Lighting Up

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Margaret

Decorating a home for Christmas is an important part of greeting the holiday season, and the celebration begins when the boxes come up from the basement or down from the attic. The process readies us for a party that will honor the most important birth of all time, and each decoration is a reminder of that.

My favorite is the lights. Jesus came to bring eternal light to all of us, which is our connection to the warm glow of a Christmas tree or the lights outside on our bushes.

But in January, the dismantling begins, and in these last days I’ve put everything back into the basement bins for another year. The house looks half-naked now, which is why I left a little something in place a while longer: the lights.

“What do you think of winter-white lights on the mantle?” I said to Birgitta. We nestled them in an evergreen garland and will enjoy them till spring.

What is it about a string of tiny, low-watt light bulbs that attracts us? Maybe it’s that the presence of light equates to an absence of darkness. Or maybe they’re a cheerful influence when winter’s long nights threaten to tug us down. Or maybe a string of lights on a mantle simply warm us internally when icy winds blow outside.

In the Bible Jesus refers to himself as “the light of the world.” (John 8:12) He follows this statement by explaining that he’s referring to salvation and the eternal life it brings, which is an escape from eternal darkness.

But he also brought all kinds of other light when he came: the light to our pathways, the light of understanding, the light of fellowship with others, the light of living righteously, the light of forgiveness, and the light of freedom. But that isn’t all.

Amazingly, partnering with Jesus somehow transforms us into light-giving beings, too. How this happens and what it means remains a mystery, but as we believe it, we’re blessed by it.

The way I see it, Jesus as the Light comes to us, offering to make us children of light, while lighting our paths, which lead to the light of eternity. Although I don’t understand it, I do know it’s very cool.

But as with every blessing God delivers, he wants us to pass it along. After he lights us up, we’re to shine for him. As we used to sing in Sunday school, “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine.”

In light of all that light, my string of mantle-lights doesn’t amount to much. But maybe the underlying reason I love Christmas lights so much is that their steady glow sheds a little more light on the True Light and why he came. If so, maybe I should leave them plugged in and shining all year long.

“Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)

Foundational Decisions

Posted on January 8, 2013 by Margaret

All of us who were raised in Sunday school sang the song about the foolish man and the wise man who each built a house, one on the sand, the other on a rock. As we enthusiastically did the hand motions, pounding our fists to imitate hammers and wiggling our fingers for rain, we couldn’t wait for the foolish man’s house to go, “Smash!” The bigger our claps, the better.

The last verse of the song says, “Build your life on the Lord Jesus Christ… and the blessings will come down.” As a child I wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but now I know.

The story of the wise and foolish builders was originally told by the master story-teller, Jesus, in Matthew 7. He was illustrating a critical principle: as the foundation goes, so goes the house.

When all 7 of my grandchildren were staying with us recently, Louisa undertook an interesting building project with the 5 kiddies old enough to participate: a gingerbread house.

I admired her pluck in attempting to manage a mob of youngsters along with bags of icing and bowls of candy, but she eagerly initiated it. In this case, the little house was all made of gingerbread, including its foundation. But it didn’t need to stand through any storm bigger than 10 little hands picking at it over the next few days.

As it turned out, that finger-picking was all it took to ultimately make the little gingerbread house fall. Apparently cookies and candies don’t make very good building materials.

When Jesus told his story about the wise and foolish men, his obvious point was that we should build our lives on a foundation that will continue to stand through any storm. He, of course, was and is that life-foundation for anyone who so chooses. Those who build on anything else eventually learn that turbulent circumstances carve away their foundation, putting them at risk for a fall. Or, as Jesus put it, for “a great fall.” (v. 27)

But he was making another point in this story, too. Before he got started he said, “Everyone who hears these words of mine and does them will be…” wise.

He was saying, “I’m dishing out the truth here, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll buy what I’m about to say.”

He also detailed the flip side: “Anyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them is foolish.” (v. 26) So if we’re sensible, we’ll build our lives on the Lord, not on money, reputation, possessions, behavior, or anything else that seems like good building materials at the time, but in a storm will surely crumble….

….just like a house made of gingerbread.

“Everyone who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock.” (Matthew 7:24)

Caught

Posted on January 3, 2013 by Margaret

A whole crowd of people in this world believe that disobeying the law is ok, unless you’re stupid enough to get caught. Then you deserve what you get.

Today stupid-me got caught. Birgitta, baby Emerald, and I were running errands when I passed a police car parked inconspicuously next to an auto body shop.

As I drove by, I reviewed a mental list of possible driving errors and was innocent on all counts. Proceeding with confidence, it surprised me when my rear view mirror lit up with police lights.

“Maybe it’s just a routine check for insurance and registration,” I thought. But when the police woman arrived at my window, she said, “You didn’t make a complete stop at that last stop sign.”

“I didn’t?” I said. “But I almost did, didn’t I?” She was not amused.

As she walked away with my license, registration, and insurance, I thought about how stupid I’d been to slide through a stop sign in front of a police car. But as Forrest Gump said, “Stupid is as stupid does,” and I’d done something pretty stupid.

Bemoaning the mark on my driving record and the hike in my insurance that was sure to come, I thought about how failing to come to a complete stop hadn’t bothered me one bit… until I got caught. And truth be told, I’ve sloppy-stopped my way through scores of stop signs without getting caught, dismissing those “crimes” as ok. Now, mental repentance flowed.

Or did it? Maybe I was just wishing I hadn’t been caught. Sadly, that was it.

Scripture describes the human heart as “desperately wicked,” which is a whopping indictment against us all. The trouble is, we don’t really believe it. Haven’t we done some good things, too?

But more important than calculating our good-to-bad balance is another accusation Scripture makes alongside the words “desperately wicked.” Jeremiah 17:9 says the human heart is “sick, without a cure.”

So what’s to be done?

We’re to ask God for a favor: “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed. Save me, and I will be saved, for You are my praise.” (v. 14) In other words, we’ll never heal our own desperate wickedness, but God can and will, if we ask.

Today as Birgitta and I waited for the bad news and guesstimated my fine, the police woman returned. “I’m giving you a warning,” she said, “but next time, make a complete stop.” It was an undeserved gift, an example of grace. Whether it came from her or from God I wasn’t sure, but I gratefully accepted it.