Suffering

Christian Advisory Warning: This article may be offensive to some. But those of you who know me also know that I am truly bothered by that.

What a nice time of year. Tis the season to squeeze just enough goodness into the next 2 weeks that 2009 doesn't slip away without me going just over my expected quota of good deeds. 'Gotta make sure I give some money to that family in need at work.' 'I'm donating an extra $10 to the Salvation Army, after all, that's what Jesus would have me do. He would want me to remember those in need during this festive season because we've only got a few more weeks before the season ends. 'Tick tick tick, Chris you better make sure you write it down to stop by Wal-mart to buy some extra food for _______.' 'In fact, you should probably go back and pencil it in on your "To Do List" between go to the Post Office to mail Aunt Gertrude her bedroom slippers (the same ones you bought for her 2 years ago) and attend the company Christmas pig-out, I mean party'. That's what Jesus would have me do... I mean us do. Right!...? I have to remember Jesus this time of year. I have to honor him.

And how do I honor Him? Well, annually I cut down a plant, shove some bling on it, don my culturally-dictated festive attire, spend funds to make it "official", and juxtapose him between a benevolent fat man and seasonally-appropriate music. Really? I'm sure he appreciates my thoughtfulness. That's what Jesus wants,... Right... ?

Is it?

I have forgotten that perfect Jesus came into the world because I was evil and full of sin. I think that "slips my mind" (conveniently) every year right around November 2o-something. I forget that my depravity cost my Heavenly Father something very very precious. I forget it because I'd rather view this time of year as "Celebrate How Good I Am Day". Or at least that I'm not "that bad" of a person.

My friends and family, I was that bad of a person that no suitable payment could make up for my sin. My heart was so filled with depravity that there was but one option for me: Death. However, God's odd love of me overwhelmed logic so much that He acted. He suffered.

The day we celebrate so glorious might possibly have been one of great sadness and suffering for my Father. His son left His side. He wasn't in His honored position among the mighty of Heaven. There was someone missing from the Holy palace around the sovereign God. Jesus The Christ gave up being honored to be spat upon. Jesus, the little baby in a feeding tray, gave up hearing holy praise to hear vulgar mouths yell. He was beat not bowed before. He was hated not glorified. He was apart from his Father, ... so we could be together with Him.

Though we did not deserve it, He offered the gift of himself. He did it so we could make lists and decide how benevolent we feel like being for a couple of weeks out of the year. He did this so I could do some "good" and feel really "great" about myself. Jesus - Son of God, was humiliated so I could be patted on the back for my generosity of $_______ spent on _______ person or for _______ cause. Ahhh, that's exactly what Christmas is all about,...

Not this year.

Jesus, I am so incredibly sorry for cheapening your life by attempting to decide if I've been good enough this year to call myself a Christian. You suffered because of such thinking. And I am the reason. This year, that transformation I claimed to experience has to be evident. It's going to show because I will stop using myself as the scale for goodness and let you do that. I won't use words and phrases like "good enough" but rather ask myself, "Can I give more? Can I be more? Am I willing to suffer for you like you suffered for me?" That's how I shall celebrate you this whole year and the one after that, and the one after that. If holiness is on the other side of suffering, then I hope to choose that path each day, because you are worth it. Otherwise, I have no right to call myself a Christian.

If it costs me my life for this world to see, know, and fall on their knees before my Jesus, then I would be honored to give it. I can think of no greater way to attempt a thank you.