He Showed Up

 

 

And there you have it … the significance and meaning behind Christmas. Wrapped up nice and tidy! He showed up.

 

Several years ago, one of my favorite pastors preached a sermon with this title. It was one of his finest. The simple message resonated very deeply within me. 

 

God, in his infinite mercy and boundless love for mankind, showed up.

 

He made it possible for me, for you, for anyone else who so chooses, to have an avenue directly into His kingdom.

 

God didn’t have to do this, you know. He did it because He truly does love you beyond all reason and good sense. He cares about you – every single hair on your little head – in ways that you’ll never comprehend. Cares about your spouse, your kids, your parents, the mean old lady in your neighborhood … everybody.

 

So, He sent his Son, our Savior, Jesus. Emmanuel. Hope. Light in a dark world. However you wish to describe Him.

 

God put Him (Jesus) on Earth to literally create a “bridge,” if you will, across the great chasm between us, down here, and God, up there.

 

You see, we are imperfect, all of us. Flawed. Goofed up. Messed up. Broken. Sinners. Scum. Unclean. Unacceptable. Downright filth.

 

Only perfect, sinless, spotless, pure things can ever get close enough to reside with God, our creator. And in our natural states, none of us qualifies. We’re all losers in that regard.

 

But … there is hope. A way. A promise. An outstretched hand.

 

That way is Jesus.

 

God put Him here, to “bridge” the chasm of sin between us and Himself. Jesus – and only Jesus – can make you and me acceptable unto God. Cleanse us. Rid us of our sins. And make us worthy to enter God’s Kingdom. If you ask Him, Jesus will gladly bear the burden of your personal sins, take them on Himself, and vanquish them forever, so that you – unworthy, undeserving you – can be presentable unto God.

 

Pretty cool, huh?

 

So yes, that’s what Christmas is all about. For real. No kidding.

 

He showed up.

 

And through Him, you may now have eternal life. Period. End of offer. No strings attached. He only wants you to believe, admit you’re a sinner, and commit.

 

Sure, I love Christmas fudge (you may read about that elsewhere on these pages), Christmas trees, decorations, lights, music especially, giving gifts, my wife’s famous Christmas cookies, etc., etc., etc. That’s all wonderful and good stuff. And God wants us to enjoy it. We’re supposed to have fun – He wants you to be happy, believe it or not!

 

But underneath it all? Behind it all? Whichever way you wish to look at it, lies the simple, pure, often-unspoken nugget of truth to his overblown holiday:

 

He showed up.

 

Merry Christmas, y'all. 

_____

 

(If you have questions about this simple notion, please, let me know, or ask someone nearby to explain it to you – a pastor, a priest, a counselor, etc. Or contact me. Seriously. I mean it.)



Why?



A rather poor-quality photo, taken with my mobile phone on a whim from my truck window while stopped at a traffic light. God constantly reminds me of the awesome things He and He alone can do.



 

"The secret things belong to the LORD our God ..."

 ~Deuteronomy 29:29

How could God allow a deranged madman to end the lives of 20 innocent children in Newtown, Conn., on Friday, December 14, 2012?

I don't know.

 

Why does He permit evil to thrive in our world?

I don't know.

 

What would make Him wish to call 20 precious children home, to His side, leaving behind countless grief-stricken families?

I don't know.

 

I do know one thing I can count on for certain: Ultimately, one distant day, I will be given the answers, and I will understand.

'Til then, my faith has to be strong enough to endure the heartaches of this world, reminding me to rely on the promises of He who created me:

Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men's hearts.

~1 Corinthians 4:5 

On those things, I can surely count. HE is in charge, not me.

 

Jesus was brutally honest and straightforward when He told us in John 16:33, “You will have suffering in this world.” He didn’t suggest it was a possibility … He affirmed that it is going to happen.

