The Gift of the Incarnation

Many years ago when I was a child, there was a newspaper columnist named Bill Vaughn. One year he wrote a Christmas column about his little girl getting in his lap and wanting him to tell her a Christmas story. I don't remember the exact order they were suggested, but I know he started to tell her about a snowman. She stopped him and said, "No, not that one." So he launched into Santa Claus, and again she stopped him. He tried one more, when she said, "no. Tell me the story about Christmas." He ended his column with the opening words to Luke chapter 2, the gospel account of Jesus birth.

Each Christmas, the Kansas City Star newspaper reprints it because of it's popularity. Each year, I re-blog the Christmas essay I wrote many years ago. I hope reading it has become a tradition for everyone. This a time of anticipation of hope for many. For some it's a time of deep pain, but the Nativity can keep the tiny flame stoked and at some point, it will burst into a fire that warms the desperate heart. Here again, is my Christmas message for you.

The season has officially arrived. Time to bring out the holiday decorations collected over the years, along with new ones purchased at half price after Christmas last year—the special trappings that announce the season of celebration. Trees are trimmed, candles lit, carols sung, lists made, gifts purchased and wrapped, parties planned, church plays produced, turkeys roasted, and every tradition of every family is carefully observed for the sake of memories.

It would be tempting to write a critique about the increasing secularization of our “holy days” traditions. But the deepening layers of fluff that threaten to obscure Christ are a legitimate concern I’ll save for another essay. Truthfully, the whole season with its traditions can produce a warm feeling in me, a kind of rosy glow that makes me want to stuff cash into the red pots of bell ringers, hug strangers, and maybe even “teach the world to sing in perfect harmony.” That’s a good thing—or is it?

I’ve heard many Christmas sermons over the years, but none has enlightened nor disturbed me more than the words of an unsaved woman I knew some years ago. While helping decorate an AA hall for a holiday party, she made the off-handed remark, “I just love Christmas. You know, the baby Jesus thing and all that stuff. It gives me a warm feeling.”

I had forgotten that conversation until today. At the time, I didn’t think much about her comment, except that she needed to know baby Jesus grew up and died for her. Maybe I even said that, I really don’t remember. Now I find her words unsettling in a different way. She had expressed sentimental feelings that are uncomfortably close to what I, and probably other Christians feel.

Sentimentality isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when it masquerades as spirituality, it satisfies merely at a surface level, distorting love and grace by diminishing them. The deep ocean of God’s love and grace becomes a wading pool. Instead of being immersed in His great love, we slosh around, accepting shallow spirituality and risk missing the awesome waves of His passion that can only be experienced when we venture out into waters over our heads.

The memory of that comment resurfaced today in the form of a question God posed to me: Do you understand the cost of the Incarnation?

Christians are (or should be) familiar with the basic theology of the Incarnation: Christ was born of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary. God became fully human. We recite it in our creeds, we read it in the Bible, and hear it from the pulpit. We proclaim Christ’s divinity and humanity based on the doctrine of the Incarnation. But do we really understand the price the Son of God paid when He became the Son of Man?

I must confess, this morning during my prayer time, it occurred to me I did not. As I prayed, I wondered if indeed it was even possible in this life to fully comprehend the depth of sacrifice Jesus made when He stepped out of eternity and into time.

In The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis wrote, “… the higher a thing is, the lower it can descend—man can sympathize with a horse but a horse cannot sympathize with a rat.” I believe it was also C. S. Lewis who observed that it is barely within the capacity of humans to understand how amazing an act of condescension it would be for a man to become a lower creature. It is one to thing to have a level of consciousness that enables one to sympathize with a lesser creature, such as a cat, it is entirely another to actually become one and experience all that cats experience, having left the lofty realm of humanness and all that entails.

We can only imagine the possibility, since no man has ever emptied himself of all his natural attributes, retaining only the knowledge that he is still in essence a man, and taken the likeness and consciousness of a lower creature—to be both that lower life form and man. Even though the chasm between man and cat is incredibly broad, the analogy falls short because humans and cats still share a common bond: they are both created beings. The analogy cannot begin to express the magnitude of the condescension of the Creator in becoming the creature.

