Love and Being Single During the Holidays

The holiday season can get pretty depressing. To start off with, you've got the short number of daylight hours and the bitter cold. Add to that the stress of shopping for gifts and navigating the treacherous waters of family gatherings, as well as the high probability of gaining weight, and you've got a winning recipe for some December despair. (Add powdered sugar as desired.) Spending the holidays as a single adult can be the icing on the cake, or the whipped cream on a large glass of eggnog. So, considering my own long-held status as a bachelor, I wasn't particularly surprised that a few friends have asked me how I'm holding up this month. “Are you feeling lonely?” they've asked. Happily, the Holiday Blues isn't something I've really been afflicted with. 

While I sincerely appreciate the concern of those friends, the question itself reminded me of how much our society privileges a certain type of companionship:  the romantic kind. There's a world of good to be said about romance and being able to share your life with a girlfriend or spouse. But we're told again and again in books, movies, shows, and  advertisements that life is all about finding that special someone. It's about falling in love while staring into each other's eyes over a candlelit dinner or in the rain. We're taught that living without romantic love somehow makes you unfulfilled or less than a whole person. If I'm going to measure this year by the standard of finding “the one,” 2013 was a failure. 

Fortunately for me and the other singles out there, romance isn't all that life, or even love, consists of. I know this deep down, from experience, and from the teachings of Jesus and his disciples. For Jesus, love wasn't finding “the one person waiting for you,” (as a recent eHarmony ad claims), or even going to Zales to show your spouse how much she means to you. In his mind, there was no greater love than laying down his life for his friends, than dying for us while we were still sinners. No mushy feelings, no flowery declarations of affection or love poems. Hard sacrifice. He knew that what matters most isn't that we've found our soul mates, but that we've loved our neighbors as ourselves. In the Greek of the New Testament, that love is undetachable from our behavior. It's centered around actions rather than feelings, in our deeds more than just what we say. Trusting in God's definition of love instead of Hallmark's can be extremely difficult. But it's what He wants from us.

If there's one thing I regret about this year, then, it's not that I'm single. It's looking back on all the ways I could have lived in a way more worthy of the sacrifice Jesus made for me. I think about the words spoken out of anger and unkindness, about the many times when I could have extended my hand to help someone in need and didn't. I hope that 2014 will see me treating people at even a percentage of how well God and my family and friends have treated me. I hope that the fact that life is less about who we love than how we love won't just remain as a thought in my head, but that I can actually act on it by being a more positive force in people's lives. That I can show love, in deed and in truth, to family, friends, strangers, and enemies. And, if God wills, that special someone.  

"In very nature God": The Gift of Christmas

Looking back, I'm often surprised by how long it took for me to believe in Jesus and the God of Christianity. God has changed me so much in the last year and a half that my 26 years as a non-Christian almost feel like they were part of another life. But as recently as 2011, I could have listed about a dozen misgivings and doubts that prevented me from letting Christ into my life. Morally, theologically, and practically, Christianity made very little sense to me. The concepts of the incarnation and the divinity of Jesus were right up there among the stumbling blocks.

I'm far from being the only person for whom these were major obstacles to belief. In the centuries since Jesus walked the earth, the idea that the deity that created the whole universe became a human being was either nonsense or blasphemy for many people. (This remains the case to this day.) The beatings and painful death he suffered in Jerusalem were hardly selling points for Christianity, either. The fact that his apostles continued to proclaim his victory and kingship over the whole world after his death seemed like complete foolishness to Jew and Gentile alike.

Yet God's purposes in sending His Son to live among us weren't thwarted by Jesus' death and resurrection, but were fulfilled by his obedience to the Father. Not as a spirit, but as a man. Like the rest of us, he got hungry and thirsty and dirty. He worked with his hands for a living before his public ministry, probably as a carpenter or stonemason. The last thing he seemed like was the long-awaited King of Israel. But there were signs from the very beginning of his life that Jesus was the Lord and Savior that the prophets had predicted, and for whom the oppressed people of Israel had eagerly waited and prayed for. At the same time, God gave humanity the Savior they needed rather than the one they wanted. He was to be a man of peace rather than war, preaching a Kingdom of God whose real enemy wasn't the Roman Empire that ruled politically over the Jews, but the forces of sin and death that ruled in the hearts of all people. He was to be a man of compassion rather than wrath, of humility rather than arrogance.

Thus, the wise men and shepherds come to kneel before him as King not in a palace, but in a lowly, dirty manger. His childhood is spent not in a nobleman's house in the lap of luxury, but in a household sustained by hard work and modest living. In these things, and in his refusal to play by the rules of human behavior set by millennia of violence, oppression, and grabs for worldly power, Jesus proved himself to be stronger than any man who had ever lived.

