Today is my last day at work before a much-anticipated week off with my family at home. My mind is full of questions these days. Not about Christ so much as what it means for me and my family to live for him. I have been praying for Peace on Earth to be known and felt in my home, and am looking forward to Advent - the coming of our Lord.
So may you put down your smoking Visa. Step out of line at the mall. Speak kindly to family that you don't see very often. And trust that Emmanuel - God with us - has come. You are loved.
I am going to take a break for a few days from posting, and wanted to leave you with the words to an Andrew Peterson song that has moved me this week. It's from his musical "Behold the Lamb of God: The True Tale of the Coming of Christ." Peace be with you, and Merry Christmas!
Labor of Love
from "Behold the Lamb of God"
Words and music by Andrew Peterson
It was not a silent night
There was blood on the ground
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love
©2004 Andrew Peterson
Friday, December 21, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Gladdened Hearts
During the 2006 Collins family vacation, my friend Paul introduced me to Chimay. You can read about it here. But my post today is not necessarily about beer. Let me explain.
Last weekend, I was invited to share in community. In the midst of the stress, hustle and bustle of Christmas (see earlier posts on this), my friend Brian gave me a wonderful gift. The gift actually had an obvious component and a not-so-obvious component. On Friday night, my family was at Brian’s home, enjoying a visit, when Brian said that he had a gift for me. It was given with no expectation of receiving anything back in return. It was a silver bag that contained a warm bottle of Chimay for me to take home. Not stopping there, Brian went to his fridge and pulled out a cold bottle and asked if I would share it with him. Well, of course I said “yes.”
I was telling my friend Guy about this unexpected, wonderful gift and how it was so enjoyable. Guy, as is typical of him, sees more than most of us. On the Chimay website, the monks speak of how it is their hope that Chimay “gladdens the heart of man.” Then Guy asked, “Do you think it’s just coincidence that from one bottle of Chimay you get 2 full pint glasses of beer? Do you think they intended for that bottle to be shared?”
Beyond the obvious gift of the beer (as good as it is!), was the not-so-obvious gift of sharing life. For a moment, two pints of beer were poured from a single bottle. The bottle was shared. The beer, as intended, gladdened the heart of two men. Not that they were inebriated in any way. But they enjoyed something that was created for them specifically to enjoy. And that enjoyment spilled over into some good conversation, some laughter, and before you knew it, talk of a mission trip to Mexico.
So my Holiday wish for you might be this: that in the midst of what we’ve allowed Christmas to become, that you would find a friend to slow down with and share a moment. A moment to breath deep. To dream. To be real. To be honest. To laugh. To cry if need be. To share life, together.
Those moments are what make us truly blessed.
Last weekend, I was invited to share in community. In the midst of the stress, hustle and bustle of Christmas (see earlier posts on this), my friend Brian gave me a wonderful gift. The gift actually had an obvious component and a not-so-obvious component. On Friday night, my family was at Brian’s home, enjoying a visit, when Brian said that he had a gift for me. It was given with no expectation of receiving anything back in return. It was a silver bag that contained a warm bottle of Chimay for me to take home. Not stopping there, Brian went to his fridge and pulled out a cold bottle and asked if I would share it with him. Well, of course I said “yes.”
I was telling my friend Guy about this unexpected, wonderful gift and how it was so enjoyable. Guy, as is typical of him, sees more than most of us. On the Chimay website, the monks speak of how it is their hope that Chimay “gladdens the heart of man.” Then Guy asked, “Do you think it’s just coincidence that from one bottle of Chimay you get 2 full pint glasses of beer? Do you think they intended for that bottle to be shared?”
Beyond the obvious gift of the beer (as good as it is!), was the not-so-obvious gift of sharing life. For a moment, two pints of beer were poured from a single bottle. The bottle was shared. The beer, as intended, gladdened the heart of two men. Not that they were inebriated in any way. But they enjoyed something that was created for them specifically to enjoy. And that enjoyment spilled over into some good conversation, some laughter, and before you knew it, talk of a mission trip to Mexico.
So my Holiday wish for you might be this: that in the midst of what we’ve allowed Christmas to become, that you would find a friend to slow down with and share a moment. A moment to breath deep. To dream. To be real. To be honest. To laugh. To cry if need be. To share life, together.
