If your home is like ours, the post-Christmas hangover is in fullswing. We spent most of yesterday (and by “we” I really mean “my wife”) digging out from under all the boxes and bags and paper that managed to pile up in every imaginable nook and cranny. We cleared a path to the television first. Then we cleared a path to the fireplace. Then we actually got to where we could see the floor. It’s amazing how much space wrapping paper can take up!

One of my girls had a slight fever, so we spent a lot of time yesterday laying around and not doing very much. It was cold and damp most of the day, so there wasn’t much of an opportunity to go outside and play. There were a few games learned. There was a new movie watched. There was lots of doing nothing. Believe it or not, there were few complaints about being bored.

There was, however, a slight sense of anticipation. Christmas is over, now what? What’s next? When’s the next big event?

I went out to the grocery store for some juice, and I found all the New Year’s decorations up everywhere. Champagne and finger foods. Party hats and confetti. I guess that’s what’s next, and the world seems ready to move on now. Traffic was thick with post-holiday shoppers out trying to redeem gift cards or find that perfect item at the annual after-Christmas sale.

But I couldn’t get into any of it. I’m not ready to leave behind Christmas just yet. It’s like the feeling when you’ve eaten something wonderful right before bed. You’re not ready to brush your teeth and banish the aftertaste just yet. You want to linger over the taste and texture for a few minutes more.

My mind went to something in the Christmas story I’ve never thought of before: the day after. The Bible is silent about what happens after Jesus is born. Nothing more is known except that he was circumcised on the eighth day and redeemed in the temple in Jerusalem sometime before the one-month anniversary of his birth. There are a lot of gaps there for one with a healthy imagination.

We know he was born. We know shepherds came to see him the night of his birth. I imagine they must have stayed in Bethlehem for a few days — Mary was probably not in any condition to climb back onboard a donkey for the trip home to Nazareth. I guess Joseph would have spent some time trying to find them better accomodations. Perhaps he found some family where they could stay.

It was traditional for family and friends to gather round and sing and celebrate for most of the first-born son’s birth week. They would slowly build towards the day of his circumcision — the day on which he would be officially named as well. Then they would throw a big feast.

We don’t know if anyone came to see the firstborn son of Mary and Joseph. The circumstances surrounding her pregnancy were suspect. Maybe the shepherds brought some of their friends. Maybe there were others who saw or heard the angels. Maybe Elizabeth came with her newborn son.

We just don’t know.

What probably happened was something normal. Jesus’ early life was remarkably normal. That’s one of the reasons people didn’t believe he was who he claimed to be. He was too much like the rest of us. His life smelled too mundane.

The day after Jesus’ birth, Joseph probably cleaned up the cave. After all, two unprepared novices would have made something of a mess trying to bring their baby into this world. He would have gone looking for food. He may have gone in search of something suitable to dress the boy in. Perhaps Mary needed a change of clothes as well. He would have seen something of the same hustle-and-bustle I encountered yesterday. People on the go. People looking for deals. People moving about, searching for whatever comes next without realizing that something miraculous, something earth-shattering had happened.

As a society, we’re not very good at the day after. We’re too quick to tear down the decorations and move on to what’s next. As soon as the champagne corks pop there will be people somewhere putting up Valentine’s Day decorations. As soon as the Valentine cards are opened, there will be people somewhere putting up pictures of shamrocks and leprechauns.

St. Patrick’s Day will give way to Easter. Easter will give way to Memorial Day. Memorial Day fades into The Fourth of July fades into Labor Day gives way to Halloween and Thanksgiving and we’re back to Christmas before we know it.

But were we ever really at Christmas in the first place?

In our haste for what comes next, in our search for an answer to the never ending question (“Now What?”) I wonder if we’ve missed what just happened.

I hope not.

How bizarre it is that the thing that makes Christmas so magical for you when you’re a child is the very same thing that threatens to ruin it for you when you’re an adult.

I’m talking about expectations.

When you’re a kid, you have such high hopes for Christmas. At some point in time you find a catalogue and circle a number of items, hand it off to your mom or dad and wait. In that long and drawn-out period of waiting, all sorts of expectations form in your mind. You dream about what it will be like to come downstairs, wiping the sleep from your eyes, to find a pile of presents. Or maybe you dream of a smaller, more sedate Christmas, choosing to avoid the feeding frenzy atmosphere in favor of a quiet and modest one.

