Invariably, as we enter the Christmas season, a specimen of holy sanctification will loam mightily upon the horizon. Karen, resplendent in her ankle length denim skirt and thrice-year-washed hair stands triumphant before us, a warm and ever-so-slightly condescending smile appearing upon her face as she, beholding the tree in the lounge room and (horror!) the wrapped presents underneath (bonus 12 victory points to the devil if you've used holly or mistletoe to decorate), unloads a barrage of reasons why she, (as someone who only exists to please God and who has studied His word extensively) does not celebrate Christmas, but instead, chooses to spend the day on quiet contemplation and private prayer. We listen, smile and nod, and feel guilty that we, carnal sinners that we are, were so very eager to taste the eggnog and pop crackers around the table with family, when God would be clearly more honoured by this more sparce take on holiness. Perhaps we remove a few presents from under the tree and then tell Aunt Mary that no, we won't be bringing a dessert to Christmas lunch after all. Karen is mollified by this, and so we feel better. Then we see the empty places where our gifts have been, and the (less) empty stomachs where our dessert was meant to go and we feel guilty again. Year after year, this cycle continues, until we are just about ready to throw the towel in and refuse to celebrate anything, ever again. "Come to church!" we petition strangers on street corners. "We eat dry beans in the corners of empty rooms and God makes us like it! It's a blast - you don't know what you're missing out on!" Unfortunately for us, the unrengerate pagan is not as big a fool as we would require, and with a belly full of fornication, fat and feasting, it would be a mighty fool indeed who trades such immediate pleasures for the promise of 'perfect heavenly happiness and utter earthly misery.'
I am not arguing here about which festivals, celebrations or enjoyable occasions a Christian should or should not celebrate. That would be silly. God gives us each a conscience and the ability of exercise it. Some of us have a guilty conscience if we partake in anything enjoyable, and that is a stumbling block to which we much pay particular care, while others of us could blow a house deposit on deep fat fryers and firecrackers and then act indignant when the fun police choose to pass out a warning. Each of us has a temptation to fall off a narrow path with deep ditches either side. But I have observed a strange phenomena in my short years as a foolish, frail and female christian (this is a list of reasons why you, a superior Christian, can forgive my offensive opinions) - that those who refuse to celebrate anything not explicitly mentioned in the Bible (Jesus drinking wine doesn't count, He was just trying to show grace to those around Him *wink*) are by far the most bitter, joyless and un-spiritual religious monstrosities that I have ever come across.
When I look at my own life and the blessings that God has poured like whipping cream all across my history, I am struck by a dangerous truth - that a blessing only multiplies if I choose to use it. What kind of Christian would I be, if when a gracious Father gives me eggs, I choose to hide them under a basket rather than making a cake to share with my friends and family? (Because a cake has sugar and sugar is evil, and ancient societies made cakes to offer up to their demon infested totem pole mayan statues. Make quiche. Quiche is acceptable Christian food.) When I look upon a celebration of light and grace being poured out upon an undeserving and uncaring world, and all I can do is mourn the fact that all this celebration takes away from the 'reason for the season' then that says far more about the fragile state of my own spiritual journey than anyone else's. Year after year, I hear the horror stories from those who grew up in an un-feasting, un-celebrating home. 'Trauma', they call it. Now they burn sage and recharge crystals to feel the warmth that God never showed them. They never felt the velvet slick of fresh rolled gingerbread under their skin, never cut down a fir tree like St Boniface, never stayed up late on Christmas Eve to finish a handmade gift, never set the table with gold and silver for a family feast, never felt the giddy rush of joy when another gave so that they could have. Their experience was a list of 'cannot's rather than a list of 'by the grace of God, we can.'
When God walked this earth in human form, He attended the weddings (heck, He dished out the wine!), He joined in all the traditional feasts and celebrations that were part of His cultural calendar - feasts and celebrations occurred so God's people could gather together and celebrate the wonderful things that He had done, and which probably were not celebrated on the exact day that they historically occurred.
I think it's telling that in the garden of Eden, it was a world of 'yes' and a single tree of 'no'. And before someone objects, remember that God is a perfect Father. And by His Grace, and His covenant, He is ours! Why wouldn't we want to model Him, perfect in all abundance, overflowing with grace, goodness, warmth and gifts that we do not deserve?
So this is my request, this Christmas season. Regardless of whether you choose to celebrate or not (frankly, my dear, I don't give a - ), do not begrudge those who choose to give of themselves to bless others. Strange as it may seem, some of us like presents, candy canes and fairy lights. If you are the weaker brother who cannot touch the meat that you think may have been sacrificed to idols, that's fine. But for the love of God (and I mean this with all honesty and goodwill) take those dry little beans of miserly holiness, grind them up, run warm water through, add a dash of cream, and drink and be amazed at the abundance of a generous Father. Taste and see that the Lord is good.
