Unwrapping Christmas - HIRD

By Rev. Dr. Ed and Mark Hird

-an article for the December 2015 Deep Cove Crier

If the wise men at Christmas had been wise women, they might have brought Jesus practical Christmas gifts like baby toys, food or clothes (not myrrh, frankincense and gold).  These wise men had no idea how their initial gift-giving at Christmas would eventually fuel the world economy, helping many businesses go from red into the black in December.  Why is it that gift-giving at Christmas has become so entrenched in most people’s lives?  Why is it that many of us struggle to unwrap the gift of Christmas?  Why is it that Christmas, the most joyful time of year, is also the most depressing time of year for many? 

As a child, I loved looking forward to opening Christmas presents waiting under the Christmas tree.  Our public school still had actual Christmas pageants in which I took my part as a Christmas shepherd.  As a teenager, opening Christmas presents was still fun, but it started to lose its Christmas wonder.  I still unwrapped the Christmas presents each December, but I never stopped to unwrap Christmas itself.  I never stopped to ask why we were making such a fuss about the Christmas season.  I will never forget when my mother had me go to church on Christmas day.  It felt like a radical intrusion into an important holiday time.   Why would someone go to church at Christmas?  Even though I had been raised in church, I had no idea that God came to earth at Christmas, that God became a little baby in manger.  I never rejected the meaning of Jesus’ birth at Christmas.  I just never thought about it.  It was so familiar to me that I was blind to Christmas.

Home blindness, the tendency to become oblivious to what is in front of us, is a phenomena recognized by social scientists.   People often say with regret that they never really appreciated what they had until they lost it.  Each Christmas, there are a myriad of Christmas movies that express the theme of loss at Christmas, and rediscovering the joy of Christmas.  The Christmas blockbuster ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ [originally called the Greatest Gift] went unnoticed at its 1946 release, so much so that the copyright license in the late 1970s was not even renewed.  This meant that television studios could show the movie for free at Christmas.  After a few years of this, ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ became a cult classic.  Who can forget the conflict around the Christmas tree as Jimmy Stewart/George Bailey was close to committing suicide?  Who can forget the final scene around the Christmas tree when all his friends come together and unite in support?  Who can forget the joyful Christmas Carols sung by Jimmy Stewart, friends and family as they thanked the baby Jesus for the true meaning of Christmas? This Christmas, let not forget to unwrap the true gift of Christmas, the Christ Child come to earth to save us.

 

The Rev. Dr. Ed and Mark Hird, 

St. Simon’s Church North Vancouver

Anglican Mission in Canada  

-an article for the December 2015 Deep Cove Crier

-author of Restoring Health: body, mind and spirit

Orwell vs. Huxley: whose bleak future is closest today? - Denyse O'Leary

Used to be Huxley, but Orwell is gaining on him:

The two classic dystopian novels 1984 (1949) by George Orwell (1903–1950) and Brave New World (1932) by Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) have often prompted comparison, both to each other and to the real-life conditions of today. 

At different times readers have regarded one novel or the other as the more prescient.
Given the accelerating pace of social change, it might be good to revisit the question yet again and seek to determine how well each dystopia predicted the future in various ways.

…

Similarly, both dystopias banish religion, and certainly we see today the slow but sure retreat of religion from public and even private spheres, assisted by government policy and court rulings.

This development should not be a surprise. Traditional religion is mediated through human relationships. Jews call themselves the children of Abraham; Christians call God our Father. When the only critical relationship is between the state and the individual, either the state is God or there is no God. More.

Just Not Feeling it This Year

I have to make a confession. It's crazy-making Christmas time for The Salvation Army and I've been wearing a fake "Merry Christmas" face since it all started. Yes, I'm a fake. I'm just not feeling the Christmas spirit this year. Okay, so there's still some time for me to catch it - we're still a couple of weeks away. Ahhh...I don't know, it's pretty blah in here.

Sometimes this happens. Life is busy, schedules press, stresses of life pile up, major events take their toll...and getting all warm and fuzzy for Christmas just doesn't happen.

