This week I saw a picture of a beautiful 18^th century Nativity scene which has been part of the Christmas display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City for the past 50 years.

In general, it is a traditional nativity scene. The usual cast of characters are there: Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, the shepherds, the magi, lots of animals, and lots and lots of angels, more than a hundred pieces in all.

But there is one thing about this particular scene that sticks out. In the background are the ruins of an old Roman temple. This is obviously not part of the normal telling of the Christmas story, so the artist is trying to make a point, and I think it is an insightful one.

At the time of Christ, the new Roman Empire, under the leadership of its first Emperor, Caesar Augustus, had advertised itself as holding out so much hope for the world.

His name was originally Octavian, but he took on the title Augustus, which means “divine.” An inscription at that time claimed, “The birthday of the god has marked the beginning of good news for the world”. The Romans hailed Augustus as the “savior of the world”. It was a time of great national pride, an era referred to as the Pax Romana, the Roman peace.

But as with any great man or woman, as with any empire, the peace he promised was only temporary.

That’s what Luke tells us. When the angel appears to Mary in chapter 1, he tells her “He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give Him the throne of His father David, and He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and His kingdom will have no end.”

And then he begins the next chapter with, “In those days, a decree went out from Caesar Augustus…” In other words, “back when Caesar Augustus was ruling…back in the days of that kingdom that DID end…”

By the time Luke was writing this, the one who was supposedly good news to Rome was DEAD. The one who was the savior of the world…DEAD. The one who was to bring lasting peace to the world…DEAD.

But before that, right in the middle of Caesar’s reign, an angel appeared to a bunch of shepherds and made an announcement: “I bring you REAL good news of great joy which will be not only for the privileged and powerful among the oppressors, but good news which will be for ALL people, for today in the city of David there has been born FOR YOU a REAL Savior, not Caesar the one who proclaimed himself to be savior and king, but Christ the Lord, the One who really is Savior and King….”

Then a bunch of angels appear in the sky saying “Glory in the highest, not to Caesar who gave himself the title of god, but to the One who really is God; and to the people of the world,  peace, not the temporary and very limited peace of Rome, but the peace of God.”

The artist shows us the Roman Empire, with its empty promises of peace lying in ruins with its false gods. And its rulers, who spent their whole lives feeding their lust for power and fame, are dead and have faded into the background of history. “Like grass,” the Psalmist writes, “like the flower of the field that flourishes and then the wind passes over it, and its place is no more.”

That's how human kingdoms are. From day 1 they are headed for the ruins. America will one day take its place among those empires that were formerly powerful. Everything that I personally create, build, publish, or earn will go on the heap as well.

But the Nativity gives us a picture of a different kingdom. "Nativity" is defined as "the processes or circumstances of being born," or "the place of origin." The coming of Christ gives us a glimpse into a kingdom that is not in decline, but is always a place of origin, of continual new birth, of newness that never ends.

Whether that 18th century artist was thinking all of this, I don't know. But I do know I am so thankful that, as a son of the King, I am part of a kingdom that will never end, a kingdom of life that is constantly being renewed. Christmas reminds me of that.

We were out shopping for stocking stuffers the other night. Leave it to our 2-year old to bring us back to the heart of it all.

She was in the craft section with Jen, and she saw a plain wooden heart. Her eyes lit up. "Buy this for Jesus!!" She was so excited. She then went and found a page of beautiful angel stickers and cross stickers. "Buy these, make card for Jesus!!"

I said, "Sarah, are you giving that to Jesus?" She said, "Yeah. Jesus loves me." In fact, anytime someone mentions love in our house, she immediately says, "Jesus loves ME!! Died...cross."

She brought her heart home and wanted to "color it for Jesus." And when I saw her coloring the heart with a purple marker, I thought, "wow."

Purple hearts are given to heroes, those wounded in battle in the fight to give others life and freedom.

Sarah had no idea, but she had captured everything that Christmas is about. It's not a party for little baby Jesus. It's a celebration, a time to look back in awe at the deep love of a God who sent His Son, who came for one reason, to be "wounded for our transgressions," so that we might have freedom to fully live as God intended us to live.

She only has a 2-year old understanding of Him, and of course she has no idea about the history of the purple heart. But I couldnt help but think that maybe she gets it at a simpler yet much deeper level than we often do:

Jesus loves her, which brings her delight. And if Christmas is His birthday, then Christmas presents should be for HIM, to reflect His love.

