The anticipation is rising like a batch of Christmas cut-out cookies baking in the oven. In just a few short days, the most exciting day of the year will be here and I’m loving every minute of it. Whether it’s erecting a twelve foot lighted tree in my front yard, quoting my favorite Christmas Vacation line (“a little full . . . lot of sap”), placing tinsel on my rotary Christmas tree, or singing “O Holy Night” every morning on my chilly scooter ride to work; I love Christmas. There isn’t a thing about this season to Bah-Humbug (with special exception going to the round the clock Christmas radio station playing all 2,000 versions of “The Christmas Song” every hour).
I think the reason December time-warps me into perpetual youthful bliss is because no other time of year does one have so much to look forward to, and I’m not talking about the wrapped goodies under my Noble Fir. I’m talking about a child born to a carpenter and a virgin some 2,000 years ago. “But how can you look forward to that which is behind?” Great question! Sip some hot chocolate and allow me elaborate. It’s all because what God has done behind us allows us to expect the things He’ll do before us, and reflecting on the First Noel gives us just such an occasion.
Think of it this way. Over 400 years passed between the last events of the Old Testament prophets and the first of the New Testament. That’s a long time to wait for anything, much less the King Savior promised to Israel (2 Sam. 7). During this time, the Jewish people were like baseball cards traded among empires, passed from the Persians to the Greek to the Romans. With each passing foreign occupier, the people of God struggled to make sense of God’s promise not kept.
A select few held fast to their confidence in God’s steadfast Word, believing and waiting for God to send His Messiah. Luke tells us of Simeon and Anna who were expectantly waiting for the Savior. Still others amended their understanding of God’s promise, believing they must be more holy (the Pharisees) or more courageous (the Zealots) for God to send the Anointed One. Still other sought to fall in line with their occupiers whether or not God did anything, choosing instead to seek present comfort over God’s Will (the Herodians). As I see it, Christmas then is not a time of great expectations; it’s a time of hope amid no expectations.
Today, when faced with hopeless situations, we’re given the same options.
The other night I was talking to an intoxicated friend I am particularly fond of. Of course, there is never a shortage of staggering men carrying 40’s in downtown Corpus Christi, but Maury is different. Through his glassy eyes you see a gentle man struggling with crippling guilt and deeply aware he walks against the grain of God’s will.
The first few times I met saw Maury, he was escorted into our church by friends, who asked for a plate of food on his behalf. With plate in hand, he’d stood hunched over like a zombie until someone sat him down. During that time, I don’t think he ever ate once, but I imagine the plate of food helped him to at least dream of eating. Months later, I was finally able to get Maury talking, but just barely. “Hopefully, next time we can talk more,” I said with an inviting smile. Maury replies with six head nods and a “Yeah.” Thinking I was being smart I said, “Whenever you’re a bit more sober come by and we’ll talk.” His reply was unexpected, “You won’t see me more sober than this.”
Without a breathalyzer to confirm, I can’t say if that was a truthful statement, but less than a week later Maury told me, “I don’t know surrender . . . I keep waiting to hit rock bottom, but there isn’t one for me.” We’ve had numerous conversations since, and through those conversations I’ve become particularly fond of my alcoholic friend.
In our latest conversation, I had the distinct pleasure of talking with Maury’s father, Hal. You see, what makes Maury so interesting to me is that he grew up the son of parents who were missionaries in Bolivia. Hal still resides there, heading up the university he founded some time back. Maury asked if he could speak with his father, and I obliged, lending him my phone and my ear to listen in.
“Hey Dad. How are you . . . I’m okay . . .”
“Yeah, I’ve been drinking . . .”
“I just wanted to call and let you know I’m ok . . .”
“I know I fell off the deep end when mom died last month, but I’m doing better now and wanted to see how you were . . .” Maury smiled in my direction, and whispered “He’s ok, he’s doing good.”
“I’m sitting here with a pastor in Corpus Christi. He’s a missionary to the homeless ‘round here. I want you to talk to him, here.” Maury handed me the phone, I said, “Hello,” and the gentle voice on the other end replied in kind.
Hal and I spoke for nearly 10 minutes, too long for even Maury to stick around. Through our conversation, I learned Maury had been struggling with addiction for some 15 years. These struggles were co-currently complicated by bi-polar disorder, and triple bypass surgery. Hal repeated to me something I had heard Maury say a time or two, “There’s no reason he should still be alive, but God is keeping him around for a reason.” I was struck by Hal’s love for his son, but his hope rested firmly on the promise of God.
“God told me something long ago when I left for the mission field,” He said, offering a glimmer of hope for Maury, “He told me he would take care of my son, and I know he is.” The years of addiction and illness in his son did not lead Hal to rethink God’s promise. Hal didn’t allow himself to think that God meant anything other than what he said. Hal knew that God’s Word is the only hope there every really was for his son. Hal holds hope amid no expectations.
Just when we thought there was no reason to expect that things would ever be any different than they had always been, God moved into the neighborhood, sending His incarnate Son to save us all. His humble birth was the nexus of hope for those waiting on God 2,000 years ago, and today we live in the wake of that moment, still placing our hope in Him.
Maybe this holiday season instead of having great expectations of Yule time glee, we should expect God to work in unexpected ways. We put hope in our firm understanding that God is not done with us yet, and He is and will always be true to His Word. No circumstance, no matter how hopeless should make us think otherwise.
Two days after speaking with Hal, I ran into Maury randomly during the day. He was waiting to speak to a counselor about getting into drug treatment. Maybe Maury’s story isn't over yet.
Comments
Post a Comment