It is the mystery of the Incarnation: God becoming one of His creatures, yet still being God in essence. What Jesus left behind when He condescended to the level of a dividing cell in Mary’s womb is what I have never fully appreciated, and I say that to my sorrow, because the sacrifice of Jesus on my behalf began long before the cross.

The entire seventeenth chapter of the Gospel of John records the last time Jesus prayed with His disciples before His crucifixion. Next to the anguished prayer in Gethsemane, it is probably the most passionate prayer ever uttered, and He prayed it not only for the small band of men gathered around Him, but also for us:

“And now, O Father, glorify Me together with Yourself, with the glory which I had with You before the world was… Father, I desire that they also whom You gave Me may also be with Me where I am, that they may behold My glory which You have given Me; for You loved Me before the foundation of the world (v. 5, 24).”

The inclusion of that request in His prayer reveals His desire that we understand the level from which He had descended to walk among humanity. He had willingly left the Father’s presence in a place of grandeur and glory beyond human imagining, and emptied Himself of the attributes that made Him God.

In Philippians 2:6-11, Paul attempts to describe the depth Jesus’ sacrifice through the Incarnation:

Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore, God exalted Him to the highest place and gave Him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father.

He made Himself nothing. The All in All, the Alpha and Omega, the Almighty became a creature, a lowly servant, and willingly bore the cross—our cross, our sin, our shame. The question still reverberates: do I understand the cost of the Incarnation?

I will enjoy the Christmas season. I will probably overeat, spend a little too much, and observe all the traditions, sacred and silly. But there will be a silent prayer offered continually from my heart: that I would grow beyond sentimentality and press deeper into the heart of God where emotions are transformed and become holy.

Moses prayed to see God’s glory, and God granted his request, but only gave him a glimpse of his back. He covered Moses’ eyes with His hand as He passed telling him, “you cannot see My face; for no man shall see Me and live.” But Jesus is the face of God, and we are commanded to focus our attention on and our hope in Him. The hand of God no longer blocks our view, only our own hands cast up in fear, shame, or ignorance.

It may well be that before “the mortal is clothed with immortality,” my vision will be obscured for countless reasons. But His prayer will ultimately be answered. Until that day, like Paul, I will seek to grasp the width and length and depth and height of His love, to know the love of Christ which passes knowledge, the love that compelled the Incarnation, and to truly understand His incredible Christmas gift.

Memorial Day Meditation

Today we take time to remember those who served our nation in the military who made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of our freedoms and security. Without their willingness to fight for our liberty, who knows what kind of country we would be living in. We owe a debt of gratitude and these men and women who should never be forgotten. As the years have passed, Memorial Day has evolved into remembering all dead and picnics, but that wasn't what the originators intended. It should be wholly devoted to our war dead.

I decided to not go visit my father and mother's graves today at Fort Leavenworth National Cemetery. We went last year on Memorial Day and it was very crowded. We will go next week. The flags will be gone, but I will take red roses to place on their graves. My father's favorite color rose was red. I will take pictures and talk to them, and probably cry. I always do.

My father served our nation for almost twenty-five years. On his headstone the inscription reads "He served God and his country." They got the order of the words right. My father loved the Lord and, along with my mother, raised us in the church, doing his best to instill faith in my brother and sister and me. He took his faith seriously and lived a life worthy of God's call on him. His favorite verse in the bible was John 14:6-7 "Jesus said to him, 'I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.'" He believed it and I know he received a warm welcome in heaven when he went home to be with his Lord and Savior. My mother joined him seven years later, and by faith I know I will be greeted by them when my time has come.

Growing up in a military family meant there were missions my father was sent on throughout my childhood until his retirement. They were somewhat secret. He was deeply involved with the testing of atomic bombs as a meteorologist after the war ended. During the war he also had a top secret mission working on the Norden bombsite that made for more accurate bombing. He even had bodyguards to keep him safe from kidnapping or death. He was also a bombardier sinking Nazi submarines in the Northern Atlantic. His crew was awarded the Presidential Citation for their successes. I never knew these things fully until getting copies of his military records. In my eyes he is a hero for his service, but even more of a hero in the faith.