Have you had a Christmas like this before? You see the lights, people all start treating each other a little nicer, people in the mall get a little politer? (Is that a word?)  However, inside you feel just a blah, dull feeling, like you just can't get excited for Christmas.

That's what I like about Advent. It gets us ready for Christmas. Not in the daily Lindt chocolate kind of way - the real kind of way for a real kind of Christmas. So this year I'm embracing the gloomies and letting them take me to where the Spirit wants to lead me. I'm tired of trying to put on a happy face when I'm faced with all the stuff happening in this world. In my own world it's homeless folk, mentally ill and addicted. It's low income families whose kids are going to struggle in their lives and hopefully be able to break free from generational welfare. It's the war against terrorism, crazy gun-loving people south of us, partisan politics and elections and Christians talking about killing Muslims and taking a course a course in a Christian university on how to do it... I just really need Jesus. I need Him to come - here - now. I'm tired of Christmas being all about fuzzy warm, gift giving, money guzzling, food gorging -  chocolate, turkey and all kinds of goodies - I need it to be about that God/Man baby born in a dirty, smelly place who came to turn our world upside down and show us how to live Kingdom values. I want to think about what He taught us and how He showed us how to live. I want more of His grace filled love to spread around the globe and turn the world on its head. I don't want any gifts. I don't want to give any gifts. I don't want it to be about money and stuff. I want it to be real - about real grace, real love - God's love.

Merry (maybe not)  Christmas...Kathie

Kathie Chiu
Salvation Army Officer/Pastor
www.kathiechiu.com

Treasures in the Snow by Rose McCormick Brandon

Hiawatha Trails, Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario

Gliding on the groomed trail, our skis squeaking on the snow, under the stars on a clear and very cold night, we were caught in a Christmas card moment. Pine trees trimmed with white bordered the trail. Their branches sweeping downward in a graceful arc crowded us into single file. We huffed up the hills, my three children climbing easier and huffing less than I.

 

Our cheeks rosy with health, we occasionally stepped off the path to let others whiz by, sacrificing our momentum for courtesy. One man, a scowl on his face to show he was in earnest about this skiing business, groaned when he passed us on a straight patch. I wonder if he sees the trees. Or the stars. Does he recognize the snow under his feet as a gift from a Creator with a universe full of design to his credit? Can he read God’s message to him in the aroma of pine, in the moon that makes shadows dance around us, in the untouched snow to our left and right that covers a naked and embarrassed earth with a pure blanket of snow.

 

An ancient, man, Job, was asked this question by God, “Have you entered into the treasures of the snow?” He meant, “Do you get it? Do you get the message of the snow?” (Job 38 is a magnificent chapter.)

King David of Israel, wrote this:  ^"He gives snow like wool . . ." (Psalm 147:16).  Wool is used to make warm coverings. Snow, like wool, covers the ground to keep it warm.

Every human needs a spiritual covering – a blanket of purity - and only God can give it.

The whole Biblical thought about snow is brought to a conclusion by Isaiah. “Though your sins be as scarlet,” he wrote, “they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18).

Here’s the message of the snow: 

Jesus will take your sins far away from you and leave you covered in a warm blanket of purity – you'll be like newly fallen snow, unmarked, as if you’d never sinned at all.

The memory of this golden night on the ski trails at Hiawatha, one of my life’s perfect moments, clings to me. We weren’t the best skiers out that night, my darlings and I, or on any night after that, but, where others limped home chilled to the bone, we limped pleasured to the core by God’s amazing gift of creation.
 

Will you open your heart to God's hidden treasures in the snow?

 

****

 

Rose McCormick Brandon is the author of many articles and several books, including One Good Word Makes all the Difference and Promises of Home - Stories of Canada's British Home Children. Her books are available here. 

 

 

A Memory Tree (by Peter A. Black)

Our Christmas tree stands in our livingroom, handsomely adorned with a multitude of decorations. Its limbs bear miniature lights, shiny multicoloured balls and silvered icicle spirals that gently spin when we walk by. There are also faux crystal snowflakes and icicles, among a host of cute, colourful tree decorations, too numerous to mention.

