It was Christmas eve. We were on our way back from a Christmas Eve worship gathering at Lakewood Church where we heard the message of the Gospel proclaimed and conveyed powerfully and convincingly through sound, technology, songs, voices, words, dance, and visuals (film/video and lighting). It was clear: Christ came not merely for those yearning for a savior, but especially for those who weren’t even looking in the first place!
While God came in the form of a baby, he did not remain a baby. He grew in knowledge, wisdom, and stature before God and all people, died on the Cross and his dead body lay in a grave. But he did not stay dead either! Rather, he was raised up on the third day. It is by his death and resurrection that we can now live in the hope of eternal life with God beyond the grave.
He was standing with a sign on a street corner. I had just brought the car to a halt at the red stop sign. I let my window down and held out the plastic ziplock bag hoping he’d see. It worked. The bag contained some water, canned foods, and fruit. These were put together by my wife and children. We began to carry these ziplock food bags in the car for situations just like this – to hand them out to the homeless, who most often were extremely grateful. Upon receiving food from us, they’d say something to the effect of: “God bless you!” and look you right in the eye while saying it. I’d drive away feeling more blessed by the one I gave to – they always seemed to have more to give than what their outward appearances seemed to convey. But this time was going to be different.
He shuffled toward the car. I could now see him more clearly. His hair was unkempt, long and flowing, grey hair and beard. As I held out the ziplock bag, I remembered that we had just picked up some Chinese food to-go for dinner. I was hungry and was actually looking forward to going back home to eat my hot lo mein. Hot Chinese versus canned food in a plastic bag, I thought. I asked my wife sitting in the seat next to me, “does this [the packet] have food?” thinking of my lo mein waiting to be eaten. “I should probably give him my lo mein” I thought aloud. “Do you want to?” my wife asked. Well, yes, I thought to myself, but, “does this have food?” “Yes” she replied, it does. He had shuffled along and was now at the car window. Too late. It was the zip lock bag for him. He reached out his hand. I looked at him. Shifty eyes. Mine might have appeared the same to him. I thought, what if he were to pull out a weapon and hold us up? He said, “Happy Holidays.” We said, “Merry Christmas.” We drove on, hot lo mein in car waiting to be eaten at home.
What had just happened? Why did I not simply hand my food over to him? I seem to have failed quite miserably. I could justify my action since I had outwardly determined that there was indeed food in the ziplock bag. But didn’t I already know that? The asking actually masked something deeper – the willingness to give, but not my best, or rather, what I instinctively knew to be better. I kept what was best for myself and justified giving based on the perceived need – all he needed was food; would giving lo mein really have made a difference to him?
Who’s to say? But the problem is that I was the one being tested – was I ready to give my best irrespective of my understanding and interpretation of the perceived need?
It strikes me anew: Christmas is celebrating the birth of God not simply giving, but the God of the Universe giving His Creative Best – His One and Only Son for a broken and dying world so that the world might live by sharing in the life of God through Jesus Christ. Celebrating Christmas is to join in the momentum of giving, but not just giving, giving your creative best.
I failed the Christmas test. My prayer is that the Lord will forgive me, heal me, restore me to be alert to always respond with my very best despite the odds. No holding back. No reservations. No seconding. No looking back. Oswald Chambers got it right, “My Utmost for His Highest.”
Glory to God and peace on earth to all God’s people. Merry Christmas. Watch out, Don’t fail the Christmas test.