Those moments are what make us truly blessed.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Spurgeon Quote
He who lives without prayer, he who lives with little prayer, he who seldom reads the Word, and he who seldom looks up to heaven for a fresh influence from on high - he will be the man whose heart will become dry and barren.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Let's Do Life
"The old paradigm of evangelism was a transactional sharing of the gospel. I would try to get people to intellectually agree with me. But the new paradigm is different, an approach in which I invite you to walk alongside me, examine my life, and see evidence of the truth, and hopefully there will be something compelling that you see. It's a no-strings-attached invitation to enter my life as I follow Jesus."
-Ken Fong is the senior pastor of Evergreen Baptist Church of Los Angeles
-Ken Fong is the senior pastor of Evergreen Baptist Church of Los Angeles
Good Advice
'Danger: Avoid Death' Notice on Small Tractor Is Wacky Warning Label Contest Winner - to read the entire article, click here.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Imagination, Inspiration and Interpretation
I recently had an interesting conversation with my friend Jody. We were talking about music and music videos. We both agreed that videos rob a song of its imagery and creative impact. I mentioned how if I read a poem to a group of people that described, say, a flower, each person in that group would likely have a different image of what that flower "looked" like. Yet, if I put those words into a video format, then whatever I "see" the flower to be is the mental image that all who see the video will have. And not only then when they first see the video, but each time that they would read the original poem the mental image that popped into your head would match what the video showed us the flower looked like. The creativity of making a video actually can hinder the imagination of those touched by the song that the video represents.
All of this moved me to consider the role of interpretation and the teaching of Christ's words. I have participated in group exercises of the spiritual practice known as Lectio Divina. Each time, I leave those sessions astounded at how the same text can have so many meanings to different people. Encompassing all of this is the importance of the Holy Spirit. It is critical that the Spirit of Christ be present so that Scripture not be interpreted in a way that is abusive or harmful. It is encouraging to me to remember that God's word is living and active, and has meaning and relevance for each of our lives. Truly, the Word became Flesh and dwelt among us. And He still dwells among us yet today.
A conversation about old MTV videos leads me to . . . Emmanuel, God with us. AMEN.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
John Piper on "Worship"
"The essence of worship lies in our mind’s true vision of God and our spirit’s authentic affections for God. This means that whenever we display the worth of God by words or actions that flow from a spirit that treasures him as he really is, we are worshipping in spirit and truth. We may be at work or at home or at church. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we see the glory of God in Jesus (truth), and we treasure him above all else (spirit), and then we overflow by treating others with self-sacrificing love for their good. Few things display the beauty of God more. For followers of Jesus, therefore, all of life should be this kind of worship."
~ John Piper, in What Jesus Demands of the World
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Putting the St. Nick Back in Christmas
The following article came from the e-newsletter "850 Words of Relevant" (for more info on Relevant, check out the Relevant Magazine site here.)
So, what do you think? Drop a comment and let me know.
It’s complicated. Like Keith Richards, the Santa legend is ancient, murky, and fairly disturbing. The cuddly version — grandfatherly St. Nick employing elfin labor to make toys for the children of the world — is only the latest in a long line of iterations. Santa has evolved.
The original Saint Nicholas was a Christian bishop in 4th-century Myra, geographically located in modern-day Turkey. As an adult, Nicholas gained a reputation as a generous man and the protector of innocents. These saintly traits largely arose from two horrific legends, both of which eventually led to his canonization.
The first is said to have occurred during a terrible famine. A local butcher, in need of something to sell, lured three unsuspecting boys into his shop. He killed the boys, chopped them into pieces, then stuffed their remains in a brine tub, hoping to cure them enough that he could sell the parts as ham. Nicholas was visiting the afflicted region at the time of the crime. Somehow Nicholas became aware of the butcher’s wicked deed. He visited the shop, uncovered the crime, and hastily reassembled the three boys. They came back to life, a bit salty but otherwise in good health. Despite the happy ending, it’s not exactly the kind of story that gets told at the Christmas Eve candlelight service.
In the second legend, a poor citizen of Myra had three daughters, but not enough money to afford a dowry for them. No dowry meant no marriage, and unmarried women in those days generally had one career choice: prostitution. The father was less than thrilled by this possibility, but too proud to ask for help. Nicholas discovered the family’s predicament the night before the first daughter came of age. Not wanting to embarrass anyone, he approached the family’s house late one night and tossed a bag of gold through an opened window. He did the same thing the night before the second daughter came of age. Both gifts were enough to cover the dowry, and both girls were spared the consequence of their poverty.