His faithfulness led me to a saving faith in the Lord. I am his legacy in the Lord. I am the fruit of his labor, my siblings as well. He received several good conduct medals and ribbons while serving in the Air Force. As far as I am concerned, he has received a good conduct crown in heaven.

I do not confuse God and country. God isn't American, although there are many who seem to think so. He has blessed our nation greatly, but our society has become increasingly secular and cracks are forming. Israel forgot God and worshiped idols. They paid a stiff price for it. Our nation will not be excluded from the penalty of forgetting God and worshiping the idols of money, power, wanton sexual debauchery, and selfishness. It's time for Christians to be even more faithful to reach out to a people who are lost and wandering.

My father is a hero in my eyes, but Jesus even more. He paid the ultimate sacrifice for not only Americans, but for the world. Today is a day to honor and give those who died in combat their just due. But every day we need to honor our Redeemer and give him his just due.

I am proud to be an American in spite of all that is wrong. My heart swells when I hear the national anthem and we display a flag on days like today. But I am more moved by songs of praise and worship to our Lord and King. Saying I am proud to be a Christian doesn't sound right. But I am more a citizen of heaven than I am of the United States. I have freedoms and responsibilities to my heavenly citizenship just as I do to my American citizenship. Sometimes they are in tandem, but also sometimes at odds. I will take up my citizenship in heaven and fulfill those responsibility with greater determination than my earthly one.

I remain grateful to have been born an American. I could have been born a North Korean or worse a denying Christ as Son of God and the only way to eternal life Islamic religion. Since God planned for my life to be an American one, all the more should I not squander my freedom to worship and witness. Remember this day for what it is, but make every day one pleasing to the Lord until he returns or calls you home. We are his before we are Americans. Never forget.

A Prayer for this day or for a Lifetime.

Lord, do not let me be an ill-prepared foolish virgin, but let me be a wise one, fully prepared to meet my Bridegroom and Lord. Please do not find me wandering on my own and then facing you with un-repented sin. Don’t let my building in this life go up in smoke and ashes as one whose works are in vain because they were not done for you and through you. Don’t let me be found a stranger, not having spent more time in prayer and seeking your face daily.

Holy, merciful King, give me a grateful heart to always be thankful for all you have freely bestowed on me. Clean, accessible water, so much food that I never hunger, a warm house filled with things to make my life easier and being able to read and write as well as having a level of health that keeps me fit. There are literally billions on the planet who do not have these things. I do not live in a war-torn country, while millions flee for refuge, with just the clothes on their backs, to lands where they do not know the language or customs. I do not struggle with persecution for my faith beyond being laughed at sometimes or being harangued by someone who wants to debate to show me as ignorant.  No one threatens me with torture or prison, or even death for my faith in you, Lord. Forgive me for my sense of ease as I enjoy all my blessings, which you gave me, but not before I am prepared to be a giver as you are. You gave up all for me. Shall I not do the same?

I don’t feel as though you are telling me to sell all my possessions and go where you lead, but am I clinging too tightly to my material wealth, however meager it may be compared to the wealth of others? Am I too afraid to go talk to that elderly gentleman sitting by himself hanging his head in the café. Should his loneliness and hunger matter to me? If I quiet the racing thoughts and grow still within me I know it matters.  My feet should obey and lead me over to his table to share a cup of coffee, a plate of food, and gentle words with him.

You were not blind to injustice when you walked on earth. You exposed it everywhere you went. Yet America is rife with injustice, inequality, racism and a new democracy run by the love of mammon, and what you clearly said about money is we cannot serve two masters. Mammon says take, not give. You, O Lord, tell me to give just as the widow with two tiny coins did, all she had for the day.

“He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” Micah 6:8.

