Merry Christmas everyone! Tiny Tim muttered such famous words, words that ring far above class and capability. We've been saying MERRY CHRISTMAS for generations. Societies and times change. But two words carry the same meaning amongst generations of millions.
We've had a lot of fun moving through time and tradition at my childhood home this season. We always do Chili on Christmas Eve. The kids always had to perform some skill before opening gifts and we had carols to sing and Dad, and sometimes myself were permitted to perform the famous gibberish found by dad and friends from billboards, license plates, store fronts etc..."oogalama chingalapa, leggazegga moogabooga...!"
And dad, who has the KJV version of Luke 2 memorized was and is required to address the family with the story of Jesus Birth by memory. But we should always have the story by memory shouldn't we? Christ was the gift from which the gift of grace and forgiveness poured forth...Christ should always come before the gifts.
I love the idea of tradition in celebration. We went to church last night and I'm never big on holiday church services, but as my cynical scroogy self was about to come forth, the songs of the season and the story of Christmas heralded out of the pastors mouth and an Elder and minister of the congregation prayed and read scripture and led us in song. It's good for the body of Christ to be together in celebration of the newborn king...why was I such a scrooge? I and 700 others like me prayed and sang and celebrated! Does that mean I'm a holiday service guy now? Maybe, I'm only human. But last night was good for me.
We celebrate Christ...amongst brain tumors and kidney diseases and heart disease and accidents and old age we celebrate Christ. The song says JOY TO THE WORLD, not because lives are happy happy joy joy. I don't feel happy happy joy joy some of these days. Some of them I do, but I do know that Joy was not possible until Christ arrived. Malady, fear and sickness bears no affect on such Joy.
I said before that we had to perform something before opening gifts. I always had a song or a poem to offer...mostly poems. It was the same this year. I enjoy blogs and letters because an entire wealth of the world shares its own experiences with others! That's awesome. So, I'm going to share this year's performance poem with you. I know not everyone are poem people, but maybe it's one little part of your entire Christmas story. My gift to you. But don't open this gift until you've experienced the gift that is Christ first.
Here I am wrought with adulthood.
My childish ways are well placed
And entrusted to Him
Who brought me through them.
Yet the bells and pipes
Mark a season under which the resonant ding and the trumpets
seemingly matted under summer now arise bright and crisp
as voices pour hallelujahs spreading satin music
like hot fudge to ice-cream;
a creamy pasture of melted vanilla and dreams.
Praise, a silky mane of the King threading extol
as voices roar towards a God who seeks Praise,
and notes that, as they exit our mouths,
seem to sharpen and glisten teeth for the bite
The slain lamb, now the Lion of God strikes
with the crushing power of the blood that feeds
and empowers faith and music, that sharpens teeth
Bites and gifts and faith deposits Satan behind me
so that when my last note crosses the threshold
like silver butterflies
revealing wind’s pathway toward Heaven,
he the beautiful one, his name
bearing the faint crest of honor but now
tattered in disdain
shall find no worthy mention here,
transfixed, merely an eyewitness
given company by his own terror,
knows His punishment--
that I might die and live without him.
Death is not admirable, but by God’s name must be like the sun
that obediently descends beneath the earth as He did;
only to rise again on a new day, a new age.
And Thus I sing and I hear bells.
Though wrought with adulthood
Rejoice that that which I have entrusted
Some of them being childish ways,
Can be shown to me at the sunset of the year
So that I shall also not be hindered from His lap;
That I may revel in bells and pipes,
That I may taste snow, swallow goodness.
And simply know
As I once did
That my Father knows the voice of children
And angels swarm fiercely amongst them
As they did the night their master was born,
So that gifts and truffle may fuel the stories
Of tradition and life
Born by eternity
And set amongst bells and pipes
And songs that spread them
Like faith of Children.
Merry Christmas Everyone!