MY BLOG POSTS
THE Christmas Story
About that time Caesar Augustus ordered a census to be taken throughout the Empire. This was the first census when Quirinius was governor of Syria. Everyone had to travel to his own ancestral hometown to be accounted for. So Joseph went from the Galilean town of Nazareth up to Bethlehem in Judah, David’s town, for the census. As a descendant of David, he had to go there. He went with Mary, his fiancée, who was pregnant.
While they were there, the time came for her to give birth. She gave birth to a son, her firstborn. She wrapped him in a blanket and laid him in a manger, because there was no room in the hostel.
There were sheepherders camping in the neighborhood. They had set night watches over their sheep. Suddenly, God’s angel stood among them and God’s glory blazed around them. They were terrified. The angel said, “Don’t be afraid. I’m here to announce a great and joyful event that is meant for everybody, worldwide: A Savior has just been born in David’s town, a Savior who is Messiah and Master. This is what you’re to look for: a baby wrapped in a blanket and lying in a manger.”
At once the angel was joined by a huge angelic choir singing God’s praises:
Glory to God in the heavenly heights, Peace to all men and women on earth who please him.
As the angel choir withdrew into heaven, the sheepherders talked it over. “Let’s get over to Bethlehem as fast as we can and see for ourselves what God has revealed to us.” They left, running, and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. Seeing was believing. They told everyone they met what the angels had said about this child. All who heard the sheepherders were impressed.
Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself. The sheepherders returned and let loose, glorifying and praising God for everything they had heard and seen. It turned out exactly the way they’d been told!
Luke 2:1-20 (The Message)
Hooray for Political Correctness!
When we lived in Spain (2006-2007), we were surprised to see that political correctness was not an issue during the holidays. Our kids’ public school had a huge nativity scene prominently displayed in the lobby. Thomas was cast as a wise man in his Pre-K3 Christmas presentation. In fact, in Spanish culture, Three Kings’ Day is even more important than Christmas Day.
At first, it sounded great! The real Christmas story was shared, sung, and held in a place of honor. But, as I continued to look, I realized it wasn’t all that great. When it was time to ask for Christmas presents, Santa came to school — with the Three Kings. The kids could ask their “gift giver” of choice for that special Christmas gift.
As I looked and listened some more, it hit me: the story of Jesus coming to earth was seen as fiction – just like the story of Santa. There was no need for political correctness because the story wasn’t so much religious as cultural – a cute part of the holiday season. Baby Jesus and roscon and peeled grapes — all fun Spanish holiday traditions.
It made me sad — the reality that Jesus came to earth is amazing. It is an undeserved gift, given to us by a God who loves us so passionately He was willing to send his son to a world that rejected him then and rejects him still. The baby in the manger is the Savior of the World! And while I have no problem with the fiction of Santa, I do not want my Savior placed in the same category.
So, Christians, let’s not be so quick to be frustrated that Americans are upset at nativity scenes and signs that proclaim “Merry Christmas”. It is a good thing. The true Christmas story is still recognized as the TRUE Christmas story here. It is tied to our faith. People who do not share our faith are upset because this season proclaims biblical truths. Those truths, Jesus himself told us, would offend. When they stop offending – when they start to become “cute little holiday tales” – then we should get upset. So bring on the PC police! And continue to bring out the GREATEST story ever told!
My Favorite Christmas Movies
I love Christmas movies! Our family tradition is to save these films for the weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s — no Christmas music or movies any other time of year. So when we finally get to pull these out — woo-hoo! We go crazy.
“White Christmas” is definitely my favorite, but “Elf” is quickly rising up the ranks (it’s just so quotable!!).
What about you? Is your favorite not on here? Tell me about it! I am always ready to try out a new Christmas movie this time of year!
