When Worlds Collide

 

"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye" Antoine de Saint-Exupery

I went into the bank a few years back to make a deposit and, as sometimes happens, an overly-friendly clerk invited me to her desk, saying, “Come over here; I can help you with that.” 

She was all smiles and full of good cheer, for which I was mostly not in the mood. I had a lot on my plate for the day and not a lot of time and I knew full well my deposit was not the focus of her agenda. Her goal was to help me discover all the ways I could save money, grow rich, and improve my lot in life by rearranging what can only laughingly be called my “portfolio” at the bank. 

Although her efforts cost me about five minutes more than what I would normally have spent, our time together was tolerable, and concluding our business I was able to return to my errands. 

Life is like that, though. We have our plans, the world has theirs; sometimes they run in parallel, and at other times they collide. Life happens; you tangle up and you tango on; right? 

The first Christmas was not much different. 

Mary and Joseph were most unremarkable – a typical Jewish couple. They lived in a small back-water town called Nazareth where nothing special was ever said to have happened. 

They were engaged to be married, but had not yet tied the knot. Joseph was a handyman; not much of a prize, really, but a decent enough sort of fellow. Mary’s folks were happy with the financial arrangement they had reached for giving her hand in marriage, so all was well. But then … scandal! 

Mary got pregnant. She was sent away to visit her relatives, to “help” Elizabeth – her kinswoman – who was also pregnant. She was sent away, but not soon enough. The people of Nazareth delighted in sharing local news and gossip, and news of Mary’s condition would give them things to talk about for decades yet to come – a very merry Christmas gift, indeed. 

I am sure that life, as Mary and Joseph received it from God, was very different from what they had dreamed or conceived of for themselves, but they trusted God was at work in all things and through all things, and so they accepted life on life’s terms. 

I don’t know if they felt they could actually say “No” to God, but they did choose to say “Yes” anyway, and consented to be the people God asked them to be: mother, father, nurturer, and protector. 

As I have gotten older, Christmas has lost some of its sense of magic and wonder. Life rolls merrily along. Business needs tending; things need to be done, but I don’t do them as quickly or as efficiently as I once did. I still whistle while I work, but not as often, and not as brightly as I did in the days of yore, but that’s OK. 

God did not create us to be quick and efficient workers, but to be visible and tangible signs of God’s presence in the world. There is nothing magical about reaching out to those in need, but there is something godly in it. There is nothing dramatically wondrous about spending time with those who are hurt or lonely, but there is something godly in it. 

Christmas, you see, is not a day, a season, or a feeling; it is the surprising presence of God in our midst. 

All the trappings of Christmas – the lights, the tinsel, the presents, the carols, the garland, the trees – they aren’t trappings; they’re traps. They divert our eyes and attention from all God calls us to be and to do: to be God-bearers, like Mary and Joseph – carrying God along on life’s journey. 

So, keep your eyes open to the works of God in the world all around you. God seeks a place to call home, a place within which to lay down his gifts of love, peace, true joy, and happiness. May God find in you a faithful “yes” in this, our valley. Keep whistling and have a Merry Christmas!

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)

HOLIDAY LIGHTS

 

Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other (Psalm 85)

I woke up this morning realizing I haven’t heard something which, by now, I would normally have heard continuously for at least a month. I haven’t heard any Christmas music!

In quarantine for the pandemic, and for the safety, security, and health of my family, neighbors, and loved ones, I haven’t gone to the stores to do any shopping (beyond groceries). The local mall closed down last summer, so there is no holiday “hot spot” for getting into the feeding frenzy that passes for the Christmas season (which is actually Advent, but let’s not quibble here).

I record all the shows I want to watch on television at night, which means (don’t tell advertisers this, but …) it means I zap through the commercial breaks, so I haven’t heard any holiday music there either. It has made for a very pleasant season, to be honest. I love it, for I don’t care for most of that saccharine schmaltz that passes for “holiday” music. That means when we get to the genuine twelve days of Christmas (December 24 - January 6) we will actually be hearing the seasonal hymns for pretty much the first time this year!

That doesn’t mean all has been silent, quiet, dull, or boring, of course. But there have been changes. I have reached the age where I no longer want to climb ladders to string lights across the roofline. No one would ever confuse me with Clark Griswold (of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation fame), but I have usually made every effort to provide some holiday lighting on our block. This year, though, I decided against going high, and went low, instead. I put lights along the bushes, a lighted wreath above the garage, and our little, modest, pre-lit fake tree in the living room window, and called it a day (or a season).

I even followed instructions. One of my pet peeves about stringing lights along the roofline is the work involved (there are no easy hanging solutions in the world of light-put-uppery). Another is the fact that one string will always go out mid-season. There is no way to fix a string, and there is never a replacement string the same length. Every string is precut, sold, and guaranteed not to stretch the distance needed, or shine with the same luminosity as its neighboring strings.

My bush-net lights warn against attaching more than three nets together, so that’s what I did. I bought proper extension cords, powered all the light sets in their assigned groups of three, and all is well. When the sun goes down, the lights come on and, voila; Christmas cheer!

I have no doubt all the light sets I have bought over the years have similarly warned against connecting too many strings together, but following directions has never been my strong-suit. I am at the age now, however, where I actually take time to read the instructions, not so much because I like to read instructions, but because it gives me something to read between books.

No, it is a strange season we find ourselves traipsing through, but if we keep on walking, odds are we’ll make it out the other side just fine. Thinking about the silence has gotten me to thinking about pulling out some of those old holiday CDs and putting them on. I admit I don’t do streaming music or satellite music, or even radio music. I’m sort of fussy. I know what I like, which is why I have those CDs, and I know how I like to play them. I’d prefer playing vinyl records, but alas my player no longer works.

I’m not really an old stick-in-the-mud, but I am set in my ways with some things, and music is just one of those things. It is in the silence I can hear the Spirit; it is in the quiet I can find peace. It is in righteousness I can find mercy; and it is in mercy I can find the breath of God blowing ever so sweetly here in this, our valley.