Lord, you know this was my mother’s favorite verse in the whole bible. Memories surface now and then that show she lived by that verse. I have many verses that speak deeply to my heart, but something tells me to take this verse as her scriptural legacy.  To counter injustice with justice, to love kindness and extend it especially to those who don’t appear to deserve it. They need it. Then as painful as it may be, strip away all pretense toward you and cause me to see me as you do. My eyes will run with tears for the many failures and sins; yet you seem to see something entirely different: a diamond in the rough. Take me, mold me, use me. Help me to walk freely knowing you have made me holy just as you are, but even more, help me to walk humbly, not just anywhere I head, but to walk humbly with you. To place my tiny hand in yours and walk your direction, to follow your lead.

So, this day and each day to come, let me be a pure vessel for your use, however you see fit. In my submission and obedience will you find your honor and glory.  For all who are called by you are made clean through the blood of the crucified King, who lives again and is able to give life and forgive sins. To him alone is the Name above all names, Lord of lords, King of kings, and the great
                                                                 
                                           I AM. 

Amen and amen.

---

 [sH1]

God is Good, All the Time

I warn ahead of time this is a long entry. I just got out of the hospital mental health unit after a nine day stay. Came home two days ago. I was so exhausted from lack of sleep I was hallucinating and feeling close to being suicidal. I wasn't going to make it much longer. It was the best decision I could have made. It took awhile, but a lot of changes in medications were made and I began to get a solid six hours sleep, which is all I really need to function at a high level. But it did not happen right away.

Sleep has consumed me for months. I have been insomniac for years, but not like this. This was extremely severe and no matter how much prayer was offered, God did nothing, or so it seemed. While I was hospitalized, I went to most of the daily classes offered for those in emotional and mental distress. It was difficult. Not only was I sleep deprived, I was an emotional mess and just wanted to isolate. The staff kept after me to attend them. The classes ranged from dealing with anxiety and grief to yoga and music/art/pet therapy.

Every day I had to make a goal and then at the last group meeting in the evening, say whether or not I achieved it. I'm sure you can guess the goal I made for the first six days. Sleep. But inside I had another goal: to hear God tell me why, just like Job. I have felt so beaten down for so long, I felt like God didn't really care. I stilled loved him and always will, but why was he being silent?

I asked my husband to bring my bible to me. The Gideon's bible is King James and while I understand it, I just prefer my version. I had a lot of time to think and read and pray. Soon, I was having scriptures come to mind. I am just going to list them and ask you, the reader, to look them up. But I will expand on one in particular. All of them were exactly directed to me and my condition. Psalm 38:9; Psalm 42: 5,11; Psalm 43:5; Psalm 3:8; Psalm 66:20; Psalm 46:10; Psalm 62:1-2;Psalm 121, all; Psalm 123, all; Psalm 127:2; Psalm 131, all; Psalm 81:1-3. All in the order I read them over the course of several days.

On the fourth day, I attended a class on coping with anxiety. I have had severe anxiety about sleep. The specialist said anxiety was good to the extent it alarms us to something wrong, but anxiety left alone caused a wealth of problems, and that I knew very well. She taught how we had to change our negative thoughts by replacing them with the opposite positive. All well and good, but then she came to the point that there are some things we just have to accept as well as their consequences. She called it Radical Acceptance. It struck a deep nerve and my initial reaction was "No way." But it left me thinking.

I got back to my room and immediately Psalm 139 came to mind. This I will do my best to tell. As I read through one of my very favorites, certain verses jumped out at me. Verse 5 and 10 said God had me hemmed in and was holding fast to me, guiding me. That brought a measure of comfort, Then  I came to verse 14. I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My whole being, spirit, soul, and body are not accidental, nor are they broken in the sense my condition is a done for deal. But verse 16 gripped my heart tightly and I was shaken deeply. "In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed." Everything has been preordained for me, including my sleep issues and bipolar disorder.

Radical acceptance meant never getting enough sleep, losing my job and probable bankruptcy. I didn't want to think it true, but there it was, and I was left with no option but to surrender and like Job, be told who am I to argue with my Creator? He is the potter and I am nothing but clay in his mighty hands. I cried as I came to that realization. What has happened is a hard lesson in trust, patience, and endurance. Psalm 131:2 washed over me. Like a weaned child I have quieted my soul within me. Radical acceptance.