By virtue of mankind’s free will, evil and wickedness are rampant in our world. They are facts of life. God didn’t create them. They are the result of the downfall of man, way back when in the Garden. We humans introduced horror into God’s then-perfect world. And sadly, we still have to live with the consequences of man’s choices.

 

God can and will use our suffering and our hurt and our anguish to draw us closer to Him. He longs for us to embrace him, as a child seeking comfort from a parent. He wishes deeply to ease our pain and our agony.

There will come a day in the history of our world where evil and pain and agony and horror will be destroyed, vanquished, and dismissed. But … we’re not there yet.

 

So, in the meantime, we are surrounded by the unthinkable. Unspeakable horrors and atrocities are committed, for reasons we simply cannot comprehend with our human minds.

And it is in this state that we simply must rely on our faith to sustain us.

 

I do not know how God intends to use the wickedness in Newtown to impact the world, but I am confident … I will stake my life on this … that He will ultimately use it for His purposes. For all I know, He is using it right at this very moment, speaking to you the promise of His future kingdom and the place He will save just for you. You can take the pain at the very depths of your soul and replace it with hope and assurance. Right now, right where you sit, reading this.

I know my future, and I know exactly where those 20 little children are at this very instant: at the very feet of God Almighty. If you’d like the same assurance, pray (or ask someone to pray with you) and ask Jesus to give you a sense of peace and calm regarding this horrific tragedy. He will do it, right now, I promise.

 

Paul wrote in 2^nd Corinthians that he “saw” things only as a reflection in a mirror, but that one glorious day, he would see God face-to-face and receive the answers he sought. He realized that he knew only part of the equation of life here on earth, but that one day, he would know fully. He got it. He understood the promise of great things to come.

Do you get it?

 

Are you sure?

God is ready when you are.  





A Little Tap on the Shoulder

 

“Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me.”

Isaiah 49:16

 

Monday got off to a pretty lousy start. Hrumph. My 7:30 doctor’s appointment didn’t actually happen ‘til more like 8:00 (how can he be that far behind so early in the morning?!). I didn’t like what he discovered, so I was irritated by the time I left his office, and by the time I arrived at Sam’s Club, way later than I had hoped, the morning was looking more dismal by the minute.

I managed to snare a handicapped parking space, unlike the previous Friday morning. (By 9:00 on Friday, every single “blue” space was already occupied; I eventually just left and went home because without being able to park relatively close to the door, it’s just too far for me to walk on these lousy old legs.)

I made it inside the entryway Monday morning only to see the final two remaining riding carts being driven inside by other shoppers.

“Swell,” I muttered. Grumpily.

Sam’s Club is a HUGE store. Gi-normous. And without being able to ride around in an electric cart, I just can’t shop there. The distances are too great for me to cover. I need a cart.

To speed things up a bit so I can get to my point in writing this, let’s just say that after about 15 minutes of waiting painfully I did finally manage to get into a riding cart. The trip was salvaged, and I was able to pick up the Christmas gifts I needed along with a few things for my wife.

I was still irritated and annoyed by the time I rode the cart out to the parking lot and pulled up next to my truck. “I pay a membership fee every year to shop here,” I grumbled. “I should be able to get an electric cart whenever I need one.” (Why I think I’m so special, I have no idea. My father sure didn’t ever instill that notion inside of me.)

I arose from my weary steed and started fishing in my pocket for my truck key.

“May I help you?” a nearby voice said.

I turned around and saw what I would call an elderly gentleman (age is relative, I know … there are people who call ME “elderly” I’m sure). He smiled widely and looked at the purchases piled up in the basket of my cart.

“Oh, I asked, do you need to take the cart inside and use it?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” he answered. “You just looked like you could use some help this morning.”

Wow.

I think I actually did a double-take.

“Well, sure thank you very much,” I finally said. I was embarrassed that even to a casual observer my sour mood was so obvious.

I opened up the passenger door, and this kindly man started plucking things out of my cart, one by one, and passing them over to me. I took each and in turn, stacked them up in the front seat. He smiled the entire time.