Before long, the third daughter was ready to marry, and the appreciative father wanted to find out who was behind the lavish gifts. When the time came, the father hid next to the window, hoping to catch their anonymous benefactor in the act. Nicholas learned of the father’s plan and improvised: Instead of lobbing it through the window, he dropped the third bag of gold down the chimney.
It wasn’t long before people began to suspect that the kindly bishop Nicholas, who had inherited money from his affluent parents, was behind these mysterious actions and a great many other secretive gifts to the poor. After he died of old age on December 6, 343 AD the people of Myra continued providing for those in need. In fact, they made a practice of giving gifts anonymously, always attributing them to the late Bishop Nicholas.
Before long, the bishop — who had worn liturgical robes of red and white — was canonized as a saint. Saint Nicholas became venerated as the protector of innocents, the patron saint of children, and a secret giver of gifts.
Of course, the traditional American idea of Santa Claus — along with his British/Canadian counterpart, Father Christmas — originates in the stories surrounding Nicholas of Myra. As far as saints go, St. Nick was especially venerated in the Netherlands, where he became known by the Dutch variant Sinterklaas. When the Dutch came to the New World and settled in New Amsterdam (today’s New York City), they brought with them the story of the now-anglicized “Santa Claus.”
And as is our custom, we Americans made the story bigger and gaudier, tacking on details from several unrelated sources. The karmic idea of rewarding good kids and punishing naughty children is rooted in old Norse folktales. The stuff about the reindeer and Santa’s sleigh got added once Clement Moore’s poem, “Twas The Night Before Christmas,” swept the nation in the early 1800s. Decades later, the magazine Harper’s Weekly commissioned several Thomas Nast engravings which depicted Santa in his workshop, reading letters and checking lists. The legend grew.
And here we are today. Kids leave cookies near the fireplace, parents are careful to preserve bootprints in the ashes, and Santa has transitioned into the 21st century. No longer does he oversee the building of simple wooden toys in his elf-staffed workshop. Nope. These days, little boys and girls — whether they’re good or bad, or rich or poor — probably expect Santa to drop a new iPod Nano in their stocking. Or, at the very least, the High School Musical 2 DVD. A wooden toy train? Unthinkable.
You have to feel for St. Nick. The legendary protector of children and distributor of anonymous gifts to the poor has turned into a victim of the worst kind of western entitlement and consumerism. Kids are more demanding. Chimneys are smaller. Families are leaving skim milk and low-fat cookies instead of the real stuff. It’s hard out there for a right jolly old elf. Somewhere deep within the folds of Santa’s suit, we’ve lost the story of St. Nick.
I’m always an advocate for stripping away the Santa Claus stuff at Christmastime and focusing on Jesus. But there’s a wide chasm between baby Jesus and Santa Claus, and maybe it’s a lot to ask a Christianity-averse culture to make that long journey from one side to the other.
Perhaps a better idea is to move them toward the middle by resurrecting Saint Nicholas of Myra. Annoyed with all the Jesus talk? Don’t want to celebrate Christ at Christmas? Fine. Then let’s celebrate someone else. Let’s talk about the 4th-century dude who kept little boys from grisly deaths and kept little girls out of the sex trade. Let’s talk about the revered religious figure who freed those in bondage, who restored life to the lifeless, and who refused to overlook the suffering of the innocent. Let’s talk about the man of God who gave out of his prosperity, who dispensed grace with no strings attached, who lived to bless those trapped in poverty.
Let’s talk about Saint Nicholas, the Bishop of Myra, Sinterklaas 1.0.Because when we peel away the red robes and silly hat and centuries of tradition, we might just see something, in the Santa legend, that we Christians recognize: It’s the Gospel. It’s the Good News. It’s the face of Jesus. It’s hope for the hopeless, liberty for the captives, abundance for the poor.
Maybe the distance between the North Pole and Bethlehem isn’t so great after all.
This story has been adapted from an article that originally ran in issue 30 of RELEVANT.
Author: Jason Boyett Jason Boyett is the author of Pocket Guide to the Bible and several other books.
So, what do you think? Drop a comment and let me know.
