Friday, December 20, 2013
Now I have to tell you that the "Santa" part came back like falling off a bike, which I have a great deal of experience in. The physical part of transforming myself from this young, fit specimen of health, to the weight challenged, white bearded, leader of toy making "little people". From the first sensation of the while wooly faux beard hair getting in my mouth to the pillow strapped to my central regions, this was alarmingly second nature. What I had not anticipated was the emotional piece that would enter in to the next 5 hours. My previous shifts as the Christmas ambassador to the holiday mall madness primarily consisted of filtering requests from little cherubs whose impression of Christmas consisted of endless days of life and happiness and toys and life. I was not prepared for the 5 hours that I would spend looking at the holiday through a different filter. In looking back I am sure that there was no way that I could have been.
There were absolutely some of the usual requests for the latest on Amazons top 10. But there were far more adults than children wanting to sit on Santas lap. They came after exhausting rounds of chemo. They came to smile for a moment. They came to ask for a cure, and some literally to get photographic evidence of what they suspected to be their last Christmas. When children did come, they were facing down treatment themselves or living through the treatment of a mom, a dad, or a sibling . I was literally on holy ground and the smiles that came in those moments rose like the incense of the continual prayers that I was compelled to lift on their behalf. In the end, the images of Santa, on that day and in that moment, were immortalized again ... Monuments to these brave people, living the best that they knew how, smiling through the pain and uncertainty, on the lap of an under qualified fill in.
It was indeed a unique opportunity, for a pastoral artist to fill in as the competing image of the season. Some would offer this as another proof of their suspicion of my pastoral qualifications. That is just fine I guess, I don't really know. What I do know is this; I saw hope that day, and more importantly the undeniable quest for hope, the longing for it, even in the form of a guy in a red suit. In the end, it was me, dressed in red, who when asked "Santa, will you pray for me?", was able to confidently and quite unexpectedly, grant their wish.
Friday, December 06, 2013
A bit of insider information for you ... This time of the year, for us and countless other pastoral and worshipful types, is the highlight in a year of chasing backside glimpses of God. For us, for 4 weeks, if we slowed down for it, which we often did, it was as if God paused momentarily, looked back towards us and said "watch this". Light was brought forth, both figuratively and literally, and we had a front row seat.
This year has all of a sudden become so much different...not bad, but different. Past years we were spoiled with captive audiences and faithful friends who journeyed alongside of us. This season our congregation is a new and busy neighborhood. Our "audience" is, by and large, captive only to their smart phones and head phones. Our challenge is not figuring out how to light a building. Our challenge is figuring out how to light a neighborhood ... From the homeless and the alcoholic to the privileged and the workaholic... So many walking in darkness, and they aren't much impressed by my ability to draw fresh meaning from a