Complicated Hope

There are few dates on the calendar that bring as many mixed emotions as this season of Christmas.  We declare thankfulness and appreciation for the Son of the Almighty while we rush from party to concert to work to home;  we bake cookies for neighbor we have not met and drop pennies into buckets to relieve the guilt we feel from the unnecessary purchases that weigh our backs.

In rare quiet moments, we each wrestle with our own Ghosts of Christmas – the past which is tinged with bitterness and gilded with warm memories;  the future which holds uncertainties we are afraid to confront; and, the present which holds painful wounds.   Perhaps we keep our social calendars over-committed so that we do not have to look into these mirrors of our selves.

I do not shout “bah! Humbug” at neighborhood children.  I do not kick dogs or spit on the elderly.   Nor do I consider myself a realist for I love the fantasy world of elves and snowmen and Jack Frost.

This month of Celebration, I have watched three different films around Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol.”   This has been due in part to the beautiful writing of “The Man Who Invented Christmas”, the amazing CGI of Disney and, equally responsible, a trip we are taking to London in which our hotel is a 5-minute walk from Mr. Dickens’ home.    Regardless to the Why, the result has been the realization – we all have Ghosts.

The Ghost I have wrestled with tonight is the Past.   Though not of Christmas’s Past, this Ghost of the Past has gripped my heart with fear over what The Future may hold and what failures The Present chains me to the status quo.

Our church has been challenged to look at Christmas in a new way this year.  Instead of Thanksgiving as the beginning of the Christmas season, we have been challenged with daily gratitude confessions to see Christmas as the culmination of the Thanksgiving Season.   Is there any gift which deserves our thanks as the Child of the Manager?  This tiny infant who made our access to God immediate and, most importantly, intimate?

Whereas the Ghost of the Past has been lying to me that my story is unimportant, my guidance ineffective and my words harmful, the Christ of the Manager has been whispering:

I Am Your Story.

He is The God of My Christmas Past – in the laughter at my Grandparent’s house;  the guests  at our family table;  at the small gifts during the lean years and the surprises when dollars were scarce.

He is the God of My Future –  where loved ones are missing and new faces claim chairs around the table;  where adventure replaces fear and joy overwhelms pain.

He is the God of My Present – when the Why and the How and the When and the How Much Longer converge into a heap of chaos and He covers me with Wings of Quiet.   He alone gives me peace and directs my feet along this path.  His path.

Embrace the Chaos.  Welcome your Ghosts.  Let them come in and sit and then ask God to reveal His truth this Christmas Day.