With apologies to Otis P. Driftwood and Francis Pharcellus Church One chill December, years ago, I spent a day trudging through snow in a middle class neighborhood, ringing doorbells and inviting the families within to a special Christmas service at church. The replies I received varied greatly in nature, from the polite to the enthusiastic to the brusque. But one encounter stands out, seared into my heart and mind. I met a woman that day whom I will never forget.
She yanked her door open at my approach, and stared at me while I gave my merry spiel. As she listened, her eyes narrowed and her mouth grew rigid with tension. “No!” she cried before I had even finished speaking. “I’ve got too much to do already. I just want to get Christmas over with!” And she slammed the door in my face.
I was frozen to the spot. Tears burst into my eyes, partly from shock. But her harsh reaction was not what really hurt me. Deep down, all I could think of was how pained God’s heart must be when his children reject Christ, after all he suffered for us. I wept for the fact that the Lord’s blessings of love and comfort were lost on that woman, because she had allowed the external arrangements surrounding the celebration of Christmas to overwhelm her.
Many people experience the Christmas season in sad or morbid ways. It is said that more people commit suicide at Christmas than any other time of the year. Many lives are bleak, and the societal expectations of Norman Rockwell family togetherness, groaning boards and good cheer to all, provide a contrast too painful for the lonely to bear.
The tidings of comfort and joy on the birth of our Savior are drowned out in the bustling malls, too, where the tinkling of a bell does not herald an angel receiving his wings, as it does in It’s a Wonderful Life. No, the ka-ching you hear is of cash registers creating new debtors, putting souls into financial chains that may haunt them throughout the next year – their own Ghost of Christmas Past. And what about that social calendar, with overworked parents attempting to achieve Martha Stewart perfection in their parties, decorations and gifts.
It’s enough to make the jolliest Saint Nick get testy with his elves.
Christ has been rejected many times and in many ways, but of all times it shouldn’t happen at Christmas, that most joyful of holy days in the Christian calendar. The true meaning of Christmas is all good, and we mustn’t let our joy be dimmed by the secular accretions of over-shopping, over- partying, and over-expecting a magical wonderland experience.
So I am offering a Sanity Clause which anyone may invoke this December when the busy-ness of the preparations begins to smother the Spirit of Christmas. As soon as you feel the slightest irritation coming over you, stop what you are doing and savor a cookie or sing your favorite Christmas carol. Take stock of your plans and be wise enough to know when to say, “This is over the top!” Pare back the tinsel and glitter until you can clearly see the Christ child in his humble manger at the heart of it all. Reach out a hand to the lonely and poor. Read the Christmas story again to yourself or your children, and remember.
Above all, put a candle in the window of your heart and wait with joy and hope for the coming of the Savior. He’ll be here on December 25th, as soon as you wake up, just as he always has. This year, you’ll be ready to receive him in full measure.
O come, o come, Emmanuel!
© 2005 by Cynthia Edwards. All rights reserved. |
