Santa as God 1.0

It is the truth that many children gain their first sense of a higher being through Santa Claus. Sure they had Bible stories at church, but Santa brings a real emotional punch to the whole thing. And more than one person has counted the day they stopped believing in Santa as the day they first had doubts about God.

No doubt about it. Santa Claus and how we choose to deal with his myth is an important part of being an American Christian parent.

Billy Coffee has, I think, taken a somewhat unique approach. Unique and definitely hilarious. You do NOT want to miss this story. Trust me!

Jesus and Santa get along well in our home. There is no conflict between them, and there need never be. I consider Santa to be God 1.0. It’s hard to explain God’s omniscience to a child. Easier to tell him or her that He, too, sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake. And God’s omnipotence? Well, He knows if you’ve been bad or good, even in what you’re thinking. You get the idea.

So the fact that my kids believe in Santa? A good thing.

However. At about the age of six, the rumors begin to be whispered and passed. Santa isn’t real. It’s all a fake. There’s no magic. No sleigh. No nothing.

The rumors started early for my daughter: last year. Five years old and a full Santa believer, she came to me one night with news that a classmate had told her there was no Santa. Blasphemy, said my daughter. But in crept the doubts.…Read More.

What I learned from…

Check out our latest group writing project with Robert Hruzek. “What I learned from the generosity of others.”

Welcome to the 19th edition of the infamous world famous groupwrite project known around these parts (and hopefully around your parts as well) as What I Learned From…!

That’s right, folks; it’s that time of the month (no, silly, not that time!) for y’all to shine your light for the whole world to see! It’s time for you to share your stories and lessons learned from the greatest schoolteacher of all: life!

This month, having just made it through the Thanksgiving Day holidays here in the U.S., and with the impending Christmas season finally landing on us like a big bag of warm Figgie Pudding (whatever the heck that is!), it seemed rather appropriate to choose a topic that sorta captured the essence, the spirit, the je ne se quois of the whole month of December.

Thus this month’s topic was born!… Read More.

This job is not permanent

Having mowed lawns and been a janitor by age 15, I was ready for something new, something that paid well. That summer a neighbor who worked for a local motor oil distributor offered me a job. Chickering Oil supplied motor oils to various retail outlets in Houston. They had every kind of oil imaginable in their warehouse: standard motor oil for cars, specialty aviation oils, oils with unusual weights for unusual engines, and various other petroleum-based lubricants. They had millions of cans of oil in their warehouse, and all of it was packed in cardboard cases of 24.

My neighbor explained the job to me:

“Cases are always falling or being knocked around. If a can of oil breaks, oil soaks the cardboard box, so we can’t ship the case. We need someone to remove the good cans of oil and repack them in fresh cases. We’ll pay you 50 cents a case.”

The following Monday I was dropped off at Chickering Oil and escorted to a dark, oil-soaked corner in the back of the warehouse. A mountain of cases greeted me, all of them soaked in oil, bent, dented, or broken open. Off to the side was a huge stack of fresh cardboard boxes…Read More

Intentional Grounding

Chris Godfredsen was a high school quarterback once. He knows first-hand what intentional grounding is. Recently he reinterpreted that phrase in a very creative way. Check it out.

As a high school quarterback, I spent most of my time on offense running for my life. Defenses were in hot pursuit - all the time it seemed - rarely leaving me with any time to make the proper reads, to deliver the ball where I was supposed to, or to be any good at playing the position.

I found myself running for my life and/or throwing the ball away - something a quarterback is penalized 15 yards for - a penalty called intentional grounding.… Read More.

Is that my blanket, Linus?

I love having fans. I don’t have many (Have you ever heard of me?) but I’m always on the lookout for more. Over the years I’ve developed a knack for locating these people who make me feel good. I find one or two where ever I go, and I can boast that I have some in my family, a handful in Sunday School, a bunch at work, a few in the neighborhood, a smattering on-line, and several in other corners of my life.

Do you know why I love them? Because they provide security. They are like Linus’s blanket to me. My fans like what I do and tell me so. They think I’ve arrived. They ask for my opinion and accept it. They call me on the phone and consider it wisdom. They make me feel all warm inside and I love them for it!

But they don’t grow me.

That’s the problem with fans. They’re like High School yearbook comments who say, “You’re such a great guy, Sam. Don’t ever change, always stay the same!”

