Wounded Tigers, Party Crashers, and a Manger

"On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a Tiger who hit a tree. On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me a pair of White House party crash-ers." So would go the new version of that familiar song if you believed what was really "the news" for our day. Why are we an obsessed, celebrity driven culture? What is the need behind us wanting to have heroes who remain unblemished while possessing the power to capture our imaginations? Why do we care that some flashy couple duped the not so secret service?

I'm not really sure why? It is almost like we need to "go back to go" and start over. No, life is not a Monopoly game but we sure could use a new deck of cards and a transformed set of "pieces" to move about our pilgrimage toward wherever it is we seem to be going so fast.

For those who want to not take the express route to Christmas there is that "road less traveled." At the fork in the road is a crusty old fella with locusts in his teeth and the smell of honey on his breath. The centuries call him John the Baptist. He sounds like the alter-ego of Santa Claus as he seems to be making a list and checking it more than twice while he screams out every year in his wilderness to "repent."

The word "repent" has a bad rap. It's been screamed out by too many "modern" would be prophets as a means to "scare the hell" out of people so that they would straighten up and fly right before it is "everlastingly too late"...or something like that. The word actually means to "stop, look, and listen...and then go in a different direction." See there...that sounds more like a "stop sign" on the road rather than a hammer with which to hit people up side of the head.

My stop sign happened last night at our church's live Nativity. Our youngest daughter signed up to be Mary. I kidded her (and I probably should not have...see I've been jaundiced by our culture too) about her role asking if it was a way of doing penance for those wild and crazy days of her youth. She just smiled at me. In that smile I saw a bit of Mary and not just Amanda.

What really got my attention were the children who stood around the manger. They were truly fascinated. They wanted to touch the baby. No, it was not a "real" baby but somehow that did not matter. To them the scene was real. Perhaps they knew just enough of the story to want to see for themselves. Something real sure was happening at that manger.

So, I think I need to repent. I'm tired of news about wounded Tigers and party crashers. I need the "good news" that comes in the wilderness. I want what those children seemed to want. What if we can hear the old story and let it come alive for us? What if we can still help that baby transform this crazy world and this upside-down culture?

That was "really" my daughter up there. Those children "really" were captivated by the story. The news on the talking box is not the reality we need. I walked away from the manger and thought to myself, "Come into my heart Lord Jesus...Come in today...come in to stay...come into my heart Lord Jesus."

Blessed Advent to you,
jody jseymour@davidsonumc.org