It’s complicated. Like Keith Richards, the Santa legend is ancient, murky, and fairly disturbing. The cuddly version — grandfatherly St. Nick employing elfin labor to make toys for the children of the world — is only the latest in a long line of iterations. Santa has evolved.
The original Saint Nicholas was a Christian bishop in 4th-century Myra, geographically located in modern-day Turkey. As an adult, Nicholas gained a reputation as a generous man and the protector of innocents. These saintly traits largely arose from two horrific legends, both of which eventually led to his canonization.
The first is said to have occurred during a terrible famine. A local butcher, in need of something to sell, lured three unsuspecting boys into his shop. He killed the boys, chopped them into pieces, then stuffed their remains in a brine tub, hoping to cure them enough that he could sell the parts as ham. Nicholas was visiting the afflicted region at the time of the crime. Somehow Nicholas became aware of the butcher’s wicked deed. He visited the shop, uncovered the crime, and hastily reassembled the three boys. They came back to life, a bit salty but otherwise in good health. Despite the happy ending, it’s not exactly the kind of story that gets told at the Christmas Eve candlelight service.
In the second legend, a poor citizen of Myra had three daughters, but not enough money to afford a dowry for them. No dowry meant no marriage, and unmarried women in those days generally had one career choice: prostitution. The father was less than thrilled by this possibility, but too proud to ask for help. Nicholas discovered the family’s predicament the night before the first daughter came of age. Not wanting to embarrass anyone, he approached the family’s house late one night and tossed a bag of gold through an opened window. He did the same thing the night before the second daughter came of age. Both gifts were enough to cover the dowry, and both girls were spared the consequence of their poverty.
Before long, the third daughter was ready to marry, and the appreciative father wanted to find out who was behind the lavish gifts. When the time came, the father hid next to the window, hoping to catch their anonymous benefactor in the act. Nicholas learned of the father’s plan and improvised: Instead of lobbing it through the window, he dropped the third bag of gold down the chimney.
It wasn’t long before people began to suspect that the kindly bishop Nicholas, who had inherited money from his affluent parents, was behind these mysterious actions and a great many other secretive gifts to the poor. After he died of old age on December 6, 343 AD the people of Myra continued providing for those in need. In fact, they made a practice of giving gifts anonymously, always attributing them to the late Bishop Nicholas.
Before long, the bishop — who had worn liturgical robes of red and white — was canonized as a saint. Saint Nicholas became venerated as the protector of innocents, the patron saint of children, and a secret giver of gifts.
Of course, the traditional American idea of Santa Claus — along with his British/Canadian counterpart, Father Christmas — originates in the stories surrounding Nicholas of Myra. As far as saints go, St. Nick was especially venerated in the Netherlands, where he became known by the Dutch variant Sinterklaas. When the Dutch came to the New World and settled in New Amsterdam (today’s New York City), they brought with them the story of the now-anglicized “Santa Claus.”
And as is our custom, we Americans made the story bigger and gaudier, tacking on details from several unrelated sources. The karmic idea of rewarding good kids and punishing naughty children is rooted in old Norse folktales. The stuff about the reindeer and Santa’s sleigh got added once Clement Moore’s poem, “Twas The Night Before Christmas,” swept the nation in the early 1800s. Decades later, the magazine Harper’s Weekly commissioned several Thomas Nast engravings which depicted Santa in his workshop, reading letters and checking lists. The legend grew.
And here we are today. Kids leave cookies near the fireplace, parents are careful to preserve bootprints in the ashes, and Santa has transitioned into the 21st century. No longer does he oversee the building of simple wooden toys in his elf-staffed workshop. Nope. These days, little boys and girls — whether they’re good or bad, or rich or poor — probably expect Santa to drop a new iPod Nano in their stocking. Or, at the very least, the High School Musical 2 DVD. A wooden toy train? Unthinkable.
You have to feel for St. Nick. The legendary protector of children and distributor of anonymous gifts to the poor has turned into a victim of the worst kind of western entitlement and consumerism. Kids are more demanding. Chimneys are smaller. Families are leaving skim milk and low-fat cookies instead of the real stuff. It’s hard out there for a right jolly old elf. Somewhere deep within the folds of Santa’s suit, we’ve lost the story of St. Nick.
I’m always an advocate for stripping away the Santa Claus stuff at Christmastime and focusing on Jesus. But there’s a wide chasm between baby Jesus and Santa Claus, and maybe it’s a lot to ask a Christianity-averse culture to make that long journey from one side to the other.
