It's time to get Jesus out of the manger

I am always astounded by the craziness that erupts at Christmas time. Not the usually condemned craziness of shopping, parties and ridiculous amounts of sugar. That craziness I love. No, it’s the craziness that erupts in Christian circles. This obsession with making one day out of the year the super most holy spiritual experience of life. While I’ve taken a break from facebook, my email has been bombarded with people telling me where I should be spending my money if I really love God. If I love God, I won’t buy presents. If I love Jesus, I would give everything I have to the poor. It’s funny that I don’t get these emails in July. Are there no poor people in July? And what makes these people assume I’m not giving to the poor? Why is it any of their business? Because somehow at Christmas time Christians feel they have the right to tell everyone the best way to worship. Well-meaning traditions become our religion as we bow down to the god of self-righteousness. As soon as you tell me that the only way to celebrate my savior is the way you do, then we have a heaping dose of full-fledged religion.

My favorite is the unceasing debate over Santa Claus. I find this discussion quite humorous. It’s as if all the evil in the world manifests itself in one make-believe man, and he is responsible for all things un-Jesus. I recently heard someone say that Jesus just can’t compete with Santa Claus. Why would kids choose Jesus when Santa is an option? Whoa, my friend! If this is the case, then I have one question: What Jesus are you giving your kids? The Jesus I know calms the sea, walks on water, heals the sick, rose from grave, conquered sin and death, and sets people free!! If your Jesus can’t compete with Santa, then maybe you have the wrong Jesus. Now don’t get me wrong, this is not a debate on whether or not you should celebrate Santa. Frankly, I don’t care if you do or not. I don’t care if you have an opinion on if I should celebrate it or not. But if the Jesus we are celebrating this Christmas can’t compete with Santa, then what hope is there for a world lost in darkness? What hope do we have for our brokenness, our addictions, our hopelessness, or our fears? Perhaps a baby in an manger can’t compete with Santa. But the incarnate God, word-become-flesh, death-conquering, life-giving, chain-breaking, life-giving, miracle-working, closer-than-your-skin, fear-shattering JESUS can compete with ANYTHING!! If you really want to use this argument, then we must apply it to the rest of life. Can your Jesus compete with your schedule...with sports...with your kids...your responsibilities...facebook...with the things that make you feel important? If he can’t, then we have the WRONG Jesus! Maybe that’s the problem, though. Maybe our kids see the baby in the manger and run to Santa because he’s more exciting. Maybe I do that too. After all, I can stare at the computer for an hour and claim to be too busy to spend time with the ONE who ransomed me from death.

I think that if we saw Jesus as HE REALLY IS, then we wouldn’t be so worried about everything else. This man, who came full of glory and grace, is not a feeble baby. Yes, he came as one, but that is not the Jesus I am celebrating this Christmas. Funny how he never asks us to remember him that way. Remember his death, yes. Remember his resurrection, with every breath. Maybe we like the baby in the manger. After all, a baby can be contained. A baby can be held. A baby can be controlled. I don’t want a Jesus who can be contained. I want the Jesus who went to hell and back for me. I am celebrating the Jesus who lives and breathes within me. I am celebrating the conquering hero who set me free from my fears, my insecurities, and my brokenness. I am celebrating the Jesus who rescued me from the kingdom of darkness and brought me into the kingdom of light.

What if we took all the fervor that magically appears in the month of December and actually applied it to our every-day lives? What if we stopped anticipating his coming that starry night, and began basking in his closeness right here and now? He is already here! What if we stopped living in preparation for his birth and started living with the giddy joy of a bride for the day he comes back for us!

However you celebrate Christmas is up to you. That’s the beauty of grace. There is no right way to worship. If your traditions bring you closer to the REAL Jesus, then do them with wild abandon. But, if your traditions make you feel more spiritual than someone else or entice you to believe that they will somehow make you more holy, then watch out! The thief comes to steal and destroy, especially by giving you religion instead of Jesus.

If we meet with the living, breathing, death-defying JESUS this Christmas, December 26th will be just as magical as December 25th. Do you remember the shepherds? Our nativity scenes show them looking fondly on the sweet baby Jesus. Maybe someone should make a nativity where the shepherds are running through the town SHOUTING THE GOOD NEWS!! That’s what happens when we encounter Jesus as he truly is. Life will never be the same.

Miracle

MIRACLE

The word flashed across the despair in my soul like lightning across a black sky.

This would be the year of miracles. A promise given to a desperate heart.

The word came to me as I cried out to God for answers. I always ask God what the next year will hold. He always tells me, although I never see it fulfilled until the end. So, when I asked him this past January what the year 2013 would hold, his whisper rang clearly in my heart. MIRACLE.

Five situations in my life desperately needed a miracle. Clinging to the promise of THE miracle worker, I hoped expectantly that each of these situations would be redeemed in the year 2013.