Well, I recently asked a few fans (and only a few) to stop saying that. I invited them to become critics. I love it and hate it so far, but I know I need it. (Plus, if they help me to grow, I might get more fans! Oh, dreaded blanket!) My unofficial goal is to have one critic for each major area of my life: family, writing, speaking, leading and my Christian faith that affects all of these. Time will tell if I stick to it.

This week, I was encouraged by folks who ask Mary DeMuth to be a critic. Mary is a good writer who recently started “Free Critique Per Week” for writers who want to grow. Read her invitation and examples, and consider what area of your life could use feedback like this. Perhaps, like me, you need to let go of your security blanket a little.

Personal Relationship with Jesus

“Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus?” As an evangelical, I’ve heard that all of my life. I never liked it much, even as a young man. When I was older I was able to articulate my dissatisfaction with how imprecise that language is. Really, if you aren’t an insider in the church, what does that phrase even mean to you?

Lately the imprecise language doesn’t bother me as much as the sheer arrogance of the statement. Your relationship with Jesus, unlike the surface-level relationships of most people, is “personal.” I can’t help but think of that classic line for cheesy sequel movies. “He’s back. And this time IT’S PERSONAL!”

We need to be careful about the language we use about God. Apart from being rather arrogant, such familiar terms could put us in danger of forgetting the holiness of God. God is wholly other.

High Calling Editor Marcus Goodyear recently wrote something about the religious language of personal relationship. He helped write a drama for his church wherein he questioned the “personal relationship” language. I’m impressed with his bravery. Such a drama is likely to be questioned in a Baptist church. Marcus asks what we mean by saying that. What are the implications?

It’s good stuff. Don’t miss it.

“You don’t have a personal relationship with Jesus?” my wife asks.

“How can I!” I say. “I’ve never seen Jesus. I’m not talking about some kind of metaphysical conversion experience. I’m not talking about Jesus in others, least of these kind of stuff.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

It’s not a real conversation. Its staged. Part of a one hour drama I helped write for our church’s Thanksgiving outreach. We’re performing it this Saturday, and we’re in crunch time. Drama people know what I mean. God help me remember my lines.…Read More.

Thanksgiving: Pennies and a Big Blue Sky

L.L. here. Thinking about Thanksgiving. Remembering a book I just had to read. Because my cousin-in-law (is there such a thing?) did the cover illustration.

The book is about a young woman who braves prairie life to secure government-offered land. I won’t tell you whether she wins or loses the fields, but I will l tell you: she sure faced hard times. Sweltering days. Skin-splitting tasks. Too few pennies. Too many seeds to buy and fences to mend.

She also faced profound isolation at times. Says Hattie, “To keep myself company, I’d taken to conducting chore-time conversations with God. My self-imposed rule was that each conversation must start on a thankful note. Sometimes that kept the discussion from really getting going.”

I love that honesty. She talked to God. She tried to be thankful. Some days this didn’t work out.

Like Hattie, some of us may be facing hard times. Financial concerns, illness, a past that won’t quite settle down. We may be finding it hard to be thankful. I think that’s okay for a season. And I think God welcomes such struggle at His table.

Or maybe some of us can’t relate to Hattie right now. We’re reveling in good times, happy at home and in the world. This too is welcome at the table.

How are you entering this Thanksgiving season? What do you bring to the table this year?

I invite you to join a Thanksgiving Celebration and share with the High Calling Blogs, Seedlings in Stone and Christianity Today communities. Plant a few seeds, mend some fences, or tell us how big and beautiful life feels under the great blue sky.

And we can give thanks together.

Fall Trees Painting by Saima Barkat. Book reference is to Hattie Big Sky, cover illustrated by Jonathan Barkat (just call this the family affair post :-).

The ten dollar blessing

Billy Coffee has an absolutely wonderful story online about a woman and her mother who suffers from Alzheimer’s disease. I don’t want you to miss this one.

A friend of mine, Terri, has a mother suffering from Alzheimer’s. It’s a terrible disease, one that affects not only the mind, but the heart and the spirit as well. Overcoming it is not an option. Enduring it is.

I sat in Terri’s office yesterday. She had a story to tell me. “About the ten dollar blessing,” she said. And it was so moving, I’d like to share it with you.

