - Matthew 25

He lives in poverty. Oh, to look at it from the surface (because Heaven forbid you look too closely) it might not seem so, but he often has to make the choice between eating and paying the electric or the phone bill, and sometimes both bills. He is on social assistance because he has no other choice. Seriously. There are people who really CANNOT work.

His house is dirty and messy. It is that way because he cannot see well enough to clean it. He is on the list for a cataract surgery, but there is no date on that yet. He longs to be able to see. He hates living like this. He is unable to work because of his vision and many other health problems ... but he would love to be able to work to pay his bills on time and afford to do so many things that people who don't live in poverty take for granted.

He doesn't trust people, because people have always let him down. They have hurt him, or taken advantage of his generosity when he had a bit more money, or they judged him, so he has learned to be wary of people and might even push them away. He especially doesn't trust Christians. They sit back in their nice houses and designer clothes and they judge him without taking the time to know him. He has no time for people like that. 

So on the surface, he seems prickly by nature. He calls it like he sees it, and that makes people uncomfortable. So they stay away. As a result, he is lonely. And you might think that he has brought it on himself, that if he were more friendly, he might have more friends. But almost everyone he has ever known or trusted in his life has either let him down, or judged him, or used him, or a combination of all three. He can't afford to trust.

Image from Pixabay - a blur of long grass

He has his property, the one good thing he has left of his parents: his father, who died years ago, and his mother, who deeded the property to him before she got dementia and had to be placed in a nursing home. He has one beat-up little car, which he just barely manages to keep road-worthy in case he needs to drive it, which doesn't happen often.

Everything else has been stolen from him. The neighbors drive by the house and shake their heads, tutting to themselves when they see that his lawn is overgrown, grass as tall as four feet in some places. They don't bother to stop in and ask him if he would like someone to come in and cut it for him. They wouldn't do it for nothing. Rather than care for him, they would rather think he doesn't care. He does care. He just cannot physically go out there and use a push mower. He has a heart condition, a lung condition, failing kidneys, is nearly blind with cataracts, and he has other health conditions as well. And he simply cannot afford to pay someone to cut the grass, nor could he afford a ride-on mower in a million years. Simple as that. 

He used to have homemakers coming in to the house. But someone saw a rodent trap and then they refused to come in. The house has rodents because part of the house sits on a mud basement, but he cannot afford to do the home renovations that would need to be done to keep the critters from coming in. He has battled them for months ... and he is winning. But until the gateway is closed (that is, until there is a cement barrier), the battle will continue. He has asked the government for help. But there is one problem. There is no guarantee that the government will help him.

He has nobody to help. And everyone assumes that someone else will do it. So nobody does.

The church has forgotten him. They are too busy raising funds for this or that missionary half a world away while he lives in squalor beneath their very noses. They hold those upturned noses and look the other way because he doesn't attend church, so they consider him to be apostate. He doesn't attend because he has been too hurt by Christians judging him in that exact way just because he gets frustrated and loses his temper with people sometimes. Live in poverty yourself, and then see how quickly you lose your temper.  

Every unexpected bill that arrives is a crisis. Every unexpected setback is overwhelming. He has attempted suicide ... and only an intramural nurse saved his life because she called him after he had taken the pills. She called the ambulance and they came and got him. He was in the hospital for weeks, battling depression and hopelessness and panic. You didn't know that, did you? No, because you forgot him; he was easy to forget.

Strangers help him before the church would ever think to. It was strangers in a community service organization who replaced his fridge when it got broken last winter. They came in and took out the old one, set up the new one and brought groceries to put in it. And these strangers were NOT from a Christian organization. 

The only family members who do care for him live so far away that it is very difficult to make sure his needs are met from day to day. They have their own bills to pay too. They help whenever they can, but it is not enough; he lives on only $537 a month, and no more. In the day by day reality, he lives with the knowledge that others have the power to get together and help him, but they don't. Or they won't. 

And there are many others like him out there, people the church has forgotten because 'the government will look after them.'  Well - the government keeps these people below the poverty line so that they will be motivated to seek work. But this fellow can't work. What about him? 