So I believed. This would be the year of miracles.

So I prayed. This would be the year of miracles.

So I waited. This would hopefully be the year of miracles.

So I grew impatient. Maybe it wouldn’t be the year of miracles.

So I gave up hope. This clearly wasn’t the year of miracles.

Not only have these miracles not come to pass, some of them seem more hopeless than before. God felt distant. Silent. Inattentive to my prayers. Uncaring of my plight.

I begged God to do something. Show me your power! I believe! I believe you can part the Red Sea. I believe you can tear down the walls of Jericho. I believe you can slay a giant. I believe that you can conquer any enemy that comes against me. But what I need you to do right now is perform a couple miracles in my life!!!

And then came the whispers of doubt. If he cared about me, he would do this for me. Why would he give me a promise only to leave me disappointed? These miracles aren’t just shallow wishes. Not some things that I think will make my life happier or easier. These are heart-breaking, gut-wrenching problems that are sucking the life out of me.

A stranger in church on Sunday told me to read the gospel of John. He said God wanted to show me how much he loves me through it. I would rather he show me how much he loves me by doing what I want him to do.

But I listened. I read. And I gaped at what I discovered.

John 2:11

This miraculous sign at Cana in Galilee was the first time Jesus revealed his glory. And his disciples believed in him.

John 2:23

Because of the miraculous signs Jesus did in Jerusalem at the Passover celebration, many began to trust in him.

John 3:2

Your miraculous signs are evidence that God is with you.

John 4:48

Jesus asked, “Will you never believe in me unless you see miraculous signs and wonders?”

And then the whisper that’s been silent for so long, broke into the silence.

My child, for a year and a half I’ve been teaching you that you don’t have to perform for me.

But why do I have to perform for you?

You don’t need to perform to earn my favor. Why must I perform to earn your trust?

You don’t need to perform to be deserving of my blessing. Why must I perform to be deserving of your praise?

You don’t need to perform to win my presence. Why must I perform to win your heart?

This is the year of miracles. But maybe the miracle he was talking about was the miracle that would take place in me. For to trust completely when there is no miracle is perhaps the greatest miracle of all.

The heart that believes in his goodness when nothing good is happening around us.

The heart that is whole when life breaks into pieces.

The faith that stands firm when dreams are shattered.

The strength to keep moving when the way is shrouded in darkness.

These are the miracles that God will perform when we are ready to receive them. But these are the miracles that happen because we want HIM and not what he will do for us.

These are the miracles that part red seas, tear down walls, slay giants, defeat armies, release captives, raise the dead, open the eyes of the blind, and calm the raging storm. These are the miracles that awaken a soul that has for too long slept waiting for a miracle.

Of course I couldn’t hear his voice the past few months.

We will never know his heart when our gaze is fixed on his hand.

I believe in THE great miracle worker, and I won’t stop believing that he will redeem the brokenness around me. But for now I rejoice because he is redeeming the brokenness within me. And that is a miracle only Yahweh can perform.

Jelly Beans and Jesus

I just might offend you with this post. Please forgive me if I do, but I can’t hold in what’s inside of me right now. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. I’m sad. The beauty of my Easter weekend has been tainted by well-meaning words. I just read a blog post by someone whose heart desires to live in the fullness of Christ. I wish this person no disrespect, but I am angry because of the words I just read.

It happens twice a year. Every Christmas and Easter, we are bombarded with how evil American commercialism is and how unspiritual we are if every moment of every day surrounding these holidays is not about Jesus. This past week plastic eggs suddenly became the symbol of all that is corrupt in this world. The words I read today told me that Easter dresses and plastic eggs take away from the true meaning of Easter, and that the money used should have gone to the poor people around the world. I didn’t buy Easter dresses for my kids. That’s not what frustrates me.

I’m frustrated because it doesn’t seem to fit my view of who Jesus is. When he walked this earth, he lived with his people. They went to parties. They ate fish. They sat on the beach. He told the spiritual people that they’d missed the point. Now don’t get me wrong, Easter is a beautiful day, and yes it is about Jesus. But so is making memories as a family. While we decorated eggs as a family, Jesus was there. While we hunted for the one egg no one could remember hiding, Jesus was there. While I ate half the mini-snickers that were supposed to go into the eggs, Jesus was there. While I fixed my four-year old’s hair with the new bow she received, telling her how much our Savior loves her, Jesus was there. He was also there when we did our devotions the week leading up to Easter. He was there when we talked about his sacrifice. He was there as the tears streamed down on Sunday morning singing “You make beautiful things out of the dust.” He was there because celebrating his resurrection means living in the fullness of our life with him. We went on a hike Sunday afternoon. That was just as spiritual as singing that morning in church. Why? Because his Presence is in me! That’s what Easter is about. He came to give us life—His life, in us.

