Putting away Christmas

Every year it’s the same. After a big day of too much food and lots of presents, we wade through the torn wrapping paper and mutilated bows, gathering up our loot and putting it away. We examine the gifts again, trying things on, looking for the right spots to display them. Sometimes the presents are much-loved and will be used daily; other times, small stocking stuffers (or well-meaning gifts that simply missed the mark) may be shoved into drawers and baskets, not to be unearthed until months later, if and when you decide to deep clean your room. That’s one way to know you have more than you need: you can put away the gifts and completely forget about them.

As I was gathering up the debris left over from the big day, I realized that I don’t want to put away Christmas this year. Don’t get me wrong. I’m already tired of the tree and the garland and the wreaths. I’ll be happy to see those go, whenever I muster up the energy to pack them away. But all through December, as I put up the decorations and made lists and ran into yet another store, I tried so hard to keep the focus on the reason for the season. I enjoyed talking about Him, wishing people a Merry Christmas, sending cards mentioning the birth of our Saviour. We all do things out of the ordinary — we attend candlelight services, do nice things for people, and actually succeed in remembering what it’s all about. But what happens when Christmas is over? Do we take all that we discovered and thought and said and shove it into a closet? Or do we keep it out? Do we keep talking about Jesus, about the miracle of His birth? Do we continue to do charitable acts, reaching out to feed and clothe and help those in need? We celebrate Christmas as a season, but it’s a celebration that should last all year long. The gifts He has given are meant to be used daily, to be kept out for easy access. They’re meant to be celebrated and shared.

So I challenge you this year, as we pack up the ornaments and gift wrap and trees: let’s take stock of all He has given us, and let’s remember to use it. Enjoy it. Love it. Let’s greet people with smiles and laughter. Let’s find reasons to get together with friends and family. Let’s think about what it means that a baby, an amazing and one-of-a-kind child, came to live among us. Let’s think about what it means that He still lives, and that He loves, and that He calls us His own. Let’s think about Jesus — all 365 days of the year.

O come let us adore Him

It’s that time of year when Christmas carols are blaring over speakers everywhere you go. One line that sticks in my head every time is “O come let us adore Him.” It sounds so easy. It is so easy. So why don’t we do it? We don’t have to travel as the wise men did, with caravans of people and supplies for hundreds of miles, for months of our lives, to deliver a costly gift to the Messiah. We don’t have to beg to be allowed into His throne room, and we don’t have to follow a star to find His lowly manger. We don’t even have to move. Not a single inch. He — the Christ child, the sacrificial Lamb of God, the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace — He deigns to come to us. But He wants to be adored. He wants us to show Him how much it means to us that He dwells among us. So this year at Christmas, especially, let’s show Him. Let’s reach out in love to every person we encounter. Let’s offer gifts of ourselves, our time, our sacrifice, our thoughtfulness — to help others, not burden ourselves with more debt to buy people things they don’t really need. Let’s remember the One for whom the holiday is named, and let’s use His name — kindly and gently, not belligerently — wherever we go. Let’s make sure that, with every action, every conversation, every thought, and every gesture, we adore Him. Let’s make sure He sees how much we love Him. And let’s make sure others who are around us remember — because of us — that the holiday we celebrate is Christmas, and the One we adore is Jesus.

Finding our way there

I remember, shortly after turning 16, driving to Indianapolis for the first time on my own. I’d been there a thousand times with my mom — granted, I’d always trusted my parents to navigate while I sat in the passenger seat with my nose buried in a book — but how hard could it be? You get in the car, head in that general direction, and in about 45 minutes, voilá! We’d be there. Easy.

Well, on my first solo trip, I managed to find my favorite mall easily enough, but getting back home was another story. It didn’t make sense to me that I’d have to take a road marked “Peoria, IL” to get to Ladoga, IN. I drove for a while, and I knew I was in the wrong place, but I didn’t know where the right place was. This was before cell phones and GPS. We couldn’t count on someone else to guide us. We had to find the way on our own. (Or, like I did, stop at a pay phone and call for help.)

Sometimes I find myself along for the ride at church. Yeah, of course I can find that sweet spot in worship when I’m in a roomful of people who are all headed to the same place. I can do my own thing, look up every once in a while and notice the landmarks, and coast along until we arrive at the throne. But what happens when I’m on my own? Can I get there myself? Do I know how to find God when I’m the one doing the driving? Can I find Him using my own directions, or do I prefer to ride in the passenger seat, trusting that our pastors or worship leaders will get us to our destination? It’s easy to believe that we can do it ourselves…until we try it. And then we discover that it’s harder than it looks. So worth it, so worth the effort and time and focus and concentration it takes — absolutely. But harder than we thought. The good news? Once we’ve been there once, the next time is easier, and before long, getting there is second nature.

Ready to play

There is a boy on my son’s basketball team who, you can tell, has played for years, even though he’s just nine. He’s tall and fast and has great control. His dad coaches the team, and what struck me the most during the last game was the way Cameron listened to his dad as he played. The coach would say slow down, and Cameron instantly, with absolute control, slowed down. His dad would tell him to pass and he would look for the open guy. When his father told him to take the ball to the basket, Cam looked for his opportunity and wove through the opponents to make a perfect lay-up. His dad wasn’t screaming or criticizing. He was calmly, encouragingly helping his son see what was happening — pointing out opportunities and teaching him the thought process so that later, when his dad isn’t there, he’ll know what to do on his own.

I’m sure, like all of us, Cameron has his times of not wanting to listen. But you wouldn’t know it to watch him play. Here’s the thing: in order for Cameron to be so good, he had to practice. A lot. He may have been given certain inherent abilities, but he hasn’t neglected them. He works at it. You can see it in the control he shows. He can dribble right-handed or left-handed. He can run with the ball or pass or shoot. But, when he’s on the court, at least, he trusts his dad. He knows he’ll lead him in the right direction, so he uses his abilities as he is told. He has an obedient spirit.

I thought, oh, if we could listen to our Heavenly Father like that. To trust that He can see the big picture. To remember that He wrote the playbook and He knows all about our opponents. He gave us talents, and we need to spend time honing our skills, but then, when it’s time, we have to be ready to go. We have to tune in to His voice and block out all the others who are screaming suggestions or criticism or simply trying to distract us. We need to walk proudly onto the court and say, OK, Daddy, I’m ready to play.