Cindy wrote about Christians and humor the other day, and in the process she reminded us of her old CBD posts. You can take a minute to go read and then come back.

Anyhoo, yesterday I got a sale flyer in the mail for LargeWeight Christian Bookstore (not its real name). I’m looking for a couple of books that might be available at a regular Christian bookstore, so I flipped through the catalog. I promise that I found the following items advertised; only the names and a few minor details have been changed to protect anyone in need of protection.

For only five dollars you can get a copy of the workout DVD, Tae Bo: The Strength Within in which “Christian fitness guru BB encourages reaching out to God when another set of roundhouse kicks seems impossible.” (Another set?) For a few dollars more you can get a Rejoice Water Bottle to go with the DVD: “features Psalm 118:24 and holds 24 ounces.”

You can get any one of a variety of change-your-life books: a complete guide to health, “recommendations on what to eat heartily and what to eat in moderation,” “quick answers to your everyday financial questions,” and “advice on losing weight.” Also there are books on how to get rid of anger, counting yourself to sleep, and another with a “plethora of advice for today’s family” on parenting. Why can’t they put all this stuff in one book and save me about fifty dollars?

When it comes to The One Book, there are still so many choices that the mind boggles —and gives up. Should I get a noteworthy BIble, an illustrated study BIble, an “everyday with Jesus” Bible, a chronological Bible, a daily Bible, a Life Principles Bible, a One Year Bible, or, to shorten the time commitment and speed things up, The Bible in 90 Days? And in a modern day variation on the disciples of Apollos and Paul I can get a Bible for followers of John MacArthur, or Charles F. Stanley, or Max Lucado or a Bible study by Beth Moore (she doesn’t seem to have her own Bible yet.) For my kids I can buy an Extreme Teen BIble, a Compact Teen Study Bible, a Next Generation New Testament, an Adventure BIble, or a Small Hands Bible. One of these Bibles, available on CD, advertises “many awesome features and voices from popular shows and movies like Hannah Montana and High School Musical; your youth are sure to dig it!” (If you’re fascinated by that last item, email me and I’ll let you know the exact title, location and price.)

Finally, if the entire Bible is too much for you or you can’t make up your mind which one to get, you can purchase a verse or two printed on just about anything. Items available are a Colossians 3:17 photo album, a Psalm 27:14 photo album, a Matthew 28:20 address book (so that you can know the right address when you go out to preach the gospel), a Psalm 17:8 journal, a Proverbs 27:9 coffee mug, a Proverbs 27:9 tealight holder, a I Corinthians 13 “love” photo frame, and a Proverbs 17:17 cross with stand.

I’ll spare you the details of the books (very few) and the movies advertised in the flyer, except to say that I didn’t find the two books I was looking for. However, the blurb at the bottom of the page assures me, “Can’t FInd It? Don’t Despair! Ask about our special order service.” I wonder if they can order me a copy of Paradise Lost or David Copperfield? (No, those weren’t the books I was looking for originally; I know better than that.)

As we discussed the Cybils nominees, one of the Middle Grade panelists noted that she disliked a particular book because the mom in the book was so dysfunctional. I started to notice how many of the moms in the books were either bad moms or dead or seriously ill. It was a lot.

Dysfunctional or mentally ill mom:
Thank You, Lucky Stars by Beverly Donofrio.
Waiting for Normal by Leslie Connor.
Itch by Michelle D. Kwasney.
The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry.
Greetings from Nowhere by Barbara O’Connor.
Masterpiece by Elise Broach.
Meeting Miss 405 by
Man in the Moon by Dotti Emderle.

Mom runs off and leaves kid:
Tennyson by Lesley M.M. Blume.
Itch by Michelle D. Kwasney.
The Willoughbys by Lois Lowry. (dad, too)
From Alice to Zen and Everyone in Between by Elizabeth Atkinson
Greetings from Nowhere by Barbara O’Connor.
The Case of the Bizarre Bouquets by Nancy Springer.
Window Boy by Andrea White.
Bringing the Boy Home by N.A. Nelson.
Diamond of Drury Lane by Julia Golding.

Mom seriously ill or dies:
Secrets of the Cirque Medrano by Elaine Scott.
Don’t Talk To Me About the War by David Adler.
Dog Lost by Ingrid Lee.
The Floating Circus by Tracie Vaughan Zimmer.
The Book of Nonsense by David Michael Slater.
My Dad’s a Birdman by David Almond.
Up and Down the Scratchy Mountain by Laurel Snyder.
Chancey of the Maury River by Gigi Amateau. (Main character is a horse whose mom has died.)
Eleven by Patricia Reilly Giff.
Bringing the Boy Home by N.A. Nelson.
The Penderwicks on Gardam Street by Jeanne Birdsall.
The Postcard by Tony Abbott. It’s the main character’s father who has mother issues in this one, but same abandonment motif.
The Walls of Cartagena by Julia Durango.
The Youngest Templar: Keeper of the Grail by Michael Spradlin.

I didn’t keep a list. but there are far fewer bad dads and dead dads in these books. I’m also no psychologist, but it must say something about the problems that children’s literature authors are working through or think children are working through that there are so many books with broken mother/child relationships in these nominees.

Re-posted from Christmas Eve, 2005:

I was thinking this afternoon about nursing, as in breastfeeding, as in feeding a baby. And I had the startling (to me) thought that Mary actually put Baby Jesus, not a doll, to her breast and fed him, fed him milk. Then I remembered that before she did that, she delivered him in the normal, messy, bloody way in a stable without a doctor or an epidural or even a nurse holding her hand and reminding her to push. She wrapped the God-baby in clothes and laid him in a feedbox and sat down or lay down in the hay on the floor beside him to rest. Joseph probably cleaned up, swept, maybe tried to find some water to wash things up a little.

