Christmas and Bethlehem

I've been to Bethlehem several times, even on Christmas day. I've entered the Church of the Nativity and waited in the line to go down into the grotto where it is believed that Jesus was born. In the grotto it is usually quiet except for the clicking of cameras. Many of the visitors reach back into the cave to touch or kiss the silver star which is supposed to be the place where Mary and Joseph laid the Christ child. When I'd leave the grotto there were often several groups singing Christmas carols. It was beautiful as they sang in various languages. When I'd leave the Church of the Nativity into Market Square, I was always surrounded by small boys tugging on my sleeve and blocking the entrance into our tour bus hoping that I would purchase their souvenir postcards.

I'm usually turned off by the large crowds and the commercialization, especially around religious settings. However, I've also wondered if this might not have been what it was really like when Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem. They were there because they had to be "enrolled" along with others who were from that lineage. So, I suspect there were crowds in Bethlehem that first century. So crowded that there was no room in the inn. Wherever there are crowds, there are usually folks who are trying to make a living by selling their various goods. There must have been noisy commercialization in Bethlehem that first century. Maybe it is my romantic images of Christmas and Bethlehem that are unrealistic. The significant issue is not what was happening in Bethlehem back in that first century but, rather, what is happening in my life today.
Shalom

Christmas and the Schwinn bicycle

I don't recall how old I was but it was a wonderful Christmas. My father worked at Kib Warren's in Shawnee, Oklahoma. Kib Warrens was a furniture/hardware store where they sold bicycles and toys during the Christmas season. The store carried Schwinn bicycles. They had a great one on the floor. It had red fenders with leather strips coming out of the handle bar grips. It even had a shock absorber connected to the front wheel. I admired it for a long time and wanted it for Christmas. Dad said that he didn't think Santa Claus could get it in his bag and down our chimney. I now know that our chimney was just a flue for the old Heatorola that sat between the living and dining room and warmed our entire five room house. Christmas that year was messed up anyway because I developed a terrible cold or something. I remember having to stay in bed while covered with a sheet-tent into which was being pumped warm, moist air from the nearby humidifier. I remember being sick enough that Dr. Combs came by the house to visit me and he gave me a shot of something. It was a lousy Christmas. However, on Christmas morning, after Santa Claus had visited, I left my sick bed to discover that Santa had left me that Schwinn bicycle with the red fenders and leather strips coming from the handle bar grips. Talk about a miracle--Santa got that bicycle down our chimney. However, the biggest miracle was that my Dad and Mom let me ride my new bicycle around the block. They made me put on a heavy coat and a sock cap over my pajamas, Momma put something all over my chest and neck that smelled awful and, then, away I went around the block. After a Christmas like that then of course I believe in Santa and parents who know that there are some things in life that are just more important than being sick. Have a Merry Christmas.
Shalom,

The Record Was Stuck

Many years ago, i.e., late 60's, a Physician thought I might have Tuberculosis. I've been reminded of this experience with the local news of a patient in Richmond, KY who has diagnosised with TB. So, the Physician sent me to a state TB hospital in Paris, Kentucky where I was going to be tested. He told me that if they thought I had the disease they would keep me. I was terrified when we drove up to a group of older buildings which were the TB Sanatorium. There were patients around the grounds who looked gaunt and slowly walked with masks covering their face. In the waiting room, I remember there was a Christmas carol playing somewhere and the record was stuck. The same few bars of music played over and over for the long wait we had in the reception room which was covered with slick tiles--walls and floor. The only chairs were cold metal chairs and the magazine rack had a few old and used magazines. I thought I might have to stay and I didn't like the prospects. After a bunch of X-rays, the TB Physician had me to cough and spit in a small bottle. I couldn't cough up anything to spit into the bottle. Much later that day, I was dismissed to go home. I thought I'd been redeemed--you know saved from the eternal judgement. Whatever life lessons may be in that experience, I hope God has a better reception room.