But our festive tree is more than a seasonal display of colour and dollar store trinkets, although many do lend to its glory. I reckon it’s a memory tree, for several reasons. For example: Two dainty white crocheted angels remind my wife and me of our time in Watford, Ontario, and Guide Country. ‘Grandma’ Tippel was more than one hundred years old and residing in Victoria Manor, a care residence, when she fashioned them. A cute wishing well was made by another acquaintance.

Less adorned this time,

but still lots of memories.

Several needlepoint items were the handiwork of our youngest son Jerome and his buddy Heather, when they were in elementary school, three decades ago. Heather’s now married and mother of three children. Jerome’s in his nineteenth year in school teaching. He's deeply engaged in theatre – acting and singing, and sometimes directing.

A paper pie plate decoration our youngest granddaughter Abigail made at Miss Teresa’s preschool has a manger scene and the message, Jesus: God’s Gift to the World. She’s in grade five now.

Memories. My wife recalls where many more of the tree ornaments came from than I do – such as gifts from children she child-minded or baby-sat and who are now adults. Naturally, she has a deeper connection than I with those items on the tree.

Do you associate decorative pieces on your Christmas tree or other seasonal decorations with people from your past or present? Just the other day I realized that the answers May gave to my enquiries as to how we acquired some of ours increased my enjoyment of the season. 

Memories. Our parents weren’t able to give my sisters and me fancy or expensive gifts. I don’t view this as a disadvantage now, though. Instead, I’m convinced that it taught us gratitude and appreciation for the simple, small things, and to marvel at the kindness shown to us by others. Occasionally, more expensive gifts came to us from people outside the family. Often they were people whom our parents had helped out in some way.

So much for memories associated with our tree and its pretty ornaments. Each year the Christmas tree reminds me that the One who is the First Cause of all Creation came from realms of heavenly glory and, for a time, made His home on earth amongst the poor and lowly. His first earthly dwelling was an animal shelter and His bed a manger cradle.

My grateful musings don’t end there, for the Christmas tree also urges my thoughts forward more than thirty years in the gospel narratives, to the cross. Of all the trees in Palestine at that time, one – perhaps haphazardly chosen – was honoured to bear his wounded broken body, serving as the ultimate altar of sacrifice.

Yes, that tree was no doubt growing during the time that this Child grew from his bed in manger hay to manhood; the Child who was destined to die upon the tree in gruesome agony and blood, as the Saviour and Redeemer of the world.

The apostle Paul didn’t have an ornamented Christmas tree to brag about, for the tradition began centuries later. And yet he said, “May I never boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14 NIV).

Paul memorialized The Tree – the spiritual reality and ideal of the Cross – and lived out its meaning.

Do you have a ‘memory tree’? Enjoy your tree and cherish your memories, but don't forget The Tree and the One who hung upon it.