Perhaps a better idea is to move them toward the middle by resurrecting Saint Nicholas of Myra. Annoyed with all the Jesus talk? Don’t want to celebrate Christ at Christmas? Fine. Then let’s celebrate someone else. Let’s talk about the 4th-century dude who kept little boys from grisly deaths and kept little girls out of the sex trade. Let’s talk about the revered religious figure who freed those in bondage, who restored life to the lifeless, and who refused to overlook the suffering of the innocent. Let’s talk about the man of God who gave out of his prosperity, who dispensed grace with no strings attached, who lived to bless those trapped in poverty.
Let’s talk about Saint Nicholas, the Bishop of Myra, Sinterklaas 1.0.Because when we peel away the red robes and silly hat and centuries of tradition, we might just see something, in the Santa legend, that we Christians recognize: It’s the Gospel. It’s the Good News. It’s the face of Jesus. It’s hope for the hopeless, liberty for the captives, abundance for the poor.
Maybe the distance between the North Pole and Bethlehem isn’t so great after all.
This story has been adapted from an article that originally ran in issue 30 of RELEVANT.
Author: Jason Boyett Jason Boyett is the author of Pocket Guide to the Bible and several other books.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
What Would Jesus Buy?
Just a head's up - this is likely to be kind of a jumbled post. This whole idea of "what would Jesus buy" is something that Rachelle and I have wrestled with for a long time, and even though we might be getting closer to some answers (at least for our family), we really aren't much closer to doing anything about it. Again, just a head's up for you, in the event that in the middle of reading this, you find yourself going "Say what?"
How many of you reading this now begin to feel stressed out when the Holidays roll around each year? Maybe even just reading that sentence caused your chest to tighten up a bit! I've noticed the last couple of years that it's really not Thanksgiving that makes me dread "the season." It's Christmas - or what we've made Christmas out to be - that makes me feel like Scrooge. The official "Christmas Holiday Season" begins with something that's been dubbed "Black Friday." How encouraging and uplifting is that?
How 'bout the commercial where the family drives up in front of Grandma's house, wave, and then drive off? The whole thrust is for more money to be spent on themselves, and not shared. [And we laugh!] Or the commercial where the mom is showing the dad all of the relatives on her supercool phone? The deal there is that we don't even know our own families anymore! [And again, we laugh!]
We laugh at commercials like those because they remind us of ourselves. Seriously. We've begun making the dreaded "list." You know, where we write down everyone's name, and then what we want to buy for them (within the preset agreed upon limit, of course). Here is where the wheels start to fall off. People don't know their relatives well enough to know what kind of gift they would like or appreciate. So, the ones who at least care about trying to get something meaningful for a gift pick up the phone [Who am I kidding? We email people so we don't have to actually talk to them!] and call, asking "So, what is Little Timmy into these days?"
Those who really aren't concerned with meaningful gifts play the guessing game. They either hit the after Christmas sales and guess how big Little Timmy will be in 12 months so they can buy him clothes (that he won't need), or they just assume that since Little Timmy is a boy, he will like this boy toy. Impersonal, yes. But you can rack up a big gift count on the same preset spending limit; and let me tell you - isn't that important, to have lots of stuff?
All of this just sickens Rachelle and I. It's not that we're anti-gift. I truly love to get someone a personal, meaningful gift (and who am I kidding? I love to get them too!). The key is "personal" and "meaningful." We have talked about taking the money that we spend on gifts, and donating it to a homeless shelter or helping provide fresh-water wells in Africa. How do you think folks would respond if they open up a card from the Collins', and it says, "Your gift this year is helping provide life-giving clean water to a child in Rwanda - Merry Christmas!"
Here's the deal - PEOPLE IN AMERICA DON'T NEED ANYTHING. I realize that there are exceptions. But if you don't believe me, just look at your closets. Or really look at your kids' room. I bet they have so many toys that your house has a designated "play room" because their bedroom won't hold them all. Right? We've told our kids that this year's Christmas is going to be different gift-wise (we aren't spending as much), but I can already tell that the idea hasn't sunk in to their sweet little heads. Should be a fun morning at our house . . .
