The Spirit of Christmas

Books have been written, lots of movies have been produced, and watched countless times, about the “spirit of Christmas.” Often the plotline is about some grumpy and doubting person having to be convinced to embrace the true “spirit of Christmas,” or someone overcoming great obstacles to make a Christmas celebration happen because they have an extraordinary measure of “the spirit of Christmas,” or better yet, combining both into a marvelous and moving story.

I can tell you this, my early encounters with “the spirit of Christmas” are a very mixed bag. My earliest memory is of Saint Nickolas (he came on December 6^th in Germany, and in this instant was most likely my Uncle Erich) coming into the candle-lit living room of my grandparents and instead of giving me a present outright, bartered with me, a chocolate train for my pacifier – a trade I deeply regretted as soon as bedtime came around.

Fast forward a little, Saint Nick showed up in Kindergarten (I was four or five) with his helper Rubrecht, who was dressed in a brown robe, like a monk, and had a bundle of willow switches under his arm. Rubrecht definitely lacked “the spirit of Christmas,” as did the Head Kindergarten lady, because if she didn’t put you on the nice list and scribbled you down on the naughty list, you didn’t just not get a present out of Nick’s bulging sack, you actually got a minor whooping – ahh the good old days.

Fast forward some more, starting with Christmas Eve afternoon the adults and kids who were old enough, got busy setting things up beginning with the tree. All of this took place behind closed doors, while we the kids were going crazy with anticipation and impatience, which only added to the stress of the adults who at some point started barking rough, spirit-of-Christmas-lacking warnings, and began to calm their nerves with some high-proof and liquified “spirit of Christmas.”

On the other hand, a different spirit showed up when we finally bundled up, stepped into the cold and dark evening, and walked together to the old Lutheran Church in the center of our small town. Inside the lights were dim, and off to the right of the altar rose an enormous Christmas tree with actual electric lights instead of candles. It would be packed, the organ would fill the room with sound, the brass ensemble would reply out the Aspe, then the choir up on the balcony next to the organ would join, and finally, the congregation lifted their voices with them. In my little mind, it sounded and felt like what the shepherds experienced. For a brief and holy moment all thoughts of presents, treats, and hoping for what you really wanted vanished, and were replaced by the presence of the Holy Spirit of God and a spirit of the worship of Jesus, of “Christ the Lord”, that the real “Spirit of Christmas” always inspires. Even my little mind, not even having the word incarnation in its vocabulary, knew and understood that God did an incredible thing in sending Jesus.

When the music stopped and the preacher climbed up into the pulpit and started talking about Christmas way over my and the other kids’ heads, we usually stared with amazement at that electrified Christmas tree. Beneath it was an oversized and very old Nativity you were not allowed to come close to much less touch it (which became a challenge and a dare – I passed). There he was, baby Jesus, in his straw-stuffed cradle, under the shelter of the tree branches, silent and not moving. The scene under the tree was in stark contrast to the life-sized, thorn-crowned, bleeding, and pierced Jesus, who hung from the cross behind the altar between the Nave and Aspe, silent and not moving. That Jesus was always there, every Sunday, every day, when the church was full and when the church was empty. They somehow connected, that baby Jesus and the big dead one on the cross, but the one on the cross was more fascinating, hard not to look at, wonder about, and be gripped by the Spirit of Christmas, the Spirit of God, when you looked at him.

That moment would pass quickly, it doesn’t take long or much to distract a little boy. Most often, I remember, I would stare at the preacher in his funny robe in the pulpit opposite the Christmas tree, and notice something else weird and funny about him, like hairs sticking out of his nose, or whether he was dressed or naked under that robe. Or I would look around a begin a staring contest, or try to bug the kid in the pew in front of me without any adult noticing, or … And before too long impatience set in, some other kind of “spirit of Christmas” returned, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

Don’t miss the true Spirit of Christmas, the Holy Spirit of God, inviting you, leading you to worship Jesus to proclaim him as Lord, your Lord and Savior, and worship him.

Merry Christmas, to God be all glory, Pastor Hans

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Through the Eyes of A Child – Road Trip with Opa – VBS

A child sees the world with different eyes than an adult. I was reminded of this the past few days while helping my youngest daughter move to Corvallis, Oregon. Cooper, our oldest grandson, age eight, went along to keep Opa (grandpa) company, or to keep him straight, probably both. I told him that on the way back we could either drive down the coast or inland through some National Parks, and that it was his choice. He picked the inland route, hearing of lava caves and volcanoes made it a no-brainer for him.

Crater Lake, with all of its breathtaking awesomeness, was great, but not as much as the patch of snow next to it, or the island in the middle of it, that was just begging to be explored. Who knows what one might encounter there?

Lava Beds National Monument, its craters and lava tube caves, flared his imagination and fears. “This is big enough for a Tyrannosaurus Rex to hide, Opa,’ and, “What are we going to do if more lava starts flowing while we are down here, Opa?” Neither had crossed my mind, but they occupied his. “If either a T-Rex or hot lava meets us down here, we are going to see Jesus a lot sooner than we thought,” I told him, which didn’t seem to comfort him all that much.

Up on Mount Lassen, he thought it would just be short a walk to the very top. I knew better, but traversing 2000 feet more elevation wasn’t that much in his mind. Good thing there was another snow patch to divert his attention along with a snowball that him from Opa’s direction. The boiling pit of muddy waters on the drive down he loved, along with the putrid sulfur stench, ‘Smells like egg sandwiches, Opa.” I think his Mom needs to have his sense of smell checked.

The world looks different through eight-year-old eyes, from four-foot-something, through the mind of a child, and with an undulled imagination. And yet, we were both confronted with realizations of our smallness and the Creator’s power and infinite greatness. Both of our minds generated long lists of questions. And we got to be together, seeing so much more when we shared what his eight and my sixty-two-year-old eyes noticed.

This week we, the Lake Don Pedro Baptist Church Family, get to take a group of kids on another VBS journey, show them the things of God for them to enjoy, process, latch onto, and be captivated and inspired by. So much so, it will alter the rest of their lives, and give them a life-long wonder and awe of God and love for the Lord Jesus Christ. And all of our lives will be enriched by it.

What eye did not see and ear did not hear, and what never entered the human mind — God prepared this for those who love Him. Now God has revealed these things to us by the Spirit, for the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. 1 Corinthians 2:9-10 (HCSB)

            To God be all glory, Pastor Hans/Opa

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