The Real Christmas Tree

“Well, that’s different.” I thought to myself as I drove by the large cross stuck in the front lawn.  “Wait!  Is that blood?”  By the time I asked the question we had passed the house.  “That was strange,” I said to no one in particular.  Everyone in the car ignored me and the conversation turned to Christmas lights and holiday travel.   “Can we drive by that again?  Go around the block.” Straining my neck to see through the back window, I tapped my friend on the shoulder, “please?”  My friend sighed, “No Karen, let’s leave it, I don’t want to turn around.”  She looked at me apologetically.  “It was weird; you can see it next time.  It’s not hard to miss!”

My friend had a point.  It wasn’t often you saw a bloody cross posted on a main road.  I had never seen anything like it.  It was 1989 and I was spending my first December away from home.  Victoria was a beautiful city and I was enjoying watching it dress up for Christmas.  Lights, banners and ornaments were bursting from shop windows and sidewalk spaces.  Tinsel, ribbons and lights were everywhere; why did I care about one strange cross on someone’s lawn?  “Fine,” I sighed.  “But let’s go home that way if we can.”

 I made it back to the same spot a week later to ensure I had seen what I remembered.  I was right; it was a Christmas display unlike any I had seen.  To call it ugly might be unfair: solemn, stark and disturbing, but not ugly.   The cross was large and the wood aged by the island’s constant winter rain.  I remember the cross being draped in a white banner and red paint smudges where Jesus hands and feet would have been.  There was a white flood light at its base which caught the words, “And still He came.”  It was barren, simple and disconcerting.

I lived in Victoria for ten years and every Christmas I went out of my way to view that display.  It appeared at the end of November.  I wondered if the owner of the house on Shelbourne was tempted to scrap that cross and put up a Christmas tree instead.  “Leave the cross for Easter and decorate a tree buddy,” I thought. But every year, the cross would faithfully appear and to be honest, it brought a secret thrill to my soul.  I was unable to articulate it at the time, but I knew I was witnessing a form of rebellion.  This hideous cross was cramping Christmas’ style.  Something was screaming and I could not hear it clearly.

At this point in my story you need to know I love Christmas trees.  I do not love plastic trees.  If you have an artificial tree I can still love you, but while you are not looking I will lay hands on your tree and pray that next year your tree will live.  I am not put off by you telling me you hate pine needles in your carpet.  It means nothing to me that the plastic tree is the best thing that happened to your Christmas.  I don’t care if it was $3000 and you got it for $18 at a garage sale.  I am not fazed by the fact that you are allergic to trees and they make you sneeze.  I will still sit by your tree and agree with it in prayer, “Dear Jesus, next year make this tree a real boy.”

I tell you this darling friend, so that you are able to understand what I am going to say next. Would you walk with me a moment dear heart?  Could we use the language of pictures, memory and experience to allow the Lord to prepare our hearts for Christmas?

I have many precious Christmas memories.  I was given the gift of a childhood by my parents and I enjoy Christmas. But as I get older, I notice a battle brewing between the Christmas tree and the Cross.  I noticed the battle 24 years ago, when my friend on Shelbourne placed that unattractive cross on his front lawn.  He defiantly decorated it with red smudges and the words, “And still He came.”

Christmas can be difficult.   When the year draws to a close, the world of media starts it full on assault on our sanity.  The airwaves scream the message that a perfect Christmas is available for a price.  Satellites bombard the planet with messages of sales and sequins, trinkets and tinsel that will usher in great happiness and joy.  Decorate your Christmas tree, put presents under it, adorn your house with lights and the sickening loneliness of the season will disappear.  Worship at the altar of perfection and strive to belong to a class of happy folk.  Make the most perfectly, perfect Christmas tree and all will be well. 

The problem is the perfect Christmas tree doesn’t have room for me and many of the people I know.  My friends, who love Jesus daily with their weaknesses, don’t have lives that make perfect Christmas possible.  One has a mother who is a raging alcoholic, while the other struggles daily with a mentally ill brother.  One of my teachers is grieving the loss of her husband while another is in a season of such tempest, she fights hourly to hold on to faith.  Many of them are working hard to restore shattered relationships and set a good example for their children.  Grace, addiction, despair, unanswered prayer, hope, intercession, these are the words that decorate my community.  Thank heaven, thank Jesus, there is a tree for the likes of us to gather around and worship at this Christmas season.