And what better reflection of that love than to honor Him as the warrior that He is, because that's where the love of God is seen most clearly: "But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

There's only one present under our tree right now, and it's going to stay that way - a little package witha purple heart inside, and next to it a card that says simply, "to Jesus."         

This morning, I was picking up a few random things in the living room, the last remaining rubble from the latest pass of Hurricane Sarah (our 2-year old) through the house.

When I put the Fisher Price nativity set back in its place on the shelf, I noticed that baby Jesus and Joseph were missing. Joseph was a righteous man, so it couldn't have been a kidnapping. So I thought that maybe, in light of holiday traffic, they decided to get a head start for Egypt.

But what had happened was actually not complicated at all...no scandal...no holiday traffic jams. Somewhere in the midst of Sesame Street, storybooks, dropped sippy cups, baby blankets, stuffed bunnies, blocks, and games, Jesus had simply gotten shoved under the couch and out of sight. Ironically, the Fisher Price wise men who traveled so far to worship Him didn't even notice that He was missing, nor did the angel on top of the scene, nor did Mary, who kept smiling as if nothing had happened at all.

And the set suddenly looked so empty. I was reminded of a few years ago when I was shopping for a nativity set at a craft market in Uganda. And as I went to pay, the lady realized that there was no baby Jesus. And she said, "I can't sell you this one...it just doesn't make sense without Jesus."

No, it doesn't. Not at all. Jesus is the whole point. Not only the "reason for the season," as they say, but the reason for everything. "In Him," Paul writes in Colossians 1, "all things are summed up." He goes on to say that all things were created, not only by Him, but FOR Him.

Sarah knew that it didn't make sense without Him, and so she went looking for Him. After a few moments she came triumphantly into the kitchen, holding both baby Jesus and Joseph, saying, "Found Him!! Under couch!!"

We don't have to go far. Paul says in Romans 10 that it isn't as if we have to go up to heaven and bring Him down or into the depths of the earth to bring Him up, but that He is near, always able to be found, not by our grand efforts or frantic searching, but by faith.

We so often think that He has somehow been silent, that He isn't really at work in our lives. But Jesus hasn't gone missing. We just so often lose sight of Him, shoved aside by the seemingly urgent demands of the daily grind, as our hearts and minds are drawn down a million different roads, none of which lead us to Him.

Yet He is still there, full of grace, full of love, full of life...all for you...if you have the eyes to see Him. And He is not only waiting for you, but He is actively pursuing you, making Himself very, very findable.

It's a promise, Jeremiah 29:13: "You will seek Me, and you will find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart."

Seems like every Christmas a different character in the Nativity drama grabs my attention. Two years ago, it was the shepherds. Last year, it was Joseph.

This year, believe it or not, it has been King Herod. Kind of weird, since he is the bad guy in the whole thing.

Herod was an ultra-paranoid mess. I doubt that he ever got a single good night of sleep, as he was always looking over his shoulder to see who might be threatening his place in the Roman Empire.

He was filled with fear and insecurity, and endlessly obsessed with his own position, power, and prestige. And he had a history of doing whatever was necessary to maintain it, even if that meant ordering the execution of his own family members (which he did on a number of occasions, including having his own wife killed).

When he heard about the birth of Jesus, Matthew 2 tells us that Herod was “troubled.” He didn’t like the idea of another king, especially one who was going to rule in his neighborhood. He was Herod the Great, the king, not only of Judea, but of his own life. There was no room in his heart and life for another, no matter who He was.

To Herod, a new king meant that he would lose everything. And so he was deeply “troubled,” to the degree that he ordered the murder of every boy in Bethlehem under the age of two.

Normally, when I think about Herod in this story, I think in terms of “them”…the people who are hostile towards Christ…the power-hungry and the proud…the blatantly and unashamedly wicked.

But the more I think about Herod, the more I am haunted by how similar to him I often am.

After all, what troubles me? When does the peace leak out in my life?

It happens when I am not able to control my circumstances. It happens when my security is threatened. It happens when I am overly concerned with my reputation and accomplishments. It happens when Jesus troubles me, calling me to take my hands off of my life and place it fully into His hands, trusting Him to do whatever He wants with it.

The one thing that Herod sought and couldn’t find, and the one thing that I, a much nicer version of Herod, so often lack, is peace, the kind that comes when we are in control of things, the kind that we feel when everything is OK.