But you just know that the one thing you want most of all is going to be there. Your parents may play some sort of trick on you. You know, the kind where they wait until all the other presents are opened before saying, “Hey, what is that over there hiding behind the television?”

You have these expectations for Christmas when you’re a kid. And it seems (maybe there’s some false nostalgia at work in memory) that Christmas always meets or exceeds your expectations.

At least it does when you’re young.

When you’re a grown up you still have these expectations. And they often go unmet. That’s when Christmas gets difficult. What do you do when you’re forced to admit that Christmas just isn’t everything you hoped it would be? Or what do you do when Christmas looks like it’s going south?

Lots of folks move into control mode and try to force people into meeting their expectations. Lots of others just try to pretend that everything’s fine when they’re dying inside. Still others resolve to be miserable and to take as many people down with them as possible.

Those expectations that make Christmas such a magical time in a child’s life threaten to ruin the Christmas season for grownups.

But here’s the real irony: All the dysfunction, all the brokenness, all the baggage and hostility — all of that is why there’s a Christmas in the first place.

At this time of year, there’s always a lot of debate over the true meaning of Christmas. You’ll hear it on Larry King and Rush Limbaugh. They’ll argue about it on the evening news and in the editorial pages of The New York Times. And lots of people will fall back on the old bumpersticker slogan: Jesus is the Reason for the Season!

And there’s probably some merit to that. But it’s not the whole story.

See, all that junk, all that jealousy, the lack of forgiveness and understanding that we experience, the distance between those who are supposed to live in intimacy, the war, the politics, the every-other-Saturday, the she-started-it-and-if-she-wants-to-apologize, the commercialism, the anger, the bitterness — that’s the reason for the season, too.

If you ever were able to have the perfect Christmas, where everyone got along perfectly, where no one complained or grabbed or got jealous or greedy or bullied or got abusive or passive-aggressive, if you were ever able to pull off world peace, there wouldn’t be any need for Jesus to come to earth.

So, this weekend, when that special someone starts really grating on your nerves, when you’re tempted to say, “See, this is what I was talking about. It’s always like this. I hate it when people do that.” — think to yourself: That person who is driving me nuts is the reason for the season.

When you get cut off in traffic and the person flips you off for honking at them, remember: that driver is the reason we have Christmas.

When you look in the mirror and can’t believe you ate the whole thing, remember: your lack of self-control is one of the major reasons why Jesus came.

Your mother-in-law who criticizes your cleaning. Your brother-in-law who always asks to borrow money. Your sister-in-law who wants to show you her new diamond. The cranky guy next door who complains about the cars parked on the street. The wayward child who ran a thousand miles away from home and won’t come back even for a visit. George Bush. Hillary Clinton. Oprah. Rosie. Bono. The Dixie Chicks. Ted Haggard. Pat Robertson. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Dan Brown. Sam Harris. Richard Dawkins. You.

These are all the reason for the season.

That’s the irony of Christmas.

I pray yours is merry and bright, and that you remember why it exists in the first place.

Most of the folks who responded to the question about Christmas music went with either traditional (i.e., Nat King Cole’s version of “The Christmas Song”) or contemporary Christian.

No one said Vince Guaraldi? Well, I guess Phil mentioned “Christmas Time Is Here”. But, come on, the song “Skating” and his rendition of “O Christmas Tree” and “My Little Drum” are Christmas music to me. I have a ton of Christmas music, and here are some of my favorite CDs for this year:

Diana Krall’s “Christmas Songs”

Russ Taff’s “A Christmas Song”

Frank Sinatra’s “A Jolly Christmas” 

Shawn Colvin’s “Holiday Songs and Lullabies”

And my personal favorite instrumental CD this year is by some Nashville studio musicians: “Christmas in Manhattan”.

Okay, enough about Christmas music, we’re in the middle of all the Christmas television specials these days. My girls have watched “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” about five times. But they haven’t seen “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” once.

Here’s today’s question: Of all those television specials, which one is your favorite?

The scandal of the Incarnation has produced more heresies than any other doctrine of the Christian faith. People can believe Jesus is God, but they can’t believe he’s human. Or they can believe Jesus was a man, but they can’t believe he was also God. This is the central point over which lots of folks stumble, and the Bible clearly says that this doctrinal heresy must be confronted. But, before we get all charged up and rush out to confront heresy, let’s make sure we’ve got an accurate understanding of the Incarnation ourselves.