What about you? What about me? Where do we fit into all of this? Do we - as a result of our own lack of action - keep people like this gentleman trapped in what amounts to a prison of poverty, just because he doesn't look like, talk like, or act like us? Do they have to clean up their act and be more like us just so we will look at them?

I'm not saying he hasn't made mistakes in the past. I'm not saying he isn't making mistakes now. But the fact remains that he is struggling for every last hour he remains on the planet. It should not have to be so hard. WE do not have to be so hard.

We have lost our Way. And if we don't find the Way of compassion and love, someday we may hear that WE did not feed, clothe or visit the ones in need. 

Myth-ing out

Life is hard. It's so good to have wonderful friends and family who are there and who care. Sometimes, though, friends and family have no idea how to do that.

It's amazing to me how many of God's people miss out on opportunities to step alongside someone and help them through a rough patch, or a dark and lonely valley, just because of preconceived notions - or what I call myths - about basic things like life, death, God's will, and prayer. These myths, expressed in ways intended to comfort, actually do the opposite in many cases. 

Take, for example, the person who is terminally ill. Their family is dealing with the hard facts that they may not have much time left with their loved one. I have heard all kinds of things said to the families (and to the sick person) and quite frankly, many of them do more harm than good. 

Here's one example. One of the things I have heard people say is that "it's never too late; God may still reach in to heal, so keep on believing." While this is true, and it could happen, first of all, why would you push for a return to this earth when Heaven is so much better than here? And what gives human beings the right to dictate what God's will might be for that individual or family? Secondly, telling the family to keep on believing is kind of an insult. Think about it. If there were any more prayers to be prayed, if there was any more faith to be exercised, don't you think they've already tried praying and believing every single waking moment? Isn't this experience hard enough without the family living with not only grief, but guilt and shame you placed on them because they feel they somehow didn't do enough to keep their loved one with them?

Here's another myth - the assumption that the person has already died, it's just a matter of when they stop breathing. Kind of cruel, isn't it? but people couch it in religious terminology like "Praying for peace for you and yours at this difficult time." All it really means is that (a) the person is a goner, in the mind of the person saying this, and (b) the person giving condolences distances themselves emotionally and is spouting platitudes, which are polite, meaningless noises that they think people are supposed to say when someone is grieving. "Feel better," is what this amounts to, but the person almost always has no intention of being around before the grieving one feels better.

Photo "Sadness Woman In Friend's
Arms" by David Castillo Dominici
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

A third (and this one is completely false): "God must need another angel." People don't become angels; that would be a demotion. (Look it up. Angels long to have the relationship with God that we do by second birthright.) That's the first myth. The second myth is the implication that God TAKES someone away from us, which is the farthest from the truth. When a loved one passes away, God WELCOMES them Home. They immediately step into the next phase of Eternity - a richness of life and joy that we can only barely begin to comprehend. And He is WITH the people who are left behind, available for them to weep hot tears or sit in stony, silent, excruciating heart-pain, or anything in between, for as long as they need to. His patience, love, and kindness is measureless and strong.


I get why people say these things. They say them because human beings were never created for separation. People feel uncomfortable with the word goodbye, when they know that the goodbye is for what might be a very long time. That's as it should be, really. But my point is that those people who are going to be left behind need as much help and support as we can give them, in a real and tangible way. Are we really helping them by telling them these things? Or are we just helping ourselves feel better by convincing ourselves we've done our bit? Where will we really be when the harsh reality of life without their loved one hits them like a ton of bricks? Hiding safe behind our platitudes, or walking the valley with them - in person - so they can lean on us when they need to? 

I am talking to myself just as much as I am to anyone else. Even though I have known the loss of many dear ones, every time is at least as hard, and every time is different. I know that the terminal illness or loss of a loved one is messy, and it can be very uncomfortable to witness up close; believe me when I say that the person undergoing such an experience would love to be able to NOT witness it. But people sometimes need that other witness, that person who sits with them or hugs them without saying a word, whose presence is there, comforting without the need to say anything. Sometimes that means going for a piece of pie and an iced tea, sometimes it means inviting them over for an evening, sometimes it means letting them talk and letting them cry - and crying with them - and sometimes it even means sitting with them in the hospital ward rest area and missing your favorite sitcom.