But ironically, the One who disturbs our peace is not the enemy of peace but the Prince of Peace. The One who troubles us by coming to rule in our hearts and lives is not trying to take away our peace but is offering peace of a completely different quality, in His own words, “not the kind of peace the world gives,” and in the words of the apostle Paul, “peace that passes understanding” (in other words, “peace even when it doesn’t make sense to have peace”).

I want to latch on to some more of that this Christmas. Why don’t you grab some for yourself, too? There’s more than enough for everyone.

Thursday, like many Americans, we are going to be sitting around the table with people we love. Like many Americans, we are going to share a special meal together. And as we do, like many Americans, we will have a time where we say we are going to “go around the table and each person say something you’re thankful for.”

But what does that really mean, to “be thankful”? I am not a big fan of doing things just because it’s what we do. I like to really understand what it is that we are doing, and why.

What are we really saying when we say we are thankful? Most often, even though we mention God in the process, we are really just making a generic statement that says, “I am glad that things are OK.”

Of course, we first ease our guilt by mentioning something about “those less fortunate than ourselves,” and then we proceed to show our thankfulness that we are not in their situation by eating more in one meal than any of those less fortunate could hope to eat in a month.

But what about when things are not OK? What if we are the less fortunate? What happens when all of the many “blessings” that we were thankful for last year suddenly have vanished into thin air? The company that gave you the promotion you were thankful for in November 2007 folded in October 2008. The wonderful family that you were thankful for 12 months ago completely fell apart just 3 months ago. Can we still be thankful then?

I am not talking about positive thinking, “Glass half full” vs. “glass half empty.” I am talking about the ability to live with a deep sense of gratitude and the resulting joy, even in the midst of difficulty.

Maybe we need to let the Grinch try to steal Thanksgiving, too, so that we learn something about true thankfulness in the midst of real life. Imagine as he reflects on the fact that the thankfulness goes on even though real life continues to come with full force:

“It came without turkey, it came without ham, it came without cranberries, stuffing or yams; it came without pies that my grandmother made, it came without Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade; it came without tablecoths laid out just right, it came without belts that are suddenly too tight; it came without soda and cheese spread and crackers, it came without Cowboys and Lions and Packers; it came even though my whole family’s a wreck, it came though the bills are much more than my check; it came though I’m lonely, depressed, and confused, it came though I’m misunderstood and abused; it came though my job pressures weigh more each day, it came though my years just keep slipping away; it came though I fail no matter how hard I try, it came though some days I do nothing but cry. It came though I don’t see much worth living for…it must be that Thanksgiving is about something…more…”

I find it interesting that of the four letters in the New Testament where Paul tells us to have a heart of thankfulness, three of those letters were written from a prison cell. In other words, the guy who is telling us to be thankful is writing from a position where circumstances are not OK.

In Philippians 4, Paul says “I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need.”

How? Next verse: “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

Paul could live in a state of deep gratitude and joy because he knew that in Christ he had a treasure that was so great that even the best of any of those things for which we are “thankful” is nothing but garbage in comparison (Philippians 3:8).

When I lived in Uganda, I was surrounded daily by people for whom things are not at all “OK.” Let me tell you about two of them. Their circumstances are almost identical…their hearts couldn’t be more different.

Agatha and Cissy both live in the village.

They both have 5 children to take care of. Neither of them has any education to speak of at all. Neither of them have the job skills that give them hope of anything more, and even if they had the skills, their communities don’t have the infrastructure to make it profitable anyways.

They are both essentially single moms. Agatha’s husband has taken on another wife in the city, but he graciously comes home often enough to satisfy his physical desires and to take whatever portion of her small salary remains so that he can go out and drink.

Cissy’s husband left her completely years ago for another woman, returned to the house and stole all of her clothing, and tried to burn her small mud house down in the process.

Agatha’s face is a picture of hopelessness…Cissy’s is beaming with joy.

How is it possible? Because she knows what Paul knew, that life is found not in how many blessings we can count but in the love of Christ that can never be taken away, whether surrounded by tangible blessings or living in the total absence of them.

Should we thank Him for the blessings, for the good things and the good circumstances? Absolutely. I plan to!

The point is not that we shouldn’t thank Him for those things. The point is that being thankful runs so much deeper than that. The Grinch is right. It is about “something more.”

True thankfulness is not a matter of reflecting on the state of your circumstances…true thankfulness is a reflection of the state of your heart.

