Convicted at Christmas
December 1999 was one of the happiest seasons despite our dire financial status. We were four humans stretching out one entry- level income.
Our house was decorated with warm and minimal holiday charm, and we enjoyed a flow of friends stopping by, keeping things merry and bright. Our taught and tiny budget didn’t allow for many gifts for our own children, let alone reciprocating gestures for all our visitors. But I wanted to do something.
I decided to buy two boxes of candy canes at the dollar store. The boys were weeks from turning two and four years old respectively, so they were very eager to help me hang the striped canes along the branches of the twinkling tree in our living room.
I huddled the boys up and explained, “These are gifts for our guests. You may not take them for yourselves. But any time there is a visitor in our home, you are completely welcome to take one off the tree and offer it to them with a hug and a ‘Merry Christmas’.”
I went on to clarify that if they had taken one and eaten it before our little talk, that would have been considered childishness. But because they were now aware of the deal, taking one would be foolish, and foolishness requires punishment. “If you take a candy cane off the tree for yourself, you’ll get a spanking. Understand?”
Understood. Great talk. Reindeer on three. Go team.
My 23-month-old left that meeting, walked immediately to the Christmas tree and took TWO candy canes, then walked directly to the sofa and laid over the cushion, ready to receive his punishment.
Lord, have mercy. I guess he thought it over, and with a miniature cost-to-benefit analysis, decided, "fair enough!"
I’ve always told that candy cane story in an effort to shed good-humored light on the very real challenges of raising a strong- willed child. *Twenty years later, with rows of poinsettias lining the stage, that blue-eyed, keen negotiator walked to receive his BBA. Thank the Lord!
But recently I shared it in a group, and, as usual, we all got a good laugh. Then it was time to close our meeting in prayer, and my friend began, "God, thank you for sending your Son to make a way for us. Forgive us for all the times we take the candy canes off the tree..."
As he continued to pray, I blinked warm tears away as a lump of conviction settled in my throat. Of all the times I’ve flippantly shared that Christmas memory, not until that day had it flipped to expose my own struggle.
Truthfully, God gives me instructions every day through his Word and by his Spirit. He has guidelines and commands and preferences for me, and these are rooted in love and appropriated generosity. And I am well aware that there are sure and undesirable consequences associated with defiance. As I look toward His face, I listen and nod in agreement, and in the next moments I’m willfully acting against His best plan. "I can handle it. I really would rather just [fill in the blank]... it all seems pretty doable. Fair enough."
God, have mercy.
It is not "fair enough" at all. Fair would mean I pay the price for my selfish ways.
“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 6:23
“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”
Romans 5:8
The surrendered life is gloriously unfair. Thank the Lord!
Sing it o’er and o’er again: Christ receiveth sinful men,
Make the message clear and plain: Christ receiveth sinful men.