It might be inconvenient. It might be uncomfortable. But to do any less would be missing - and mything - out.

Cease Striving

One of the hardest things there is to do is to do nothing. Right? We humans, especially in Western culture, have this notion that if we are not doing anything, we are unproductive and wasting our time. 

However, there is a wisdom and a peace to doing nothing. I am not talking about slacking off. I don't mean to sit cross-legged in a corner and let the world pass you by. What I mean is that the reaching, grasping, grabbing tendency that we have can actually end up with us losing what we so desire to have, like trying to keep a handful of sand by clenching it in our fists. 

It disappears. It slips between our fingers and spills on the ground. That is why doing nothing can be so wise. We try so hard to "make" something that we want to happen and we often end up making the opposite happen. 

Photo "Rows Of Butterfly Cocoons" courtesy of xura
at www.freedigitalphotos.net

I remember a sad story I heard once of a child who wanted to see a butterfly emerge from its cocoon. Day after day she watched this little motionless sack sitting there in front of her, and one day, the thing started moving and a split appeared in the cocoon. She was thrilled, and yet she saw the struggle the butterfly was having inside its prison. She decided to help it escape, and pulled the split wider so the creature could get out. Sadly, although the butterfly was now out, it just sat there with wet, small wings. The body of the butterfly needed that squeezing to activate it to pump bodily fluids (that it had stored for this day) into the wings. They were flimsy and limp as a result, even after they dried, and they could not bear the butterfly's weight.... And a butterfly who cannot fly cannot feed on nectar and therefore cannot live. 

"Be still," said the Psalmist (46:10). What he was saying was to cease striving, and to stop trying to make things happen. They will happen when they are meant to happen. The butterfly - or that desired outcome - will emerge on its own. It does not need our help. We can trust that it will happen if it is meant to do so. We can let go of our tendency to put our oar in. We can know that God is in control.

When we cease striving, peace comes. We can accept what happens and enjoy the moments in between where we are and what lies ahead. We can let go of our "if onlys" and our "I can't waits" ... and live in the present. We will be where we are without losing ourselves in the past or the future. We can look for the little joys: the beauty all around us, our favorite sounds, the taste of good food, and the feeling of a cool breeze on a hot day.

We can live each moment to the full. But we don't have to strain. All we need to do is to courageously let go of our impulse to do it ourselves or to hurry it along, and instead to let go and stop trying so hard.

Stay in the present. The future will happen without our help.

You lost me

I was in the middle of responding to a co-worker's question about my personal life. It had been a while since we talked and she was eager to hear about how things were going, particularly for my brother. 

I was telling her how well he was doing compared to the first of the year, when he was going under the knife to remove a section of bowel due to colon cancer. I have talked about the phenomenon of miracle after miracle that has happened before in this blog, so I won't repeat it all here. But the most recent miracle bears repeating - after his heart attack on October 25 and the stent operation he had (while conscious) on October 30, not only has his energy and endurance increased, but his kidney function has improved. 

Creatinine is one of the body's waste products that the kidneys are supposed to process, and a normal count in the bloodstream is a maximum of 113 μmol per liter (a μmol is a weight measure that is 1/1000 the size of that molecule, thank you Doctor Google... haha). The higher the number is, the less able the kidneys are to do their job. Earlier this year, my brother's numbers were close to 600 of these per liter (showing his kidneys were functioning at about 15% of normal). Now, they are at 225, or functioning at around 50%. 

His surgeon can't explain it. 

Of course believers know immediately what happened: God did it.

But as I was telling this lady about the numbers and saying that we knew what happened but the doctors wouldn't believe it - she was so interested and engaged and wanted to know what it was. So I told her it was "somebody bigger than you or I" - referring to God - and that's when I got "the look."

Her smile disappeared. Her eyes glazed over and she rolled them a bit (even though she tried not to.) Her whole attitude changed from interested and engaged to merely polite. She moved her body a bit farther from me.