~~+~~

The original edition of the above updated and adapted article was published in The Watford Guide-Advocate, Dec. 11, 2014.

~~~

Peter's second book is a compilation of inspirational articles on a variety of themes from his weekly column. These are interspersed with brief expressions intended to encourage. Ebook edition is available through Amazon.

 

ISBN: 978-0-9920074-2-3 (Angel Hope Publishing)

Email
Blog 

 

Peter's first book: “Parables from the Pond” – a children's / family book (mildly educational, inspirational in orientation, character reinforcing). Finalist – Word Alive Press. ISBN: 1897373-21-X. The book has found a place in various settings with a readership ranging from kids to senior adults.Black's inspirational column, P-Pep! appears weekly in The Standard Guide-Advocate (of Southwestern Ontario). His articles have appeared in 50 Plus Contact and testimony, and several newspapers in Ontario.

~~+~~

 

 

A Christmas Meditation - The Ever New Old Story by Eleanor Shepherd

          It was God’s special night.  It was the night for the promise to be fulfilled.  There in the stillness of that smelly stable, Mary’s baby was born.  The promise of the Garden of Eden was at last being realized.  The cry of the prophets was being answered.  The way back to God was opening for all people.  The wondrous gift was given and Bethlehem slept. 

            But not everyone was asleep.  Outside the city walls, working through the night were the shepherds.  They were rough men, uneducated, but honest labourers.  In religious circles they were suspect, because they were regarded as ceremonially unclean.  They were considered unreliable and thus were not permitted to testify in a court of law.  To such unlikely common folk the good news came. 

            The site they inhabited still exists today.  There is still a place called Shepherd’s Field, just outside the city of Bethlehem.  We have a picture that Glen took of the spot when he visited there some forty years ago.  But more than 2000 years ago, the shepherds who were out there that night, were going about their business, looking after the sheep they were responsible for.  And on that wonderful night, Shepherd’s Field became a special place, significant for all time. 

            On that night the unsuspecting shepherds were startled by a blinding light.  The heard musical anthems, that seemed to come from Heaven.

             Now they were just ordinary fellows, so you can imagine how confused and bewildered they must have felt.  All this frightened them.  Then an angel spoke to them. 

            “Don’t be afraid,” he said.  “I have come to tell you some wonderful news.  This is news that will impact all people everywhere.  Tonight, in Bethlehem, a Saviour has been born.  You can go and see for yourselves.  You will find this baby lying in a manger, in a stable.” 

            It was God’s moment.  The world would never be the same again.  A Saviour, Christ the Lord had been born in Bethlehem. 

            Suddenly the sky lit up.  A whole host of angels were singing.  They were praising God and celebrating the tremendous act of God in coming to earth to save those whom sin had separated from Him. 

            The shepherds looked at one another.  They decided that they could not let something like this pass them by.  They had to go and see.  Huffing and puffing, they ran shouting to the stable.  And just like the angel had told them, there they found Him.  As they trouped inside, they stopped in their tracks.  He was lying quietly in the makeshift cot – the Saviour of the world.  Bending tenderly over the tiny newborn was Mary his mother and close by her stood her attentive husband, Joseph. 

            The shepherds had never felt anything like it.  Maybe they did not understand the full significance of the event, but they did have the sense that they were somehow in the presence of God, Himself. 

            And when they left, they could not contain their exuberance.  They shouted out the news.  The Bible says that they went out, “…glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen.”  (Luke 2:  20)  The excitement spread.  Soon the whole town knew.  God’s moment of deliverance had come.  The promise had been fulfilled.  The Saviour was born. 

But some people did not understand.  In Jerusalem, six miles away, King Herod did not understand.  Some of the religious leaders did no understand.  The Roman soldiers did not understand.

           

Jesus had come.  God had fulfilled His promise.  The way back to God had been provided.  And some people did not or could not understand.  Still today some people do not understand.  Or some understand but they do not want to accept the price of acting upon that understanding.  They do not want to worship and adore Christ the Lord.

            God has acted.  We have graciously been given a way back to God.  We have the promise that if we admit our need of God, if we believe in Jesus as our Saviour, as our Lord, then we can become true children of God.  We can enter into joyful fellowship with God, our loving Heavenly Father. 

            When we accept the Saviour of the World, the power of Satan, the one who spoiled it all in Eden is overcome.  He is defeated.  God has kept His promise.  He has acted.  There is a way available to the God who stands with open arms ready to embrace us and welcome us home.  Thanks be to God! 

Word Guild Award
2011

  

Word Guild Award
2009

But I can eat a banana - DONNA MANN

For over a month, after breaking my right hand and severely injuring my rotator cuff, I have begun my day differently. Lifting my right arm carefully with my left hand, I slowly place it on the armrest of my chair and proceed to respond to emails, and add a few thoughts to my current novel manuscript . . . with left handed poke-typing. Although this is hard work, there is definitely a sense of accomplishment when completed. 

