God’s Post-Christmas Present

By Rick Marschall
Special to ASSIST News Service

SWARTZ CREEK MI (ANS) -- Let us turn from questions this season about “the meaning of Christmas” to the better question – “the meaning of being a Christian.”

A story: 
The two men were good friends, “brothers” with the same sense of humor, who shared interests, and who could finish each other’s sentences. Ed was passionate about politics, but Kenneth was totally apolitical, so disagreements on that score never arose. Kenneth was also areligious –- somewhere between agnostic and intellectual hipster -– so the fervent Christian Ed found a challenge in his friend. Kenneth never objected to debating or receiving tracts or casual points or heavy witnessing. But he never cared much either, one way or the other.

Ed moved away from their “zone” of neighborhood contacts and frequent lunches. Several states (geographical, not psychic) separated them. Their friendship and common profession mandated continued contact, but, as these things usually go, they spoke less frequently.

After one quiet stretch, Kenneth called Ed and learned that an enormous amount of “life” had occurred since their last chat.

Ed went down a sad checklist: his work had dried up, and money was scarce. His wife was extremely sick with multiple ailments, and there was no insurance to cover the situations. Ed’s mother was dying in far-off Florida, and on the way to the train station he was rear-ended at a red light, and his only car was totaled. “Those are just the highlights,” Ed joked in their typical fashion. “It gets pretty grim after that. But we’re OK now.”

“How are you OK?” Kenneth knew that Ed was being serious here.

“Well, it was a series of amazing events, really,” Ed said. “My wife is in pretty good shape now –- the doctors were good and performed terrifically, but in a couple of instances they saw healings they couldn’t explain. After the first hospitalization, a friend in church who is an insurance agent told me that my business activities, though slim, actually qualified us for a group plan. We signed up, and there was full coverage for the later surgeries, not even a ‘cap.’”

Kenneth slipped into his old mode: “So, don’t tell me, your mother rose from the dead.”

“No, she died, but I was able to be with her in time and share a beautiful Good-Bye. While I was gone, some friends in church whose house is so big they almost have their own Zip Code, took the kids in and drove them to school each morning. And the car? Yes, it was totaled, but our pastor lent us his van -– an extra since his daughter went to college, for as long as we needed it.

“God seemed to provide at every turn.”

Kenneth was silent for a moment. When he spoke, it surprised Ed slightly. “You know, you’re always saying how God provides this, and Jesus answered that. Why don’t you listen to what you just said? The doctors were good, on their own. Your friend was looking for an insurance commission. It was friends who offered their house to your kids, not Jesus. And the van was a spare in the driveway. It was your FRIENDS who did these things for you, not Jesus.”

Now Ed was silent for a moment. “No... it was Jesus,” he said. “He was just working through my friends.”

Christmas is over, but the Gift remains. No, let us put it the proper way – Christmas is over, and the Gift remains! Hallelujah! A gift can be seen as neutral, by itself. Its significance derives from who gives it; the intention of the giver; the attitude of the recipient; the use to which the gift is put. Christ was God Incarnate, God with us, our means to forgiveness, salvation, eternal fellowship with God. We accept Jesus into our hearts. But what we DO with this Gift from God is the real significance.

Jesus “in our hearts” is not to hide Him, but to make Him part of our relational DNA, an aspect of our new selves. It can happen. He shines forth, He affects our natures. We show Him, we share Him. That is the real gift – the miracle of Christmas. You don’t have to hunt ancient or arcane scripture to see this happen.

Just ask Ed.

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Joy Williams has written an anthem about what it means to be a Christian. First, to accept Him. Second, to “be” Him to other people. That’s not a long list. But Joy puts it so beautifully.

Click: Do They See Jesus in Me?  

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Rick Marschall is the author of 65 books and hundreds of magazine articles in many fields, from popular culture (Bostonia Magazine called him “perhaps America’s foremost authority on popular culture”) to history and criticism; country music, television history, biography and children’s books. He is a former political cartoonist, editor of Marvel Comics, and writer for Disney comics. For 10 years he has been active in the Christian field, writing devotionals; co-author of The Secret Revealed with Dr Jim Garlow. His biography of Johann Sebastian Bach for the “Christian Encounters” series (Thomas Nelson) was released in April, 2011. His history of cartoon Advertising, Drawing Power, will be published in July 2011 by the Marschall Books imprint of fantagraphics Books. In October his major biography of Theodore Roosevelt, BULLY!, will be publ;ished by Regnery History of Washington DC. He is currently working on a One-Year CDevotional for Tyndale House; and edits the the reissue of Harper's Weekly -- the Civil War Years for NOVOink e-books. Rick is a former Director of Product Development for Youth Specialties. He is recipient of the 2008 “Christian Writer of the Year” award from the Greater Philadelphia Writer’s Conference, and produces a weekly e-mail devotional, “Monday Morning Music Ministry.” His e-mail address is: RickMarschall@gmail.com.