In that moment, I knew that I'd lost her: I'd lost her interest and I'd lost her respect. I was "one of THOSE." Every negative experience she'd ever had with super-zealot church people - and I am willing to bet there was a lifetime of them - was behind that look. I've seen it before, and quite frankly, I've felt as she did before. It's not a good feeling to feel on either side of the fence.

Now, I get that some people are going to react that way. I get that. Some might argue that it was just "persecution" - but I beg to differ because persecution is what believers are experiencing overseas in anti-christian regimes - people literally losing their heads over it. But this lady's reaction - that almost gut-sick response - got me to thinking about the years of hurt (likely from judgment, shame and guilt coming from so-called Christians) that went into how she lost interest so quickly, and that makes me so very angry. Jesus' message is about love and acceptance, forgiveness and hope - and the people who had interacted with her had most likely given her nothing but the opposite. That kind of bigotry, all done in the name of God, really scorches my tail-feathers.

Photo, "Little Boy Covering His Face"
courtesy of David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've often thought about how the way believers talk actually excludes and shuns people who might otherwise flock to us. All those hallelujahs and amens ... the little turns of phrase we learn in the organized church ... they all seem to be part of the secret-handshake kind of we're-in-you're-out mentality. And the judgment!!  One wonderful man told me his story of how, as a child, a church leader asked him how he was. He replied, "Good." The man immediately said, "Oh no you're not. 'There is none good, no not one.' " And he quoted the Scripture reference to back it up. I know that that verse is in the Bible, but how he used it was as a weapon, not anything else. In that moment, because of his judgment and condemnation, he lost that little boy for the gospel. It took that child years to recover from that kind of rejection, which he consistently got from everybody in the church (how sad!!), and it took him several decades to be able to start to accept God's love for him - and that was only because God Himself took the initiative. And that is only one person. How many thousands are like him? How many struggle with rejection every day of their lives because they've been hurt by someone who claimed to represent God?

How many people - when we stand before the Almighty One - will say to us, "You lost me"? How many could we have shown love to, but we were too high and mighty to stop our holiness marches long enough to care for them? How many times were we too busy proving we were right, and jumping on every single cuss word or behavior we didn't agree with? Is that really necessary? (God's a big boy, He doesn't need our protection, and I am pretty sure His Spirit does a far better job than we can of convincing people that He's real...) 

I'm talking to me, too - I've done it! Intending to show we are different, to stand out in the crowd, we end up doing nothing but pushing people away by telling them what they SHOULD be doing, and condemning them for NOT doing it. Wow... How tragic is that!

Another night with the frogs

The title of this post has become a common saying between my husband and me over the last thirty-odd years of marriage. 

It refers to the story of Moses and the ten plagues, when God was in the process of freeing His people from slavery in Egypt.  One of the plagues - early on in the ten - was a plague of frogs. There were frogs everywhere: in kitchens, bathrooms, back lawns, roadways, and bedrooms - swarming everywhere so much so that you couldn't step anywhere or roll over in bed without a frog there. 

Never mind being unsanitary - it was downright nasty!!  So anyway, Moses goes to Pharaoh (the slave-driver king who was holding Moses' people captive) and says, "I can say the word and the frogs will go away." Pharaoh believes him - after all, he's turned the river to blood! "When do you want me to command the frogs to go away?" he asks the king.

"Tomorrow."

Not right now, not even in an hour. No - Pharaoh is too proud to admit that he has no control over the situation, and so he exerts the only control he thinks he has left. 

He chooses to spend another night with the frogs.

Photo "Green Frog"
courtesy of Elwood W. McKay III at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

People get comfortable with intolerable situations ... sometimes because it's all they know and they fear changing things and moving into something they fear more than the pain of the situation: they fear the unknown. WE fear the unknown. Even if it means spending another night with the frogs. Even if it means staying in that situation or continuing to think, say, or do things we know are going to be bad for us. We get stuck in the same old pattern, doing the same things with the same types of people, and making the same mistakes over and over again. We get locked into a repeating cycle and we want out, but ...

We know things will change if we do step out into a new experience for us. But we don't. 

Why? 

Good question - or is it? Does it matter why? I suspect there are as many reasons as there are people. The point is that we resist change. 