 It was no mistake that all the scriptures I read were from Psalms. David was a haunted man at times. He faced years of struggles and wrestled with God many times, and many of the latter Psalms were written in exile and times of Israel's tribulations.

That night I slept. The next two nights before my discharge I slept. I am in humble awe of God. He opens doors that cannot be shut and closes doors that cannot be opened. Every week at my church we end the service the same way, closing with, "God is good all the time, and all the time God is good." I won't be saying it by rote anymore.

I don't know if the sleep will continue or the future of my job, but God is merciful and gracious and does not lead us into more than we can bear. If once again I am deprived of sleep, I will praise him still. Jesus is all I really need.

Sleeping Beauty...Not

So much for New Year resolutions. My plan to write at least one blog a month hasn't panned out. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. If I may beg off, it has been mostly due to a circumstance beyond my control. As many of my readers know, I have Bipolar Disorder. For the past twelve years in particular, it's been very difficult at times to function at a level of competence expected of most people without mental illness. I can say that because, thankfully, due to medications, I can and have been living a "normal" life for the most part. Sometimes, however, medications start to get ineffective, then the search begins for suitable replacements, and it can be a crapshoot. I become a guinea pig, and the roller coaster ride takes off.

So it has been. The medication I was taking for mania really hadn't stopped working, but I was always in a semi-daze at work because of it, and I can't count how many times I was pulled into my boss's office and given verbal warnings about my performance. But I couldn't help it. Finally, I just decided to quit taking it and I told my psychiatrist I wanted to take a medication I had taken years ago that worked but didn't have the same side effects. He agreed and now I am much brighter, or would be but for the insomnia. 

If you've tossed and turned for a sleepless night or two, you have an inkling of what I have been living with for the last month. Only it hasn't been a night or two, it's been night after night after night endlessly. If I am fortunate, I get two hours, but for the majority of the past month I have gone entire nights without sleep sometimes for five days in a row. Then a couple hours, then back to no sleep again. None of the sleep aids I have taken are working. Somehow, I have managed to keep going. It's a testament to my new antipsychotic that I haven't become manic or at the very least, hallucinating from sleep deprivation. 

I am now on a four week leave of absence from my job in  order to preserve it. I have been told in no uncertain terms that I had better be sleeping by the time I get back. No pressure. I am trying a new one that seems promising. I slept better last night than I can remember. Maybe this will be my salvation.

I will be frank and admit I have wondered at times what God is doing while I spend sleepless nights begging him. Goodness knows there are a plethora of people praying for me. I will say each morning I thank God for every moment of sleep, and for sleepless nights, I thank him anyway knowing he will give me strength to make it through another day. But my thankfulness is often overwhelmed by the feeling of abandonment. The question of why cannot be ignored. I have also been angry with him, but thankfully he is able to handle my emotions. After all, he created them.

Still, I am left bereft of hope and peace. Every day I make a promise to keep faith and hope and every day deep down I feel like God is not listening. Before you judge, if at all possible, walk in my exhausted shoes for a week. Then maybe you can understand how hard it is.

 I know in the big picture loss of sleep isn't a lot. Really. But it's all overwhelming for me right now. I find solace at church, but I leave and know what I will face at bedtime. I feel like this blog entry is a total loss because I am not testifying about God's majesty and mercy. But after all I have said about my insomnia and the unanswered why, the song Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone) comes to mind. As deep as the feeling of where is God runs, deeper still is the unshakable foundation built on Christ. At some point what seems too difficult now, will be overcome through the limitless power and compassion of God. As hard as it is to grasp that truth, I do continue to cling to Jesus. As Peter said to the Lord, where else would we go? I am boxed in on every side, but when it's finally over, I will realize the walls were padded and that Jesus has been with me the whole time, though he seems light years away right now. 

I love him still. Haven't a clue about this trial, but in it all I cannot help but love him. I may never understand why things like this happen, but I will never fail to love him. And tomorrow morning, once again I will thank him, and as each day passes, mean it a little more.