Saturday, December 10, 2011

Christmas Crap

I’m just going to come right out and say it.

Christmas sucks and I wish it were over.

I’ve preached on how we should not let ourselves be ruled by a negative attitude.  I’m singing the music. I’m being the life of the parties.  

But I’m faking it, as usual

There are people in recovery who are trying not to start drinking again.   I’ve dealt with too much death and done too many funerals before or just after Christmas Day. 

Now, I still like the story of Christ’s birth who is a symbol of hope and a promise of peace.  I like how the mystical and the earthy elements are woven together: dreams and visions vs. pregnancy and traveling. Angels singing and shepherds listening. A star shining over a stable. 

As a father, I get how a child can be a God figure.

Holding onto that makes it possible to bear all of the crap and push onto the new year.  

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Beware the Friendly Faces

When I go to a new church, the people who are friendliest at first are usually the ones I can’t trust. They’ll take me to lunch, give me tickets to ball games, and sit on the front row at church and beam as I preach. But they’re the ones who want something from me, who have an agenda that they want me to support.  And they’re usually the ones who got rid of the last preacher. 

I am reminded of a movie called “Romero,” a true story of an Archbishop appointed to San Salvador.  He was soft spoken and physically frail, and the local powers figured he’d be easy to control.

He wasn’t. 

There was a party to welcome him and people brought him lavish gifts for which he politely thanked them. However, he was ecstatic when a poor shoe maker gave him shoes with soft soles so he could walk comfortably.  He wore them all the time as he walked to the villages of the poor.

The frail, soft spoken priest became the champion for the poor, speaking powerfully against the wealthy families, and the corrupt government officials. 

He was assassinated—shot while he presided over Mass.

I’ve been here long enough for the tide to have turned in my church. The ones who were happy to have me here are not so happy now. They can’t say anything because I’m pretty popular with the others.

They really ought to be grateful I’m as old as I am, because as a younger man I wouldn’t have tolerated them so much, and I would have looked for ways to make them go away. 

But they won’t go away. They’ve been here so long that even their enemies tolerate them. They’ll get quieter and bide their time until I’m not doing so well. When my vitality flags, or I have personal complications that come from having family, or if the church suffers some discouragement, they’ll move against me.  And they might win.  In fact, they probably will.

That would be a shame. This church, like most, has a short lifespan. It won’t last another ten years unless it makes some major changes. Can they make them?

It’s iffy. Chances are they won’t, especially if they involve themselves in another power struggle that wastes time and energy.  They can’t afford the luxury of playing this game anymore.

But here are some things for me to consider.

First, I like this church. 

Second, I like this town. I like the people. I appreciate how pretty the scenery is.  I’m really pretty happy here. I could even make some friends, maybe. 

And third, I didn’t come here to close this church down. I intend to light it up. It might burn down but it won’t shut down.
This isn’t San Salvador and I’m not Romero. Let them take their best metaphorical shot at me.  I’ve got work to do.