What Will Your Christmas Point To?

Photo by Olena Sergienko on Unsplash

I heard someone say once that, if aliens from another world observed life on earth and saw us walking around behind our dogs outside, picking up after them with little plastic bags, the aliens would naturally assume that on Earth dogs are the masters and human beings are their slaves.

Well, what if a flying saucer came and observed our Christmas celebrations? What would they see? What would they think?

Christians believe that actions are revealing. Jesus compares people to trees and says that “each tree is known by its own fruit… The good person out of the good treasure of the heart produces good, and the evil person out of evil treasure produces evil.” (Luke 6:44 and 45) James, arguing that you cannot separate someone’s beliefs from their deeds, says, “Show me your faith apart from works, and I by my works will show you faith.” (2:18) Our actions reveal what’s in our hearts: the beliefs that we value, the convictions that we’ll actually implement in our lives.

What will your actions reveal about your priorities and beliefs this Christmas?

How much of your holiday spending and busyness will point unambiguously to Jesus? And how much of it will point unambiguously to our society’s addictions to consumerism and eating, drinking, and being merry?

I don’t think there’s a thing in the world wrong with buying Christmas gifts for the people you love—and for people you don’t even know, through programs like Operation Christmas Child or Toys for Tots. That’s great! Do that. Enjoy yourself. Make someone’s heart glad. And I don’t think there’s a thing in the world wrong with celebrating the holidays with eating, being merry, and even (gasp!) responsible drinking. The birth of Jesus Christ in Bethlehem for us and our salvation is worth celebrating in a big way.

But is that what you’re celebrating? Or is Christmas just a good time with family and friends?

I don’t want to shame anybody. I want to challenge everybody. Because we’re just getting into this season, and you have plenty of time to make sure this Christmas is about Jesus! So, what are you going to do to put Jesus at the center of your Christmas? Church folk talk a lot about 'keeping Christ in Christmas'. Usually, I think, that means we want stores and statehouses to make Jesus visible in their holiday practices. But what are you doing to make Jesus visible in yours?

What gift are you getting him for his birthday?

What will you be doing on Christmas day—a Sunday!—when church doors will be open for the faithful to “come let us adore him”?

What are you teaching your children and grandchildren that this season means, through your words and your example?

Christmas time is just getting started, so I want to challenge you, before the hectic holiday schedule takes over: decide now how you want to celebrate Jesus this year. Decide now what you want your Christmas spending and busyness to reveal.

The Anti-Anxiety

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” - Philippians 4:6

I’ve often thought of this verse as Paul’s strategy for fighting anxiety: the antidote to anxiety is thanksgiving.

Now, before I say anything else: I don’t mean the kind of anxiety that keeps you from functioning normally in everyday life and requires therapy and/or prescription medication. I’ve never experienced that, personally. I have seen it up close, though, and, as far as I’m concerned, professional medical help’s often necessary—and it’s a gift from God! Don’t hesitate to ask a health professional if you need help.

But for those every day worries, dreads, and hypothetical scenarios of doom, Paul seems to offer thanksgiving here as a way to fight back. Don’t be anxious: instead, pray with thanksgiving. Then peace from God will come in and guard your heart and your mind. (4:7)

Why would gratitude help us experience peace? Because thankfulness requires an awareness of God’s presence, help, and blessings in your life. When you pray with thanksgiving, naming those gifts, you are reminding yourself of God’s actual goodness and faithfulness. Remembering the very real gifts of God is a powerful counter to the baseless fears about life we often dwell on. You don’t know if any of your fears about the future will materialize, but you do know, from personal experience, that you’ll face the future alongside a loving Father.

I realized recently, though, while reading M. Robert Mulholland Jr.’s wonderful book, Invitation to a Journey, that there’s more going on in these verses. Thankfulness is not only an antidote to anxiety; it’s an inoculation against it.

What I noticed for the first time while reading Mulholland is that Paul doesn’t recommend gratitude as a response to anxiety. He envisions it as the abiding attitude of our hearts, in good times and bad. “Rejoice in the Lord always.” (4:4) “In everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (4:6) Paul challenges us to make acknowledging and celebrating God’s goodness in our lives our default—always, in everything.