* Pause . . . followed by a sigh *
I promise that I'm not sitting here in a green furry suit with a heart 2 sizes too small. But don't you ever just want to scream "STOP!!!" If you have, check out these links and the video clip. And say a prayer for not just the Collins family, but for all of those that claim the name of Christ, that we would remember the story of Christmas and allow it to shape and mold us into who God would have us be. Maybe that's the best gift we can give this world.
USA Today recently ran a great article that let me know that I'm not alone in my frustration. You can read the article here.
If you have had ENOUGH and want to find out how to stop the madness of consumeristic Christmas, here is a great movement inspired by folks who are trying to recapture the truth of Advent. It's called Advent Conspiracy. It is my hope that my family, as well as my church, will engage in this "conspiracy" of love in the days ahead.
Lastly, Morgan Spurlock, the genius behind Super Size Me and the FX series 30 Days, has produced a half documentary, half comic spoof that nails consumeristic America. It's called "What Would Jesus Buy?" Take a look at the trailer:
How many of you reading this now begin to feel stressed out when the Holidays roll around each year? Maybe even just reading that sentence caused your chest to tighten up a bit! I've noticed the last couple of years that it's really not Thanksgiving that makes me dread "the season." It's Christmas - or what we've made Christmas out to be - that makes me feel like Scrooge. The official "Christmas Holiday Season" begins with something that's been dubbed "Black Friday." How encouraging and uplifting is that?
How 'bout the commercial where the family drives up in front of Grandma's house, wave, and then drive off? The whole thrust is for more money to be spent on themselves, and not shared. [And we laugh!] Or the commercial where the mom is showing the dad all of the relatives on her supercool phone? The deal there is that we don't even know our own families anymore! [And again, we laugh!]
We laugh at commercials like those because they remind us of ourselves. Seriously. We've begun making the dreaded "list." You know, where we write down everyone's name, and then what we want to buy for them (within the preset agreed upon limit, of course). Here is where the wheels start to fall off. People don't know their relatives well enough to know what kind of gift they would like or appreciate. So, the ones who at least care about trying to get something meaningful for a gift pick up the phone [Who am I kidding? We email people so we don't have to actually talk to them!] and call, asking "So, what is Little Timmy into these days?"
Those who really aren't concerned with meaningful gifts play the guessing game. They either hit the after Christmas sales and guess how big Little Timmy will be in 12 months so they can buy him clothes (that he won't need), or they just assume that since Little Timmy is a boy, he will like this boy toy. Impersonal, yes. But you can rack up a big gift count on the same preset spending limit; and let me tell you - isn't that important, to have lots of stuff?
All of this just sickens Rachelle and I. It's not that we're anti-gift. I truly love to get someone a personal, meaningful gift (and who am I kidding? I love to get them too!). The key is "personal" and "meaningful." We have talked about taking the money that we spend on gifts, and donating it to a homeless shelter or helping provide fresh-water wells in Africa. How do you think folks would respond if they open up a card from the Collins', and it says, "Your gift this year is helping provide life-giving clean water to a child in Rwanda - Merry Christmas!"
Here's the deal - PEOPLE IN AMERICA DON'T NEED ANYTHING. I realize that there are exceptions. But if you don't believe me, just look at your closets. Or really look at your kids' room. I bet they have so many toys that your house has a designated "play room" because their bedroom won't hold them all. Right? We've told our kids that this year's Christmas is going to be different gift-wise (we aren't spending as much), but I can already tell that the idea hasn't sunk in to their sweet little heads. Should be a fun morning at our house . . .
* Pause . . . followed by a sigh *
I promise that I'm not sitting here in a green furry suit with a heart 2 sizes too small. But don't you ever just want to scream "STOP!!!" If you have, check out these links and the video clip. And say a prayer for not just the Collins family, but for all of those that claim the name of Christ, that we would remember the story of Christmas and allow it to shape and mold us into who God would have us be. Maybe that's the best gift we can give this world.
USA Today recently ran a great article that let me know that I'm not alone in my frustration. You can read the article here.
If you have had ENOUGH and want to find out how to stop the madness of consumeristic Christmas, here is a great movement inspired by folks who are trying to recapture the truth of Advent. It's called Advent Conspiracy. It is my hope that my family, as well as my church, will engage in this "conspiracy" of love in the days ahead.
Lastly, Morgan Spurlock, the genius behind Super Size Me and the FX series 30 Days, has produced a half documentary, half comic spoof that nails consumeristic America. It's called "What Would Jesus Buy?" Take a look at the trailer:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)