A culture war went on in the early church between those who accented Jesus’ divinity and those who stressed his humanity. And there were extremists on both sides. Orthodox Christianity has always fought to maintain a both/and posture as opposed to an either/or. We need to make sure we haven’t swung the pendulum too far in the opposite direction. After all, those are our sterile nativity scenes on display right now; those are our songs that suggest Jesus didn’t cry when he was a baby (“Little Lord Jesus no crying he makes”). We bankrolled and watched the “Breck Girl” Jesus movies that have him floating around in a daze, with his feathered hair, speaking in an otherworldly tone. These are equally erroneous and must be corrected before we can ever hope to correct anyone else’s error.

Perhaps we should take a refresher course in the humanity and humility surrounding the birth of Jesus as a means for understanding the grace we should be willing to extend to others.

Think back to the most comfortable place you’ve ever been. Remember the warm sun and the soothing sounds, the beautiful aroma or fresh-baked bread or roasting meat over an open fire, the knowledge that everything is under control, so there’s not one thing to worry about? Have you ever been waited on hand and foot, surrounded by people telling you how wonderful you look, how wonderful you smell, how wonderful you are?

Do you have that in your mind? Label that place A.

Now, have you ever been to a working dairy farm? Remember those smells and those sights? You have to watch your step everywhere you go, and you might not want to touch anything unless you’re wearing gloves. Have you ever seen a feeding trough? The edges of them tend to be really smooth because of all the cow tongues that have lapped up every kernel of corn and grain and table scrap. Did we mention that cows do their business standing up, often while eating? The very fact that you would be looking at a cattle trough means you’re probably standing in the waste created by the cattle.

That’s the most delicate way I can communicate that.

Okay, do you have all that in your mind? Label that place B.

Let’s continue with the graphic descriptions, shall we? Have you ever seen a baby being born? It’s not exactly a noble way to enter the world. Even with the best medical attention and technology, it’s still a really gross thing to watch. There’s blood, sweat, mucus and screaming (and that’s just from the dads). When Jesus was born, there weren’t any nurses or doctors with sterilized instruments and medicine, no clean linen or machines that go “ping”! There were just two peasants in a cave among the flies, barnyard animals and manure. When God was born they wrapped him in strips of cloth and laid him in a feed trough.

Think of that: the Author of Life, the King of kings, the Prince of peace lying there among the spittle and leftover feed.

That’s the Incarnation.

That’s grace.

In one moment, Jesus went from the most comfortable and beautiful place that has ever and will ever exist to one of the grossest, germiest places you can imagine. From A to B in a heartbeat.

Before he spoke a word, he built a bridge. He came from heaven to earth to make a way for us to get from earth to heaven. That’s what I mean when I say that Jesus built a bridge. He brought us grace, and without grace there’s no salvation. Without grace, there’s no hope. Without grace, there’s nothing beyond the grave except misery and punishment and the full extent of human depravity without restraint in one, unending, monotonous, tortuous eternity.

That’s where we were headed. And that’s where we’d still be headed if it weren’t for Jesus and the grace he provides. He built a bridge to make a way back for us to return to our heavenly Father. And after he built that bridge and demonstrated its ability to return us home, he turned on a light. It was after he came in humility, awkwardly learning to walk and talk and navigate life in our world, that he asked us to humble ourselves, awkwardly learning to walk and talk and navigate life in his world.

He could ask us then.

He’d earned the right.

Okay, quick question:

What is your favorite Christmas recording?

Jesus taught hard things. He once told a man to sell everything he owned in order to be a disciple. He said that the way up is down, and the greatest person in the kingdom of God would be the one who serves the most. He came up with the whole “turn the other cheek” thing and then showed us how it’s done. He talked about all the things you’re not supposed to talk about: hell, money, divorce, taxes. He challenged people in positions of authority and disrupted the status quo with his message and his lifestyle. Like Philip Yancey says, “He wasn’t Mr. Rogers with a beard.”

But before he did any of that, before any of the teaching or any of the ethical mandates, he did something remarkable. He built a bridge. Before he gave us truth, he gave us grace.

Jesus lived before he was born. That’s kind of hard to imagine, but it’s true. He has lived for all of eternity and was there when everything that has been made was made. In fact, the Bible says that he was the One who created it all. It was all made for him and by him, and he is the One who holds it all together (Colossians 1:17). Yet, for a short span of time, he actually entered into the world he fashioned and lived in it. Like an artist climbing inside his own painting, Jesus entered our world’s time-space continuum and was — to some mysterious extent — subject to its laws and limitations.