So what do I do with what I’ve read? Do we live in excess in America? Absolutely. But I have a hard time with messages that tell us that we should stop spending and give to the starving children in Africa. You see, five years ago, we moved to Colorado and my husband couldn’t find a job. There were no jobs. We lived on food stamps. We paid our bills with credit cards. We knew how bad debt was, but we didn’t have a choice. Then my husband started a remodeling business. All those materialistic Americans who cared more about redoing their homes than the poor kept our roof over our heads. They put food on our table. I don’t know what we would have done if they hadn’t cared about getting new things for their homes. They could have chosen to give their money away. But their money saved our life.

So I live with this tension. How do I live my life as a drink offering poured out to Christ? Does hiding plastic eggs take away from his sacrifice? If so, then grace must not be as powerful as I thought. Can I sacrifice a new Easter dress to offer hope to a child living in poverty. Yes I can, and it’s actually not that difficult. It’s easy for me to give something up and write a check to a good cause. What truly requires sacrifice is taking time out of my day to talk with a hurting mom in my son’s class. It costs me something to expose my kids to “the world” in an effort to bring the love of Jesus to people hungry and thirsty for life. It’s easy for me to send money to someone I’ll never meet, but to watch a football game with a family whose values differ from ours is extremely difficult.

I’m not saying that one thing is more spiritual than another. All I’m saying is that the finger pointing needs to end. As soon as we start thinking that we are more spiritual than someone else because we give up more or do more, then we are no different from the Pharisees.

Yes, Easter is so much more than plastic eggs and chocolate bunnies. But if even we’re comparing the two, then we don’t realize just how big Jesus really is. I don’t think his invitation to grace is lessened by a few jelly beans. And who knows, maybe he can even use a jelly bean or a plastic egg to show how close he really is.

That’s the Jesus I believe in.

A Glimpse of Heaven

A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in the dust of Ethiopia. In the midst of the stench of poverty, heaven rained down on my feeble heart.

I didn’t want to go. Fear, my faithful friend, won the reigns of my mind yet again. And I fought going with every excuse imaginable. What about the kids…the house…the timing…the finances…All valid excuses. But when God is moving, it’s always best to join in the flow rather than fight his current. That didn’t stop me from fighting, though. I’ve actually become quite a proficient fighter. If only I could fight the enemy with the same passion that I fight my God.

So much to my chagrin, I found myself on the dusty soil of Ethiopia. The place my husband calls home—the farthest place I could imagine from my home. And it was here that the scales from my human eyes fell away. It wasn’t the beautiful landscape, although it was there in abundance. It wasn’t the amazing purpose I felt while I was there, although I will admit I felt more alive than I’ve felt in years. No, it was something completely unexpected that opened my eyes.

If fear is what holds us captive, then it’s always love that sets us free.

I planned for a lot of things for this trip. I planned for preventing malaria. I planned for stopping diarrhea. I planned for the weather, the time-change, and the food. I did not plan to fall in love.

But fall in love I did.

How do you describe what it feels like to be greeted by 20,000 people? People who don’t know you, but are desperate just to shake your hand. People so grateful for the good news of grace, they walk for days to celebrate what God has done.  They sleep on the grass and sit for hours, watching with exhilaration the culmination of God’s promise. Smiles so big, you melt in their warmth.

The dedication of a Bible school brought 21 Americans to Ethiopia. The dedication of a Bible school brought 20,000 Ethiopians to the small town of Yirgachafe. But it was love that brought us together. A love that is so deep, it reaches into the depths of our sinfulness. A love so wide, it covers the chasm our hopelessness. A love so high, it rains down healing for our brokenness.

That’s what happened on the dusty roads of Ethiopia. Rain poured down in the middle of the dry season. Rain poured down on weary hearts, regardless of the color of our faces. Heaven met earth with a sweet, intoxicating kiss. But this is only a taste. It's only the beginning. The feast is yet to come.

If we’ve stopped believing in a God of miracles, it isn’t because He doesn’t exist. It’s because we can’t see Him in our busyness and selfishness. A God of miracles demands our attention, but we’re too busy looking at ourselves, our problems, our dreams, and our disappointments. Or maybe we’re just simply too scared. We get comfortable in our captivity. Fear becomes our friend. Freedom means action. Freedom means moving out of the shadows and into the Light. But what if we like the shadows?

A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in Ethiopia. And with new eyes, I’m home again with my kids, my house, my time, and my finances. To believe in a God of miracles, it requires my attention. If I’m looking somewhere else, I will miss what He is doing. Will I succumb to my fear once more? Will I continue to fight against God, or will I engage in the battle for truth?

What do I do with what I’ve seen?

Well, I guess you’ll just have to stay tuned to find out!