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Advent Traditions

by Laura Boggess

The morning we trim the tree, fat flakes dress the earth in threads of white. In the boughs of the naked maple—a flash of red—a cardinal in a nest of snow. I watch from the window, my feet planted in warm. The house glows soft with twinkling light.

It’s quiet—quiet here, quiet inside the walls of me. I touch the moment gently—feel around inside my heart.

Is this how it feels, I wonder?

I’ve been looking for Christmas for 18 years—ever since I married my husband and felt free to open my heart to this beloved tradition. I grew up in a home that did not celebrate the birth of the Christ-child, see. And every year when December 25 approaches, I feel the bindings of those roots. I want to leave a different legacy for my children—one that delves deep into the mystery of Christmas. Every year I look for just the right formula, try on different activities with my family in the quest for the perfect tradition.

So, when when my friend Charity asked me to help her with an Advent Community Writing project this year, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to spy on the traditions of others. We would like to invite you to consider what Advent means to you, its old traditions, its new lessons, and join us for a community writing project, Charity said. And I thought: Yippee! Maybe…just maybe, I will find the perfect fit for my own little family amongst these Advent experts.

But when I visited each of the fifty-five participants who linked up, I did not find the perfect tradition formula. What I found instead was a deeper appreciation for the sacred season we call Advent.

Over at the blog Straight Meandering, I was reminded to slow and savor the passing moments:

And so it is in every moment of every day.  God is here, inhabiting the small and the humble.  But we hurry from moment to moment and forget to see.  We forget to dwell now, be still, know God.

Member KD Sullivan’s words from Journey to Epiphany urged me to open my eyes and see with Advent eyes every day.

And I find Him in the most common of places.
A bench. In a park.
A King. Amidst the ordinary.

Kimberlee Conway Ireton wonders, “Who will show us the way to the Christ child?”  And in her reflectionThe Road to Bethlehem, she leads me there.

Sandra Heska King’s words were such a gift, as she celebrated the life of her mother and grieved her loss.

The joy of seeing deep in simple things. It’s a gift…I think of One who was born in a simple place, cradled by simple hands. His own hands healed the hurting and stretched out to conquer death. And so we dance. And the gift goes on.

Marilyn Yocum encouraged me to let the story fall fresh on my ears this Advent. Linda Chontos shared her family’s sweet tradition of baking a birthday cake for Jesus. And what is one to do when the empty next shanghais Advent? Write a poem about it, of course. I think Jim Schmotzer has the right idea about new traditions.

If you are Nancy Franson and her friend Ethel, the annual Christmas photo with Santa takes on new meaning—fuzzy slippers and all! Pastor and blogger Brian Owen shared the wonder of waiting for his own child to be born during the Advent season. John at the beautiful due suggests that our Advent celebrations may be a bit too sedate and challenges us to crank up the volume.

There are so many beautiful essays and I wish I could quote them all but when I read Patricia Spreng's reflection called Trying on Advent, I realized this is it. This is how I feel. I am growing into Advent. And it's okay if I don't have it all figured out. That's part of the mystery of it all.

The snow that piles in the eaves where branches meet reminds me of home. There is a great open field between me and that place now and today it is blanketed in snow. The cries of the past are muffled by this insulation and I don’t even think about the what-ifs.  Today—I remember how beautiful the snow slept in the trees of my childhood home. This quiet as the snow drifts silently down.

This must be it, I think. This must be peace.

The water that has passed under the bridge is frozen and the light in the sky fades fast. But this shimmer—this glimmer--stays inside of me.  

Let it shine, I pray. Let it shine.

If you'd like to visit all of these beautiful Advent reflections, hop on over to Charity's blog Wide Open Spaces. Be prepared for a retreat when you enter in. And here is a big thank you to all our community writing project participants. Happy waiting, sweet friends. Let's wait together.

Image by Noukka Signa. Used with permission. Sourced via Flickr. Post by Laura J. Boggess.