There have been many other times when I wasn't sure what the future might hold. There were decisions to be made, some of those decisions were mine and frequently others were going to make decisions which would effect me significantly. I like having control over decisions that effect my future. Nevertheless, that's what happens in life--someone else's decisions have significant influence on my life. When I have to make those decisions that effect others, I pray that I'm very respectful of them and their thoughts. I want to listen carefully before I make those decisions. When others are making those decisions, I do have some control about how I respond to those decisions, especially about the attitude with which I respond. This isn't easy but it seems very important for my emotional health and for the good of the group.

That Glorious Quest

I've been listening to the Musical, "Man of La Mancha." The Impossible Dream song has grabbed my attention. I think it is a wonderful summary of what many of us hope for with our lives. May we discern and be true to our quest whether it be in our home, office, church, neighborhood, overseas, or wherever.

To dream ... the impossible dream ...
To fight ... the unbeatable foe ...
To bear ... with unbearable sorrow ...
To run ... where the brave dare not go ...
To right ... the unrightable wrong ...
To love ... pure and chaste from afar ...
To try ... when your arms are too weary ...
To reach ... the unreachable star ...

This is my quest, to follow that star ...
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far ...
To fight for the right, without question or pause ...
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause ...

And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm,
when I'm laid to my rest ...
And the world will be better for this:
That one man (and woman), scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his (and her) last ounce of courage,
To reach ... the unreachable star ...

Been Traveling

I've just returned from traveling about 30 hours by plane and train during a two week period. Those 30 travel hours have taken me to Romania, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Netherlands and Belgium. I made this trip as a part of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship's Global Missions Office, Member Care ministry. The Fellowship is, among other endeavors, a mission-sending organization of moderate Baptists--moderate, as in no creed to sign and the freedom to follow God as a person senses God's leading. My travels, therefore, were to visit five families who are accomplishing amazing ministry among some of the most neglected people of the world, the gypsies and international refugees. My task is to support, encourage, pray for, assist with resources, etc. I am quick to acknowledge that these families bless me far more than I assist them. This Member Care ministry has been a life-long calling, although I didn't know it for most of my life. As a teenager, I made the public commitment to become a missionary, if that was what God desired. Evidently, that wasn't what God and I worked out together over these many years. However, now that sense of missions is being fulfilled in a way that didn't even exist when I was a youth. Deo gratis.

Packing as discernment

It is time to do the laundry in anticipation of packing. I'm leaving Tuesday for a two week visit with five missionary family friends who live in five European countries. Packing is a test of discernment for me. I get stuck with thinking I need to pack everything that I imagine I might need and, then remembering that, if necessary, I can purchase things in other countries. Therefore, my initial tendency is to pack too much. Perhaps, it is because I get confused trying to determine what is really necessary and what is not necessary. My imagination gets in the way. I imagine more possibilities than have ever happened and, therefore, I tend to pack too much. I've traveled a great deal and you would think I have this packing down to a fine art. An ole proverb says to lay out what you think you need and then put half of it back in the closet or chest-of-drawers. I think I'll try that--if it doesn't make me too anxious.

The Music

I've been listening to a CD which I really like. It is a collection of songs by Peter, Paul and Mary. I like both their music and message. I can understand the words and the music isn't so fast or loud that I can't follow the story-line. The music seems to support and, not get in the way of the message. I also like their harmony. I think it is a real gift to sing with others and it sounds like it really belongs together. I wish more of us in the world could make harmony not just in music but, also, in theology, politics, etc. Evidently harmony doesn't mean that everyone sings the same note. It is our differences which are blended together in the same song and for a purpose more important than just my voice that makes beautiful harmony and music. I think their songs, many of which are about the events of the times, are prophetic. Their subtle and, sometimes not so subtle, challenge to the status-quo is refreshing. Of course, you will want to remember that I 'came of age' during the 60s and 70s when music spoke to the events of civil rights, war, poverty, etc. It is good to listen again to their music.