It was a small kindness on his part, and even though I could have easily moved everything from the cart’s basket into the truck, he wanted to help. It was obvious to a passer-by that I wasn’t having the best of mornings. And he wanted to do what he could to be a day-brightener.

We finished, he smiled again, said “Have a wonderful day, and Merry Christmas!” and turned to head on his way. I thanked him as he walked to his car.

“Please, God, make me more like him,” I thought, “and less like me.”

The elderly fellow strolled over to a modest vehicle and entered. I noticed the “disabled veteran” license plate. “He understands,” I realized. “He gets it.”

I got in my truck and just sat there a minute. I took off my cap and smacked my forehead. I thought about the gentleman who eased my load and then looked at all the stuff I was able to buy and pay for in cash. What exactly was I complaining about?

Duh!

I am abundantly blessed in ways I can’t even understand. Yet this day, I was grumpy. God provides for me so beautifully and perfectly that I don’t have to worry about a single thing – I just sometimes choose to. And I mumble under my breath about how things aren’t fair. I lack for nothing in my life – seriously – and yet I complain when things don’t go “my” way. Even though in His own time and in His own way, my Lord and Creator takes care of every little thing. Perfectly.

What the heck is wrong with me?

God sent me a kindly, sweet man, just when I needed a firm little tap on the shoulder. Maybe he was an angel, I don’t know. But he snapped me right out of my self-imposed funk and brought me back to a beautiful reality.

“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Joshua 1:5

God means it. And every now and then, when you’re feeling like nobody gives a toot about your lousy day and your petty little problems, He might just send somebody to tap you on the shoulder and say, “Hey, you’re not alone. We’ll handle this.”

Meanwhile, I pray that God makes my heart much more like that of the nice guy who pitched in and helped me realize that things really weren’t going too badly after all.

 

Yup. More of that, less of “this,” for sure.

Lesson learned. Again.

Singing "The Messiah"

 

 



(Click ‘n’ play to hear one of THE most awesome performances ever of Handel’s masterpiece! This is the coolest “flash mob” I’ve ever seen, performed by more than 650 vocalists, all accompanied by the “Wanamaker Organ,” the world’s largest operational pipe organ. Crank this video wide open and let ‘er rip while you read below!)
 

Random ramblings about Messiah …

Many years ago I had the pleasure and privilege of taking part in a community choir presentation of Handel’s Messiah in its entirety.

The original full score is something like 259 pages in length; the oratorio is massive in size by any standard. It is exhausting to rehearse, to learn, and especially to memorize, which is what we did. We each bought the full Messiah book, practiced and studied for months, then put the books away the one night we performed Handel’s masterwork for a large crowd.

As I recall, we started rehearsing in the summer with a target date of performing one night in December. Yes, it took that long for us amateurs to conquer this musical beast!

In my fading recollection we turned in a magnificent performance, all of us. We brought the crowd to its feet for a standing ovation. But the real “winners,” I still believe, were those of us who “mastered” the Messiah and learned it inside and out.

Even though it’s been more than 30 years since I took part in the hours-long performance, I still to this day remember my lines. I quietly hum along whenever I’m fortunate enough to hear parts of the music played. Once you get inside of Messiah and truly give yourself over to the richness of the composition, it gets inside of you. Believe me, if you memorize and perform it as Handel intended, you’ll never forget it, nor get over it.

(Handel – probably, through Divine Intervention – composed the entire Messiah score in a period of 24 days. There is apocryphal story that claims Handel believed, as he wrote the "Hallelujah" chorus, "he saw all heaven before him." It’s an amazing work, and it can do amazing things to the singers who perform it.)

 

The final page of Handel's "Hallelujah" Chorus, written in his own hand.
Can you imagine writing 259 pages of music like this in only 24 days?!

