Yah, I'm still here. It's Christmas night. I'm at the kitchen bar in Dad and Sue's new cabin. This is the house that I spent many hours staining and sealing wood for last summer. It's pretty fantastic. My favorite part is the great room, with a big stone fireplace, the eastern-facing windows, and the views of the fields, the woods, and the house I grew up in, just a couple hundred yards away.
This is Christmas weekend two of three. Because of my (stupid and annoying) work schedule, I'm driving back and forth from DeKalb each weekend so that I can be a part of celebrating the holidays with my friends and family here. In spite of the 12 hour round trip, I'm happy to be able to come home.
Yesterday I went to the Christmas Eve service at church. I loved every blessed thing about it. Seeing friends. Listening to the choir. Remembering past years of Christmas Eve services...26 past years, in fact. And pondering the astonishing reason we gathered.
God with us. Emmanuel.
As I plod my way through my time in DeKalb, I think about Jesus, and his time on earth. Did he want to come to earth? I mean, I'm sure he wanted to save us. I mean, who wouldn't want to save me, right? But just because he was supportive of the ends doesn't mean he liked the means.
From heaven to earth? That's quite a jump. And not really a cool place on earth. Not like Monte Carlo or Paris or even, perhaps, the heartland of northwestern Ohio. Palestine. One of many lands defeated and ruled by the Roman Empire. Conquered and festering in their helpless bitterness over the foreign rule.
Jesus was born into a poor family in a nation of poverty and impotence. And in case that wasn't enough, he was born into the furious gossip and rumors concerning the situation of his birth. His young mother, unwed at his conception. Did anyone know she claimed God was the father? Cause I'm guessing THAT story went over like a lead balloon. Or maybe, anticipating the disbelief, she left people to assume what they would. Either way, no doubt Jesus started out with less than a spotless reputation.
All this, after leaving (please catch this) heaven. And not just the heaven that we expect or imagine...golden streets (probably won't seem quite so cool when we finally see them), worship God, reuniting with loved ones, checking out our new room in the mansion. That would be a pretty big change. But Jesus' change was bigger. Because He is God. And he went from being known as God to being totally unknown. Unknown except as the illegitimate son of an insignificant carpenter family in an dusty, forgotten corner of the Roman world.
That's...wow. He's just hours old, and already such a huge sacrifice. Yah, He's God, so he's into sacrifice and all. Plus there's the love thing. I mean, do you KNOW how much Jesus loves you? Us? It's pretty astonishing. But even that kind of amazing love...even still, that would be a tough move.
Not that it makes me happy that I've had to move three states away to a place where I know no one and a job that I don't care for. But Jesus' move was tough enough to at least bring some measure of perspective to my situation. And a reminder that in this, as in all things, Jesus should be my pattern.
No doubt, he hated a lot of aspects of his move from heaven to Nazareth. But He was doing what needed to be done. And he wasn't doing it with a sour expression and a superior attitude, even though he was QUITE superior to every person he ever encountered. I bet he was focused on his mission. Focused on loving the people around him. On looking for ways to love people and meet their needs, and show them his Father.
And so. Jesus is my model. Or rather, he should be. I'm ashamed to say that I haven't done a great job of looking for ways to love people and show them my Father since I've been in DeKalb. But it's time, you know? It's time to get over it. I hate being there. I hate the situation I'm in, but that's where God has put me for now, and I'm going to stop wasting my life, waiting for the better thing to happen. I'm going to keep praying that God will move me home, but in the meantime, I'm going to commit again to looking for ways to serve and love the people around me. (and in the interest of full disclosure, I'm going to hope that THIS is the lesson God's been trying to teach me and now that I've finally learned it, I'll get to come home! It can't hurt to hope, right?)
1 comment:
Thanks for your insightful and honest post. I enjoyed reading it and can connect with much of it.
Your dad's cabin sounds wonderful.
Merry Christmas, Les.
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