He got hungry and tired and had to go to the bathroom. In fact, when he was born, he was not pretending to be a baby; he was a baby. The Incarnation was, among other things, scandalous. Jesus’ humanity — his ordinariness — is what got him into trouble with the religious leaders of his time. He didn’t act like they thought the Messiah should. He acted more like a real human.

We’ll talk more about this in another post, but for now I want us to think about this: If Jesus was willing to go to such ridiculous lengths in order to identify with us and build a bridge of relationship with people who were estranged from him, can’t we all just try a little harder to get along with family — even extended family — this Christmas?

In the Bible, God’s truth is often associated with light. So, if Jesus came as the embodiment of truth, you could say that the Incarnation — Christmas — was God turning on a light in our dark world. But Jesus was also the embodiment of God’s grace; he was the One who could finally build a bridge between sinful people and a holy God.

In other words, Jesus’ birth did two really important things: (1) it turned on a light and (2) it built a bridge.

There’s good reason to think that perhaps these are two of the most important things Jesus calls his followers to do today.

I think it’s impossible to separate grace and truth, but it’s interesting that when the Apostle John uses that phrase (John 1:14 and John 1:17) he always puts grace first. It’s as if he’s saying: first grace, then truth. As trite and cheesy as it sounds, people do not care how much you know (truth) until they know how much you care (grace).

Far too often, Christians stand aloof and uninvolved, wagging their fingers at a world that is disintegrating. It’s another thing entirely to roll up our sleeves and get involved with that world. Anyone can stand on the sidelines and criticize, but Christ calls us to follow him into the melee, seeing people like Dan Brown, Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris and others not as the enemy but as victims of something bigger. Jesus died for these folks, too, and he extends the offer of life everlasting to them just like he extended it to us.

Jesus came to the wealthy and powerful of his generation (like Nicodemus in John 3). He also came to the poor and marginalized (like the Samaritan woman in John 4). He came to those who were looking for the Messiah (like Simeon in the temple or Nathaniel under the fig tree). And he came to those who had no idea that a Messiah was imminent (like the Roman centurion). To each of these people, he brought his own unique brand of grace and truth — in that order.

Even though much of the controversy has come and gone, people are still talking about many of the issues raised by Dan Brown’s novel, The Da Vinci Code. The recently-released DVD will certainly find its way into many stockings this Christmas. Unfortunately, it may also be given to folks along with books like Richard Dawkins’ The God Delusion or Sam Harris’ Letter to a Christian Nation – two of the most ridiculous and poorly argued books released in recent times.

To help prepare you for the conversations that may come from people who read such books, I am adapting one of the chapters from The Gospel According to the Da Vinci Code. It should also lead us to think more about the implications of the Incarnation.

**********

How are Christians to respond when someone like Dan Brown, Richard Dawkins or Sam Harris makes authoritative-sounding claims? We certainly don’t burn their books or call for their deaths like the Islamic community did to Salman Rushdie. Still, something must be done, and we are often at a loss as to what it is.

Should we challenge them to debate in the public square? Should we mock them and expose their research as fraudulent? Should we rally our troops with a passionate call to arms and a declaration that the culture wars are still ongoing?

Perhaps some variation of these responses is called for. But first, we should remember something signification: Jesus embodied truth. The Christ who walked the earth, God in the flesh, spoke truth, was and is truth. Anyone who claims to follow him must follow him in the way of truth and be prepared to defend the truth claims of Christianity.

But we must never forget that this divine Christ was and is also grace. The apostle John said it this way: “The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth” (John 1:14). Before we begin to formulate a proper response to the allegations made by atheists, postmodernists, skeptics, Gnostics, agnostics, or anyone else, we must make sure we are doing so from a posture of gentleness and respect. We must make sure that truth is always spoken in the context of grace and that our grace is always demonstrated in truth.

See, as followers of Jesus, we aren’t merely concerned with getting into heaven when we die. We’re also concerned with the ongoing work of transformation in this life. God’s desire is to see his world restored, and he has seen fit to perform this transformative work primarily through the lives of transformed individuals who are dedicated to going through life as Jesus would if he were in their shoes. “WWJD” is not just a bracelet and a clever marketing ploy; it is a reminder of the commitment we made when we turned over the leadership of our lives to him.

So in asking how we should respond to our critics (even those who refuse to think critically), we are really asking how Jesus would respond to them.

