now what?
I finally understand all the Christmas sweaters. Whether sincere or ironic, I think I get them. We live these ordinary lives that are so mundane, to the point of inflicting excruciating pain on us, ricocheting off us and impaling everyone we know. Day after day after day—until BAM! It’s Christmas. And we, the ordinary, are given permission to buy all the tinsel, twinkling lights, jingle bells we like. We are allowed to drag a whole tree into our homes—a whole living tree! And no one gives a side whisper to such an outrageous act of indecency. We get to sing to strangers and with strangers, and everyone knows the words. We get to send and post mini-photo albums about our children. And if we are the recipients, we not only get to like the post, but also hang up these little albums of other families with faces that we may not even know. We get to add sprinkles to all the cookies and whipped cream to all the warm drinks. We are allowed to only watch movies with scenery fit for a snow globe. We get to smell like gingerbread everywhere we go. Suddenly the whole world becomes an Earth Wind and Fire song—we all become shining stars, no matter who we are. We all get to shine a light and see who we can truly be—with Christmas crackers and fireworks if we so choose. I finally understand that the Christmas sweater is the iconic symbol of the ordinary suddenly being granted permission to be everything it ever longed to be—noticed, connected, included, and maybe even loved, if only for the course of a Christmas party or pageant, or at the very least throughout Christmas dinner with the accessory of a tissue paper crown.
But today is December 27th, and so now what? With our crumbled paper crowns and dried up trees, wreaths and boughs that have lost the glimmer that, we swear, was there just the day before, do we just sit and wait regretting what we ate and spent (and said) for the New Year to ring us into a year filled with more Ordinary Time?
Do we turn off the twinkling lights that stretch from the top of our trees to the edge of our front yards and retreat back into the Darkness before advent and that sweet quiet beckoning that encouraged us to follow the star?
Do we simply pack it all up and don our ordinary sweaters while we wait until we are prompted next Advent to anticipate the coming Light again and don gayer apparel?
I sure hope not.
I hope we don’t lose the glimmer of the star that pointed us to the baby, so extraordinarily ordinary, that embodied Word that first went out and made everything—including you and me—in the Divine’s picture of what it is to become love. May we not spoil it by returning to darkness and may we continue to press forward into the light, listening for all the ways Jesus continues to beckon us to come with him, to dwell with him with every question that he ever asked us and continues to ask us:
Why are you gripped with fear?
What do you want me to do for you?
Why were you searching for me?
What good does it do for you to say that I am your Lord and Master if what I teach you is not put into practice?
Have you lost your faith in me?
Who do you believe that I am?
What does Moses teach us? What do you read in the Law?
How can I illustrate God’s kingdom for you? What kind of a story can I use?
When the Son of Man comes, will he find faithfulness on earth?
Why do you call me good?
What are you looking for?
Do you truly long to be healed?
Are you really ready to die for me?
Do you love me?
It’s as if Jesus’ life poised an eternal question: What was that about?
Indeed, what was that all about!?!?
We can fill our homes with tinsel and light, don sweaters festooned with glitter, feathers and bows. We can become walking Christmas trees only for a season—or we can forever hold light, reflect it, bend it, mold it, and let its rays glisten on every lackluster ordinary day that the darkness threatens to swallow. And may we do that as we walk ho-humly, day to day, practicing kindness and compassion, putting love into action performing acts of justice (Micah 6:8). May we do just that with joy that overflows, peace that subdues, patience that endures, kindness in action, a life full of virtue, faith that prevails, gentleness of heart and strength of spirit (Galatians 5:22). May we be the light within The Light that loves as if love is all that there is and as outrageously loud as a bedazzled Christmas sweater because it’s the days that are ordinary—not us.
And what if ordinary time is not so very ordinary at all, not at all lacking in festiveness or distinction, but instead the culmination of all the time—the mark of the beginning, the now and the coming eternal end? Author of wonderment Robert Macfarlane says, “Deep time says, ‘Look at the gift of being, now. Look at the astonishing responsibility of legacy-leaving. And look at what you’ve inherited in the wonder of this world. And what will our time leave?’” He says that a longer view of time is perspective-shifting. So, what if Ordinary Time is the place where we shift our perspective? Or, as Howard Thurman wrote, maybe the Work of Christmas—sweaters, tinsel, sprinkles and cookies, stars and all—is simply to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among others, to make music in the heart.
EPILOGUE
And speaking of making music, my dear friend William Price made a kind of music in a the light of a film about this coming arrival made flesh. Bear in mind, it represents an abstract retelling of God’s strange decision to surprise us with a baby (the baby is not literally Jesus so hold your comments about the baby not being middle-eastern). It’s a metaphor for us to expect the unexpected in every life that comes to us. Find it right here: All The Gods, and follow William’s amazing work at whiskeygingerplease.com and @williampriceiii on Instagram.
Also here’s where I found Jesus’ questions: Matthew 8:26; Mark 10:36; Luke 2:49; Luke 6:46; Luke 8:25; Luke 9:20; Luke 10:26; Luke 13:18; Luke 18:8; Luke 18:19; John 1:38; John 5:6; John 13:38; John 21:17
Lastly, if you are in the Austin-Area, my pastor, John Burke, wrote awe-inspiring book called Imagine Heaven, and in January he’ll be doing a citywide series about the afterlife and near-death experiences. If you are wondering what the whole star, baby, miracles, crucifixion and resurrection mean for us after death, I recommend you visit us. If you’re not in Austin, check it out online. In the meantime, here’s a preview of What’s After Life?