20 Years Ago This Week…
Twenty years ago this week, Dave brought me home for Christmas. Except that he didn’t tell his parents we were dating. He hadn’t even told me we were dating. We had, in fact, been “hanging out” for about six months (yep, that’s months) and he had yet to declare his intentions. But there I was, at his parents’ house in Long Island.
Dave and Me in NYC, December 1994
Let me give you some background: David McGee is one of the smartest guys I know. He is also one of the godliest. And he never makes rash decisions. He’s researched cars for close to a year before making a purchase. When he was choosing a seminary, he poured over pamphlets, spoke to every seminary graduate he knew, seeking advice. Whatever the opposite of “spontaneous” is — that’s Dave. And it’s a great thing. God made him cautious, wise. And we balance each other out well because I hardly every think before I make a decision. My gut and a credit card is all I need!
So when we met, Dave was attracted to me, but he was cautious. I was only 19 – a baby. He was 25 – a college graduate. He knew 19-year-olds tended to be fickle and immature. He was at the point where he was ready to find his future wife. And he wanted to be sure he made the right decision. So he watched me. All summer. We worked together at a youth camp. He was one of the Unit Leaders (in charge of a group of counselors), and I was a counselor (not in his unit). His sister conspired to get us thrown together in some activities. Shoot, the whole camp worked on throwing us together. I wasn’t sure I was interested in someone that old, but I had to admire a guy whose Bible was so worn it was held together by duct tape!
That fall, he decided to go to the Word of Life Bible Institute’s (WOLBI) School of Youth, Ministry and Evangelism. He had finished college and he had attended WOLBI’s one-year Bible program the year before me. But he felt God wanted him to study the Bible more, and so he came back. With me. And we hung out. Now WOLBI is super strict, so no couples are allowed to go off campus together or touch at all — not even hold hands. So we spent that fall talking. A lot. That’s a good thing. We really go to know each other – what we liked and didn’t like, what we believed, what we thought God wanted us to do in life. But we didn’t
Near WOLBI, Fall 1994
talk about “us.” Didn’t call each other “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” or even (a WOLBI favorite) a “special” friend.
I was getting a little impatient. I mean, we met in JUNE and it was DECEMBER. I understood cautious, but this seemed excessive! And then he asked me to come home with him. I was so excited! That meant something – we were ready to put the “special” in front of the “friends.” And then he told me he had invited someone else home, too- a friend from school, John, who lived in England and couldn’t go home for the holidays.
“So,” I tried to be as diplomatic as possible. “Do your parents know anything about me?”
“They know you’re coming.”
“Do they think I’m with John or with you?”
“We didn’t talk about it.” He said. “It doesn’t matter.”
It doesn’t matter. Right. But then he said his sister, whom I had known from camp that summer, had been talking to their mom, and she filled her parents in on who I was. Nice.
So I was in Long Island with a guy I was falling hard for and I wasn’t even sure if his parents knew who I was.
Why would he do this? Because I had gotten to know him, I knew it was because he had gotten hurt in the past. He had dated girls and had his heart broken, and he didn’t want that to happen again. His mom had gotten her heart broken, too, when Dave was hurt. So he didn’t want to bring any but “the” one to meet his parents. I knew him asking me to come home was a big deal. But I also knew it was scary for him.
With Dave’s dad at our rehearsal dinner, May 17, 1996
The week ended up being great. Away from the rules of WOLBI, we sat close on the couch, held hands (!), and just had fun. By the time I left, we were “official”. I think I could have flown home without the aid of an airplane!
Now, twenty years later, it is a fun story, one we laugh about when we tell our friends. But, I have to say, as impatient as I was, I am glad Dave was so slow. In a time where life is fast, girls and guys are fast, being slow has major advantages. We spent a long time building a foundation of friendship before we began speaking of love (that was still several more months after this story!). That friendship, built on Christ, is what has sustained us for the eighteen years we have been married, through global moves, heartache and hard times. It has allowed to stay together “For better or for worse.”
And now, twenty years later, it is still one of my fondest Christmas memories!