Let’s rejoice in deep gratitude today in the unchanging and transforming love and grace of God in Jesus Christ.

Happy Thanksgiving!

A couple of days ago, during a visit to Kentucky, I went into one of my favorite prayer rooms at Asbury Theological Seminary and I sat on a padded bench in front of a statue that I have always loved, a bust of Jesus laughing. It is called "The Joy of Jesus."

And He's not just giggling at a stupid sitcom joke or chuckling at American sarcasm. He is throwing His head back and laughing a laugh that comes from the depths of a God that delights in being God, the joy of not only having love but BEING love.

Delight and love can't just sit in storage...they have to get out.

But we don't often let Jesus burst with unbridaled joy. It is hard to tame Him when He's like that. The religious leaders knew that well. When that joy wasn't properly checked, it took Him into all kinds of inappropriate situations - eating with sinners, healing sick people on the Sabbath, talking with a woman that everyone in town knew was just plain bad, and allowing dirty children to interrupt important meetings with His disciples.

We know that Jesus has bad habits like that, so we create boundaries so that He doesn't embarrass Himself and us any further. We'll let Him come into our church service, but not into our budgets (when He has access to our accounts, He has a way of spending our money recklessly to help people in need).

We'll let Him come into our small group meeting on Tuesday night, but not into our real circle of friends (how embarrassing it is when He shows up at a party...and it is likely that He will bring some undesirables along with Him).

But if we really want jesus, we have to let His joy loose. It is in His joy where we find the heart of Jesus. It was His infinite delight that led Him to touch lepers and to bring sight to the blind...it was pure divine bliss that looked on the hungry multitudes with compassion and that took a small child in His arms...it was unbridaled joy that led Him to the cross, and that brought Him from the grave bursting with life a few days later...and it is that same delight that looks at the likes of me...and smiles.

And my prayer was simple: "Lord, I want some more of that. I want to love people, not because I hope they will be members of my church but because I delight in them. I want to lay down my life for others, not so they will make me a Christian hero and write a book about me someday, but simply because Your joy is made full in me."

"And, Lord, I am willing to take the risk that Your joy let loose in me might make things a little messy...but I guess that's how the kingdom of God is...so bring it on. I'm ready."

"Omuchina! Omuchina!" ('Chinese person,' in Luganda), the children used to call out enthusiastically, running towards our vehicle as we approached the poast office in Bombo, Uganda, where we were living until late last year. When they would see our kids, they would cry out "Kachina! Kachina!" (small Chinese person).

What was is it that convinced them that we were Chinese? Was it our height? Our kids' blond hair and fair skin? That Beijing twang in our Ohio accents?

It seems absurd, doesn't it? Blue eyes...apple pie faces...from China? But then I found out the reason for the mix-up, and suddenly the absurdity didn't seem so absurd after all.

The reality is that most of those kids had never ventured outside of their area. And there are not many white faces around Bombo (in fact, at that time we were the only white faces). Apparently, thought, there was a Chinese woman who owned the local gas station, so to those kids, if someone looked different than they do, that person must be Chinese. It makes sense, doesn't it?

But they started to see me more often. And I started telling them who I was, every time I went. "Sir muchina. Ndi muzungu" (I'm not Chinese. I'm a white guy!"). And after about 73 times, because they heard it AND because they started to SEE the difference, it sunk in. And eventually, though the enthusiastic running and shouting was the same, they finally put us in the right category: "Muzungu! Kazungu!" (White person! Small white person!).

It was a case of mistaken identity, simply because they had never really been around a white person enough to know the difference. They were just working with the evidence that they had.

Listen to what people are saying about Christians: "Hateful...mean-spirited...unloving...intolerant, etc." Look at how Christians are portrayed in movies and on TV: prudish...boring...ignorant...self-righteous...legalistic...judgmental. We have a couple of options in how to respond to this:

We can huddle together in the corner of the sanctuary and lament how the world just doesn't understand us, how Christians are "under attack" (and before we are too quick to lump ourselves in with the persecuted early church, realize that they aren't normally against us because we are so much like Christ...normally, they are criticizing us for not living in a way that even they know followers of Jesus ought to live).

OR we can realize that most people are just working with limited information.

