In one of the most beloved stories of the Christian faith, God chooses to break into human history as a powerless infant rather than an omnipotent monarch.
Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary professor Ted Koontz, in a piece entitled, “Why did God come to us as a baby?” makes the point that while we see newborns as helpless and weak, a baby in fact has significant power. For example, a baby can wake parents in the middle of the night from a deep sleep, a power many louder noises don’t have, and has the power to get them out of bed and respond to their needs when they would be willing to get up for few other reasons.
Yet, he says, this cry of a baby represents a power to which we can respond or choose not to. It can profoundly move us, but at the same time it in no way forces us to do anything or robs us of our freedom. Some people might in fact be able to sleep on, oblivious to a baby’s cry. But there is something in our very natures that makes us want to respond. To refuse to do so would be to refuse to be who we know ourselves to be down deep.
So, he says, is the divine call that comes to us in the form of “baby power,” a way God chooses to move us that can be absolutely compelling and yet absolutely non-coercive. It makes clear that God prefers the soft power of persuasion and transformation over than the hard power of violence and dominance.
In response, millions have acknowledged the Holy Child as “King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” as one who rules from a lowly manger and a martyr's cross rather than from a royal throne.
A strange but compelling power indeed.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Re-gifting at Christmas
I once read a Dear Abby letter in which a reader lamented, “How do I get a person to stop re-gifting me? Often it's her used clothes, used decor and knickknacks that she no longer wants. This person can afford nice things, which is why she thinks I would like her old stuff. I find it insulting when I get it in the form of a gift. It is always wrapped beautifully and presented as though I should be so grateful. How do I get her to stop?” Secondhand Rose
Abby's response was, "Dear Rose: If I selected a gift for someone and she didn’t keep it--or exchanged it--I would give it one more try. If it happened again, from then on I would send a lovely card to mark the occasion, or a bouquet or plant. And if I was really ticked off, I would re-gift her gift back to her."
I'd like to offer a slightly different take on the concept of re-gifting in general, based on my belief that at some level everything we give, at Christmas or at any other times, is a form of recycled gift.
I first came to that realization years ago after I had finished leading the offertory prayer at my congregation. As folks were putting their gifts into the offering plates it struck me that some of those very funds would be given back to me as their pastor. In other words, I was at the receiving end of the church’s charity, a direct recipient of God’s money. And so whatever I gave or spent was a re-gifting.
My next thought was that we’re all pretty much the same in this respect, that we are each gift receivers more than we are earners or givers. What these church members had given to the church was also in some way first a gift to them. Which means that in a sense we've all been on God’s welfare since conception, and are, at best, working welfare recipients.
For a start, none of us has ever earned the priceless gift of life itself. And the privilege of being born to parents who loved us and took good care of us (at no charge), and of being born in a land of abundance instead of in some poverty-ridden country, were also things we could have never negotiated, bought or paid for. Besides, many of us received a free public school education, one paid for by others' involuntary gifts--in the form of taxes.
Later some of us got to enroll in institutions of learning we could have never been able to create (or afford to attend) without the generous gifts of hundreds of unnamed donors. Add to that our good health, our sound minds (most of the time), and whatever talents or gifts we've inherited--all helped us get whatever positions we’ve had, and are examples of amazing, unmerited grace.
When I was six, my parents were able to buy a farm with the help of a generous uncle who helped us with the financing. Here we grew and produced food for a living, but we could have never done that without the unearned blessings of God’s soil, sunshine and all of the other natural resources that makes a farm productive. In return for whatever we invested in money and labor for the harvests on our farm, we usually got sufficient payment to cover our costs, with some extra in the form of a gift known as profit. In the same way, whenever any of us buys or sells anything, this kind of gift-swapping takes place, grace for grace, blessing for blessing.
So that’s how I’ve come to believe that all of life is just one big gift exchange, a re-gifting.
Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s a good thing. I disagree with dour economists who say gift giving doesn’t make rational sense, in that whatever we choose to give seldom has the same value to the recipients as if they had been able to choose something for themselves, so things lose their value in the process. But that assumes that the benefit of being gift donors and gift recipients is based only on the market value of things, not on the serendipity that happens in the act of giving and receiving. I believe that in that exchange, value is added to value, and everyone is enriched. We are able to better realize our dependence on others, and our interdependence with all creation.
I’ll never forget one of our sons, at around 9 or so, deciding to take his entire piggy bank full of gift money he’d accumulated to give as a Bible School offering one summer for Heifer International. We didn’t realize how much he had gotten caught up in the enthusiasm to help raise as much as possible to send a heifer or some goats, rabbits, or other animals to some needy families abroad.
