Christlike

Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays?

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What’s really worse? Someone saying “Happy holidays” or someone who doesn’t follow Jesus saying “Merry Christmas” out of obligation and not really because they mean it or understand it? Maybe worst of all is those who claim Jesus as Lord speaking “Merry Christmas” but denying the spirit of it with lives that reflect greed, rudeness, impatience, consumerism, and anger. The best witness for Christ isn’t spoken; it’s lived out as Christ becomes incarnate in our hearts and lives.

That’s something I wrote a long time ago, but it seems to still fit. People still get bent out of shape when retail employees don’t say Merry Christmas. I think at one point I was one of those, but time has a way of softening those rough edges and growing older has given me a different perspective.

Most likely, those retail workers are exhausted. They’re usually overworked and underpaid. They’re wondering about how they’re going to pay all the bills and still provide a Christmas for their kids. The whole “Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays” debate is probably the last thing on their minds.

So what is the most Christlike thing to do? Yell at them when they don’t use the correct terminology? Or maybe be kind to them? Maybe be a little more patient with them when they’re struggling because the place they’re working is understaffed?

If Jesus offered people a light burden and an easy yoke, maybe we would do better to not lay Pharisaical burdens on people. If Jesus said come to me all who are weary, who are we to drive people off because they don’t speak the magic words of Merry Christmas?

Dwight Moody (I think) once said that Christians are the only Bible most people will ever read. If that’s so, let’s make sure the message we’re sending is the message not of God far off and unattainable but God coming near to the lowly and crushed in spirit in the form of a baby in a manger who was born for all people.

More Like Jesus

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More purity give me;
More strength to over-come;
More freedom from earth-stains;
More longings for home;
More fit for the kingdom;
More used would I be;
More blessed and holy;
More, Saviour, like Thee” (Phillip P. Bliss).

Sometimes, I think the reason that I’m not more like Jesus is that I’m not willing to do whatever it takes to look more like Jesus. Sure, I pray that God would conform me into the image of His Son, but when that process starts, it looks a lot like stuff I don’t like.

When my job position got eliminated, maybe that was God’s answer to my prayer to look more like Jesus. When I was having trouble with my old Jeep and wondering why it kept breaking down and leaking, maybe God was molding me.

If it were up to me, I’d never have to deal with anything stressful or uncomfortable. I’d go from strength to strength, from comfort to comfort. And at the end of the day, I’d look a lot less like Jesus and a lot more like the old me.

Thankfully, God didn’t ask for my permission before He began chiseling away at the sharp edges and the abrasive angles and the rough patches in me. I’m grateful God loves me as I am but won’t let me stay that way.

The old analogy is perfect. It’s like I’m the arrow that God is aiming at the target and He keeps pulling and stretching sometimes beyond what I can endure, but still He goes on pulling and stretching. He waits until I am perfectly centered on the target that only He can see, then He lets loose.

You never really think about archery from the perspective of the arrow. At least I normally don’t. But God does. Every single trial, every single set-back, every single disappointment is God preparing you for a future that only He can see and a destiny that only He knows.

And one day it will all have been worth it. You will look back and see that everything worked out beautifully and had you known what God knew all along, you would have chosen exactly the same all over again.

Brokenness and Community

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We are all broken. Some are just better at hiding it than others, but deep down inside we know we don’t work right. I believe when God reveals our brokenness within the context of community, we have two choices. I can see your brokenness and choose to walk away and shut you out or I can choose to walk with you and share your burdens, “and thereby fulfill the law of Christ” (Ephesians 6:2). I’m not saying it’s wrong to walk away; some are not ready to handle brokenness in others. But to stay and walk with a brother or sister through brokenness is the better way.

I also think about the image of Jesus breaking bread and blessing it. If we want God to bless us, or better yet to bless others through us, we must first be broken. Only in the context of community where we love each other and share joys and sorrows and bear each other’s burdens can this happen. We shouldn’t just pray for blessings on each other. We should be able to pray for brokenness for each other. We should be authentic and transparent enough to be broken and honest with each other.

I am reminded of Henri Nouwen’s term “wounded healer.” If we aren’t broken, we can never reach beyond the surface in our relationships and serving and ministry, but if we are broken, we can empathize with the weaknesses of others. The more we own our brokenness, the more loving and Christlike we will be toward the brokenness in others.

I want to buck the trend that says that weakness is something you don’t talk about. I want to be like Paul who boasted in his weakness, because that’s where Christ’s strength is perfected. Let people see that you are not a perfect saint, but a weak and broken and transparent vessel through which God’s love can pour unhindered to the world around you.

As always, I believe. Help my unbelief.