From beginning to end, Jesus challenged his contemporaries to radically change their definition of what it meant to truly be a human being made in God's image. More than that, through his actions, teachings, and self-sacrifice, he urged them to drastically re-center their ideas about God around him. Around a man born in a manger, a man who worked hard with his hands, a man who refused to hate or preach violence against the Romans. Around pure, divine love, the only thing really able to defeat the forces of sin and death that had marred mankind's ability to be God's children.

This month, we celebrate the physical birth of our Lord and Savior in Bethlehem. Not as a fully-formed adult or a disembodied spirit, but as a human baby. More often than not, our proclamations of Jesus' immaculate conception and divinity will be greeted with confusion, disbelief, or charges of blasphemy. People reacted the same to the apostles when they preached these aspects of the Gospel as they do now. But against all the shouts of the world that the idea of God becoming man is ridiculous, that it is below God to be physical or to live like a normal man, we hold up the love of the God who refused to give up on us. Who, knowing our frailty and weakness against temptation, came Himself to save His people and fulfill His plans for creation. Jesus, "who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; but made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness." (Philippians 2:6-7)

It could only be the Son, no one else. As much as this may seem foolish or like a stumbling block to faith in God, this fact is the center of our lives in Him. We are children of God, redeemed through His own actions. Saved by a man who was born, who walked and worked, ate and drank, and who suffered on a cross for his fellow human beings. For us. Behind all the family gatherings and presents and food, this Christmas season is about a God who loved us enough to live amongst us. And knowing this in our hearts is worth more than all the gifts in the world.

Black Santa and the War on Christmas

The catastrophic threat posed by Penguin Santas cannot be overstated.
Be warned:  their cuteness is only a cunning ruse to deceive us!

Christmas is under attack. And even though the war of the atheist agenda has been waging for years, now it's serious. It's gotten so bad that historical revisionists are attempting to suggest that Santa could be black, or even a penguin. All to coddle those who can't deal with the fact that the fictional figure loosely based on a real person, whose depictions for the last hundred years have been mostly a result of a successful advertising campaign by Coca-Cola, is a white, wholesome American. It's yet another affront to the Judaeo-Christian culture that we hold dear. The best we can do against such assaults is to stand behind Fox News, close off our minds to all ideas from the surrounding culture, and affix our “Keep Christ in Christmas” bumper stickers with pride. 

As you might be able to guess from the sarcasm of the above paragraph, the so-called War on Christmas doesn't worry me much. If we're thinking of the war as many religious and social conservatives see it, it's already been lost. Christmas in America is a largely secular holiday and has been for a long time. This is even more so in most of Europe. As an American, part of me is glad of that fact. At its best, our country is an inclusive, pluralist society. Non-Christian celebration of Christmas, by atheists, agnostics, and adherents of other religions, is a welcome step toward that ideal. The holiday season, I believe, can bring Americans together in a way that few other traditions are capable of. Of course, there is a dark side of Christmas, and a great danger posed by commercialism and materialism. (One has only to go to a Walmart on Black Friday to get a glimpse of it.) 

But in general, to those who have become distraught and feel that their belief system is being attacked by the secularization or marginalization of Christmas, I say:  lighten up. Take a breath and think about God. The Jesus whose birth we are celebrating (probably not even in the correct season) doesn't need defending. As we rant about how our society is being destroyed from within, he is seated as King at the right hand of the Father. He can take care of himself. His Kingdom can proceed with or without “proper” celebration of his birth. Disciples can be made and lives drastically transformed by the Gospel. Nothing can undo the victory of his cross and resurrection. And the holiday that celebrates these crucial events, Easter, is still firmly in the Christian camp (in spite of the attempts of the gay Easter Bunny agenda). 

It is true that, as Christians, we don't belong to this world or the elements that rule it. We belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God. But how can we act as the light of the world if we close ourselves off from it entirely and allow our paranoia to shut out our compassion? Or, for that matter, our holiday cheer? So, to quote the jolly black man himself, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” Not just to devout Christians, but to everyone. Have a Merry Christmas!