What he was doing wasn’t motivated by guilt. He saw it as an investment, a re-gifting for something he really believed in. He did it because it made him happy.
Once we realize how much we’ve been given, it no longer seems like a burden to freely pass on what are, after all, undeserved gifts.
I once read the story of a medieval landowner who came across a vagabond wandering across his estate.
“Get off my property,” he ordered.
“What right do you have to keep me off this part of God’s good earth?” the man asked.
“I own the land. It’s as simple as that,” the landowner replied.
“And how did you come to own it?” he asked.
“I inherited it from my father.”
“And how did he get it?”
“He inherited it from his father, a general in the king’s army. He fought for it, and was given the estate as a reward.”
“Then let’s you and I fight for it,” the man replied, “and whoever wins will own the land.”
Point of the story? If you look back far enough and hard enough, you realize that everything is first a gift. At Christmas, that’s a good thing to remember.
You and I just get to exchange. So let's pass good things around and around. Let's re-gift with abandonment.
Abby's response was, "Dear Rose: If I selected a gift for someone and she didn’t keep it--or exchanged it--I would give it one more try. If it happened again, from then on I would send a lovely card to mark the occasion, or a bouquet or plant. And if I was really ticked off, I would re-gift her gift back to her."
I'd like to offer a slightly different take on the concept of re-gifting in general, based on my belief that at some level everything we give, at Christmas or at any other times, is a form of recycled gift.
I first came to that realization years ago after I had finished leading the offertory prayer at my congregation. As folks were putting their gifts into the offering plates it struck me that some of those very funds would be given back to me as their pastor. In other words, I was at the receiving end of the church’s charity, a direct recipient of God’s money. And so whatever I gave or spent was a re-gifting.
My next thought was that we’re all pretty much the same in this respect, that we are each gift receivers more than we are earners or givers. What these church members had given to the church was also in some way first a gift to them. Which means that in a sense we've all been on God’s welfare since conception, and are, at best, working welfare recipients.
For a start, none of us has ever earned the priceless gift of life itself. And the privilege of being born to parents who loved us and took good care of us (at no charge), and of being born in a land of abundance instead of in some poverty-ridden country, were also things we could have never negotiated, bought or paid for. Besides, many of us received a free public school education, one paid for by others' involuntary gifts--in the form of taxes.
Later some of us got to enroll in institutions of learning we could have never been able to create (or afford to attend) without the generous gifts of hundreds of unnamed donors. Add to that our good health, our sound minds (most of the time), and whatever talents or gifts we've inherited--all helped us get whatever positions we’ve had, and are examples of amazing, unmerited grace.
When I was six, my parents were able to buy a farm with the help of a generous uncle who helped us with the financing. Here we grew and produced food for a living, but we could have never done that without the unearned blessings of God’s soil, sunshine and all of the other natural resources that makes a farm productive. In return for whatever we invested in money and labor for the harvests on our farm, we usually got sufficient payment to cover our costs, with some extra in the form of a gift known as profit. In the same way, whenever any of us buys or sells anything, this kind of gift-swapping takes place, grace for grace, blessing for blessing.
So that’s how I’ve come to believe that all of life is just one big gift exchange, a re-gifting.
Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s a good thing. I disagree with dour economists who say gift giving doesn’t make rational sense, in that whatever we choose to give seldom has the same value to the recipients as if they had been able to choose something for themselves, so things lose their value in the process. But that assumes that the benefit of being gift donors and gift recipients is based only on the market value of things, not on the serendipity that happens in the act of giving and receiving. I believe that in that exchange, value is added to value, and everyone is enriched. We are able to better realize our dependence on others, and our interdependence with all creation.
I’ll never forget one of our sons, at around 9 or so, deciding to take his entire piggy bank full of gift money he’d accumulated to give as a Bible School offering one summer for Heifer International. We didn’t realize how much he had gotten caught up in the enthusiasm to help raise as much as possible to send a heifer or some goats, rabbits, or other animals to some needy families abroad.
What he was doing wasn’t motivated by guilt. He saw it as an investment, a re-gifting for something he really believed in. He did it because it made him happy.
Once we realize how much we’ve been given, it no longer seems like a burden to freely pass on what are, after all, undeserved gifts.
I once read the story of a medieval landowner who came across a vagabond wandering across his estate.
“Get off my property,” he ordered.
“What right do you have to keep me off this part of God’s good earth?” the man asked.
“I own the land. It’s as simple as that,” the landowner replied.