Our Christmas tree is the cross.   Those who love Jesus and are suffering during this Christmas season are welcome underneath this tree.  Fear not, your brokenness will not diminish its glow.  Your shameful relative has a place in the very heart of Him who bled and died here.  The God of this tree is big enough to deal with your anxiety and pain.  We worship here because Jesus decided to leave the glory of heaven and to condescend to become Emmanuel, God with us.  He came knowing we would fail.  He came knowing that you would despair.  He came because He loves you.  He came knowing that He would be betrayed.  He came knowing that He would die a gruesome death.  He came knowing….and still He came……

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
 And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.
And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. Luke 2:8-14

   xoxKaren

Happy Birthday Friend

I wasn’t planning on spending your 40^th birthday in the emergency room.  I was going to bake you a cake!  I cannot claim to understand your love of frozen yogurt but I view cakes as a birthday necessity.  The required ingredients were sitting in my refrigerator and I had hidden chocolate for ganache icing.  When my third hour in the emergency room started, I realized I couldn’t make you a cake.   My Sunday was consumed by caring nurses and a drugged seven year old in an arm cast.  I had to come up with plan B. 

My thoughts wandered to gift possibilities.  Nothing seemed appropriate and I got frustrated.  I came to the conclusion I couldn’t get you what you wanted most for your birthday. I would give a great deal to stroll to your mailbox on a sunny afternoon and hand you a birthday card from your Mom. These last few years have taught me a lot about longing.   It is like an ache that sits at the back of your heart and resides no matter how you try to dislodge it. I wondered if you felt that way.
            
My Mum has a favorite saying, “fools walk where angels fear to tread.” She would often quote it to me when she figured I was going to launch into a well-intentioned project that was apt to end in disaster.  With her words ringing in my ears, I am writing you a birthday letter.

I wanted you to know that you are different; a rough way to start a letter of encouragement I agree.  I’m not even talking about the fact that you are descended from the raphaim.  People who experience deep sorrow stand out in a way; you cannot experience loss and stay the same. I’m here to tell you though, that you look great in different.

You are kind, and generous.  You cause yourself a great deal of hassle because you have a soft heart. No child who crosses your path goes ignored. Though your indecisiveness can drive me around the twist, you take up the struggle to involve as many young people as you can, so no tender hearts get bruised. Ministering to prepubescent hearts is like being a high school band teacher; a seven year run is expected before insanity comes knocking. I am unclear of your odds but my money is on you regardless.

You discuss food like it is a person. When you first wanted to, “introduce me to a lovely little breakfast casserole,” I figured that you had experienced brain damage at the hands of the food network.  I made a mental note to be patient and to try not to mock you.  As my monthly visits to your dinner table continued, I realized your kitchen is an extension of your heart. The Lord alone knows how many hours you spend in the kitchen cooking and loving on people who come into your house.   It is amazing to watch you willingly do all of these things.  

You love your family deeply and can't speak your brother’s name without smiling.  You text, drive, fly, host and email them constantly, gluing your clan together in every way you can. It isn’t always easy, but when it is hard you keep trying. Your kids show the signs of being well adjusted happy hearts, with personality and depth. Despite your tendency towards radical growth, you are lovely people.

I wish I met your Mom, friend. I wish we had a piece of cake together that Sunday. Though I have only seen a faded Polaroid, I know without a doubt, that your mother would be proud of you.  She would be proud of the mother you have become and who you are, different or not.

I pray blessings on you my dear, through this your fortieth year. I pray that singing would greet you in the mornings and that peace would flow like coffee through your home. More than anything, I pray joy on you this year, God’s endless, amazing, powerful joy.

             Those who sow with tears
             Will reap with songs of joy.
             Those who go out weeping
             Carrying seed to sow,
             Will return with songs of joy,
             Carrying sheaves with them.

Psalm 126:4-6

Much Love,

xoxK

Faithful Friends

I have a great group of friends.   Strangely, I got close to most of them after life threw my family a curve ball and we closed up our home.  Living the life of a nomad takes some skill, but with a solid core group of friends and family, my existence has become manageable.  All have a stash of my tea in their kitchen cupboards and have become used to my intense approach to life and faith.  I have contributed to the building of our relationships by giving them a front row seat to the myriad of bizarre situations that have come my way in the past two years.   Some of my antics have been so impressive that when my friends feel depressed or blue, they remember to say, “But thank you Jesus, I am not Karen and making the astonishing mistakes she makes.”    We seem to have achieved a balance that works.