Mandela: Embodying Hope for a Better World

In the dramatic climax of one of my favorite movies, V for Vendetta, hundreds of thousands of Englishmen and women peacefully storm Trafalgar Square on the 5th of November as V had urged them to do. (SPOILER ALERT) Faced with a sea of Guy Fawkes masks, army officers attempt to communicate with Supreme High Chancellor Sutler and Party Leader Creedy for commands. No commands come, for reasons obvious to those who have seen the movie. Faced with the choice to gun down thousands of his countrymen, the general orders the army to stand down. Miraculously, not a shot is fired as V's supporters climb over barricades and walk right through ranks of soldiers. The movie ends on a high note with the explosion of Parliament, an emotionally powerful monologue by Natalie Portman's character, and the promise of a fresh new start for Britain. Peaceful resistance, along with V's genius intellect and knack for knife throwing, have freed the country from authoritarian rule. 

I've often imagined what a sequel might look like. I doubt it would be as positive as the ending of the first movie. It would, perhaps, involve someone from Adam Sutler's old group of friends coming to power after guaranteeing political and economic stability to the British voters. Or maybe the new leader would be Chief Inspector Finch, whose public support by Evie Hammond would cement him as an embodiment of the revolution. Upon election, he would soon fall prey to the temptations of power and become as despotic as Sutler had been, violently putting down all protests and dissent. During either scenario, Evie Hammond would be looking on helplessly as her country falls apart and wonder if V's years of planning and self-sacrifice had all been for nothing. 

Of course, the plot of this sequel is purely imaginative on my part. But the pages of modern history are filled with similar sequences of events of brutally crushed revolts and failed revolutions. Even when people with honorable intentions do manage to overthrow a government, one must often expect decades of political upheavals, economic instability, and backsliding into violence and oppression. Unfortunately, this fact isn't limited to history books. Egyptians, for example, are living in a country that was full of hope after its 2011 revolution. Since then, the vision of fair government and prosperity that led so many people to Tahrir Square has been marred again and again by people who want nothing but power and money, and are willing to play on Egyptians' fears and doubts about the future to justify human rights abuses and political exclusion. Watching a country that I love continue to be held hostage in this way confirms for me that, when it comes to human government throughout the centuries, abuses of power and unsuccessful attempts to establish peace and justice are the norm. 

And then, there are the extremely rare occasions when things change decisively for the better. There are the apparent miracles in which the widespread clashes and violent opposition that one would expect to accompany drastic political and social change is nowhere to be found. There is no greater example of this in recent history than the first free elections in South Africa in 1994. When the African National Congress party and Nelson Mandela came to power through a peaceful transition, the world looked on as apartheid died, not with one last bang but with a fizzle. It was a fitting death for an evil system that had already destroyed so many lives. In the years after the elections, instead of perpetuating the cycle of violence and retribution in a way similar to the Nuremberg Trials, Mandela, Desmond Tutu, and others chose the much more difficult path of national and individual healing through the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. In the years to come, I hope that the country continues to be molded into the vision imagined by Mandela. With remnants of apartheid like racism and economic inequality persisting to this day, South Africa has a long way to go before his dream is fully realized. 

But Mandela's importance isn't contingent on South Africa's GDP or crime rate. He didn't only lead the country into a time of hope; he embodied that hope himself. Through his compassion and selflessness, he made people believe that racial equality could be the norm rather than an unattainable goal. He gave South Africans and all peace-loving people reason to have faith that there is good left in the world, that justice can be restored. Not easily, not magically overnight, but through constant hard work and open minds and hearts. 

In his fierce determination to serve other people, he redefined what it meant to be a leader in a world where the machinery of government is so often based on self-aggrandizement and exclusion. He gave us hope that more leaders like him can spring up in times when restoration and healing are sorely needed. Considering the enormous impact he has had on people's lives, it is tempting to despair at our own inability to change the way things are. It's easy to mourn his death and lament the fact that there will never be anyone quite like him again. As a man, he's dead and buried. But as a symbol of hope, of love, of peace, he is still out there in the world, reminding us that the only life worth living is one lived for the betterment of others. He was you. He was me. At our most hopeful. At our best. Gone, but never forgotten. 

The Difficulty of Thanksgiving

A Thanksgiving tradition (waning in popularity, but still in practice among some families I know) is to go around the dinner table and have each member of the family share what they're most thankful for. It's a tradition that I think the apostle Paul would have greatly appreciated. More than that, I suspect he would have looked at it as his annual opportunity to really let loose on what he was grateful for. I imagine him patiently waiting for a boy preceding him to finish talking about the new puppy his parents had given him. Then, unrolling a scroll, clearing his throat, and taking a drink of water, Paul would rattle off a list while everyone else at the table wonders how long Uncle Paul will go this time. He would, I imagine, be a bit like the recipient at an awards shows whose acceptance speech continues far after the transition music has started and who has to be practically dragged offstage.  