“And how did you come to own it?” he asked.
“I inherited it from my father.”
“And how did he get it?”
“He inherited it from his father, a general in the king’s army. He fought for it, and was given the estate as a reward.”
“Then let’s you and I fight for it,” the man replied, “and whoever wins will own the land.”
Point of the story? If you look back far enough and hard enough, you realize that everything is first a gift. At Christmas, that’s a good thing to remember.
You and I just get to exchange. So let's pass good things around and around. Let's re-gift with abandonment.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
The Startling Story of the Stolen Stihl
I gave myself the gift of a brand new chain saw a year and a half ago, a smooth running Stihl 250. Until then I had always gotten by with a used one for cutting our annual supply of firewood, first a faithful Homelite and later a secondhand Stihl aptly named “Farm Boss.” When that one finally breathed its last, I heeded the advice of family members who urged me to get a new one.
Just before Christmas last year we had one of the heaviest snow storms ever. Soon thereafter, on a cold day while I was at work, a friendly stranger came to our door and asked my wife if he could shovel out our lower drive--for a modest fee. Among other things, he explained, he had just been awarded visitation of his ten-year-old son and needed some extra cash to buy him some things for Christmas.
While my kindhearted spouse had never met the man before, he seemed pleasant enough, and we did need more parking space cleared for holiday guests. So why not have him remove the snow, she thought, to surprise me and to do a needy person a favor? “Just return the shovel to the utility room when you’re finished,” she said, “and I’ll have your money waiting for you there in an envelope.”
Meanwhile, she went about her work and only occasionally checked to see how he was doing. A phone call she received near the time he was finishing prevented her from actually seeing him leave, but when she checked everything out, found the shovel back in its place and the payment gone, she felt satisfied that all was well. And excused herself for the extra generous payment she had left for him. After all, it was Christmas.
When I came home that evening and learned about my wife's surprise move, I assured her it was fine. Whether or not his story was entirely true, I figured, it's better to err on the side of generosity.
It was not until the next morning that I discovered my new chain saw, stored in the aforementioned utility room and with the word "stihl" emblazoned on it in bold letters, was missing. Just plain gone, nowhere to be found.
My wife was devastated, in spite of my assurances that a chain saw was quite replaceable, and that she needn’t be hard on herself. I also promised I would report the missing saw in case it showed up in a pawn shop somewhere and could be recovered. “Maybe I just loved my new toy a little too much,” I joked.
Much to our surprise, the sheriff’s deputy assigned to the case showed up with the stolen Stihl the very next day, on Christmas Eve. “Here’s your saw,” he said, “Merry Christmas. And the gentleman who took it will be spending his holiday in jail.” Which seemed fair enough, though we couldn't help feeling sorry for anyone having to be behind bars at this special time of the year.
But the story doesn’t end there. Since then, we have had a series of conversations and an exchange of letters with our unexpected friend. We learned he has earned the position of “trusty” in his jail pod and is scheduled to be released December 24, exactly a year after being locked up for stealing my Stihl.
In a recent letter he wrote, “Yes, it's a blessing to be leaving here on Christmas Eve. It makes me feel special to know God has plans for me.”
Among those plans is to spend his first months of freedom at Gemeinschaft Home, a local recovery and re-entry program for ex-offenders, subject to our being able to raise at least $500 toward his first month's stay.
Our new friend, along with so many others who have ever been incarcerated, face the doubly daunting task of finding a job, a decent place to live and the kind of treatment and support network they need to remain free of their addictions.
I say, "God bless them every one."
P. S. As a strong believer in the mission of Gemeinschaft Home and a member of its board, I urge you to become a "Friend of Gemeinschaft" by writing a check of $50 or more and mailing it to Gemeinschaft Home, 1423 Mt. Clinton Pike, Harrisonburg, VA 22802. Or you can contribute online at http://www.gemeinschafthome.com to help this and other persons get a new start.
Note: Since our new friend will not be on parole when he is released, he is ineligible for state funding for his stay, but hopes to get a job and pay his own way as soon as possible.
Thanks for your help!
Just before Christmas last year we had one of the heaviest snow storms ever. Soon thereafter, on a cold day while I was at work, a friendly stranger came to our door and asked my wife if he could shovel out our lower drive--for a modest fee. Among other things, he explained, he had just been awarded visitation of his ten-year-old son and needed some extra cash to buy him some things for Christmas.
While my kindhearted spouse had never met the man before, he seemed pleasant enough, and we did need more parking space cleared for holiday guests. So why not have him remove the snow, she thought, to surprise me and to do a needy person a favor? “Just return the shovel to the utility room when you’re finished,” she said, “and I’ll have your money waiting for you there in an envelope.”