 

Singing it is incredibly uplifting and inspiring. You verbalize, over and over and over, key scriptural passages about our Savior. And they soak in. They take root. They really, really start to mean something, deep in your soul and heart.

I’ve gotten misty-eyed almost every single time I’ve performed the “Hallelujah” Chorus. Once or twice I’ve even been moved to tears (performing it, mind you, not singing along in the congregation or audience). It is incredibly moving, and powerful beyond belief. This chorus taxes you. It’s a difficult piece of music to sing (depending on your part [bass, tenor, whatever], you’re constantly coming in and out vocally, singing and then stopping, starting again and stopping again) and it’s physically very tiring. You’re singing while those in front or behind are pausing, then you stop and they start, etc., etc. It’s blinding at times! But oh my, what a glorious experience. The chorus builds to an incredible climax, and ends in a furious explosion of noise and sound, extolling God’s perfect gift to mankind. Awesome!

I learned a lot about myself during that autumn of rehearsal, about commitment, about being an adult, about my faith, about God’s provision for His earthly world, lots of stuff. It changed me. Profoundly inspiring things can do that.

I still love to hear all parts of Messiah performed, especially the “Hallelujah” Chorus.

 

Anyway ... I just wanted to share these tidbits with you, and provide you with a link to the awesome performance in Philidalphia in October, 2010. What a thrill it would have been to have joined in and sung along! Wow!

Mom’s Christmas Fudge

Bless her heart! Every year since I've had memories, my mother has made THE most delicious chocolate fudge (and peanut butter, too) at Christmastime.

It remains the standard by which I judge all fudge, worldwide. :) Honestly, you just cannot image how good this stuff is! I truly cherish each piece, each bite. And of course, the dear lady who makes it.

Given Mom's declining health and the amount of work it evidently takes to make fudge, I never really "expect" it any more. But oh my, what a glorious surprise when Mom delivers a "tower o' fudge" just in time for the holidays! This year she even adorned it with beautiful Christmas ribbon, all tied up so professionally!

I know that creating candy requires stirring – sometimes, lots of stirring – and given that Mom has sadly broken both of her arms in recent years (she’s really, really prone to breakage), having to stir up this stuff truly is a labor of love for her. It hurts her.

Mom holds herself to a very high standard of quality; one year, the entire batch didn’t suit her (“too grainy,” she said) and she threw it all out!! The horror! She dispatched poor Dad to the Winn-Dixie store for more ingredients, and she created a new and better product. That’s Mom. “Good enough” is never good enough.

The ingredients are simple, but there’s no substitute for plain old expertise … she’s made this stuff at least since the 1950s. And of course, the “extra” ingredient is always love. She stirs in a healthy amount, I assure you. Mom and I don’t always agree, both of us being strong-willed people. But so far fudge has healed wounds and mended broken fences during the holiday season. (Maybe it has magic powers!)

My wife and I aren’t the only recipients of Mom’s largesse; others in her life have qualified for a small tin of chocolaty goodness from time to time. But me, being her only offspring, I always get the lion’s share. :)

I ration out the fudge, piece by piece, stretching it to cover the holidays through New Year’s. And I usually save a few pieces and pack them carefully in the freezer. I nibble on them throughout the year. And of course, I always think, “Hey, this could be the last batch of Mom’s famous fudge she ever makes….”

Some year soon, there will be no more fudge. Not decent fudge, anyway. Not from Mom. It’ll just be too much for her. We’ll have to settle for some sort of product from a candy counter somewhere. I shan’t complain, though, because believe me, I have eaten pounds of this stuff so far in my life. I’ve been blessed with fudgy abundance.

But for at least one more joyous holiday season, we have fudge aplenty; our family has three tins of confectionery magic to savor and enjoy. Life is good.

 

Thanks, Mom. Yours is absolutely the very, very, very best ever. Love you. 

The Fudge-maker-in-Chief and her assistant (otherwise known as "Dad")