Spare Change

December 26th

Posted by Bryan

It's after midnight. My children are asleep, exhausted from a day of tearing into presents, waiting patiently for daddy to put together a toy or to open up a box (with contents so seemingly valuable that the packagers contracted with off-duty Fort Knox security guards to ensure said products' stability), and from trying every gift out one, twice, thrice on this Christmas day. My beloved bride is deep asleep as well, worn and weary from a day of being Mom on this so important of days, making sure every detail was prepared just right, that meals were ready, that moments of greed were quickly shut down, and that no matter what was going on anywhere else on earth, there was peace in our home.

Me? I played the part of Daddy of course, and am thrilled and humbled to do so. But mine was the easiest of jobs, all things considered. Maybe I do work the rest of the year round, somewhat to enjoy this day off to a certain extent. Maybe I'm the anti-Santa in that regard. I'm fully engaged, but I'm fully enjoying it. I took a nap at 1 PM because it seemed like the thing to do.

Thanksgiving passed a month ago, but it was today, on the commemoration of the Christ's birth, that was a day for me to just enjoy all that God has given.

So much, so many things that I, you, we take for granted.

My health. My senses. My home. My warmth. The love of my family, both near and far. The comfort of new pajamas. The material comforts of living in a prospering society.

Mercy and Grace. Two sides of a divine coin that always lands heads up no matter which side is showing.

Grace and Mercy.

I am the recipient of these twin gifts in more ways than I can account.

I have so much that I do not deserve.

So much has been withheld from me that I rightfully deserve.

In each, in both, I am profoundly thankful.

Soon, sometime this week, the greenery and tinsel and bows and bells and all the regalia will again be boxed and re-stored.

The world has already moved on to New Year's day.

Yet, in the quiet of my home, with nothing but the drone of my furnace to serve as the steady bass line to the clacking treble of my keyboard's a capella freeform, I think I just want to pause a bit longer in the manger.

In my home's silence, I confess I know so very little. My mind tries to imagine what it had to have been like out there, and I dream up scenarios that have been no doubt painted by the dramatic retellings that I've seen in churches, on television, and even in the movies over the years.

But I don't know what it was like, really.

I can only imagine for both Mary and Joseph it was the most exciting and terrifying threshhold over which together they would ever peer.

I think about how exhausted my family is today after the events described above, and I can only think that our tale pales by comparison to the one this couple would share for the rest of their lives.

Forced to travel because of a politician's whimsy.

Weary from riding on the back of a donkey.

Tired of hearing the rumors, the gossip, the questions and the mocking from "friends," neighbors, and total strangers about the unusual circumstances of being an unwed mother.

Arriving late to a crowded city, and trying to find a place to lay your head.

The weather...who knows, really, but I picture a cold, clear night where you can never get completely warm.

And in this, relegated to a barn or maybe a cave.

Great with child.

And that's when her water breaks.

She, with the fears of her first delivery, with no assistance of a midwife.

Her sadness of the shame of bearing her baby in a stable full of hay and animal waste. Her confusion of trying to reconcile her physical discomfort with the supernatural experiences that have predicated everything.

Him, agonizing that he couldn't have provided better in his family's greatest moment of need, wanting to be attentive and doting, yet awestruck at the emergence of this Son of his that looked nothing like him.

I don't know.

It's too much for me in many ways. It's easier to mentally start the scene with the baby delivered and the entire setting "at rest."

I know that the Holy Spirit can and does provide peace and calm in the face of difficult circumstances. Maybe the Holy Spirit did all those things for them.

But I can't say for sure.

So I go back to what I know, as I try to reconstruct the situation for myself.

I know people. I know crisis. And I know people in crisis.

I think about the troubles that consume me on a day to day basis...as a husband, a father....as a man. And I think I can appreciate the chaos of the moment.

You want to take it all in, if it isn't for the enormity of the moment. You'd like to think you'd have some sort of eternal appreciation for the experience, but in reality, you can't see beyond the immediate because you're amazed by the grace of God to give you the wits to keep your nose above water, just to get to the next moment.

You know, after the delivery of Jesus, the Bible says that Mary and Joseph wrapped Jesus in swaddling cloths and lay Him in a manger.

In that brief respite before the angelic choir and the visit by the shepherds, I can just join them in their silence where they just take a breath and say "wow."

Many, many times have my own bride and I paused to hold each other's hand, just look at each other, and be in awe at the ways and means of God.

I don't think they understood back then.

I don't really think I understand now.

But they knew they were part of something special.

In my quiet home, with the juvenile rattle of my son's snore now joining in to the still-of-the-night orchestra, I believe that I too get to be part of something special because I worship this baby who grew to a man who died on a cross who rose from the dead and who will one day return.

I know I don't fully understand.

I've been seeking understanding for more than a decade now.

Some days more fervently than others, confessionally.

And for every question that is answered, 3 more questions arise hydra-like in its place.

Grace for grace, though; at least questions are answered.

Through this simple gift of faith that God has given me to place in this One, I'm learning.

And I'm growing.

I believe I love God more now than I ever have before, and I give God thanks for letting me go through this Christmas to be able to say that.

It's not been a bad Christmas.

Remember, we lost everything in 2000 to a house fire.

God has, however, taken everything from this season to give me a fresh, deep, important joy to finish up this year and inaugurate the next. He has used advent, prayers, Scriptures, Bible study classes, work situations, writing opportunities, my wife, my children, my parents, my friends, my coworkers, and even this blog to help me understand Him better.

And in understanding Him better, I actually understand myself better.

You may not know this about me, but I'm a pretty simple guy.

In virtually every circumstance, what you see is what you get. And I'm the same Bryan at work that I am at home that I am at church. Even amidst all this simplicity, as 2004 has come to a close, I discover that I've been complicating things too much. I've been trying to think of every possible situation, every possible contingency, every possible potential.

And I look at this manger that points toward the cross, and I hear the Spirit tell me "simplify."

Simplify.

So what is the first thing I do?

I try to complicate things.

Simplify what? Simplify work? Simplifiy opportunities? Simplify my thoughts, my efforts, my focus? Simplify with whom, in what way, for how long, and for what reason?

And the Spirit tells me again in an a voice so inaudible that it blankets my heart and clears my mind.

Simplify.

It's not about me.

For four weeks my children have voiced the prayer that Christmas is not about Santa, or presents, or anything else. It's only about Jesus. They've prayed the prayer that every person who sent us a Christmas card would remember that. And as they prayed that for others, I prayed that for my children as well.

And the Lord tells me tonight, on December 26th, that I need that prayer as well.

Simply.

If you're still with me this far down, I don't know what to think, whether you should be applauded or consoled. Not knowing your expectation, let me say I do appreciate you going along on this little journey with me, for whatever it's worth. I feel an obligation to give you some sort of "payoff" like there's a gem at the end of all this. I don't know that there is. I know that for me, the discovery will still be unearthed in the days to come.

And most likely, it will be in the intangibles that drive a person like me crazy.

Will I simplify?

I hope so.

I want to.

My thought is that simplifying means focusing on the Christ, even more. Not because I'm supposed to.

But because I want to.

He makes me want to.

He compels me to want to.

He really is worth it.

Man, if you don't know God, you really need to.

I hope your Christmas day was...

...

simple.

December 26, 2004 2:19 AM