BERNARD SHUFORD

A good friend of mine – a real world friend (I do actually have some of those, but most of them are too ashamed to admit it…) – posted a question on Facebook yesterday.

“Do you say Merry Christmas, or Happy Holidays?”

So, I’ll answer. 

I say “Merry Christmas.”  I don’t think the words “Happy Holidays” have ever left my lips as a serious greeting, although I’ve said it a few times in a sarcastic fashion.

My opinion is this – If someone wishes me “Happy Holidays”, I’m going to assume that they mean it.  I’m going to assume that they want me to have a good time between Thanksgiving and New Years.  I’m going to ignore the possibility that they don’t know about Christ or that they don’t like Christ, and assume that they are wishing me well.  I will utter, in return, a genuine “Merry Christmas”, but just for fun, I might say “Happy Holidays”, simply because Christmas IS a holiday and New Years’ Day IS a holiday, and I hope they have a happy time then as well.  If someone says “Happy Holidays”, I’m going to regard it as an opportunity to be Christlike, even though I’ll probably fail miserably. 

When a cashier bids me adieu with these words, I will consider the fact that she is probably simply trying to keep her job so that she can buy Christmas presents for her kids, and I will not subject her to a tongue lashing for saying the wrong words.  I will allow for the fact that this decision has been made at a level FAR above her pay grade and I will simply say, “Thank you! Merry Christmas!” and try to show her the love of Christ in whatever way I can, even though I’ll probably fail miserably. 

In other words, while I understand that there’s a huge debate about this, Christ will NEVER be removed from MY Christmas, whether I use “X-mas” or “Happy Holidays” or simply “Good morning, mate!”  I will never forget the child that came so that I can be forgiven of my sins, and I will never forget that He came so that the people who say “Happy Holidays” can be forgiven of their sins.  I refuse to stop celebrating the birth of Christ simply because someone says “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”. 

I hope that a LOT of people wish me “Happy Holidays” this year. 

Happy Holidays – let’s celebrate the birth of Christ!

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I’m pretty good about hugs.  My kids get a lot of hugs, my wife gets a lot of hugs.  (I still should give her more…)

But hugs can be a conscience soother.  (Is that a word?)

Just like “worship experiences” can be a conscience soother.

It’s too easy to focus on all MY junk for 23 hours and 59 minutes a day, and then expect a one minute hug to make up for the fact that I ignore them the rest of the time.

It’s similarly easy to ignore God in such percentages, then expect a few minutes of singing to Him on Sunday to make it all better.

Kinda crappy, huh.

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I’m an expert at finding Christian / theological parallels in movies and TV shows.  I suspect that the writers and producers have very little knowledge that they include such things, but they’re there.  There’s a tremendous Messiah story in WallE, for instance. 

I don’t intentionally seek these things out.  They just grab me.  I can’t help it.

The Backyardigans were K’s entertainment of choice this morning.  We’ve watched “The Volcano Sisters” many times, and the story always bothers me a little bit.  The boys are given the task of finding something that the girls want, with no hints or clues.  The punishment for failure is that the girls will push the Big Red Button and the volcano will erupt.  Luckily, the boys figure it out, so disaster is averted.

A huge group of the people in our world are faced with a situation that seems pretty similar, at least in their eyes. 

They desperately want to make God happy, because if they don’t, He’ll whack them with the big stick.  Or they’ll go to hell.  Or their life will fall apart.  Or whatever punishment it is they believe God will dish out. 

But they don’t know how to make Him happy.  They feel clueless.  They try being good, but they mess that up, too.  They try this, they try that.  They try to hide, but they know that someday, somewhere, the Big Stick will descend. 

The difference, of course, is that God does tell us what He wants.  He demands perfection. 

Nope, I’m not perfect.  Neither, dear reader, are you.  Nor is anyone else.  No one is even “good”, according to the Bible.

The GOOD NEWS is that God provided Jesus Christ, the Perfect One, and He pushed the Big Red Button on Him. 

Trust Him.  He’s already endured the wrath of the Big Stick.  All of it.  For you.

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So, tonight, T went to bed.

He was exceedingly upset with his father (me) when he did so.

Five minutes earlier, we were enjoying a fun game of MLB PowerPro on the PS2.  (Yes, we would love to have PS3 but are trapped in archaia.  As well, if we had the system, we couldn’t afford the games.)

For some reason, though, any semblance of “happy” departed rapidly once he lost the game.  (Mercy rule kicked in and ended the game sooner than I intended.  I could have engineered a win, because he’s not a good sport.  Yet.)

From there, things went downhill, and we ceased getting along well.  So he went to sleep.  Very mad. 

Much like I would like to do many times. 

Many times at church.  Many times at work.  Many times on the Internet.  Many times dealing with family issues. 

It would be so nice to just hit the pause button and let the world spin while I go through decompression, collect my thoughts, and resume normal, peaceable life. 

But we don’t get that option.  We have to rely on Jesus Christ to direct us through the crap that we don’t know how to handle.  Through the junk that clogs our path, blocks our very eyesight, and sucks at our heels even as we push through it. 

T will recover.  He’ll be stronger in some miniscule way because of this, and I’ve learned a few small lessons myself. 

The greatest of which is “Just get him in the stinkin’ bed!!!!”

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IMG_5781

Originally uploaded by nards656

My beautiful parents, a couple years back, in Cherokee, NC.

This was about a month before I underwent open heart surgery for my atrial septal defect.

I think this is a beautiful shot of two beautiful people who mean more to me than they’ll ever know.

I remember playing with the kids by the river. I remember taking this picture. I remember playing baseball with Trav. I remember the spot we parked the van, and I remember taking pictures on the big pedestrian bridge over the river. It was March, and the tourist traffic wasn’t a big deal.

I also remember being in a bad mood, as I’ve been so many times.

I desperately wish I could reclaim all the days I’ve ruined in my children’s lives by being depressed, irritable, and generally negative.

Dads, enjoy your days with your kids.

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