If you do that, then thanksgiving isn’t a helpful response to anxiety. It’s the state of mind in which anxiety finds you. That’s why it’s an inoculation: when worries and dread come knocking, you are already in the habit of paying attention to the things that bring peace. That default attitude can serve as a defense against anxiety’s incursions, instead of those feelings finding you totally unprepared for their assault.

So, if you’re not kept up at night by fears and What if?s, then now is actually the perfect time to start fortifying your heart and mind with gratitude. Pay attention to the good things in your life. Name them. Give thanks for them. Taste and see that the Lord is good (Ps 34:8). If this is your regular approach to life and prayer, prior to feeling the first tinge of worry, then, when moments of anxiety do come, you’ll be more mentally and spiritually prepared for that battle.

A Roadblock to Discernment

Occasionally I will teach about discernment and some of the obstacles that roadblock our ability to discern God’s will for different situations in life. One of those obstacles is a phenomenon that psychologists call “confirmation bias.”

Even if you’ve never heard that term, I’d bet the farm that you’ve seen confirmation bias at work. One article defines it as “the tendency of people to favor information that confirms their existing beliefs.” If you’ve ever tried to convince someone that a wild story they read on Facebook is false, but they just didn’t seem to hear your reasons or evidence, you may have been banging your head against the wall of confirmation bias. They favored information that confirmed their views—and were more likely to reject your conflicting information.

This becomes an obstacle for Christian discernment the moment God tries to tell a person something that they don’t want to hear. Confirmation bias will lead you to favor your preferred (comfortable) take on a situation and downplay any hints the Lord is dropping about a new (uncomfortable) way of seeing or doing things.

We saw an example of this in Micah at a Bible study last week at Eastlawn. Micah delivers a harsh warning concerning the idolatry, greed, and injustice in Israel and Judah, and then he records this reply:

“Don’t say such things,”
    the people respond.
“Don’t prophesy like that.
    Such disasters will never come our way!” (2:6)

The prophet laid out his case and spoke with the authority of the Lord himself, and yet God’s people simply cannot hear the message he brings. They’re like the people 2 Timothy describes, who “look for teachers who will tell them whatever their itching ears want to hear.” (4:3) They favor information that confirms their existing beliefs. They’re blinded by confirmation bias.

Of course, the real problem with confirmation bias is that is doesn’t just affect other people: it affects you and me, too. Though, naturally, we have a hard time seeing it. ‘I’m not biased! My beliefs are just correct, and yours are wrong!’ But confirmation bias is a part of the human condition. You and I have itching ears, too. We, too, are disinclined to hear what the prophets would preach to us.

There’s no easy way around this mental roadblock. I think that being aware of the phenomenon—and aware that it’s at work in my mind, too—is an important place to start, but there will still be a struggle ahead to overcome it. 

A struggle to listen more (James 1:19). 

A struggle to be open to correction (Prov 12:1). 

A struggle, perhaps, to loosen our grip on some firmly held opinions so that we can hold tighter to “Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:2)—maybe some of the things we argue about so vehemently shouldn’t take up so much of our time, attention, and energy in the first place.

But, Christian, do not bypass the struggle. “Taking up your cross” is not comfortable or easy, but it is how Jesus described discipleship (Luke 9:23). Doing this well will challenge us, but it will also make us more ready to hear what our neighbors are trying to tell us and to hear what our God is trying to tell us.

Good News for Animals

Something that I didn’t expect, when I started studying the Bible years ago, was how much scripture has to say about God’s care for animals.

Christ tells us that, when someone went to the market and bought five sparrows, not one of those birds was forgotten by God. (Luke 12:6)

The Lord asks Jonah why he shouldn’t spare Nineveh—after all, the city was filled with people and animals. (Jon 4:11)

The Old Testament describes God’s careful provision for the needs of all sorts of creatures, from ravens (Job 38:41), to donkeys (Ps 104:10-11), to lions (Ps 104:21), not to mention the praise these creatures offer back to God (Ps 96:11-13, 98:7-9).

We saw this Sunday at Eastlawn that Isaiah insists even eternity has a place and a promise for animals: no longer brutal hunters or frightened prey, but simply enjoying life in God’s new world (Isa 11:6-9, 65:25).

One of the most surprising verses about all of this comes straight from the mouth of Jesus.