It’s all a little too . . . physical, isn’t it? The Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The “Word” part gives me a little distance, a little spirituality, but the rest of the verse gets all fleshy again. Dwelt among us implies He lived a typically human life, ate and drank, bled when he cut himself, relieved himself, itched, scratched, slept, maybe snored. What an impossible thing to believe in. I actually believe that the God of the Universe, the God who created the Universe, who rules it, confined himself first to a human womb, then to a human body, then to death and a tomb. At least I believe it when I don’t think about it too much. When I do ponder the physicality of it all, it seems impossible.

I saw the Narnia movie this afternoon, and I noticed that twice the characters used the word “impossible.” As the children enter Narnia together, Susan experiences the coldness of the snow and the branches scratching her and breathes, “Impossible!” It’s so real, so physical, so undeniable, but “impossible.” Then later the White Witch looks up to see the True King of Narnia confronting her, the king she thought she had murdered, and she exclaims, “Impossible!’ He is so real, so physical, so undeniable, yet impossible.

Impossible that He should entrust Himself to the womb of a young country girl from the hick-town of Nazareth.
Impossible that He should travel through the birth canal and place himself in a body, helpless to walk or communicate or even care for his own physical needs.
Impossible that He should suck at his mother’s breast to sustain the life of that very needy body.
Impossible that He should grow in wisdom and in stature and in favor with God and man.
Impossible that He should laugh and cry and feel love and joy and anger and despair.
Impossible that He should share food and conversation and hugs and kisses with a group of human friends, one of whom turned out to be an enemy.
Impossible that He should die.
Even more impossible that He should die and then live–forever.

So real, so physical, so undeniable, so impossible. Only the God of the Impossible could inhabit such a story and make it a physical reality, and only by doing so could He intersect my very physical life and make me believe, know in my bones, the Reality of His love and joy and forgiveness and healing.

I pray for you this Christmas that the Impossible becomes Truth in your physical life where you are sitting and reading these words now.

May you have an Impossible Christmas.

While shepherds watched their flocks by night,
All seated on the ground,
The angel of the Lord came down,
And glory shone around,
And glory shone around.

“Fear not!” said he, for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled mind.
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind
To you and all mankind.

“To you, in David’s town, this day
Is born of David’s line
A Savior, who is Christ the Lord,
And this shall be the sign,
And this shall be the sign.

“The heavenly Babe you there shall find
To human view displayed,
All meanly wrapped in swathing bands,
And in a manger laid,
And in a manger laid.”

Thus spake the seraph and forthwith
Appeared a shining throng
Of angels praising God on high,
Who thus addressed their song,
Who thus addressed their song:

“All glory be to God on high,
And to the Earth be peace;
Good will henceforth from Heaven to men
Begin and never cease,
Begin and never cease!”

We sang this carol in church this morning, and I started thinking about the shepherds. Seeing the angels and the baby and hearing the promise of a saviour was probably the pivotal event of their lives. I doubt if anything so exciting and awe-inspiring had ever happened to them before, nor probably would it again. The Bible says that after seeing the baby the shepherds “returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.”

And then? The shepherds went home or back to the fields to check on the sheep. They told some people, family and friends, what they had seen and experienced. Some people believed them; others thought they were drunk or participants in a mass hallucination of insane proportions. And then? Nothing. Nothing else happened. The angels promised that a Saviour had been born, The Annointed One (Christ), Adonai (the Lord). They sang about God’s favor resting on men. But after all the hoopla was over with, what really happened? Nothing happened . . . for thirty years. (Other than a massacre of young boys —Matthew 2:16-18— hardly a sign of God’s favor!) The baby and his parents left Bethlehem, and the shepherds went back to their sheep.

We can read what happened next in the next few chapters of Luke or Matthew and get the impression that the angels said it and God immediately did it. But there were approximately thirty years between the birth of Jesus and the beginning of his ministry. The shepherds were all grown men with beards by the time they heard anything about that baby, now a grown man too, and some of them probably died while waiting for the fulfillment of the angels’ promise. The Romans still ruled; the tax collectors still collected the taxes; the Law was still an impossible burden to fulfill.

Isn’t that the way it is for us, too? We experience an epiphany, a connection with God himself. We get a message or a promise. We glorify and praise God for the great things He has done. And then . . . . nothing. It’s back to the sheep, back to the laundry, back to the quotidian tasks of an average life. We thought everything would be different now, after such an experience, but it all looks and feels about the same. Maybe our responses to situations are different, but hardly anyone notices. And as time goes on, we can feel ourselves settling back into the familiar patterns of daily life, wondering if anything that spectacular really did happen. Maybe we did just imagine it all.

But the angels were real. The baby was a real baby who grew into a real Saviour, Christ the Lord. Yes, things didn’t look much different after the birth of the Christ Child, but underneath the surface everything had changed. We live in the waiting time, between the promise and the fulfillment. And the time between Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 of the story feels like a long wait. We’re tempted to doubt the Word, even to despair in the face of continued evil and suffering and waiting. But the Bible says, “Don’t give up!” “Unto us a Child is born, and unto us a Son is given.”

Advent has been a time of waiting for the coming of the Christ Child, and each year we reenact that time of preparation. Then Christmas comes, and what’s really changed? The world revolves, and we go on waiting. It’s tempting to give up, to think that God’s promises will be held in abeyance forever. But even if death overtakes each one of us before the Time is fulfilled and Evil is defeated forever, it’s only the time between the ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. Such a short time really.

1 Peter 1:3-8: Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Merry Christmas to all pass through here as you wait on the revelation of the promise of God. May your New Year be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy even as you wait and hope for the final goal of peace on earth, good will to men on whom God’s favor rests!

Reposted from Christmas, 2006.