Change is scary. It really is. Taking that first step into the unknown is risky. It's one of the most scary things we can do. But if we don't take that step, we are stuck with the results we've always gotten - and we'll never know what might have been.

The few times I have taken that first step have led to such amazing adventures. I still have to fight the tendency to want to stay with the familiar - even if it's not all that pleasant.  But if the last two years or so has taught me anything, it's that the unknown with the knowledge and awareness of God's love is far better than fighting for space with those slimy critters - the frogs, I mean. :)

"I will build My church"

It's now been over two years since my husband and I decided to leave the organization that is commonly known as the 'church'. When I tell people that we don't "go to church" anymore, I often see raised eyebrows, and very rarely do I get anything but judgment. Sometimes, though, people are curious and want to know what it is like for us to not gather for services on Sundays and other days of the week. 

My first response is always, "A big relief, honestly." When they want to know more, I describe what we experienced more and more in the 'church' as we got more and more uncomfortable there ... how we would come home from service after service drained, frustrated, and angry. But I don't spend much time on describing that. Instead, I like to talk about what it's been like since we left: relaxed, peaceful, and (to use a Christian-ese word) edifying.

And the inevitable question comes. "How can that be without fellowship?"

When I get this question, especially lately, I chuckle.  They must believe - as I used to believe - that "fellowship" can only be experienced in the pew!!  Just like I used to believe that "worship" could only happen in the context of a "worship service" with an "order of service" and so forth. Such "fellowship" could only occur behind the Four Walls. It was predictable. It was stale. It was familiar .... and not in a good way.

Photo "Two Friends Spending Happiest Time Together" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

It's not like that at all. Since we have left the Four Walls behind, God has provided what we need for fellowship. No, we don't have cottage meetings where we meet specifically for the purpose of "fellowship." God sets up opportunities for us to get together with people of the Way. 

What happens when we get together is never structured. It's visiting with people who love us and who love God, and who realize more and more how deeply and unconditionally He loves us. When the visit ends, whether we have shared what God is doing in our lives or not, whether He is even mentioned or not, we feel uplifted ... and not worn out. Sometimes someone shares something that someone else needs to hear, but it's not hyped up with music or "atmosphere" - just plain and simple. And sometimes there is nothing that "happens" - and that's okay too. We share each other's company as an expression of love, and that in itself is ministry. And there is no pressure either way.

It dawned on me this morning that Jesus said that on this Rock (the statement, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God") HE would build His church. He doesn't use bricks and mortar. He uses living stones - believers - and THAT is the church He is continually building.  It's HIS church, not mine, not yours, not anyone's. His. 

He also said that wherever two or three were gathered in His name, He would be in the midst of them. I used to think that "in My name" meant "for the sole purpose of glorifying Me" - but now, I'm thinking more that it has to do with a common or shared belief in Him, and less to do with following a contrived script. 

I have felt Him "in the midst" when I was with one other person in a hospital room, or sitting across from someone in a coffee shop, or sitting down to supper with someone, or sharing a coffee or a breakfast with someone, or talking on the phone, or texting, or having a conversation on Facebook's private chat (or Messenger, if you want to call it that). This fellowship, whatever form it takes (and it's God who sets it up!) happens way more often than just once a week. And it is encouraging, strengthening, revitalizing .... and completely natural and effortless. 

Take, for example, a visit I paid to my brother in hospital last Thursday. We laughed, joked, and talked about little things that would only matter to us. I felt led to lay hands on him before I left to go home - and spoke to his kidneys and his pancreas to behave themselves in response to the upcoming stent procedure (because the stent procedure involves injecting with a dye which is hard on the kidneys and the stress could affect his sugars). My 'ministry' only took about a minute. And when I was "done," I told him I loved him and left to go home. (By the way, the stent procedure went great the following Monday. They put in two stents ... and the pain in his chest went away almost immediately ... and the kidneys and pancreas behaved themselves! He got home yesterday, able to take a full breath, able to walk at least three times the distance he could a week previous, and grateful for the opportunity to amaze the doctors yet again ...)

I like this Way better. Much better. Jesus is a great builder.