Come to think of it, this response is not only reserved for people who criticize our faith; it could also be applied in our relationships with people who criticize our parenting skills, our housecleaning habits, our cooking and our physical appearance. In other words, we can use the ideas here when dealing with the relatives who are likely to descend upon us in the coming days!

There are two overarching themes in Jesus’ life that are instructive for us: grace and truth. Hopefully, by looking at Jesus’ life and working through the lens of these two themes, we’ll come away with a better understanding of how Christians can engage culture — and engage difficult people — in meaningful and effective ways.

When Dr. Luke tells us the Christmas story, he gives us some background information to set the stage. He begins, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world” (Luke 2:1).

Caesar Augustus was a fascinating character who did two remarkable things. First, he had himself declared “Savior of the World”. That takes some…uh…guts.

Second, he declared World Peace (it was known as the pax romana). In 27 BC he closed the temple to the Roman god of war, and, in doing so, made a statement: There will be no more war.

Interestingly, the way he maintained the peace was to kill anyone who stepped out of line in the most violent ways imaginable.

We’re going to have world peace if I have to kill every last one of you!

That’s one way of doing things. And it continues in some places today. I don’t just mean governmentally or militarily. I’m thinking of households where peace is kept through manipulation, bullying and violence.

As I mentioned yesterday, we all want peace in our homes. We want peace on earth this Christmas. And one way of going about it is to simply declare it and rule with an iron fist. But there is another way — a better way.

Later in the same chapter, Luke tells us about the shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night. You remember that part, right? It’s the part Linus reads in “A Charlie Brown Christmas”. Notice what the angels say to the shepherds: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14).

Peace to whom? Those on whom his favor rests.

Jesus comes into a world where people in charge are screaming, “We will have world peace if I have to kill every last one of you!” And the One who is the true Savior of the World brings peace through acceptance, unmerited favor, grace.

Who deserves this favor from on high? Absolutely no one.

Who gets this favor from on high? Absolutely everyone who will receive it.

Caesar Augustus offered to kill in order to get this peace.

Jesus of Nazareth offered to die in order to get it.

Guess whose peace is still around.

We’re under three weeks from Christmas! Have you got all your shopping done? I must confess that I haven’t even started.

If any of you do any shopping at outlet malls, you’ll recognize the term “As Is”.* Frequently, you can get great deals on clothing or other items. They’ll be stacked together in bins near the front of the store with tags on them that say: “As Is”.

That’s kind of a “buyer beware” euphemism for: “Something is wrong with this, but we’re not going to tell you what it is.”

Sometimes they’ll call these clothes “Slightly Irregular”. One sleeve will be longer than the other, or a stitch will be out of alignment. Zippers won’t zip. Collars won’t flip. Buttons won’t match. There is likely to be a stain or defect in the dye. Something will be wrong, and you will find it. When you find the flaw, you cannot bring it back to the store and demand your money back. The only way to get that item at that price is to buy it “As Is”.

In the next few weeks there will be people gathering at your house. Or you’ll be gathering at their house. And maybe everyone around your Christmas table will be a paragon of mental and emotional health. If you’re like the rest of us, though, there will be at least one person sitting there with an “As Is” tag sticking out from under their sweater.

They’re weird (if they’re poor), odd (if they’re middle class) or eccentric (if they’re wealthy). They’re slightly irregular in some way. They’ve got a bruised ego. They feel comfortable sharing intimate details in public. They don’t have all the filters most of the rest of us have. And we don’t always know what to do with them.

We all want peace in our homes during the holidays. But it escapes too many of us too often, and I think there’s one primary reason for it. We fail to accept one another “As Is”. We penalize others for failing to meet our expectations, or we put up with things and put up with things and put up with things until we finally explode.

Over the next few days, I want to talk more about this idea of accepting one another with our foibles and failures, with our brokenness and our irregularities. I want to try and figure out what it means — and what it doesn’t mean.

And here’s why it’s important: Your weirdo aunt isn’t the only one who has an “As Is” tag sticking out from under her sweater. Take a good look at the family photo from last year. Look at yourself (come on, that’s where your eyes went naturally) and notice what’s sticking out from under your collar in the back. Do you see it?

Odds are there was at least one person sitting somewhere around a table somewhere who thought that about you.

In fact, look closely enough at everyone around the table, and you’ll see that they’ve all got their tags showing. Some are just more visible than others.

The truth about human beings is that we’re all slightly irregular, and what we all long for most of all is for someone to accept us “As Is”.

*This image comes from John Ortberg’s book, Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them.