A professor at my seminary, Norman Wirzba, once pointed out that, while Matthew’s great commission famously sends the disciples to “all nations,” Mark says that the mission is to all created things. In Mark 16:15, Jesus commands his followers to “Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.” That led Dr. Wirzba to ask: Is our presence on earth “good news” for all the other creatures living alongside us?

Do you remember Watership Down, the novel about a group of rabbit refugees trying to find a new home? (Or maybe the cartoon version, that’s been traumatizing children since 1978?) In the first chapter of the book, two rabbits see a sign some humans have recently erected. They can’t read it, but it’s ominous and prompts them to flee their warren and set out for new lands. The sign, as it turns out, was advertising a subdivision that's coming soon.

Later, a rabbit who escaped that day describes the horror that unfolded when construction began: their warren pumped full of poison, rabbits that fled being shot. Reflecting on the carnage, one rabbit said that the men hated them for stealing from their gardens and fields. But another answered him, “That wasn’t why they destroyed the warren. It was just because we were in their way. They killed us to suit themselves.” 

Watership Down is fiction (if the talking bunnies didn't give that away), but the sort of disregard for and destruction of habitats and animal populations it depicts can be all too real—not to mention countless smaller, everyday acts of cruelty or neglect. If Christians are going to “proclaim the good news to the whole creation,” if our presence on earth is going to be good news for all the other creations living here, then I believe we need to be intentional about how our lives impact the animals whom we share this world with, from the dog on your couch to the rabbits in the woods behind your home. 

At very least, no creature ought to be able to say of us, “They killed us to suit themselves.”

A Civil War Good Samaritan

Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. in 1861

Lately I’ve been reading (okay, listening to) book called A Worse Place Than Hell: How the Civil War Battle of Fredericksburg Changed a Nation, by John Matteson. It follows a couple of remarkable individuals through the wartime years leading up to Fredericksburg. One of these individuals is future Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., who served in the US army in the war in his 20s.

During the Battle of Antietam in 1862, Holmes was shot in the neck, though, miraculously, the bullet missed every vital part of his neck, and he would recover. As he lay on the ground bleeding that day, however, his fate wasn't at all certain. Matteson describes the scene:

As he fluttered on the edge of consciousness, a man sauntered up to him and spoke: “You’re a Christian, aren’t you?” Holmes’s eyelids flickered. “Well, then, that’s alright,” the man said with satisfaction, and wandered off. There followed a span of time whose length Holmes had no way to measure. At the end of it came a second man, who, fortunately, cared more about Holmes’s prospects in this life than in the next. William Le Duc, a regimental quartermaster, saw the prostrate captain and called for a surgeon.

Even when the surgeon saw the neck wound and dismissed Holmes as a hopeless case, Le Duc didn’t give up. He gave the injured man a sip of brandy to rouse him, helped him walk to a home nearby where he could get shelter and care, and finally sent a telegraph to Holmes’s family in Boston, letting them know what had happened.

I couldn’t hear this story without being reminded of Jesus’s parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10. A traveler is beaten by robbers and left for dead by the road. A priest comes along and sees him there but “passed by on the other side.” Then a Levite, who also served in the Jerusalem Temple, approaches, and he, too, “passed by on the other side.” Finally, a Samaritan, universally despised by Jews, arrives, but when he sees the wounded man, “he took pity on him,” bandaged his wounds, put him on his donkey, and carried the man to an inn where someone could care for him. (10:30-35)

Preachers and teachers like to speculate about why the priest and Levite ignored the man in need. Maybe they were afraid for their own lives. Maybe they were more concerned with their own religious purity—that man looks unclean! Maybe they were too focused on their Temple duties and didn’t have time to bother with him.

This story about the good Samaritan who saved Oliver Wendell Holmes’s life (and the first man, who left him for dead) made me wonder, though: How often do we overlook the material needs around us because, “You’re a Christian, aren’t you?... Well, then, that’s alright.” How often to we prioritize spiritual needs to the extent of disregarding someone’s earthly condition, as if that’s unimportant?

Meanwhile, Jesus spent his ministry going around healing and restoring people’s earthly conditions. Jesus spent his ministry telling stories like the parable of the Good Samaritan—which, don’t forget, he ends with a question:

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” (10:36-37)

Which man was a neighbor to Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr. that day?

It wasn’t the man who piously inquired about his soul. It was William Le Duc.

Go and do likewise.