So it’s Christmas again – my favorite time of the year. When I hear Bing Crosby singing White Christmas for the first time I can’t help but smile, as if the notes and words give permission to be joyful. The mere sight of eggnog makes my mouth water, though it’s little more than uncooked omelet with a splash of vanilla and a dash of nutmeg.
But for all its magic, Christmas has its eccentricities. Take the tree, for instance. Two days ago I ventured to Wal-Mart and shopped around for the largest, albeit cheapest tree I could find. Settling on an eight foot Douglas fir I forked over the twenty-five bucks (not a bad price) and stuffed the thing in my Elantra, hardly able to close the trunk even after shoving the tree all the way to the dashboard. Ten minutes later I lugged the tree into my living room, showering a thousand needles all over the hardwood floor. I set the thing in its holder, noticed a three-foot gaping hole on one side, and hid this against the wall, realizing I got what I paid for. Heather and I strung lights on its branches and hung glass balls, and bells, and swans, and bears, and all kinds of festive ornaments until our feet got tired and we sat down on the couch, turned off the overhead lights and beheld our handiwork.
It was beautiful. Nostalgic. Fragrant. Colorful.
But there was simply no way around the fact that I had a huge, dead evergreen tree in my living room. When you stop and think about that – it’s pretty strange. Not to mention immensely inconvenient for a house of toddlers. My sons have already managed to shatter several glass balls all over the floor. They keep on eating the needles. I hope they’re not poisonous.
And what’s up with stockings? At what point in yuletide history did it become kosher to put gifts in a sock and hang it on the mantel? Gross.
But stranger than that - stranger by far – is what Christmas means to us. Let me explain with an analogy. Imagine it’s your birthday. You’re so excited for the party your friends are throwing for you and you can’t wait to see what gifts you’re going to get. But when the time comes they don’t sing happy birthday, they don’t bake you a cake, they hardly acknowledge you at all. And as if that wasn’t enough they end up giving gifts to each other and leave you hunched in a corner munching on a Turkey leg. I think you follow me.
Emmanuel, God with us.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, come to save – to rescue - people from their sins.
Though I will always love the eggnog and carols, and stockings and trees and presents. Jesus is the best gift the world has ever known.
But for all its magic, Christmas has its eccentricities. Take the tree, for instance. Two days ago I ventured to Wal-Mart and shopped around for the largest, albeit cheapest tree I could find. Settling on an eight foot Douglas fir I forked over the twenty-five bucks (not a bad price) and stuffed the thing in my Elantra, hardly able to close the trunk even after shoving the tree all the way to the dashboard. Ten minutes later I lugged the tree into my living room, showering a thousand needles all over the hardwood floor. I set the thing in its holder, noticed a three-foot gaping hole on one side, and hid this against the wall, realizing I got what I paid for. Heather and I strung lights on its branches and hung glass balls, and bells, and swans, and bears, and all kinds of festive ornaments until our feet got tired and we sat down on the couch, turned off the overhead lights and beheld our handiwork.
It was beautiful. Nostalgic. Fragrant. Colorful.
But there was simply no way around the fact that I had a huge, dead evergreen tree in my living room. When you stop and think about that – it’s pretty strange. Not to mention immensely inconvenient for a house of toddlers. My sons have already managed to shatter several glass balls all over the floor. They keep on eating the needles. I hope they’re not poisonous.
And what’s up with stockings? At what point in yuletide history did it become kosher to put gifts in a sock and hang it on the mantel? Gross.
But stranger than that - stranger by far – is what Christmas means to us. Let me explain with an analogy. Imagine it’s your birthday. You’re so excited for the party your friends are throwing for you and you can’t wait to see what gifts you’re going to get. But when the time comes they don’t sing happy birthday, they don’t bake you a cake, they hardly acknowledge you at all. And as if that wasn’t enough they end up giving gifts to each other and leave you hunched in a corner munching on a Turkey leg. I think you follow me.
Emmanuel, God with us.
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, come to save – to rescue - people from their sins.
Though I will always love the eggnog and carols, and stockings and trees and presents. Jesus is the best gift the world has ever known.