This is a new normal for me, as I can’t lean into a favourite or familiar process of doing what two months ago would have seemed perfectly normal. I’ve had to set aside my personal goals to revise a waiting novel and knit a Christmas gift for a great granddaughter.

However, all of this definitely has a lighter side. And yet the brighter view also has compromise. Several of my email, Facebook and blog friends are limited in various ways in their day-to-day-life. We share similarities and differences, as all of our situations are different. Considering this has offered a common bond between us and rather than moan, “Why me?”, I say, “Why not me?” All of this has also given me a wake-up call to what it must be like to live with limitations.

Another dimension of the lighter side is that I have my own personal chauffeur who takes me to x-ray, physiotherapy, doctor’s visits, shopping, visits and even to a dance last week (which I managed to keep up to his fancy steps). He also delivers my meals to my chair, but without the white linen over his arm. Attending the local community suppers has been worth a laugh or two, where he has to butter my bun and cut my meat.  But, I can peel and eat a banana all by myself. Truly, this same happy-hubby has been handy to the intercom to take my requests and a champion at nuking the beanbag to alleviate the pain.

Which brings me to my third point: my chair is a rocker swivel. I can sit one direction and welcome the sun every morning through a double window. Or I can swivel my chair around to a small window in the same room for a limited view, that is until mid afternoon when the sun claims its space on that side of the house - which leaves me thinking that some of my outlook in life is reality and some is choice. Something like a half-empty or half-full cup. 

In conclusion, I have been amused at people’s personal response to my accident. Some are helpful, while others are not. As I compare my state of being with extreme situations, i.e. the mega severe and tragic situations of refugees, I think again “Why not me?” Somewhere in the land of Internet images, there is one of Jesus standing in the midst of a boat filled with helpless people. Seeing this gives me a sense of hope in troubled times.

Christmas Island sounds good, but we'll settle in Egypt

My accident is so meagre to what others experience. Through change, to safety, security and serenity.

What makes it easier to say this, is the knowledge that God's comfort, consistent presence in life's process and the assurance of healing is ongoing and unlimited, regardless of situation. 

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble (Psalm 46:1). 
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              
Blessings                                           
Donna Mann
www.donnamann.org
Check out Agnes MacPhail series for the young and young-at-heart: Brucedale Press
A Rare Find: Amazon, Castle Quay Publishing (soon to be e-book)
21 Promises: Honouring Self During Grief - Amazon, KOBO

The Appeal of Hibernation - Tracy Krauss

The notion of hibernation appeals to me, especially when I'm suffering from a lack of sleep, an overload of responsibilities, or looming deadlines. I could learn a thing or two from those species that curl up for the winter in a nice cozy cave. Instead, I tend to take on more and more during the winter months. Teaching full time, an upcoming drama show, making my own Christmas presents, church responsibilities... oh, did I mention I signed up for nanowrimo again this year? Call me crazy, but I'm near the finish line with another 3000 words to go in order to make my 50,000 word deadline in one month. I'm ready for a rest, but that's not going to happen until after the Christmas rush of concerts, dinners, decorating and the like. I feel a little bit like a bear that is waiting for winter.

Interestingly, we had a few real life examples of just such a phenomenon this fall. The weather was unusually mild for an extended period of time in northern BC. This is not something that the residents of the small mountain town where I live would normally complain about. However, Tumbler Ridge had to contend with more than one black bear hanging around waiting for colder weather to hit. Signs were posted around town for at least three weeks straight and bear sightings were a daily occurrence. People were told to keep their small pets indoors, children only played outside in groups, and it was a rare and brave individual who walked alone, especially after dark.

One friend took pictures of the bear tracks in her garden and the scratch marks on her fence. Somehow the bear got into her yard, even though it is enclosed on all sides by a six foot wooden fence. My neighbor two doors down saw a mother and cub in the vacant yard next to theirs. Residents were getting frustrated. They just didn't feel safe.

No measures were taken to trap or relocate the bears, however. It wasn't an isolated incident or just one rogue bear. When you build a town in the middle of a forest, you can expect to share it with the wildlife. A few years ago, a bear had to be shot just five houses down from us because it was hiding under someone's deck and wouldn't come out. Perhaps he thought he'd found the perfect place for his winter's nap. Fortunately, there were no casualties this year and the town is now bear free for several months until springtime.

I'm hoping for some of that same rest and relaxation to hit somewhere around December 26 - just in time for my next contribution to this blog on December 27. 

Tracy Krauss is a multi-published author, artist, playwright, teacher, pastor, worship leader, blogger, speaker, wife, mother, grandmother ...(takes a breath) who is planning to hibernate for exactly one week after Christmas before jumping back into the fray called life. Visit her website at: tracykrauss.com