I already told you that Christmas this year will be lean. I can't blame that on anyone, so I guess I'll stop trying. And I'm going to try to stop beating myself up about it. Last night, I sat in my living room with the Blackwells, the Booths, the Thons, the Lees, Yuri and Nadia, David Wells -- people you might now know but who provide encouragement to me in ways I could never begin to describe. We sat and watched Ray Vander Laan tell us about Bethlehem, Herod and the birth of Jesus. He talked about how the power structures of this world often overshadow and obscure a clear vision of true power. He mentioned the humility of God as seen in the lowly birth of Jesus. He challenged us to renew our search for true significance and re-define words like majesty.
Afterwards, as we discussed the ramifications of this in our own lives -- especially during this season of Advent -- I filled with warmth as I looked around the room. What was I thinking saying Christmas would be lean? How can I use the word lean about a season that provides the very basis for the rich fellowship I gorge myself on every weekend?
I can afford to eat a little less this year -- you can too, probably.
I can afford to buy a little less this year -- you can too, probably.
I can afford to bask in the glow of the unity of the Spirit this year -- you can too, probably.
I can afford to reflect more on the first coming of Jesus this year -- you can too, definately.
The problem isn't with my scarcity this year. The problem is with the way I have been defining abundance.