Being humbled is not an easy thing to experience.  We feel caught out, exposed and want to hide.   We are reminded in scripture that if we,”humble {our} selves under God’s might hand, that he may lift {us} up in due time 1 Peter 5:6.”  That might not take away the sting of embarrassment in the moment but it provides consolation if we are willing to spend time with our feelings in prayer.

I am continually telling my children to “own it” when they do something wrong or make a mistake.  Only when we confess our failings, can the Lord come to our aid.  This verse has become a good friend during my stormy season.   When I am embarrassed that I cannot explain my circumstances, my trails or my mistakes, I am comforted that God oversees my successes and failures.  If I can stay in the place of humility and persevere, He will eventually turn the tide of events.   Nothing that I might find humbling or humiliating escapes His notice.

If I was a more Godly individual, I would not have found this next story so entertaining.  But as one who has been living life on the bottom of the food chain for a good couple years now, I found myself delighted when a dear friend called me with her tale of hysterical woe.  Suddenly, I had company. Someone else in my world was making ridiculous mistakes and having to ride out the consequences.  I was not the only idiot on the planet!  My heart was filled with love for my dear, dear friend because I could relate.

I am not clear how Eliazbeth managed to find me, when I think of it.  I was at my parent’s home in another country when she called.  I was stopping by their house for half and hour before I went on a long drive and my cell phone wasn’t working.  She caught me on my parent’s landline.
    
     “Karen, is that you?  Good.  I need a favour; can you get to your email?  Do you have your laptop?  You do?  Perfect!!  I need help.  I was doing a group mailing of my art photos to the church and I think I actually attached a letter that I wrote to my therapist!!!” 

I am not often at a loss for words, seldom am I left without a snappy retort.  Instantly, I was in a unique and rare moment.  Because I am incredibly discerning, I observed that my darling friend needed a peaceful and wise response.   And at that moment I failed completely.  All I could do was laugh – loudly - loudly and uncontrollably.

     “This is not funny! I need you to go online and tell me what I said!  I don’t even remember what issues I was discussing.  What on earth am I supposed to do?!!”

I was utterly undone by this point.  I think it was the stress, but I could not come up with a single word.  I just laughed harder, tears streaming down my face.  My dear friend has had a difficult life, but I know how she lives now.  She did not have any reason to be ashamed, embarrassed certainly, but not ashamed.    Thankfully, she started to giggle.  “What on earth are they going to think?  What should I say?”   At that moment, the scripture in 1 Peter came flooding back.

All of you clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble.”  6Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.   7Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.  8Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.  9Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.   10And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 11To him be the power forever and ever. Amen 1 Peter 5: 5-10.


Finally, I managed to breathe and speak.  “Oh my word!!  I am so sorry.  Look Liz, you might as well just step into a mistake like that and swing.  Send out another email and apologize, tell everyone you are embarrassed beyond words but that you are going to make the most of your nightmare moment.  You will give a $5 coffee card for the person whose response is the most similar to your therapist.  A second coffee card for $10 can go to anyone whose response is better than your therapist!  That way, at least you can get some good counsel out of it!  And think of all the people who will be praying for you now they know you are in therapy.   I am certain that God will use it for His good.”  With that sage advice, we were both lost in a fit of giggles, crying and hiccupping trying to contain ourselves.

Perhaps dear friend, you, like Liz and I, understand what it is like to be humbled.  You were following Jesus, when suddenly life took a steep turn downward and it caught you off guard.  The road shifted beneath your feet and you stumbled.  You are bruised and feeling foolish, unclear of what happens next.  May I remind you that you are in good company?   You are not the only person on the planet who has felt this way. No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it. 1 Cor 10:13 

Keep standing dear one.  Resist the urge to crumble and hide.  Go to prayer; ask for His grace and His mercy.  He is willing to give you both of these things and more.  Ask for wisdom and endurance to see the storm through.  You are precious to Him and He will walk the road with you.  He is a good and faithful friend.  He understands what it is to be humbled, He can help you.
    
      ... though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Phil 2:5-8

 It will not always feel awful, dear friend, though it might feel hideous right now.  It will get better and you will laugh again.

I am thinking of you,
xoxKB