Greer Garson, whose acceptance speech at the 1942 Oscars holds the record
as the longest ever. She spoke for 5 and a half minutes. 

His list, I suspect, would be larger than most of ours. He would start off with his gratitude for the faithfulness of God in sending Jesus to save mankind and His whole creation, for his conversion on the road to Damascus and his undeserved apostleship, for forgiveness. Then, special comments for each of the Christian communities he had founded or been involved in building, and for the successes he and his churches had made in spreading the Gospel. (Thanksgiving is an important part of each of Paul's letters to churches, except to the Galatians, with whom he was very angry at the time.) All well and good at this point. But Paul's next statements would cause the other people at the table to shake their heads in confusion. “Finally, as difficult as it is sometimes,” he might say, “I'm thankful for all things. Even for the beatings, the humiliations, the stonings. For being imprisoned and ridiculed and spit on. All of it. All of it is for the glory of God. I could go on if you'd like...” At which point the rest of the family politely suggests that it's time for dessert and coffee to be brought out. 

Of course, I'm putting words into Paul's mouth a bit here. But his letters are very much in agreement with the idea that one can and should always be thankful, even in what we would see as negative situations:  “Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” (1 Thess. 5:16-18); and, “Have no anxiety about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” (Philippians 4:6) 

Like Jesus' command in the gospels for us not to worry about tomorrow, this is one of the most difficult aspects of Paul's theology. Not to understand intellectually, but to put into daily practice. Giving thanks even in our misfortunes and hard times seems completely impracticable. It isn't enough for us to dismiss the above verses as Paul placing unrealistic expectations on believers that he doesn't follow himself. Nor is it simply that he has an exceptionally good attitude (though he often seems to). Something has changed him drastically enough that he is able to say with conviction about his own life and those of other believers, “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28) 

Paul's constant thanksgiving, as well as his perception of God's purposes even in the hardships we face, are founded on the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus. Through Jesus' life, death, and resurrection, God decisively defeated the forces of sin and death that had enslaved mankind. As often as this may not seem the case considering all the evil that still exists in the world, Paul considered himself to be living in a time between Jesus' decisive victory and the final declaration of peace. For Paul, the war's final battle had been won by God on that first Easter morning. His Kingdom, with Jesus as its head over all creation, had already begun and would be fully ushered in at his return. In the meantime, Paul saw it as his vocation to spread the good news that Jesus was king. A crucified and resurrected king, which was a fact that seemed like foolishness to both Jews and Gentiles. Yet through all the things that made him appear weak, in his humility, poverty, servanthood, imprisonment, and execution, Jesus was actually on his way to enthronement at the right hand of the Father. 

This shocking revelation of how God's will was accomplished on earth, as well as Jesus' own command that his disciples must bear their own crosses if they wished to follow him, forced Paul to drastically re-imagine what it meant for God to be both omnipotent and loving. This was a god whose rescue mission for mankind had been accomplished through what appeared as weakness and powerlessness to the world. But after his resurrection, Jesus' disciples knew better. And so did Paul. 

With Jesus' victory over sin and death through his own suffering and self-sacrifice, Paul can not only give thanks for severe difficulties, but boast in them:  “I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong!” (2 Corinth. 12:9-10) Paul can be firm in the knowledge that Jesus is King and that he is doing God's will, even while in apparent disgrace in prison. While being beaten and in danger of death, he can write to his churches with authority as one who is strong in his weakness. Without the impact of Jesus on his life, Paul might have resigned himself to the fact that God was punishing him for his sins and/or sending him a wake-up call to repent. He might call down divine judgment on his enemies that had put him in such negative situations. He might pray to God for restoration and salvation from imprisonment and insults. But being thankful for them, and to even boast? Never. This is, I believe, a radical change from the writings of the Old Testament (see many of the Psalms or the book of Job). 

For Paul in his letters, theology is not just some emotionally-detached, rationally-centered way of talking about a distant supreme being. It is about being transformed and renewed, inside and out. It is about knowing that God has acted to save the world in ways contrary to human wisdom, through suffering and self-sacrifice. In urging us to be thankful in all things, Paul isn't advising us to ignore or sweep our sadness or frustration over hardship under the rug. Instead, he's asking us to see the events in our lives through the eyes of a god who loves us and has determined that all will ultimately be well. This kind of thanksgiving isn't easy. (I speak here from personal experience as someone who has always found it extremely difficult.) But I believe it's well worth it to try to see the forest rather than the trees. Not only once a year around the dinner table, but in all our waking moments. 

Note:  My thanks to my teacher, Marty Koenig, whose recent Bible class provided many of the scripture verses and ideas for this post.