Why is that so? Well, the reality is that many of them have never been in a real relationship with a committed Christian. We are too busy with our church activities, our mindless hobbies, and our frantic schedules that we are so certain are so vital to all of human existence. As I talk to Christians, I find that in the midst of it all, most have never intentionally entered into a relationship with someone who doesn't follow Christ.

So people are forced to form their opinions about us based on what they see on TV, what they read in the newspaper and on the internet, and what they see in the few overbearing, obnoxious or hypocritical Christians that they have unfortunately encountered at work or school.

"Let your light shine," Matthew 5:16 says, "in such a way that they will see..."

That "seeing" only happens in relationship. And I am convinced that IF we will actually get close enough to people to let them get to know us, IF the life and love of Jesus is real in us, and IF we are intentional in that friendship to let His life flow through us and SHOW them the love and character of Jesus, I believe we will find many coming to embrace the Jesus they have thus far rejected because of what they have seen (or haven't seen) in His people.

I know that many people will still decide that they don't want Him. Most people rejected the real Jesus when He walked the earth as one of us (and He was a LOT like Jesus!). But I don't want the rejection to be because of a case of mistaken identity, simply because they have never had a chance to see Jesus up close and personal...in us. 

From the playground, we took the kids to a local health club in Quito where the owner allows them to come and swim for an hour after it closes every Saturday.

I was assigned to another young lady (I can't remember her name). She was also a teenager, though she seemed to interact on the level of a young child. She could mumble a few words, but I couldn't understand her.

I learned how to make her laugh, the same way I do with my 2-year old daughter, Sarah. It was all I could do. We had a great time. It was so gratifying to be able to bring some joy into her life.

I wondered, though, if she received it as love. Or was it just instinctive fun? I don't know. All I knew was that, like with Marisol on the playground, there was nothing that I could do to make it happen.

I just kept praying: "Lord, there is nothing that I can do to make her understand that You love her. If she is going to see You through me, it is all up to You. YOU are going to have to make it happen through me in a way that I can't even begin to explain."

And as soon as I said that, the Lord spoke to me. He said, "The truth is, that's the way it always is - when you preach, when you counsel, when you lead a Bible study, whatever you do. It always depends completely on Me...you just usually have something of your own that you think you can trust in."

"And by the way, Dave, when you love this girl, the one you are really loving is ME."

  As we got ready to leave, I helped a boy named Raul get dressed. It all finally made sense. We didn't talk. But his eyes never left me. He felt loved, and in a way that only God comprehends, I know that He felt loved by Jesus. I could see it in his eyes.

As I helped him, I inadvertently touched one of the many scars on his legs.  Once again, I was on holy ground. The scar I was touching was actually that of a nail-scarred hand, because when I loved Raul, I knew that I was loving Jesus.

I carried him to the van, and as I did, my heart was full, having had a deep refresher course on what ministry is all about. And as I walked, I prayed: "Lord Jesus, thank You for giving me the opportunity today to simply love You ."

There are some things that they just can't teach you in seminary. There are some truths that you will never find in the latest books or teaching CD's.

Two weeks ago, when God wanted to help me rediscover what life and ministry are all about, He didn't use PhD's in theology, popular conference speakers, or authors of multiple best-sellers...He used the simple hearts of three children who can't even speak, at a home for handicapped children in the capital city of Quito, Ecuador.

The first one was a 13-year old girl named Marisol (means "sunny sea"). Confined to a wheelchair, she can't dress herself, feed herself, or even speak...in fact, apart from a miracle, she'll never be able to do much of anything. 

Surely, though, she must be able to receive love...she was created for that. But how could I tell her that Jesus loves her?

I wanted to reach into my file and preach one of my favorite sermons on the Father heart of God.

But I knew that I couldn't rely on any of the things I so often lean on - my education, my personality, my experience, etc. All of the usual props were useless. So, in the words of one missionary, "I realized that I had to actually BE Jesus to her."

I did that by serving her.

When she slid down in her chair, I shifted her back to a comfortable position. When her hair fell across her face, I brushed it back behind her ears. She always responded with one of those "that's exactly what I was hoping you would do" kind of smiles.

When she wanted to sit on the swing, I lifted her on to it and held her there. And she threw her head back in delight, closing her eyes and feeling the wind on her face. I knew that, for a moment, Jesus was taking her to a special place that only she and He understand.

She could never explain what happened there. I'm not sure that I can either. But I know that this obscure, dirt playground in the Andes Mountains was holy ground, because we experienced together the very real presence of Jesus.