Meanwhile, she went about her work and only occasionally checked to see how he was doing. A phone call she received near the time he was finishing prevented her from actually seeing him leave, but when she checked everything out, found the shovel back in its place and the payment gone, she felt satisfied that all was well. And excused herself for the extra generous payment she had left for him. After all, it was Christmas.
When I came home that evening and learned about my wife's surprise move, I assured her it was fine. Whether or not his story was entirely true, I figured, it's better to err on the side of generosity.
It was not until the next morning that I discovered my new chain saw, stored in the aforementioned utility room and with the word "stihl" emblazoned on it in bold letters, was missing. Just plain gone, nowhere to be found.
My wife was devastated, in spite of my assurances that a chain saw was quite replaceable, and that she needn’t be hard on herself. I also promised I would report the missing saw in case it showed up in a pawn shop somewhere and could be recovered. “Maybe I just loved my new toy a little too much,” I joked.
Much to our surprise, the sheriff’s deputy assigned to the case showed up with the stolen Stihl the very next day, on Christmas Eve. “Here’s your saw,” he said, “Merry Christmas. And the gentleman who took it will be spending his holiday in jail.” Which seemed fair enough, though we couldn't help feeling sorry for anyone having to be behind bars at this special time of the year.
But the story doesn’t end there. Since then, we have had a series of conversations and an exchange of letters with our unexpected friend. We learned he has earned the position of “trusty” in his jail pod and is scheduled to be released December 24, exactly a year after being locked up for stealing my Stihl.
In a recent letter he wrote, “Yes, it's a blessing to be leaving here on Christmas Eve. It makes me feel special to know God has plans for me.”
Among those plans is to spend his first months of freedom at Gemeinschaft Home, a local recovery and re-entry program for ex-offenders, subject to our being able to raise at least $500 toward his first month's stay.
Our new friend, along with so many others who have ever been incarcerated, face the doubly daunting task of finding a job, a decent place to live and the kind of treatment and support network they need to remain free of their addictions.
I say, "God bless them every one."
P. S. As a strong believer in the mission of Gemeinschaft Home and a member of its board, I urge you to become a "Friend of Gemeinschaft" by writing a check of $50 or more and mailing it to Gemeinschaft Home, 1423 Mt. Clinton Pike, Harrisonburg, VA 22802. Or you can contribute online at http://www.gemeinschafthome.com to help this and other persons get a new start.
Note: Since our new friend will not be on parole when he is released, he is ineligible for state funding for his stay, but hopes to get a job and pay his own way as soon as possible.
Thanks for your help!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
A Christmas Journey, Winter 1925
My parents, no longer living, were newlyweds when they made a 200 mile move from Thomas, Oklahoma, to Hutchinson, Kansas, with a young team of horses pulling a small canvas-covered wagon loaded with most of their belongings. It was December 22, 1925, the second day of winter, when my mom and dad, young and adventuresome (and in spite of their parents' grave misgivings), embarked on their seven-day journey, planning to sleep in their wagon each night.
All went well until the day after Christmas, when the temperature dropped to 10 below zero on a Sunday morning as they headed north into a bitter prairie wind. My father closed the wagon to try to keep it warmer for his new bride, then got out and walked with the team to keep them moving against the driving wind and to try to stay warm. My mother’s feet and my Dad’s ears and fingers became frostbitten that day before they reached the farm house of some relatives who put them up for the night.
To me, that experience of my parents, Ben and Mary, brings the reality of the first Christmas a little closer home, a story of a Joseph and Mary who endure a journey of also about a week’s length. Except they have no team and wagon, and may have even been traveling on foot.
Christmas cards portray Mary as a mature, composed thirty-ish woman with a halo around her head and riding a donkey. In reality, she may have been a frightened young teenager, forced to go on a grueling journey in her last month of pregnancy. And then having to have her first child in, of all places, a barn.
Such is the drama of Christmas, a story of poor and ordinary people with whom God journeys in extraordinary ways.
I first wrote this as the script of one of my Centerpiece radio spots heard weekdays on WEMC-FM, WBTX-AM and WNLR-AM. This piece will also be aired as a part of a "Shaping Families" Christmas special that can be heard on WBTX (1470 AM) at 9:15 am Sunday, December 19.