Terri and her mother spent a day last weekend together in Danville, Virginia, visiting friends and relatives in nursing homes. It was a long day, she said, being around so many suffering from the ailments that accompany a long life. But it was also a joyful day, being around so many resting from the comforts that accompany a joyful life.…Read More.

Names

There is this moment when you wake up in the morning. Your whole reality is the pillows and sheets. It’s warm and rather womb-like. It’s nice. And then your mind starts working. You begin to consider the day before you. Your consciousness turns on and starts ramping up.

And for some people, the name-calling begins. They hear the names they have been called. And they believe them.

I always feel for people who were labeled, hard, in their childhood. The names comes rushing back every morning.

Ann Voskamp writes very eloquently about this in a piece she calls “When you call yourself names.”

I have lived like a child who never learned her name, lost and wandering.

So it went each morning: I wake on cotton sheets, under quilt of fragile threads, and hear the calling of names. Names I’ve called myself; names learned when young, that refuse to be forgotten. Names I’ve made my own.

In the waking, they jab, and I drag pillow over head, press into mattress, burrow deep into escape, but still I hear and cringe.…Read More

Random Acts of Poetry: In the Comment Box

L.L. here. Feeling very random on a rainy day. Feeling like I want to find poetry in hidden places. “Why not,” I think to myself, “find poetry in the comment box?”

So I remember a few fine words I saw in various places—some funny, some pensive, some even prophetic. Then, using a little poetic license, I set them down. Add line breaks, change a few words, delete others, but overall preserve the heart and soul of the original comments.

I get permission of course. Permission to shape and turn, bring to light, collaborate. That’s the beauty of community. Sometimes we come alongside, shift something a little to the right, knock off a bump at the top, carve a deeper smile at the edge of a tentative lip.

Thanks, Commenters, for letting me parade your accidental poetry even while I add my little dabs of paint and glue or use my pocket knife…

First up are these comments from Laure that I found at Joelle’s place, Alivening. In a post called Small Things, Joelle had said, “I feel strongly about caring for this miraculous ball of blue and green. I fall in love, numerous times a day, with the facets sparkling in luminous life….

I am in love a moment at a time. I hope the moments add up to something portentous. If I planned better, moved it higher on my priority list, maybe loving Earth would be a more consistent and careful absorption. These days, though, I do my part in infinitesimally small ways.”

Her final question to readers: “How do you love the earth?”

Laure’s answer:

Fiercely
anonymously,
with words …
and many tears

And not to dwell too long in one place, but I liked what Laure said at another post there too. One about the true self versus the false self, called Plastic

Laure responded:

these words
ask to be
listened to,
really and
respectfully
listened to

not disputed
or white washed
with the sweat
of anxiety

you honor those
who take the time
to receive you

i receive you

Then on a light note, Erin came to my post about being on the radio. She saw the Napoleon couch (above) and responded:

How much will we
have to crane our necks
to converse? And wherever
shall we put our tea cups?

Still, if it were the living room
of a synchronized swimmer
from a 1940’s Hollywood
spectacular, I could just see

the party. Everyone would
launch off the red velvet at the
same time, swirling, diving,
reaching for the veggie tray.

All in perfect synchronized
red velvet Hollywood pizazz.

Last but not least, dear Ann, who is one-of-a-kind (and her readers love her for it). She responds to Nelson Publishing’s Mr. Hyatt. In so many words, he suggested an author must:

talk-blog-Twitter-Facebook-talk-talk-and-talk-again-open-comments-move-shake-make.

To which Ann respectfully offered, like a Wendell Berry of the web:

in a cyberworld
of twittering,
facebooking,
commenting

can one create
an oasis…
unusual quiet,
entries that invite

one to slow,
to think, to really
enter in, consider,
blog counter-

cyberculture:
no obligation to
comment, no full
sidebars. in a world

of so much
noise, can you
create a retreat,
build a still chapel?

I hope you’ve enjoyed these unexpected poems from the comment box. But before I go, let me share what Laure told me when I asked permission. She said, “You know, sometimes I think I’m most poetic when commenting. I’m on a journey of awakening to my poet self and it is in relationship with others … to the tenderly expressed humanity of others that I come intensely in contact with my self.”

Comment, anyone? You may just find your poetic self. Or perhaps you’ll find it better if you sit back in the still chapel of retreat…

Next Page »