Bah, Humbug!

Or: The Story Behind Our Teeny-Tiny Christmas Tree

Before I renewed my fellowship with the Lord Jesus, Christmas was just a holiday laced more with disappointments and painful home memories than anything pleasurable. To me it was a holiday best forgotten. Matters did not improve with a renewed commitment to Jesus--the churches I fellowshipped with adhered to Paul's thoughts on esteeming every day the same (Romans 14:5-6) and equating the celebration of special days with bondage (Galatians 4:9-11). This only served to reinforce my pre-Jesus feelings towards the holiday.

Then a move back to the States, linked with a marriage into a Christian family who revered the holiday, conspired to draw me back to the celebration of Christmas. Still, in my heart of hearts Christmas continued to hold no meaning to me. But outwardly I strove to live at peace with all men in all ways possible (Romans 12:18). That meant participating in some of the outward traditions of all things "Christmas".

At first, I balked at the idea. In fact, I asked Auntie Trinie, with whom I lived and worked in the ministry, about it since she found herself in a similar boat. Were we being hypocrites?

"On the contrary," she said. "Though the Christmas celebration per se will never mean the same to you and me as it does to those here (the congregation of the church we were attending), if through the holiday activities at church even one soul can be saved, I say it is worth our efforts." (Please see 1 Corinthians 9:22). I don't remember if any were saved at the Christmas programs in the stateside church we attended, but upon my return to Mexico after marriage, I am happy to say that there were documented professions of faith at some of our Christmas programs.

And this is the covoluted history of how Christmas came to stay in our household, though in my heart of hearts there was always a little of a "Bah, Humbug!" hidden attitude--attested to by my teeny-tiny tree. Until this year.

This year ... This year I had the privilege of attending my "old" home church, where the Lord's Supper is celebrated on the last Sunday of every month. I was pleased as punch. It's such a memorable tradition, one instated by our Lord Himself. I have known people who have actually been healed by participating in it. It is a time of introspection, a time of connecting on a deeper level with our Lord and Savior. The quiet, holy atmosphere attending this holy sacrament is, simply put, special.

On this occasion, though, no sooner had the ceremony concluded than a friend of ours asked the pastor if he could say a few words. The pastor gave his permission and Ralph launched into a succinct history of the sacrament with a never-before-heard-of twist. "This supper could have been limited to the disciples only," Ralph raphsodized, "but it is not. Instead, the Lord instituted it as a ceremony to be practiced by all those who love Him. We, who are far away in years from the time He walked the earth with His disciples, are privileged to participate in the very same ceremony He partook of with them. He didn't have to do it. But He did. As far away from that time in years as we are, He made a way for us to partake of that blessed sacrament."

A holy hush filled the sanctuary. Our appreciation of the Lord's instituting this sacrament went up many, many notches. He did not have to include us in the Lord's Supper. It could simply have been a historical footnote, a special time celebrated with those who had walked by His side and sat at His feet for three and a half long years. And yet ... in His loving kindness He made provisions to extend the privilege to us. All that it means, all its blessing, all its promise, unworthy though we may be, we are invited to be a part of what those first disciples partook. Wow.

My heart cannot get over this. The kindness of God in the face of my own unworthiness! The very thought of it revererates in my soul, causing grateful praise to well up in my soul to the God of gods and the Lord of lords. And you know the phrase "unintended consequences"? I find that the all-encompassing joy Ralph's insightful take on the Lord's Supper engendered has extended, just like ever widening ripples in a pond, to none other than my Bah, Humbug, Christmas attitude!

Sure, we do not know the actual date when Jesus was born. If it mattered, it would be documented in His Word. What does matter is that He came. He did not have to come. But in His love and kindness He did. He came. He, the Light of the World, came. In this dark time on this earth, Christians are honored to celebrate the coming of the Light of the World to this present darkness. The date does not matter! What matters is that He came. He loved us enough to come.

Bah, Humbug? I have looked and scoured my heart and can't find hide nor hare of that offensive term left. Nope, no more Bah, Humbug. I am happy to report that what I do find is a resounding, "Glory to God in the highest!"

May you enjoy His presence this holiday season as never before. I know I am!

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God ... In him was life; and the life was the light of men" (John 1:1,4).

"I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life" (John 8:12).

"Arise, shine; for thy light has come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee" (Isaiah 60:1).