All went well until the day after Christmas, when the temperature dropped to 10 below zero on a Sunday morning as they headed north into a bitter prairie wind. My father closed the wagon to try to keep it warmer for his new bride, then got out and walked with the team to keep them moving against the driving wind and to try to stay warm. My mother’s feet and my Dad’s ears and fingers became frostbitten that day before they reached the farm house of some relatives who put them up for the night.
To me, that experience of my parents, Ben and Mary, brings the reality of the first Christmas a little closer home, a story of a Joseph and Mary who endure a journey of also about a week’s length. Except they have no team and wagon, and may have even been traveling on foot.
Christmas cards portray Mary as a mature, composed thirty-ish woman with a halo around her head and riding a donkey. In reality, she may have been a frightened young teenager, forced to go on a grueling journey in her last month of pregnancy. And then having to have her first child in, of all places, a barn.
Such is the drama of Christmas, a story of poor and ordinary people with whom God journeys in extraordinary ways.
I first wrote this as the script of one of my Centerpiece radio spots heard weekdays on WEMC-FM, WBTX-AM and WNLR-AM. This piece will also be aired as a part of a "Shaping Families" Christmas special that can be heard on WBTX (1470 AM) at 9:15 am Sunday, December 19.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Bragging on Brad
OK, its time for Dad to shamelessly promote his oldest son's latest CD (just in time for a Christmas gift!). Just click on the link "my son's music site" or http://bradyoder.com.:
Here’s some of the press his album “Excellent Trouble” has gotten so far, as noted on his website :
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette — “... an album filled with beautifully recorded acoustic-based songs, united by (Yoder’s) honesty and vivid way with words.” (Scott Mervis)
Pitt News — “Pittsburgh native Brad Yoder is a songwriting virtuoso.” (Larissa Gula)
AcousticLive! in NYC — “This is a heavyweight album from a major talent.” (Richard Cuccaro)
Big Mama’s Blog—CD review interview — “... lyrics convey emotions in a really powerful manner.”
Pgh Tribune-Review — “Excellent Trouble.. exhibits a childlike zest for narrative and storytelling.” (Rege Behe)
Here’s some of the press his album “Excellent Trouble” has gotten so far, as noted on his website :
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette — “... an album filled with beautifully recorded acoustic-based songs, united by (Yoder’s) honesty and vivid way with words.” (Scott Mervis)
Pitt News — “Pittsburgh native Brad Yoder is a songwriting virtuoso.” (Larissa Gula)
AcousticLive! in NYC — “This is a heavyweight album from a major talent.” (Richard Cuccaro)
Big Mama’s Blog—CD review interview — “... lyrics convey emotions in a really powerful manner.”
Pgh Tribune-Review — “Excellent Trouble.. exhibits a childlike zest for narrative and storytelling.” (Rege Behe)
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Top Ten Ways to Bless a Blogger
Or how about five for a start?
5. Check out some of his/her links.
4. Sign on as a "follower" to be updated on new posts.
3. Leave an occasional comment with a post.
2. Tell your friends about the site.
1. Feel free to offer helpful feedback or suggestions.
5. Check out some of his/her links.
4. Sign on as a "follower" to be updated on new posts.
3. Leave an occasional comment with a post.
2. Tell your friends about the site.
1. Feel free to offer helpful feedback or suggestions.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Reflection on the Christmas Crèche
This picture was on an e-card our daughter Joanna and husband Chad from Rochester, NY, sent us last year.
Their son John Mark is admiring the candle-lit crèche they set up for the season.
Their son John Mark is admiring the candle-lit crèche they set up for the season.
Years ago I read an article in the Valley LIVING magazine by Eddy Hall entitled “A Second Look at the Christmas Crèche.” He used to be bothered by all of the historical inaccuracies portrayed in the typical Christmas manger scene, he said, the ones that have Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus surrounded by the shepherds, the angels, the wise men, along with assorted sheep, camels and donkeys, all gathered at the stable at the same time.
If you pay attention to the texts, of course, the angels return to heaven immediately after announcing the birth of the Messiah, and the wise men in Matthew’s account are led by a star to a house where they bring Mary and Joseph their gifts, not to a manger, suggesting this was some time after the stable birth.
“I’ve long assumed that it was just pure sloppiness,” Hall writes, “Caught up in the less than accurate traditions that surround Christmas, people just didn’t care how the story really happened.”
But Hall has come to believe the Christmas crèche is meant to convey something deeper, that the main focus of this manger scene is to show how this promised Child brings us all together, rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, insider and outsider, shepherds and scholars, not because of any appeal they have for each other, but because of their common reverence for Immanuel, God with us.
This, he says, is the real Christmas story in a nutshell.
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